Bassara Kyogen, Takutaku Livehouse, Kyoto Dec 16 2008-12-16
This is a an “upsidedown” or “sarcastic” kyogen produced by Sennojo Shigeyama, senior terrible of the kyogen world in the middle of his 80s. Three generations of his peculiarly-placed family performed a solo experiment. A one-time only gig, it brought out old family friends (Miho) and researchers (Gondo, me), and newbies. The place was full, standing room only—120 people? All ages, mostly middleaged fans of the Shigeyamas, but some young people too. Selling calendars and books,a s with other Shigeyama shows.
Doji opened with a solo dance (!), to Miles Davis’ Spanish Fly, loud on the speakers. He was alone, against a wall, lonely, wondering what it was all about. Gradually he rose, moved out in butoh-like lunges, to the diagonals. Then discovering something, joyously reaching out into the corners of the stage. Turning his back, he reached behind him to tug something, released, he folded his arms across his chest, feminine. Movements became more stylized and kyogen-like, a jazz-butoh danced version of Okina-Sambaso, especially Suzu no mai and bows to the Menbako. A kyogen rite of spring? Pulsing with life and ecstasy, he discovered the stage, eating an apple, then staring at his open hand==a reference to Beckett mime? Adam’s awareness of self?
Feeling he had to fill more time, he invited Chori, the poet he’s done duo concerts for three years, to perform together some poems about a Japanese middle-aged rock musicians named Jonathan, a girl named Takako, ordering beer (the Japanese was over my head, but he seemed to have a fine sense of words, and ordering them for surprise, not difficult to follow but complex tales of everyday wonder). Chori had a professional sense of decorum, word-choice, and enunciation, but against this elegance Doji seemed forced in poor Western-style mime, repeating himself and not using his body/the space well. I think he should have quit while he was ahead.
Next Akira performed a play adapted from prolific scifi writer Tsutsui Yasutaka about a husband who discovers his wife is hibernating. “Couldn’t you have warned me before we go married? Are you reptile, human, or insect? Leave the lights off? You’re not working for awhile? Not until March or April? Leave the boxes piled like this. You’re not going to eat for awhile? What’s this? An egg you’ve laid? What are you, insect, or human? I’m supposed to sit on it? For how long? What!? Why couldn’t you grow it more inside you first? And then what? It’s kicking! Hey, what’s that--your skin? You’ve shed it? And what am I supposed to do with it, make a mannequin out of it? Oh, put it away for safekeeping, remembering you twenty years ago. Yes, you’re skin is soft and no more wrinkles! What an interesting person you turn out to be.” Ending with a laugh, turning to horrified tears.
Akira brought poise and expertise in this frontal, kimonoed show. His face was expressive, but body didn’t really depict the space except up and down, or to the sides. His timing was good, and it seemed well-rehearsed—well done, Akira!
Sennojo stole the show with his doddering, old man walk followed by a prolog and performance that was sharp, ripe, and funny. He performed Fuseinaikyo (The dropped fee) as a ZaKyogen, a term he invented for , seated (zasshiki) one-man kyogen. He explained in the “makura” prolog that for a priest going around for his monthly fee, it was important that he collect the equivalent of 4500 (10 piki). Sennojo could commiserate, having sat in sweaty underwear awaiting the sponsor’s payment about four times in his life! Although he had wanted a “bassara” performance, escaping from kyogen rules, in fact he was the strictest to it. Akira and Doji were really just performing improvisations—although well worth the 3500 yen per ticket, he quickly quipped. Try as he could, as an old kyogen actor, he couldn’t really perform anything that wasn’t really perfected.
The Priest who hints at his fee with fee-ble puns until the parishioner remembers to pay his monthly fee is verbal, suitable to rakugo. But the asides to the audience, where the Priest wonders how he’ll hint further, or wonders if the Master finally gets his unsubtle hints, are rendered here as frontal remarks in softer voice. I wonder if rakugo uses such inner monologues, or rather narration to bridge identitities? Anyway, a remarkably entertaining show from a seated posture, audible and expressive.
By the way everyone rushed out of the place—a drink came with the show, imbibed before no doubt—these were unfamiliar territories for most of the performers. But as Akira and Doji greeted well-wishers, it confirmed the homey, cozy Christmas atmosphere of this delightful, unique family of hinekure (perverse) kyogen actors. Looked on as experimental theatre, these were minor pokes at the edges of the tradition. But given the six hundred years of codification and care not to overstep one’s limits, these were brave and elegant extensions into the unknown. Bravo!
This is a an “upsidedown” or “sarcastic” kyogen produced by Sennojo Shigeyama, senior terrible of the kyogen world in the middle of his 80s. Three generations of his peculiarly-placed family performed a solo experiment. A one-time only gig, it brought out old family friends (Miho) and researchers (Gondo, me), and newbies. The place was full, standing room only—120 people? All ages, mostly middleaged fans of the Shigeyamas, but some young people too. Selling calendars and books,a s with other Shigeyama shows.
Doji opened with a solo dance (!), to Miles Davis’ Spanish Fly, loud on the speakers. He was alone, against a wall, lonely, wondering what it was all about. Gradually he rose, moved out in butoh-like lunges, to the diagonals. Then discovering something, joyously reaching out into the corners of the stage. Turning his back, he reached behind him to tug something, released, he folded his arms across his chest, feminine. Movements became more stylized and kyogen-like, a jazz-butoh danced version of Okina-Sambaso, especially Suzu no mai and bows to the Menbako. A kyogen rite of spring? Pulsing with life and ecstasy, he discovered the stage, eating an apple, then staring at his open hand==a reference to Beckett mime? Adam’s awareness of self?
Feeling he had to fill more time, he invited Chori, the poet he’s done duo concerts for three years, to perform together some poems about a Japanese middle-aged rock musicians named Jonathan, a girl named Takako, ordering beer (the Japanese was over my head, but he seemed to have a fine sense of words, and ordering them for surprise, not difficult to follow but complex tales of everyday wonder). Chori had a professional sense of decorum, word-choice, and enunciation, but against this elegance Doji seemed forced in poor Western-style mime, repeating himself and not using his body/the space well. I think he should have quit while he was ahead.
Next Akira performed a play adapted from prolific scifi writer Tsutsui Yasutaka about a husband who discovers his wife is hibernating. “Couldn’t you have warned me before we go married? Are you reptile, human, or insect? Leave the lights off? You’re not working for awhile? Not until March or April? Leave the boxes piled like this. You’re not going to eat for awhile? What’s this? An egg you’ve laid? What are you, insect, or human? I’m supposed to sit on it? For how long? What!? Why couldn’t you grow it more inside you first? And then what? It’s kicking! Hey, what’s that--your skin? You’ve shed it? And what am I supposed to do with it, make a mannequin out of it? Oh, put it away for safekeeping, remembering you twenty years ago. Yes, you’re skin is soft and no more wrinkles! What an interesting person you turn out to be.” Ending with a laugh, turning to horrified tears.
Akira brought poise and expertise in this frontal, kimonoed show. His face was expressive, but body didn’t really depict the space except up and down, or to the sides. His timing was good, and it seemed well-rehearsed—well done, Akira!
Sennojo stole the show with his doddering, old man walk followed by a prolog and performance that was sharp, ripe, and funny. He performed Fuseinaikyo (The dropped fee) as a ZaKyogen, a term he invented for , seated (zasshiki) one-man kyogen. He explained in the “makura” prolog that for a priest going around for his monthly fee, it was important that he collect the equivalent of 4500 (10 piki). Sennojo could commiserate, having sat in sweaty underwear awaiting the sponsor’s payment about four times in his life! Although he had wanted a “bassara” performance, escaping from kyogen rules, in fact he was the strictest to it. Akira and Doji were really just performing improvisations—although well worth the 3500 yen per ticket, he quickly quipped. Try as he could, as an old kyogen actor, he couldn’t really perform anything that wasn’t really perfected.
The Priest who hints at his fee with fee-ble puns until the parishioner remembers to pay his monthly fee is verbal, suitable to rakugo. But the asides to the audience, where the Priest wonders how he’ll hint further, or wonders if the Master finally gets his unsubtle hints, are rendered here as frontal remarks in softer voice. I wonder if rakugo uses such inner monologues, or rather narration to bridge identitities? Anyway, a remarkably entertaining show from a seated posture, audible and expressive.
By the way everyone rushed out of the place—a drink came with the show, imbibed before no doubt—these were unfamiliar territories for most of the performers. But as Akira and Doji greeted well-wishers, it confirmed the homey, cozy Christmas atmosphere of this delightful, unique family of hinekure (perverse) kyogen actors. Looked on as experimental theatre, these were minor pokes at the edges of the tradition. But given the six hundred years of codification and care not to overstep one’s limits, these were brave and elegant extensions into the unknown. Bravo!
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