July 9th 2022 Cutting Edge 狂言: God & Demon
Shigeyama kyogen youth fooling around with new kyogen and sketch comedy
(performances ongoing in August )
https://kyotokyogen.com/schedule/0820cek/
Kyogen programs are usually one-time only events. Three or four plays are put together according to seasonal appropriateness and variety, as well as technical ability to change costumes and casting balance. While single kyogen are the requisite filler between the somber noh, all-kyogen programs have been an increasing part of the post-War theatrical scene. Annual family shows spotlight brothers or fathers and sons, or celebrate receiving an award or honoring an ancestor’s death anniversary. These well-publicized programs often feature rare, large-cast plays, and newly created plays that stretch the abilities of the extended family members. Held on noh stages but also civic and prefectural halls, their leaflet designs have recently features colorful montages of photos of previous shows, promoting a fun family time with a graphic aesthetic closer to flyers for modern musicals or kabuki than the noh. Last year’s (2021) leaflet featured silly costumes and crab-like fingers from prior shows, Twitter-like messages from each of the five actors, and small-print note that “there will be no streaming of this show.” The back of the flyer included messages from teach actor (including Motohiko’s “you’ll get healthy with Cutting Edge Kyogen. A side effect may be wanting to see us again and again…”) and plea from Ippei, “please support us middle-aged guys” (oosan). In fact, once the “flower of youth” has passed, and actors haven’t yet achieved the sublime minimalist expression of senior members, these kyogen actors in their middle age are trying hard to maintain their fan base and forge news ones during these difficult times (their parents and uncles trod the boards less frequently, both more expensive and more fearful during Covid).
Despite their popularity, it is rare that these all-kyogen programs would be repeated, unchanged, in numerous venues, over a short time, even though kyogen receives much regional support. (A rakugo/kyogen collaboration might be presented one day each in Tokyo and Kyoto or elsewhere with a two month or more interval, for example). And so, it was a pleasure to see the debut of the second Cutting Edge Kyogen 2022, two years into Covid, on July 9th at the Hyogo Prefectural Arts and Culture Center, the first part of a six city summer tour.
Five forty-ish members of the Shigeyama Sengoro family, having graduated their “Hanagata Kyogen” (young flowers) designation of 2006-2019, three years ago, chose “Cutting Edge” out of a hat after disagreeing on a new name for the troupe (hilariously staged on video for their inaugural program in 2020).
The prominently bilingual “Cutting Edge 狂言“ (カーチング・エッジKyogen、with no attempt to translate the “vanguard” meaning into Japanese, shortened as the odd-sounding CEK, recalling their Czech “branch” Divaldyi kyogen troupe in Prague) consists of one traditional and three new kyogen. Kyogen experiments for the new age, employing the flexibible Shigeyama family style, based on a firm grasp of the classical tradition, and therefore able to explore its boundaries”). These youthful celebrations of kyogen-based comedy continue their annual production in July to appreciative spectators made up in Nishinomiya of fan club and regular fans, nurtured now for years on their Soja Club YouTube de Aimashou broadcasts (a series starting in March 2020 of bi-weekly 2-hour long broadcasts, these consist of chatting, two or three plays performed on a theme in full costume, interviews with elder statesman of the family, and promotion for goods and future shows). About 200 persons watch live, volubly chatting or donating money; archived shows are watched by thousands more).
Within this relaxed, prepped and eager “at home” atmosphere in front of a familiar fan club, the Shigeyamas performed with silly dances and songs, with riffs on anime and pop cultural motifs (most of which fly by me), squeezing knowing laughter from the primarily middle-aged, female spectators. These Monty Python-like absurd twists in conventional plots or newly imagined sketches, most written by konto (sketch comedy) specialist Sennojo II (formerly Doji) have found a sweet spot between Yoshimoto Comedy-like physical gags, experimental konto improvisation, modern verbal comedy, and classical kyogen comedy verve. The highlight of last year’s show (although “too soon” poor taste) was a parody of Kani Yamabushi, where a blond-wigged Motohiko danced on as “Corona” to attack a Daimyo and his Servant, a la Kaniyamabushi (Crab and Mountain Priest), only to be stymied by the priest’s prayers, “Pfizer! Pzizer!”, until the final twist: the revived Crab now chasing all with “Delta!” The black humor, a year into Covid, drew shocked gasps and mild applause. Working together as cousins for four decades (Sennojo is the youngest, Sengoro the oldest) with a few non-family member disciples, accounts for their flawless timing, as well as their individual personalities exploited to the hilt in ways difficult to express in classical kyogen.
The summary that follows is based on my own understanding from the live show and program notes; references flew by quickly with many story twists, and I did not have the opportunity to discuss it with informants—there were still no goods sold or lobby events during a Covid surge.
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An unusual prologue to the production was the entrance in the dark by the five members, then an improvised dance to a pop song, more of a kabuki hanamachi mie than a kyogen nanori. After introducing themselves, they danced off in silly fashion.
The actual program began as always with a traditional kyogen, this time the old chestnut Bo shibari, Tied to a Stick. The story of two young servants tied up to prevent them from stealing wine by their master while he is on an errand, who manage to do so anyway, was performed with the usual verve and charm, but the voices and movements almost purposely toned down from the strict rhythms and precise angles of the original, giving veteran spectators a taste of Shigeyama family flavor, and first-time viewers knowledge of kyogen conventions that could be easily appreciated.
Next was Yobikoe, a modern-dress, normal speech version of the traditional kyogen, where the master lures the lying low servant out through catchy song. This time the boss and worker surrounded the man in his apartment, as he has been obsessed with that particular kyogen. The boss and worker decide he could be lured by their rhythmic calling, attacking him repeatedly through the (mimed) window and door in increasingly silly, exaggerated ways. This pressed the slapstick and silliness to absurd length, but it eventually grew into a repetitive dead-end.
“The Really Serious Kyogen Dancer” featured Ippei and Motohiko as effeminate and overly polite dance teachers at a culture school for dance. (Part 1 had been performed last year, as the Sensei reluctantly was coaxed into demonstrating a short dance). The skit made fun of the prim and proper lady’s club atmosphere of afternoon culture classes. The session was introduced by an obsequious host and hypocritically humble “sensei”, who behind their fans discussed fees for this event. Sensei complained about the challenges of teaching via zoom in Covid online lessons. It seemed that they were parodying the kabuki buyo teachers whom they sometimes collaborated, and the effete rituals of etiquette in these worlds, but led to Sensei demonstrating a short dance that was too good to mock but not brilliant enough to understand why he deserved such high praise. The emperor’s new clothes were bare from the beginning, so I couldn’t discover the interest in this piece.
The jewel in the performance, one that was polished surely during the August tour and hopefully in future, is the kyogen simply titled CEK New Play/ Clearly a product of the post-Olympic national malaise during Covid, with tourism down and no end in sight, or rather false hopes aroused over 2 ½ years. Like the parodic battles of kyogen of gods Bishamon and Daikoku for supremacy in kyogen plays, these were rival contemporary spirits vying for the income generated by foreign tourism. First, the spirit of Regional Tourism appears, gaudily dressed in Chinese robe, to bugaku music. He declares that he will create a new stream of national treasure by luring Tourists to Arashiyama or skiing in Nagano or diving in Ryukyus. “And then there’s always Fujii!” With each gesture, a yellow light flickered in the corner of the stage, to the kachin sound of coins dropping. Then the spirit of washoku entersed, dressed in apron, chef’s hat, and holding a cleaver, declaring that it is the overseas’ fame of sushi, kaiseki formal feasts, and other simpler treats that are drawing gourmet tourists from around the world. He gestures for each dish and money magically appears (one gets little response: ”Oh, I guess that’s reached its peak of popularity...”) As they tussle over who has more power to bring in the tourists’ dollar, a stalemate is reached until a third spirit appears, an exotic woman in blonde wig yet in crimson kimono wearing the kyogen binan wig—a Muromachi take on Sailor Moon? She introduces herself as the spirit of Anime, virtual tourism, and goods, and brings in the most riches of all. But as they scrap amongst themselves in a tangled triangle, a stentorian voice from the back scolds them, “All of you, we are working together, so let’s not fight amongst ourselves. The most important thing is not to make efforts only for making money, but to leave tourists with a good feeling. You must all turn on your charm and devote yourself to cultivating Omote Nashi, the Japanese spirit of generous hospitality (the phrase used by the late former Prime Minister Abe in welcoming Tokyo’s successful bid for the 2020 Olympics).
Stepping out from behind a curtain, Omotenashihime appears, dressed in white with a circular halo, but also a mysterious basket-like hoop on his stomach. “When tourists come to Japan, they are attracted by our Omototenashi, our sensitive feelings of hospitality towards guests that have nothing to do with mere profit. You must bring out those ancient, natural feelings to ensure more and more will come.” Then slyly moving forward and turning around, he reveals his true self, continuing,”You must be especially gentle to the delicate parts (turning around, shows the Toto toilet symbol), spraying them from both front and back on their most private parts, to leave them with a true Japanese experience. Please, try it, it is so refreshing!” The other gods squat in a row center stage, moaning and groaning as he “applies” the spray. Finally, they sing and dance as they recognize that Omotenashihime is right, and go off in a good mood, united in their fight to win back foreign tourist dollars through generosity of feelings and the allure of the washlet toilet.
Needless to see, despite its simple plot this was a great favorite. With each escalation of the battle among friendly gods, successively touting familiar places, foods, and animations as Japan’s biggest cultural assetss, over-ruled by its more “traditional” spirit of welcome, grew knowing laughter and eventually guffaws from the audience. The fact that the goddess of hospitality was also a washlet toilet was hilarious in concept and execution. With a little more polish and less vamping (in the Anime segment), this could become a perennial hit.
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Cutting Edge is less avant-garde than “cutting off the edges”: from traditional kyogen tropes, pop cultural icons and music, sketch comedy reversals and absurd snowballing. But the jovial, no holes barred atmosphere, and the constant disconnect between “classical kyogen” and “absurd sketches” make this an anticipated event. Despite the single show in Kobe (as opposed to two last year), the multi-city tour and continuing polishing of plays before varied spectators will, I am certain, create some hits among the many misses, eventually becoming part of the growing “newly created kyogen” repertoire.
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