• Noh: 花月、富士太鼓、大会  (Kagetsu, Fujidaiko, Dai-e)

6/17/18 (Sun), Umewaka Noh Theater, Tokyo

These pieces are not necessarily among the best known Noh dramas, so I was surprised to see the theater 85-90% full, a huge contrast from the many empty seats last time. Then I looked at the program: the Kyogen comic interlude (not described here) featured the TV and movie heartthrob Nomura Mansai. I guess Noh audiences are as star-struck as anyone. But it was heartening that nearly all remained for the last two pieces even after the Kyogen finished. In the Noh works, the common themes today were long-nosed tengu goblins, drums and throwing props to the ground.

Kagetsu: A man has been searching desperately for his son, who was kidnapped as a child by a tengu. The man, now a monk, has arrived in the capital near Kiyomizu Temple and asks a local man to recommend some sights, which seems odd for a guy anguishing over his long-lost kid. The man brings in a young boy to perform. They sing a duet about the torment of love (“恋は曲者”), interestingly suggesting an illicit relationship between the two, though no one seems bothered by it. The boy then performs a dance. As the boy entertains, the father realizes that this is in fact his son. The boy dances in celebration at the reunion, and the two leave together on a pilgrimage.

Not much of a story here. The plot doesn’t linger too much on the reunion of the two, which, like a 1920s musical, seems mainly a device to show off the dances. When the boy introduces himself, he notes charmingly that his name uses different characters as homonyms to accord with the season (か = 花、瓜、果、火); he observes that one of the characters 果 also features in 因果 (fate or causality), foreshadowing the reunion that he does not know is coming. After he sings with the man, he performs the first dance. Holding a bow and arrow, he prepares to shoot a bird for disturbing the flower blossoms, but holds back due to Buddhist teachings about the sanctity of life, throwing the weapon down. When the father suddenly recognizes him, the overjoyed boy performs a celebratory piece with a small kakko drum (which, unique to the Umewaka style, he actually beats rather than mimes) and sings and dances the story of his abduction. At the end, the father leaves abruptly, and the boy later follows at a distance. I think we’re to assume they’re leaving together, though it was a strange way to show it.

The dances are virtuoso pieces for the boy and enjoyable to watch, though not really expressing the story in any meaningful way. The song was evidently an interpolation of a popular number of its day, that day being the 14th century (the piece is sometimes ascribed rather unconvincingly to the master, Zeami), suggesting again that this was meant to be an audience-pleaser more than anything else. The play doesn’t compare to more substantial parent-child separation pieces like Yoroboshi (son, now a blind beggar, is reunited with his dad) and Sumidagawa (a mother seeking her missing son comes upon his funeral). Then again, it is not aspiring to those levels, and the variety of the song and dances is an attraction of its own. The show is highly entertaining for what it is.

Fujidaiko: A drum (taiko) is placed on stage on a large stand. An envoy explains that a drummer named Fuji has been killed by a rival, Asama, after crashing a party and trying to displace him in a performance for the emperor. The emperor, noting the coincidence of their names, reportedly joked that a famous ancient poem (信濃なる浅間の嶽も燃ゆるといえば、富士の煙の甲斐やなからん = “Mt Fuji’s smoke is nothing compared to the eruption at Shinano’s Mt Asama”) implied that the latter drummer would be a better choice, and Asama played as scheduled. Asama was nevertheless incensed, with some justification, at Fuji’s attempt to butt in and angrily disposed of him. As the envoy completes his story, Fuji’s wife appears. She had warned her husband against attempting to upset the established order, especially as he had not received an official imperial edict. After an ominous dream, she has brought her child to the capital to look for him. She is shocked to learn that he has died for his transgression, receiving only his clothes in return. She becomes unbalanced despite the efforts of her child to calm her, and when she puts on her husband’s outfit, goes completely mental. She performs a mad dance. Seeing the drum as the object responsible for her husband’s fate (恨めしきは太鼓なり、夫の敵 = “The drum is all I despise, my husband’s enemy”), she strikes it in fury, and the child eventually joins as well. In the end, she throws down the sticks and, in a curious reversal, decides to celebrate the emperor anyway with a propitious gagaku number – maybe an inevitable ending for its time.

It is not entirely clear whether the woman is expressing her own emotions or possessed by the man’s irate spirit. It’s been suggested that she is just pretending to be possessed in order to cover her tracks since her complaints could be interpreted as inherent criticism of an emperor. In any event, her grief seems quite real, and the number is effective in conveying her chaotic mental state. By the end of the show, the drum has transformed in her mind from her husband’s enemy to his keepsake, suggesting that she has accepted his death.

I noticed that the drum in this case does not make a sound when Ms Fuji strikes it, a contrast with the preceding show. I was told that whereas the drum in Kagetsu is a mere prop, it is the central metaphor in this piece, and leaving the sound to the audience’s imagination is deemed more impressive. A memorable work.

Dai-e: A retired monk is surprised to receive a visit from a mountain priest. It turns out that the latter is actually a tengu, who says the monk once unknowingly saved his life (the tengu was apparently in the form of a spider at the time, which the monk rescued from children). In gratitude, he offers to grant the monk any wish. The monk, needing nothing for himself, says that his greatest desire is to see Buddha deliver his sermon on the mount. The tengu agrees to reenact this on the sole stipulation that the monk refrain from praying at the vision. He tells the monk to close his eyes, then (we are told by the chorus) flies off and goes down into the valley. A platform with a throne is brought in and placed center stage. The tengu enters dressed as Buddha (wearing a mask over a mask) and carrying a sutra scroll. As he performs the sermon in great grandeur, the monk opens his eyes and, overwhelmed with devotion, reflexively places his hands together in prayer. The tengu is aghast as this is a breach against heaven. Sure enough, the god Taishakuten (Indra) enters to punish the tengu for imitating Buddha. The tengu, taking off the outer outfit and returning to his true form with a goblin mask, is beaten by the god. After a solid thrashing, Indra flies back to heaven. The tengu, no longer able to fly, sheds his wings (throwing them to the ground) and crawls sadly into a cave.

The premise of the story is rather unfair to the tengu, who was just trying to pay back his obligation to the devout monk (who never even apologizes for the trouble he’s caused). But I suppose a sin done in secret is no better than one done openly. This is a very accessible piece with plenty of action and several highlights, making me suspect it is a later work from the days when Noh looked to be evolving in a more audience-friendly direction. There’s not a lot of information out there on this piece, and while it’s not an outright rarity, performances are sporadic. I can’t imagine why. A great piece for Noh beginners.

The main actor mentioned later that most schools do not discard the wings since the feathers are so expensive; most actors borrow the lavish costumes and don’t want the risk of damage. His wings are a family heirloom, so he can do what he wants, giving us the extra drama. A nice touch.