Skip to main content

Cho Kabuki: Hatsune miku vocaloid Vs. Nakamura Shidokabuki

 And the winner is: the blue-haired outrageously, contagiously cute and cool Hatsunemiku? Who could compete with the long-legged, flowing pigtailed, slender-waisted animated projection? Effortless leaping from small to large screen, and even a standing Japanese screen, while the stocky middle-aged men of kabuki posed, earthbound and sweaty. Their voices, amplified to carry over the electronic/live geza/electronic sounds,  hoarse or slightly breathless could not compete with her pre-recorded sweet digital lyricism. While the plot thickened, lead actors left the stage to change costume, but Miku, effortless changing her gorgeous pastel costumes and beautifully quaffed hair (rolled into a back-bun or left dangling gaily was the bride of the ball. They had come to be in her presence, which happened to include this ancient art called "kabuki", but it was clear from the pen-lights they waved aloft and the silent cheers only she could hear why they were here.

    In a reversal of normal kabuki offerings, he front rows looked full, of youth the back rows (where I sat) were empty and full of middle-aged and older persons, perhaps the parents dragged along reluctantly by their passionate teenage children. 

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

An urgent appeal (駆け込み訴えKakekomi utae) by Dazai Osamu

-->   How close is too close? An urgent appeal ( 駆け込み訴え Kakekomi utae) by Dazai Osamu Adapted, acted and directed by Kodama Ta   chi 児玉泰地 (役者でない) No actors https://www.facebook.com/events/283142869026661/ On April 8 2019 at the small Cafe Figaro near the University of the Arts in northeast Kyoto, a former student of mine Kodama Taichi performed a new play from his one-person series, “No actors.” I had seen a video of his earlier, absurdist actor’s nightmare play and liked its physicality and precision. I looked forward to his live performance, one that had already toured four cities and is on its way to Tokyo in the Fall. I hastily read Dazai Osamu’s short story (helpfully online in translation) before the performance. With the one drink served as part of the reasonable 1500 yen admission price, I had a ginger ale. As the dozen or so spectators entered the chandeliered, mirrored café with beautiful porcelain cups and saucers lined up, I was surpris...

Hearing/healing voices: Shamiri Azade Voicelessness at Kyoto Experiment

KYOTO EXPERIMENT    ·  アーザーデ・シャーミーリー 『Voicelessness —声なき声』 A Daughter visits her Mother in hospital. Her Mother is in a coma, and cannot speak, but the Daughter explains that she has invented a device to hear the brainwaves of the unconscious and therefore proceeds to have a conversation with the Mother.     The Daughter wants to know why the Mother refused to continue to prosecute the death of her Father, the Daughter's Grandfather, fifty years ago. Yagil, a family friend and office manager had seemingly embezzled money, ruining the family business. Although the police  had investigated the Father's sudden collapse and fall, they found no evidence of foul play. The Mother insists that although she, her brother and sister, suspected Yagil, they had no proof.      The Daughter then reveals recovered conversations between the Mother and her Sister, and a video without sound of Yagil's visit to her house, argument with the brother over disc...

Not I transl. and dir. by Kimura Yusuke at the Theatre Lumen, Kyoto May 30 2019

--> Not I transl. and dir. by Kimura Yusuke at the Theatre Lumen, Kyoto May 30 2019 http://yusuke-kimura.net/ Samuel Beckett’s Not I is a surreal horror of a one-woman show. A Woman’s mouth only is seen, high above the stage, absurdly higher than if she were standing, framed in spotlight. As the light fades in, the sounds of her gasping, whispering, urgent voice is heard before the lights fade up on the mouth, lips painted brightly, teeth, tongue; even her throat is visible in a kind of red-grey chiaroscuro. She is speaking to herself, a stung creature, like the ox-sister Io in Euripides’ Prometheus . Words spill from her unwanted, a verbal diarrhea, before she thinks them, allowing us to see her forming the words and reacting to them in real time, reversing normal order. Each impulse, each fragment, amended or doubled-back upon, rejected or extended—returns her to a continuous loop, recurring inside her brain but vocalized for us. A silent, lonely woman su...