OCTOBER
Artist Utagawa Kunisada III
Ichikawa Danjuro IX as Banzuiin Chyobei
Ichikawa Sadanji I as Mizuni Jyorozaemon
August 1887 at Chitoseza
KABUKI-ZA KABUKI-ZA
Matinee Programme Evening Programme
1). Narihira Azuma Kagami
2). Hikimado
3). Onatsu Kyoran
4). Kiwametsuki Banzui Chobei
KABUKI-ZA
Matinee Programme
With one or two exceptions, much of this month's programme at the Kabuki-za is a little unusual. One has the opportunity to see several works that are not very often performed, and at least four of the major stars, Jakuemon, Ganjiro, Danjuro and Koshiro, are acting in roles which they have never performed before.
1). Narihira Azuma Kagami
A short dance, (lasting all of 16 minutes), performed to Nagauta accompaniment and starring Ichikawa Somegoro as the Heian period court poet, Ariwara no Narihira, and Matsumoto Komazo as his male attendant. The dance has no particular story but depicts the beautiful young aristocrat travelling in the open countryside on his way from Kyoto to "Azuma", ("the East"). It's an excuse for some elegant posturing and insipid poetic sentiment. The set is equally bland: a scene of wild iris growing by a stream and a distant view of Mt. Fuji which is obviously meant to remind us of Narihira's famous poem in the "Ise Monogatari". Somegoro is usually a very good dancer but is not convincing in this role perhaps because he hasn't the opportunity to do anything. The dance has not been performed since 1967 and one can well understand why.
2). Hikimado
This is one act from the long play, "Futatsu Chocho Kuruwa Nikki", and is frequently performed. Hikimado belongs to a special selection of 12 pieces chosen during the lifetime of Nakamura Ganjiro I to exemplify his talents, and so it is in the family acting tradition of the current Ganjiro III who plays the leading role of Jujibei. The play was originally taken from the puppet repertoire and so retains the use of a chanter and a player of the 3 stringed shamisen.
The action takes place at the house of the old widow, Oko, whose step-son, Jujibei, has this very day attained the status of samurai. This has brought great honour to the family and celebrations are being prepared by Oko and by Jujibei's wife, Ohaya, while they await Jujibei's return. Just then however, the Sumo wrestler, Nuregami Chogoro turns up. He is Oko's real son
who was given away for adoption at birth. His purpose in coming is to bid his mother a final farewell because he is guilty of murder and is currently wanted by the authorities. He intends to depart soon, but both Oko and Ohaya will not hear of it and manage to persuade Chogoro to stay, at least for the evening meal. He retires into another room upstairs to rest. When Jujibei at last returns he is obviously pleased with himself and has every intention of fulfilling his duties as a good and upright samurai. He has never met Chogoro and does not know his relationship to the family. When he hears the news that a criminal called Chogoro is in the area he vows that he'll do his best to help in his capture. There is a portrait of Chogoro that's to be used to identify him and when Oko and Ohaya see the portrait they realize the truth and are overwhelmed with grief. They try to hide the fact that they know of Chogoro's whereabouts but Jujibei finds out for himself when he sees Chogoro's reflection in the garden water basin. This leads to the climax of the act in which Jujibei is torn between loyalty to the warrior's code, and loyalty to his step-mother and step-brother. Chogoro himself is also in a dilemma. Not wishing to bring shame and dishonour upon his step-brother, he is all for giving himself up to him, but equally he does not wish to go against his mother's wishes for that would cause her even greater pain.
The play is a prime example of the often quoted theme of , "Giri / Ninjo", (Duty versus Feelings), a theme to which it's sometimes a little difficult for Western audiences to relate because of the unnaturally extreme degree of personal sacrifice demanded from the main character. (Compare with Shigenoi's situation in the evening programme.) In this case, however, Jujibei elects not to give Chogoro away to the authorities which is slightly unusual in that he comes down on the side of personal emotions and family obligations rather than "loyalty to his lord". Nevertheless, the inner struggle is depicted as very real and the cast brings the story to life in a convincing manner. Ganjiro as Jujibei in particular, adds a unique and almost comic touch as he portrays the two sides of Jujibei's nature: the honest and serious man who must represent the status of samurai, as well as the simple and sympathetic character who occasionally breaks through from beneath. Oko is played by Sawamura Tanosuke who is a past master at the depiction of grief. The character spends a good deal of time in tears but Tanosuke never seems repetitious or dull and is totally believable as the fragile old mother.
3). Onatsu Kyoran
Artist Natori Syunsen
Onoe Baikou VII as Onatu
The story of "Onatsu Kyoran" comes originally from a 17th century novel by Ihara Saikaku. A handsome young man called Seijuro was the son of a sake merchant but was disowned for his wanton lifestyle. Persuaded by friends to take holy orders, he then ran away from the temple, eventually finding work as an apprentice in the house of another merchant, Tajima Kuemon. There, he fell in love with Tajima's daughter, Onatsu. Eventually the pair eloped, but when a sum of money was discovered to be missing at home, they were pursued and finally caught. After his arrest, Seijuro was put to death, and upon hearing this news, Onatsu lost her mind. Yet, obsessed by the image of her dead lover, Onatsu began wandering through the autumn countryside desperately searching for him.
The lyrics of the dance were written by one of Japan's most respected literary figures, Tsubouchi Shoyo, and the dance had its first performance in 1914. It is one of the best surviving examples of early 20th century theatre reform, reform that sought to do away with many of the illogicalities of traditional Kabuki dance and to concentrate instead on the "psychological realism" of the characters. The lyrics are far more consistent in content: at no time are we suddenly transported to the Yoshiwara pleasure district in spring, for instance, and there is never any reference to subject matter that has no direct bearing on the story of Onatsu. However, for those of us who love traditional Kabuki dance, this more modern approach is not necessarily any better. By maintaining a consistent story line, the lyrics throw emphasis on narrative and detract from the purely formal aspects of traditional dance. The clear compositional structure which includes the "kudoki", the "te-odori" and the "chirashi", etc., can be a pleasure to watch in itself, and we enjoy seeing how well the actor performs the set vocabulary of movements and poses for any particular section. Choreography, even when it doesn't seem to make sense, is a vital part of any dance, yet the choreography here seems quite forgettable. In an older work that also depicts madness like "Yasuna" for example, it isn't only the character's psychology we've come to witness but also the actor's skill at mime, at handling the fan and the "nagabakama" costume, etc., and perhaps above all, we appreciate the changing pace and mood in the composition of the dance as a whole. In contrast, "Onatsu Kyoran" is heavy and dark throughout and even the semi-comic antics of a drunken pack-horse driver do little to relieve the sombre mood. It's as though everything else has been sacrificed to the ideal of psychological consistency and the over-riding concern to portray one girl's lunacy.
All this is not to say that the lyrics of "Onatsu Kyoran" are dull, or that they do no more than tell a simple story. Some sections are extremely poetic and suggestive, and Shoyo was certainly not above throwing in the odd "makura kotoba" such as "ubatama" for the blackness of the night, etc. It's just that there seems too episodic a progression from one section to the next as one, then another, then yet another character or group of characters turns up along the same road. We don't need all the action to be logically explained in Kabuki dance; that robs it of its charm.
Another convention of older dances that has naturally been weeded out of "Onatsu Kyoran" is the presence of "koken", stage assistants. This means that, whatever lands on the floor, stays on the floor until the bitter end. Unfortunately, this makes for a very displeasing mess on stage as it gradually gets cluttered up with the Buddhist prayer slips that Onatsu throws about and with the autumn leaves that flutter down from above. This visual mess is made all the worse by the repeated appearance of actual children. In the story, a group of village brats make sport of Onatsu by teasing her and goading her into a frenzy, and so their appearance is again entirely logical. But this is a dance, and as a rule, children can't! Although expertly trained, there is still nothing on earth that will give the average child the timing and body control that's necessary for Kabuki dance. They look unsure of their movements and completely lack poise. They sound harsh and too loud and are just basically awful.
The one saving feature of the performance, (apart from some very lovely Tokiwazu music), is the actor who plays Onatsu, Nakamura Jakuemon. This is the first time he's danced the role and his intensity as the mad girl is impressive. He also excels at the youthful vulnerability and sweetness of the character which contrasts well with the children's cruelty. "Onatsu Kyoran" is another work that's not very often performed.
4). Kiwametsuki Banzui Chobei
Written by Kawatake Mokuami in 1881 with the collaboration of Ichikawa Danjuro IX, this is another, (albeit earlier), example of an attempt to reform traditional Kabuki. The play deals with the topic of chivalrous commoners but is presented in a more realistic style than many earlier plays and can therefore be seen as a product of Meiji Period "enlightenment". The story could be summed up by calling it "the last days of Banzui Chobei", (the chivalrous commoner in question), and the plot examines in critical fashion the strangle-hold that the corrupt samurai class had on society towards the end of the Edo Period. The first scene is particularly interesting not only in its physical presentation, in which the real Kabuki-za auditorium becomes the interior of the play-house in which the action takes place, but also because of the juxtaposition of two different acting styles. It is a play within a play. We in the real audience actually make up the fictional audience in the story as we watch an old-style "aragoto" play enacted before us. The action is brought to a halt when a drunken man gets out of our audience onto the hanamichi and causes a disturbance. This brings out the theatre manager who tries to settle the matter, but fails. Then a samurai appears and argues on the side of the drunk and finally Banzui Chobei steps up from the auditorium to confront the arrogant samurai. In contrast to the "aragoto" acting style, the performance now is very naturalistic, and Mokuami goes on to make fun of "aragoto" by showing that the actor playing the hero in the play on stage is in fact a coward in this "real" life.
As the gallant hero of the populace, Chobei naturally wins the day, but just as he is about to return to his seat the blinds are drawn up on the far left of the stage to reveal lord Mizuno Jurozaemon, also supposedly watching the play from a private box. Both the drunk and the arrogant samurai are working for him and this public defeat by a mere commoner has humiliated him. Lord Mizuno has despised Chobei for some time, regarding him as a lowly upstart who constantly challenges Mizuno's absolute authority, and this latest quarrel at last gives him an opportunity for revenge. What follows is inevitable. On the pretext of inviting Chobei to a party to view the flowering wisteria in his garden, Mizuno intends to ambush and kill him. This Chobei fully realizes. He knows that he'll be greatly outnumbered and will therefore lose his life, and yet his honour will not permit him to refuse the invitation nor to allow his own men to accompany him. That Chobei would sacrifice even his life for his high ideals shows that he is good, and that Mizuno would stoop to ambushing an unarmed guest in his own mansion shows that he is bad. Chobei bids farewell to his wife and son and goes off to meet his fate.
The role of Chobei is taken by the present Ichikawa Danjuro while Mizuno is played by Matsumoto Koshiro. This is the first time Danjuro has tackled this role, and Koshiro has only played Mizuno once before on a provincial tour. Neither seem well suited. Danjuro is a little too suave and sophisticated for a "commoner", and even though they were supposed to possess chic, Danjuro's style is a touch too modern and urbane. Koshiro, on the other hand, seems excessively stiff. He doesn't exude any particular atmosphere though one suspects that he's trying to be sinister and restrained. The best performance is from Nakamura Tokizo as Chobei's wife, Otoki. Tokizo's timing and poise are always a pleasure to watch and his precise, delicate execution of the little details, such as pulling out the threads from Chobei's new kimono, make all the difference. This is the care and attention of a devoted wife who knows that her husband will most probably die, but who must act as his support to the very end.
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