• Kabuki: 幽玄 (Yugen)

9/12/18 (Wed), Tokyo Kabukiza

All the shows in this month’s evening performance were pieces derived from ancient Noh theater: Sanbaso, a comic take on the austere Okina; the great Shunkan, Chikamatsu Monzaemon’s brash reworking of the old drama; and a new dance piece by National Living Treasure Tamasaburo based on the classics Hagoromo, Shakkyo and Dojoji.

Sanbaso was performed competently enough by Koshiro, while the splendid production of Shunkan featured the always superb Kichiemon playing a role he knows well in tribute to his adopted father, whose life is being celebrated this month. Most eagerly awaited, though, was Tamasaburo’s collection of three dances, given the collective name of Yugen, a word closely associated with Noh indicating a profound elegance that cannot be expressed in words. The famed female-role specialist teamed up with the estimable taiko drum group Kodo to create new versions of the three pieces, all of which have long-standing Kabuki adaptations.

In the end, the results weren’t Kabuki at all; they turned out to be modern dance pieces using taiko drums, koto zithers, Chinese gongs and other decidedly non-Kabuki instruments, with intricate choreography and mood-setting lighting effects throughout.

That was not entirely uninteresting, but the question is what it was doing on the Kabuki stage. They don’t need Kabuki actors to be doing this (and there were in fact plenty of random non-Kabuki bodies on stage); it was in effect a director’s theater, which is not why we’re there. The over-reliance on contemporary lighting and sound effects rather takes the point away – we could easily have seen this around the corner at the Enbujo, also owned by the Kabuki producers. Kabuki drama has evolved greatly since its 17th-century beginnings, of course, including not only modern (for the time) themes and stories but many technical innovations like revolving stages and trap doors. That constant change is what has kept it a living art. And modern lighting effects have been used before, most memorably in updated stagings of Kurozuka and Ninin Wankyu.

But those shows are still based on traditional acting styles, so Kabuki performers remain irreplaceable. While new scripts and ideas are always welcome, allowing electronics and contemporary dance fads to define the show risks losing what makes Kabuki unique. They could pretty much have plugged anyone into these pieces without any Kabuki training at all. London’s Globe Theatre tried a similar experiment with sound and lighting recently, resulting in the loss of audiences (including me) and the firing of the artistic director; it went against the idea of showing us theater in conditions that audiences centuries ago might have recognized. There have been Kabuki interpretations of contemporary anime using a mix of Kabuki and non-Kabuki actors, like the smash hit version of the One Piece series, but those are in modern theaters, where our expectations are entirely different. Giving the impression that anyone can stand on a Kabuki stage is not going to help the art form in the long run.

The mini-dances are arranged from a Noh-based jo-ha-kyu concept, meaning roughly slow-faster-fastest. Hagoromo is a stately piece in which an angel (Tamasaburo) seeks to retrieve an all-important robe from a group of fishermen (led by an excellent Kasho). Backed by a large on-stage chorus, the fishermen moved in synch in a highly stylized manner, and Tamasaburo danced stoically and unhurriedly. The instruments included not only drums but also washboard-type items and a Buddhist block. The Chinese gong was grating, used as a dramatic sound effect as in a campy Charlie Chan film rather than an integral part of the action. I didn’t get it at all. The choreography did have moments of unquestioned beauty, and the staging was spectacular in terms of imagery. Still, the dance was overly staged in a way that sapped the work of all spontaneity. Even Tamasaburo seemed buried underneath the concept. The Noh play Hagoromo has tremendous potential as a Kabuki dance piece, but this isn’t it.

Shakkyo is the source of the immensely popular Renjishi lion dance and its many variations, making it a curious choice for revisal. In this version, five shishi lions run out and dance. And that pretty much sums it up. There’s no religious element as in Noh, no parent-child relationship as in Kabuki, no pretense of a story at all to make us care about the characters: it’s just five kids out shaking their manes, giving us the climax without the buildup. That said, the dancing itself was dynamic and well performed, again featuring a very good Kasho, making it the best of the three mini-pieces overall.

Dojoji involves a jilted woman who vents her fury at the dedication of a new bell, a replacement for one she destroyed when her would-be lover tried to escape by climbing inside. A huge number of actors, dancers, drummers and other musicians filled the stage in an impressively large cast. There were long enjoyable passages of drumming in various configurations, which had little to do with the show but made for great listening; few do this better than Kodo, and they were at their considerable best here. The lighting was highly theatrical, including the kindling of candles across the entire stage, varying shades of light and darkness on the actors, and evocative lighting for the bell, offering at least a pretty picture. This was a curiously impersonal piece, again treating dancers like pieces of a puzzle. Tamasaburo, who is justly famous for his performance in the traditional version, was effectively one of the pieces, though he did make things interesting at the end with a hideous demon’s face. But I think this show might have been better heard than seen.

I wonder if Kabuki fans were happy with this. It seemed more a glamour project for Tamasaburo, one of the best stage actors in Japan in any genre, than something aiming for a serious contribution to the art of Kabuki. I don’t think it can be repeated at the Kabukiza with another actor – nor should it. Kodo is always worth hearing (I’ve seen them many times), but no one would think of putting them, say, in the Met. So what are they doing here? Kabuki, like opera, is a highly specialized art requiring years of tireless training at the feet of past masters, and throwing varied elements together in hopes of something “interesting” just cheapens the experience. I hope the Kabukiza in particular, unquestionably the world’s top theater for this art form, resists the lazy temptation to let technology do its work for it, especially at these prices.