Kata as convenient shortcuts to Japanese traditional performance culture
The highly-codified dance forms, Kata, found throughout
Japanese traditional dance and theatre, and even some modern theatre, are
shortcuts. They are highly refined and defined, capable of infinite varieties
of combinations, at a wide range of levels of energies and paces. They are
pre-fabricated material ready to be enlisted to quickly and beautiful put up new
creations, lego blocks of beauty and power. This was evident in the annual
dances of teenage maiko and middle-age geisha in the Miyagawa-cho Kyo odori held
April first in rainy, sakura-strewn Kyoto.
The small strip of teahouses just
east of the Kawabata Avenue south of Shijo in Kyoto is home to the
Miyagawa-cho, one of the “Five Geisha Districts” that includes its more famous
neighbor Gion. http://miyako-odori.jp/english/ The Miyako Odori is a pillar of Kyoto’s spring tourist season,
held at their own 600-seat theatre, although this year at the 1200-seat
Minami-za theatre on main tourist street of Shijo in Gion for nearly four weeks.
The smaller Miyagawa Kaburenjo Theatre, tucked behind a side-street, has a small ticket
booth, requiring one to stoop to talk to the aged ticket-takers, for tickets sold only five days in advance, for only 2 weeks There were three shows a day--1230, 230, and 430, with audiences efficiently herded through tea with maikosan, the show, and souvenir alley.
The maikosan, some still teenagers, looked almost frightened at the
first day of their first event. Whitened necks and faces, kimonos with
long-sleeves and trailing obis, and heads dressed in firm, stacked buns of
rich, dark hair, decorated with blue and red ribbons, combs and pins, they
resembled nothing but dolls. Eventually I could differentiate among the various
dancers, some of whom had the knowing smile of a confidence, others the blank
look of someone carefully following the teachings/her fellow performers. They
were all blank, pure, performing the same simple sweeps and turns, and fan
twirls and sweeping movements, showing off their childish energy and sincerity.
This was not the slow, zashikimai of Kyomai austere Inoue School of the Gion
geisha district, but Wakayagi, drawing from more popular folk and kabuki roots.
I drifted in and out of the show to
think about the ease of creative invention possible within a tradition whose
building blocks are kata. One need not start from scratch, deciding where
Hamlet enters or how Desdemona is dressed. There is no need to think about a
new movement style, or character type, or gesture-there were so many named and
traceable historical ones, one needed only to pull them from storage or
existing pieces. By piecing them together, adding new lyrics and similar plots,
a few new props and costumes, and the creative new work could be performed.
This year, “A Japanese doll in wonderland” was the theme. Each of four
recognizable dolls (to connoisseurs) came to life in turn—Matsukaze, Fuji
Musume, Dojoji, etc…--a living expression of the painted picture behind her.
The formal, stuttering, and slow movements of the “doll” were on a continuum
with the living actors’ movements. The simple movements of playing with a ball,
fighting with stylized thrusts and sweeps, and searching were accomplished
easily. My favorite part was when four dancers pulled black hand-towels, folded
like napkins from under their necks, suddenly unfurled and pieced together to
simulate the dancing outlines of a giant cat, and then emerged: a giant custard
yellow-and-black kimonoed “Catspirit” who fought with charming paws and leaps with
the Servant and Doll for the lost ball.
The second
part of the 60-minute show—and this two-part structure seems common to many
traditional dances, formal and informal, new and traditional, newcomers and
veterans—was an ode to the new era, Reiwa, announced just hours before. In
front of the Imperial Palace, geisha in formal black kimono and maiko in their
doll-like pastel and crimson hues danced rhythmic, group, fan-swirling dances
against a backdrop of the Imperial Palace. The young maiko were placed in
groups of 4 or 8 in the back rows, more experienced maiko and geiko were in the
front. Who could not enjoy the spectacle of thirty beautiful girls and women in
gorgeous kimono, with confident, powerful and shy looks on their faces, slicing
the air with their fans, stamping in synch, and smiling throughout as they
weaved in and out of each other in groups. Some threw a few towels with their
crests into the audience. The shamisen and singers, unfortunately singing
through microphones, and offstage drums and gongs lent to the gaiety. It was
vigorous, joyful, felicitous and very pretty spectacle that ended the show on a
high note. Milling spectators snapped up the calendars, towels, CDs, and illustrated
pamphlets available in the lobby, waiting around to pay aisatsu greetings to favorite performers.
If you were to create a “search for
the lost object” fantasy from scratch, there would be so many things to decide.
But Japanese katafication, the
codification of forms, means that all aspects are pre-fabricated. One need only
instruct skilled dancers to pull from their A to Z of kata learned throughout
their lifetimes, put A, D, and M in a certain order, tie them together with
original transitions and a few unique elements and voila! One can create a
completely “original” musical show of high quality, capable of learning by
those with only basic skills repeated in new contexts, and interpreted by the
star roles in new ways. By such cobbling and dressing in pretty and silly and
striking apparel, Miyagawa odori kept its fascination over the years.
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