Yamamoto Noh Theatre English leaflet
Mar 25 2019 Yamamoto Noh Theatre, Osaka
Japanese theatre in English
Sponsored by the Japanese Foundation for Osaka Culture, this is part of a series of English-language events at the YamamotoNoh Theatre in downtown Osaka. The small, two story theatre—perhaps 200 could squish in if necessary—held about 60 persons, including a whole row of suited men—Osaka city officials?—and middle-age or younger women. There were 12 foreigners, including myself and a few friends. Piano benches/low benches were placed instead of floor cushions (zabuton), with backrests for the last seats. My friend arrived first and chose seats directy facing the central pillar, the stage seen from an angle—a new perspective!
The program included three versions of oft-told tales based on the Heike Monogtari (Tale of Heike), as Yoshitsune. After a brief introduction, a kodan storytelling version of X was performed in English. The melodramatic tale depicts the child Emperor Antoku drowning with his wet-nurse to escape capture in the battle of Shimonoseki, vanquishing the Heike. Funabenkei, Benkei on the Boat, was told first in noh, then bunraku style, describing Yoshitsune’s farewell to his lover Shizuka Gozen and escape with his brother Yoritomo by ship, only to be attacked by vengeful spirits of the Heike warriors. These featured English summaries in the program, and projected subtitles of the dialogue.
My first problem with the production was the price 4000 yen for a ninety-minute program of digests by young/middle-age performers. Nothing in the promotional materials suggested that these were condensed versions of the originals, while the photos showed the full- costumed players as though a full performance would be given. In fact, they were essentially one-man shows of Kodan and Bunraku, although noh was a near-complete version of the second half. This was a generous taste of the feast of Japanese theatre, but a mere taste just the same of the most active and dramatic scenes in the repertoire.
Another issue was the placement of the subtitles, projected against the audience wall in front of the wakiza. the stage left side of the theatre (the projector was in the wakishomen 2F).. For those sitting in the waki shomen (side seating) this provided a good viewing However the majority of the audience, in the front-facing seats, had to crane our necks to glance full right 90 degrees, and past our neighbors. They provided the name of the play and cast in both characters, and a full translation of the dialogue (although ignoring the aikyogen’s opening speech about weather and his readiness in Funabenkei). With some rivetting action on-stage, it was difficult to keep up with the subtitles at time.
Perhaps the greatest weakness of the evening was the M.C., tasked with tying the disparate parts together as well as performing herself: Kodan performer Kyokudo Nanshun (Carol Ann Rose) (http://rirara.com/haru/). It was clear from the start that the spectators, foreign as well as Japanese, were unfamiliar with the codes of conduct for kodan: although she came out and sat down formally and bowed, there was no applause so she had to raise her hands to gain it. She started well, in a friendly manner, casually asking if we’d been to Kodan before, or Yamamoto, or Shimonoseki (she used same joke as the rakugoka at the Bunraku theatre: “raise your hand if X, now for Y, and now those who think it a nuisance to raise their hands”). She told about seeing a Heike crab, with a scary samurai face—all the warriors were supposed to be turned into crabs. Then she gave a little background to the Heike story and told about the battle of Dannoura. Then she switched hats as it were to launch into the Kodan.
I recognize that she has entered a challenging apprenticeship in a relatively obscure and language-heavy art form. However, since she is presumably a professional with a "name", she needs be judged by high standards. Although she told the tale of sacrifice and bravery according to the traditional manner, the performance lacked power. There was little vocal energy, she was too soft, and spoke with exaggerated articulation as though teaching an English class. So just as foreigners in the audience got a distorted impression of Kodan by this young professional, Japanese got a distorted impression of the English language. She made a few mistakes, repeating the lines-something one does when rehearsing, not on stage. Her gestures were “correct” but without emotion or expressive power. As an amateur, she was quite good; in a professional setting, despite being “one of two English kodan players and the only foreigner,” she was inadequate. Her "makura", the pillow before the story begins, was more genuine and interesting, with cute imitations of the "Heike-faced crabs" on her visit to Shimoseki. Perhaps as she develops as an raconteur she will allow more of her personality to seep through.
Even worse was her introduction of the next two acts. She did not introudce the noh stage, the fact that we were watching not just a condensed story but a condensed Chorus in noh, and only one character in bunraku, without a trough for kurogo stage assistants to stand--she introduced the noh and bunraku stories—unnecesaary, since they had been copiously summarized in handouts—and gave us few hints for what to look for in the performance.
Personally, I would have enjoyed, for example, “traditionally there is only one rehearsal, so these four musicians are improvising with each other, even as the dancer must move on this narrow stage with a spear to the chorus and mimed battle according to the music. The tension in repetition of the age-old repertoire comes from such dynamic improvisation” or “normally the feet of the kurogo are not exposed, so this is a great opportunity to see how they move around, bend backwards and lower to make the doll come alive. You’ll see the warrior exit in a roppo. a classic Kabuki movement of “going in six directions.” When performed here by a puppet, it really requires great shifting of weight and twisting to make the doll appear real.” These would have provided the context for the adumbrated version of what we were seeing, and helped audiences have a “hook” into the performances. I got the feeling that she, herself, knew little of these other arts, and had scrambled to prepare the introductory materials.
Next was a credible Funabenkei performed by young actors and great musicians. The music was too loud in that small space, the chorus of four (rather than the usual 8 or more) members was too soft, and Tomomori too tentatative with his spear and leaps. But the beautiful costumes and masks, the Boatman’s cries, the sword/prayer/spear battle was a wonderful introduction to noh’s spectacle and dramatic power for first-timers.
The bunraku story was a complicated one of disguises revealed and vengeance planned, but only a monologue was performed. Since this featured only grimacing and posing, it proved not so interesting. Another doll was needed. It was a mystery why the chanter and shamisen sat far in back, not in wakiza area of the noh ji chorus. The single warrior, the General Tomomori, wore a beautiful white costume, knowing he would perish during his plot.
Only after the plays did the M.C. provide some explanation. Instead of answering questions from the audience, she brought up two of her own, and provided wrong or misleading information on both. The Kokata is not there to train on stage only. He takes the role of an Emperor or Warrior when the story focuses on a different main character (in this case Benkei and Tomomori). Masks are not used solely ghosts and spirits; 1/3 of the plays feature living women who are deranged or seeking solace from a Priest, and originally beautiful young men were also maskless. The significant thing about mask use in noh, distinguishing it from most other Asian traditions, is that a single actor wears them to bring a spotlight to their character in these monodramas- other characters are considered necessary accompanying players to allow the masked character to express their inner selves. Chorus, musicians, and secondary players all create the atmosphere and mystery to express that single character’s emotions.
I wished that more explanation of these genres had been given in the program, in the M.C. explanation, or even by the performers themselves, who could have answered basic questions or shown their masks or dolls to great effect. Such a “backstage” peek would have been possible in the intimate space of the Yamamoto Noh Theatre While the potential for meaningful introductions to newcomers and English-speaking foreigners (and Japanese) is both a noble and necessary one
Mar 25 2019 Yamamoto Noh Theatre, Osaka
Japanese theatre in English
Sponsored by the Japanese Foundation for Osaka Culture, this is part of a series of English-language events at the YamamotoNoh Theatre in downtown Osaka. The small, two story theatre—perhaps 200 could squish in if necessary—held about 60 persons, including a whole row of suited men—Osaka city officials?—and middle-age or younger women. There were 12 foreigners, including myself and a few friends. Piano benches/low benches were placed instead of floor cushions (zabuton), with backrests for the last seats. My friend arrived first and chose seats directy facing the central pillar, the stage seen from an angle—a new perspective!
The program included three versions of oft-told tales based on the Heike Monogtari (Tale of Heike), as Yoshitsune. After a brief introduction, a kodan storytelling version of X was performed in English. The melodramatic tale depicts the child Emperor Antoku drowning with his wet-nurse to escape capture in the battle of Shimonoseki, vanquishing the Heike. Funabenkei, Benkei on the Boat, was told first in noh, then bunraku style, describing Yoshitsune’s farewell to his lover Shizuka Gozen and escape with his brother Yoritomo by ship, only to be attacked by vengeful spirits of the Heike warriors. These featured English summaries in the program, and projected subtitles of the dialogue.
My first problem with the production was the price 4000 yen for a ninety-minute program of digests by young/middle-age performers. Nothing in the promotional materials suggested that these were condensed versions of the originals, while the photos showed the full- costumed players as though a full performance would be given. In fact, they were essentially one-man shows of Kodan and Bunraku, although noh was a near-complete version of the second half. This was a generous taste of the feast of Japanese theatre, but a mere taste just the same of the most active and dramatic scenes in the repertoire.
Another issue was the placement of the subtitles, projected against the audience wall in front of the wakiza. the stage left side of the theatre (the projector was in the wakishomen 2F).. For those sitting in the waki shomen (side seating) this provided a good viewing However the majority of the audience, in the front-facing seats, had to crane our necks to glance full right 90 degrees, and past our neighbors. They provided the name of the play and cast in both characters, and a full translation of the dialogue (although ignoring the aikyogen’s opening speech about weather and his readiness in Funabenkei). With some rivetting action on-stage, it was difficult to keep up with the subtitles at time.
Perhaps the greatest weakness of the evening was the M.C., tasked with tying the disparate parts together as well as performing herself: Kodan performer Kyokudo Nanshun (Carol Ann Rose) (http://rirara.com/haru/). It was clear from the start that the spectators, foreign as well as Japanese, were unfamiliar with the codes of conduct for kodan: although she came out and sat down formally and bowed, there was no applause so she had to raise her hands to gain it. She started well, in a friendly manner, casually asking if we’d been to Kodan before, or Yamamoto, or Shimonoseki (she used same joke as the rakugoka at the Bunraku theatre: “raise your hand if X, now for Y, and now those who think it a nuisance to raise their hands”). She told about seeing a Heike crab, with a scary samurai face—all the warriors were supposed to be turned into crabs. Then she gave a little background to the Heike story and told about the battle of Dannoura. Then she switched hats as it were to launch into the Kodan.
I recognize that she has entered a challenging apprenticeship in a relatively obscure and language-heavy art form. However, since she is presumably a professional with a "name", she needs be judged by high standards. Although she told the tale of sacrifice and bravery according to the traditional manner, the performance lacked power. There was little vocal energy, she was too soft, and spoke with exaggerated articulation as though teaching an English class. So just as foreigners in the audience got a distorted impression of Kodan by this young professional, Japanese got a distorted impression of the English language. She made a few mistakes, repeating the lines-something one does when rehearsing, not on stage. Her gestures were “correct” but without emotion or expressive power. As an amateur, she was quite good; in a professional setting, despite being “one of two English kodan players and the only foreigner,” she was inadequate. Her "makura", the pillow before the story begins, was more genuine and interesting, with cute imitations of the "Heike-faced crabs" on her visit to Shimoseki. Perhaps as she develops as an raconteur she will allow more of her personality to seep through.
Even worse was her introduction of the next two acts. She did not introudce the noh stage, the fact that we were watching not just a condensed story but a condensed Chorus in noh, and only one character in bunraku, without a trough for kurogo stage assistants to stand--she introduced the noh and bunraku stories—unnecesaary, since they had been copiously summarized in handouts—and gave us few hints for what to look for in the performance.
Personally, I would have enjoyed, for example, “traditionally there is only one rehearsal, so these four musicians are improvising with each other, even as the dancer must move on this narrow stage with a spear to the chorus and mimed battle according to the music. The tension in repetition of the age-old repertoire comes from such dynamic improvisation” or “normally the feet of the kurogo are not exposed, so this is a great opportunity to see how they move around, bend backwards and lower to make the doll come alive. You’ll see the warrior exit in a roppo. a classic Kabuki movement of “going in six directions.” When performed here by a puppet, it really requires great shifting of weight and twisting to make the doll appear real.” These would have provided the context for the adumbrated version of what we were seeing, and helped audiences have a “hook” into the performances. I got the feeling that she, herself, knew little of these other arts, and had scrambled to prepare the introductory materials.
Next was a credible Funabenkei performed by young actors and great musicians. The music was too loud in that small space, the chorus of four (rather than the usual 8 or more) members was too soft, and Tomomori too tentatative with his spear and leaps. But the beautiful costumes and masks, the Boatman’s cries, the sword/prayer/spear battle was a wonderful introduction to noh’s spectacle and dramatic power for first-timers.
The bunraku story was a complicated one of disguises revealed and vengeance planned, but only a monologue was performed. Since this featured only grimacing and posing, it proved not so interesting. Another doll was needed. It was a mystery why the chanter and shamisen sat far in back, not in wakiza area of the noh ji chorus. The single warrior, the General Tomomori, wore a beautiful white costume, knowing he would perish during his plot.
Only after the plays did the M.C. provide some explanation. Instead of answering questions from the audience, she brought up two of her own, and provided wrong or misleading information on both. The Kokata is not there to train on stage only. He takes the role of an Emperor or Warrior when the story focuses on a different main character (in this case Benkei and Tomomori). Masks are not used solely ghosts and spirits; 1/3 of the plays feature living women who are deranged or seeking solace from a Priest, and originally beautiful young men were also maskless. The significant thing about mask use in noh, distinguishing it from most other Asian traditions, is that a single actor wears them to bring a spotlight to their character in these monodramas- other characters are considered necessary accompanying players to allow the masked character to express their inner selves. Chorus, musicians, and secondary players all create the atmosphere and mystery to express that single character’s emotions.
I wished that more explanation of these genres had been given in the program, in the M.C. explanation, or even by the performers themselves, who could have answered basic questions or shown their masks or dolls to great effect. Such a “backstage” peek would have been possible in the intimate space of the Yamamoto Noh Theatre While the potential for meaningful introductions to newcomers and English-speaking foreigners (and Japanese) is both a noble and necessary one
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