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New noh: Dzadi-Forefather’s
Eve 祖霊祭
Spirits of Poland and
Korea come to a Japanese temple
This Polish Japanese coproduction could loosely be described
as “new noh”, with buyo, noh, and even awaodori
summer folk-dance included. Just three actors,
accompanied by violin, hurdy-gurdy, Romanian flute, and folk-song told
the tale, the musicians and actors performing role of chorus and cheerleader.
Two dancers, one Japanese, the other Polish, and a Polish actor made up the
cast. The script written by Jacoba
Rodowicz-Czechowska featured three acts. The first two drawn from
Romantic poet and playwright Adam Mickiewicz’s 19th century masterwork
Forefather’s Eve, Pt. 2 and 4. The last included the climax of the
physician/playwright Tada Tomio’s play “A prayer for the grudge.”
If I understand the story correctly—there
was no summary in the program, and the first two acts were entirely in Polish,
with inadequate (and obscured) titles--it was about a Priest lighting candles
in an abandoned church to call the souls of the dead, spirits of forefathers,
many in limbo floating souls before they can ascend to Heaven. Two children
appear, turned away because they have never struggled; a rich man is harassed
by crows and owls, as he was stingy and cruel to them when he was alive. A
crazy woman appears—turned away because she never loved? And finally, martyrs
are prayed for, those fighting for Poland exiled to Russia after the failed
1830 revolt. Images of other martyrs of that bloody revolt were projected,
along with videos of a Czech dissident’s self-immolation, from the 1968
uprising. Tibetan and Korean suicides were also shown. There were names but no
backgrounds, just their images projected I guess as a gathering of martyrdom
spirits.
The final part, dramatically the
most interesting, featured a Korean woman (played by noh actor Shimizu Kanji)
in chaebok, with a not-quite-Japanese grandmother mask. With a handkerchief on
her head, bent over, it was at once realistic and in the noh style. The flute
and shoulder-drum created a new space. This script was drawn from Tada’s play
about a young Korean widow who has lost her husband in the war when he was
drafted to work in southern Japan, Kyushu. In the after-talk, I questioned
whether the author was implying that the Polish resistance to Russian oppression
through time was the equivalent to Korea’s history of oppression by Japan. Ever
the diplomat, the author said only “maybe,” although here her intent was merely
to show a spirit, like the others gathered, with an enduring grudge that can
never be assuaged.
The performance was held in Kyoto
at the Tokushoji Temple, sponsored by Theatre X. The candles, projections, and
dancers created an atmosphere of playful summoning, questioning, and return to
limbo of the spirits. In the 20-mat tatami main hall, with 60 or so spectators
bearing witness, we could enjoy this earnest, transnational attempt to give
voice to those who had died in the struggle for freedom and dignity.
Performers were excellent and
looked like they were having fun. The exuberant Bettina Passini, a blonde
twenty-something, and Hana Umeda, an darker Japanese woman, were paired throughout,
as dancers and actors. Manucha Bikont’s fine voice brought an Eastern European
folk urgency to the tales. Tall Piotr Zgorzelski was the intense Priest and
Everyman, and also the choreographer. Accompanying musicians were superb,
reminding me of the Klezmer vagabond festive players of Jewish tradition.
The new mask carved for the
occasion was an old woman of vaguely Asian features, not the typical Japanese
uba. Sasaki , the Kyoto-based mask-carver, also carved a cat-mask, half-mask,
worn by the singer.
I look forward to seeing Rodowicz-Czechoska’s other new noh Chopin someday in Kyoto; Shimizu is one to
watch—performing in Vienna in September in a Palestinian play….
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