Passing of my hero
Sennojo SHigeyama, a great teacher, actor, and director passed away today. He was 88, and had last performed Oct 8th at the Shigeyama annual recital as a 99 year-old lecherous but cute old man. He will be missed.
Sennojo was a child prodigy, making his stage debut at three years old, then performing at many events at department stores and festivals with his older brother,Senaku, still going, if not so strongly, at 91. But as the second son, he was not planning on a full-time kyogen career during pre-War Japan, so went to a commercial college, then learned to do accounting for Comfort Women stations and other facilities in Manchuria. On his return, he began his lifelong incredulity with the authorities and the press, who had lied so long and well about Japanese military successes abroad.
While performing on weekends, he entered the black-market, then one day discovered a fox mask in an antique store, which led him back to kyogen full-time. His brother and he became known for their experiments: adapted French farce The Washing River, Kinoshita folk-play Hikoichi Tale, and flirting with Kabuki and Takarazuka genre-mixing. At the same time, he apprenticed himself as a director to Takechi Tetsuji, a wealthy producer of fusion works in the ‘50s. This led to a nude Hagoromo that got Takechi excommunicated (he began directing porno flics). Sennojo himself was almost expelled from the Noh Association for appearing in a kabuki play, but fought the iemoto system and authoritarian hypocrites who protected their own dominion of the status quo (his 1987 memoir, an Iwanami paperback bestseller, is subtitled “a half-life of a perverse [hinekure] actor”. He opened the doors for many noh-kyogen young performers to test the boundaries of their genre. At the same time he developed his own charming, precise form and exquisite voice. He started amateur groups in Kyoto, Osaka, Tokyo, Gifu and Tottori.
I started studying with Sennojo formally after I had taken a few lessons from his son. Remarkably similar in voice—their wives were even fooled—Sennojo had a patient, laughingly generous manner of teaching, but thorough and effective. Just when I thought I’d mastered some phrase or dance, he would teach an extra flourish or arrhythmic timing. And of course lesson kyogen differed from what he did on stage, which were rounder, fuller versions of what he taught me. After ten plays I had to drop out when the three/month lessons changed to twice/month to accommodate the actors’ busy schedules. But until then I enjoyed the camradery of his students and him, where a happy crowd and laughing backstage were more important than letter-perfect performance.
In 1985 I directed him in Act without words 1 by Beckett. After returning from my morning lesson, I arrived early and awaited the great actor. Returning from lunch, he bowed to ME upon entering: I was now the director and “above” him. He took precise, clear direction and performed cleanly, putting his own spin on the “glances at the tree branch” sequence (the Man is contemplating hanging himself, but the audience wouldn’t understand that, Sennojo felt, so put his hands on his neck and dead-panned the audience). After the performance at the Kongo Noh Theatre, he never did it again—“it’s Akira’s piece.” When we toured NYC with traditional kyogen and Akira’s version of the mime, Sennojo watched every night from the back. “I want to see what he does that succeeds.”
That was also his first blow-up with me. We were discussing how to make the second week’s program more interesting, since the noh dancer/musicians had to return to Japan. “Maybe YOU could dance the Hawk” I joked over farewell party drinks. When he discovered I had been trying to lighten the mood with American humor, he exploded: “We are all trying to solve this important problem and you make jokes?! If you had asked me to, I would dance a magnificent hawk, a great hawk! Don’t joke at a time like this!” Chastened, I cowered for the rest of the night, and realized: for this ultimate showman and comic, certain things were deadly serious.
Still, we worked together again: Krapp’s Last Tape, directed with his son Akira and produced together. He was brilliant, clownish red nose and mime but psychologically rich, with only a cork-pop sound to betray his kyogen roots. He did this again at 85, much more realistically, but hard to make the transition between this immensely successful actor and failed friendless Krapp…
The second blow-up was when I had arranged a kyogen workshop at an inn on Lake Biwa in August. Heavy thunderstorms meant the hourlong drive became 3 for me returning from a holiday, meaning I arrived late to the inn. Not until after the lessons (there were 3 of us) and sake did Sennojo make known his displeasure: “Which promise did you make first: to me or your wife? If you made an appointment here, how could you make another that might conflict with it.” Then the ultimate: he left the drinking party in a huff. I was never late for an appointment for studying or directing again.
His last performances were a treat to watch. His voice still excellent and comic timing unfailing, he only needed help sitting and standing from a koken. He played a 99 year-old lecher with great charm and believability as he fell for a 19 year-old country lass (Sennojo was married 3 times). Then again, at a formal noh performance, he played a hilarious priest accused of tempting a husband to join the priesthood in Sohachi. His swerves from pious conviction to unnerved wrongly accused fear were marvelous to behold.
We greeted each other in dressing-room passing, but I can’t remember I had the last conversation with him. There was no one whose sense of directing and adapting I admired more, or whose generous, wise, and against-the-grain sensibilities will be with me always. My beloved honored master, Sennojo, farewell.
Jonah Salz 12-5-10
Sennojo SHigeyama, a great teacher, actor, and director passed away today. He was 88, and had last performed Oct 8th at the Shigeyama annual recital as a 99 year-old lecherous but cute old man. He will be missed.
Sennojo was a child prodigy, making his stage debut at three years old, then performing at many events at department stores and festivals with his older brother,Senaku, still going, if not so strongly, at 91. But as the second son, he was not planning on a full-time kyogen career during pre-War Japan, so went to a commercial college, then learned to do accounting for Comfort Women stations and other facilities in Manchuria. On his return, he began his lifelong incredulity with the authorities and the press, who had lied so long and well about Japanese military successes abroad.
While performing on weekends, he entered the black-market, then one day discovered a fox mask in an antique store, which led him back to kyogen full-time. His brother and he became known for their experiments: adapted French farce The Washing River, Kinoshita folk-play Hikoichi Tale, and flirting with Kabuki and Takarazuka genre-mixing. At the same time, he apprenticed himself as a director to Takechi Tetsuji, a wealthy producer of fusion works in the ‘50s. This led to a nude Hagoromo that got Takechi excommunicated (he began directing porno flics). Sennojo himself was almost expelled from the Noh Association for appearing in a kabuki play, but fought the iemoto system and authoritarian hypocrites who protected their own dominion of the status quo (his 1987 memoir, an Iwanami paperback bestseller, is subtitled “a half-life of a perverse [hinekure] actor”. He opened the doors for many noh-kyogen young performers to test the boundaries of their genre. At the same time he developed his own charming, precise form and exquisite voice. He started amateur groups in Kyoto, Osaka, Tokyo, Gifu and Tottori.
I started studying with Sennojo formally after I had taken a few lessons from his son. Remarkably similar in voice—their wives were even fooled—Sennojo had a patient, laughingly generous manner of teaching, but thorough and effective. Just when I thought I’d mastered some phrase or dance, he would teach an extra flourish or arrhythmic timing. And of course lesson kyogen differed from what he did on stage, which were rounder, fuller versions of what he taught me. After ten plays I had to drop out when the three/month lessons changed to twice/month to accommodate the actors’ busy schedules. But until then I enjoyed the camradery of his students and him, where a happy crowd and laughing backstage were more important than letter-perfect performance.
In 1985 I directed him in Act without words 1 by Beckett. After returning from my morning lesson, I arrived early and awaited the great actor. Returning from lunch, he bowed to ME upon entering: I was now the director and “above” him. He took precise, clear direction and performed cleanly, putting his own spin on the “glances at the tree branch” sequence (the Man is contemplating hanging himself, but the audience wouldn’t understand that, Sennojo felt, so put his hands on his neck and dead-panned the audience). After the performance at the Kongo Noh Theatre, he never did it again—“it’s Akira’s piece.” When we toured NYC with traditional kyogen and Akira’s version of the mime, Sennojo watched every night from the back. “I want to see what he does that succeeds.”
That was also his first blow-up with me. We were discussing how to make the second week’s program more interesting, since the noh dancer/musicians had to return to Japan. “Maybe YOU could dance the Hawk” I joked over farewell party drinks. When he discovered I had been trying to lighten the mood with American humor, he exploded: “We are all trying to solve this important problem and you make jokes?! If you had asked me to, I would dance a magnificent hawk, a great hawk! Don’t joke at a time like this!” Chastened, I cowered for the rest of the night, and realized: for this ultimate showman and comic, certain things were deadly serious.
Still, we worked together again: Krapp’s Last Tape, directed with his son Akira and produced together. He was brilliant, clownish red nose and mime but psychologically rich, with only a cork-pop sound to betray his kyogen roots. He did this again at 85, much more realistically, but hard to make the transition between this immensely successful actor and failed friendless Krapp…
The second blow-up was when I had arranged a kyogen workshop at an inn on Lake Biwa in August. Heavy thunderstorms meant the hourlong drive became 3 for me returning from a holiday, meaning I arrived late to the inn. Not until after the lessons (there were 3 of us) and sake did Sennojo make known his displeasure: “Which promise did you make first: to me or your wife? If you made an appointment here, how could you make another that might conflict with it.” Then the ultimate: he left the drinking party in a huff. I was never late for an appointment for studying or directing again.
His last performances were a treat to watch. His voice still excellent and comic timing unfailing, he only needed help sitting and standing from a koken. He played a 99 year-old lecher with great charm and believability as he fell for a 19 year-old country lass (Sennojo was married 3 times). Then again, at a formal noh performance, he played a hilarious priest accused of tempting a husband to join the priesthood in Sohachi. His swerves from pious conviction to unnerved wrongly accused fear were marvelous to behold.
We greeted each other in dressing-room passing, but I can’t remember I had the last conversation with him. There was no one whose sense of directing and adapting I admired more, or whose generous, wise, and against-the-grain sensibilities will be with me always. My beloved honored master, Sennojo, farewell.
Jonah Salz 12-5-10
Comments
Fondly,
Kate Olena