Kyoto performance reviews

Cinema Kabuki: Rakuda/Renjishi The idea is a great one: to capture on HD video the excitement of live performance, then broadcast it in surrond-sound multiplex theatres around the country. The Metropolitan Opera continues its Met Live series, which include backstage interviews, shots of actors in close-up, and (in delayed broadcasts abroad) subtitled versions and (in DVDs released later) bonus track. But when it comes to Cinema Kabuki, something is not quite right. The curtain and chatty audience is captured just before opening, but after that there is no sense of the live spectators watching from varied angles around the auditorium (mind you, the three Met broadcasts I’ve seen similarly dismiss the audience as necessary clutter—or perhaps there are legal issues of including so many “extras”?). Kakegoe claque calls come from the “back”, while sporadic oohs, ahs, and laughter are heard. But except for the infrequent shots of the hanamichi (and adjoining patrons), the spectators themselv

Why can’t Western instruments and noh work together? Why do Western-trained actors have trouble sharing the stage with Japanese noh-kyogen actors? And why oh why do producers seeking publicity, frisson, and doling civic funds equitably seek to marry the two in under-rehearsed, one-time experiments? Three reasons spring to mind: 1/ On a basic level of dramaturgy, the two are self-contained and other-rejecting. Noh’s frontal declamation style and stylized expression of emotion demands focus; Western “cheating” diagonals and detailed facial expression pulls focus from the stage picture to the individual portrait. Vocal energy and melodic chant, coiled taut and loosened strategically through MA pauses and accents in conjunction with drum/flute accompaniment are potently precise; Western vocal energy is emotionally, not musically based. It follows the flow of breath swept up in the surge of passion and concrete logic of debate. The trained actor’s voice itself is the instrument, needing no

Bassara Kyogen, Takutaku Livehouse, Kyoto Dec 16 2008-12-16 This is a an “upsidedown” or “sarcastic” kyogen produced by Sennojo Shigeyama, senior terrible of the kyogen world in the middle of his 80s. Three generations of his peculiarly-placed family performed a solo experiment. A one-time only gig, it brought out old family friends (Miho) and researchers (Gondo, me), and newbies. The place was full, standing room only—120 people? All ages, mostly middleaged fans of the Shigeyamas, but some young people too. Selling calendars and books,a s with other Shigeyama shows. Doji opened with a solo dance (!), to Miles Davis’ Spanish Fly, loud on the speakers. He was alone, against a wall, lonely, wondering what it was all about. Gradually he rose, moved out in butoh-like lunges, to the diagonals. Then discovering something, joyously reaching out into the corners of the stage. Turning his back, he reached behind him to tug something, released, he folded his arms across his chest, feminine. Move

Chilsu and Mansu http://www.beyondhollywood.com/chilsu-and-mansu-1994-movie-review/ This Easy Rider-esque journey thru politically charged Korea by two losers was a fine human drama. Chilsu is a loner, a big wolf in sheepskin jean jacket, picking up a girl at an air defence drill. Following her into pinball (imagining driving next to her in Hawaiian shirts in a convertible!), then to Burger King, where he draws her picture. Threatening to draw her nude if she doesn’t give him her number, he storms out, returning the next day and does so. She trades him a coffee for the picture: he says he’s an art student, going to Miami Beach soon to join his brother. The American dream. Actually, he’s a movie poster painter whose lateness gets a scolding: he paints a moustache on an idol and leaves, then finds a painter Mansu to buddy up with. He ends up staying at Mansu’s place, borrowing money, even getting him to pretend to be a just returned artist from Paris, complete with beret and pipe, to dou

Mikado, London Coliseum, Jonathan Miller, original director Feb 27 2008 Tradition is a funny thing. Although “only” 120 years old, the Mikado’s tradition of coy and pretty 3 girls, kimonos and large fans, scraping and kow-towing, and general simpering and mewing is dispensed with in this Mikado. Instead, “we are gentleman of Japan” is sung and actors squeeze their eyes into a slant—but they are dressed in formal 1920s tuxes and maid/bellboy uniforms of some grand, country hotel. Leads saunter in with lacrosse and tennis rackets, billiard cues and golf clubs, drink whiskey-and-waters, and furiously dust everything in sight. A cello, a grand piano, circular sofa, and large palm fronds—all in bone- white or yellow are framed by huge doors and windows. This is England in the ‘20s, not Japan in the 17th century, yet Titipu, yumyum and all the other odd names and dialogue remain the same. The effect is to have yet another layer of parody: England’s post-Imperial pomposity and corruption seen

Well, not really Live, since Oct 12 NYC performance played a weeklong morning run at theatre from Nov 20, but still: same show, with subtitles, watched all around the world. Imagine: i could compare notes with my Mom in Miami--a month later! Actually, she told me it was gory and cacaphonoous. I found it the opposite: the complex multi-layered singing/acting/dancing/musical swirl of live opera was broken into constituent elements by the all-powerful camera. "Live" is simulated--a backstage knock and tracking shot through the backstage area to the stage preparations behind the curtain--but then the show begins and we have an other-world view. This is not a single ideal spectator's $300 box-seat, or even an orchestra seat. Instead, a series of pans, dolly-shots, close-ups of singers, and above- and below- shots of the scenes are edited into a whole. It is a tapestry of carefully considered and controlled shots that effectively tell the story--but is it the story of Salome, o

Another warm and inspiring evening at the Iwakura Space of Heidi Durning (Fujima Kansoo) last night. To celebrate her fiftieth birthday, and her decades of dancing, Heidi performed two nights of 6 dances each--no mean feat (or feet) considering she had to send out invites, manage the box office, help people navigate, prepare aftershow snacks, and arrange for flute (Nonaka Sat) and djembe (Sun). Bravo to those who continue to stretch and push, on whatever scale in this tough, fun world of fusion theatre. Heidi opened with an   Oharame , Okame masked dance from traditional buyo. Her koshi was good, kimari were clean, and the funny yet elegant farmgirl with the puffy face came to life in the small (40-seat) home theatre. Next, the Djembe, played with feeling and variety by Ta-ken . We fell into a trancelike state of readiness.  Then Heidi appeared in FISH , this time in white with two fans, a mermaid-fish gliding serenely across the surface of her little pond. Her face now a mask, her m