• Bunraku: 大経師昔暦 (The Almanac Maker)

2/2/19 (Sat), Tokyo

This puppet piece by the prolific Chikamatsu Monzaemon, inspired by the adulterous relationship of an actual couple, debuted in 1715 on the 33rd anniversary of their death, an important Buddhist date. It’s one of three major adultery plays written by Chikamatsu (all of which were performed together a few years back in a day of infidelity — wish I could have seen that). It reappeared in various forms after its debut, including a major Kabuki adaptation, but like most of Chikamatsu’s works fell off the map for many years, known mainly as the basis for Mizoguchi’s brilliant film The Crucified Lovers (also known by the terrible title The Chikamatsu Story「近松物語」) . The play was unearthed during a Chikamatsu renaissance in the early 1980s, with the long-lost music newly composed based on scattered memos. And a masterpiece was reborn. This is the first revival of this piece in nine years.

Osan, a woman trying to catch her philandering husband in the act, and Mohei, a male servant seeking to repay a maid for an act of kindness, meet in the darkness and spend the night together. They are shocked to discover in the morning that they have unwittingly committed adultery, a crime punishable by crucifixion. They are forced to go on the run as events take their course.

This is not a Greek tragedy where a fatal flaw leads to disastrous consequences, as the characters for the most part are victims of coincidence. It is true that the protagonists are hardly perfect – Osan asks Mohei effectively to steal from her husband’s company for her family’s sake, albeit as a temporary loan; Mohei has been drinking and accepts (the film implies that he was besotted by his mistress, which makes more sense); Osan is driven by jealousy to hide in her servant’s room to catch her straying husband, unknowingly catching Mohei instead; and Osan’s husband, the almanac maker Ishun, has been trying aggressively to bed the maid in a bit of 18th-century sexual harassment.

At the same time, actions taken with virtuous intent have inadvertent consequences: the maid’s attempt to deflect suspicion from her accused mistress makes Ishun jealous, provoking him to lock Mohei up (which leads indirectly to the tragedy), and an attempt by the maid’s uncle to rectify the situation by beheading his daughter (which makes gruesome sense in context) conversely dooms the couple by eliminating the only witness. Good and evil are both neutral in this world, and the series of unfortunate choices leads eventually to unhappiness for all, at least in the acts presented here. (Apparently the couple do get reprieved by a dumb deus ex machina in a final act that is thankfully no longer performed.)

The plot is exceptionally well crafted, even by Chikamatsu’s high standards, with plausible motivations by all the main characters. We do have to make some allowances, such as the dubious notion that Osan could really mistake another man in bed for her husband, dark or not. And the second act goes astray with a drippy and overlong interaction between Osan and her parents, who happen to run into each other just where Osan’s maid has taken refuge. Nevertheless, the author has created a compelling story with fine dialogue (references to Noh plays and historical epics alternate with salty dialogue among the maids about a lusty female cat), interesting set pieces (such as the ominous shadows of the puppets in one scene that foreshadow their fate) and characters that we truly care about. While Mizoguchi did improve upon the show in one of the best film adaptations – in fact, one of the best Japanese films – of all time, that’s speaking from a very modern viewpoint. Bunraku doesn’t get much better.

A more detailed summary of the plot from my notes nine years ago:

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A prestigious almanac maker has been making unwanted advances to the maid, even crawling over the fence and into her bedroom at nights. She has successfully rejected him to now but has been reluctant to tell the wife. Meanwhile, the wife Osan learns that her father is in financial trouble and is being asked to help. Embarrassed to ask her husband, she asks her servant Mohei to dip into the house funds. Happy to help his beautiful mistress and a bit drunk, he carelessly signs an IOU with his master’s seal.

He is unfortunately spotted by a weasely clerk, who snitches on him. The master is enraged to learn the news and beats Mohei, until then a model servant. Osan is worried that he may blab about her request, but he keeps silent. The maid, secretly in love with Mohei and hoping to get him and her mistress both out of trouble, steps up and claims that she made him do it. That conversely makes the master more upset, thinking that the maid has rejected him for a lowly servant. He locks Mohei in a room upstairs and leaves in a fury.

Osan thanks the maid for lying for her. The maid then tells her tearfully about the master’s come-ons, adding that he’ll probably try to get in her bed again that very night. The irate wife plots to catch her errant husband by slipping into the maid’s bed. She sends the maid off and waits.

Meanwhile, the servant has broken out of confinement and crawls away over the roof (in a nice visual). Feeling thankful for the maid’s efforts and knowing of her feelings for him, he decides to sleep with her as a way of showing his gratitude. He slips into her bed in the darkness, little knowing who is really there.

When the husband bangs on the door in the morning, the wife and servant awaken and discover to their horror their adultery – a crime punishable by death. They each gasp, and in a dramatic touch (created for the 1980s revival), the curtain closes to complete silence without the usual sound of the clackers. We are aware that they will have to flee.

In the next act, the shop’s obnoxious clerk has bound the maid and brought her to her uncle’s home, saying she is guilty of abetting the crime of the fugitive couple. The uncle beats him and drives him away angrily, saying only the authorities are allowed to bind someone this way. He then advises his niece to accept execution with honor for her actions. Meanwhile, Osan and Mohei, having escaped, have come to the maid’s home in concern for her. Before they can enter, Osan’s own parents wander by in one of those coincidences that Bunraku seems to love. Having heard of her predicament, they give her money in a very drawn-out scene, telling her to go to Mohei’s hometown for safety. When they leave, the couple is standing as the maid looks out the window, and, in a striking image, the shadows cast on the wall seem to foreshadow their crucifixion and the maid’s beheading.

In the next act, the couple have taken cover in Mohei’s hometown. However, Osan is recognized on New Year’s Day by a passing street performer. She buys off his silence only to learn that the Kyoto police are on their trail anyway. The police arrive, followed by the clerk, who demands that the couple be turned over to him. Then the maid’s uncle shows up with a box containing the maid’s head, which he himself has cut off for her crime. He pleads for the life of the couple, saying it was all the fault of his niece, who has now been punished. As it turns out, the Kyoto official says that if the maid were alive, she might have been able to testify on the couple’s or her own behalf. Now that she’s gone, the couple cannot establish their innocence. The uncle’s shocking realization of his rash error ends the show.

This was a finely detailed show with rich characterizations and a number of memorable touches (silent curtain at the end of Act 2, creepy shadows on the wall, puppet crawling over the fence). The tragedy at the end was fairly brutal, with the uncle, an honorable man, horror-struck not only at having killed his niece in vain but having unintentionally ensured the execution of the adulterous couple. Chikamatsu is going beyond the usual bathos and into something approaching true tragedy, where the character’s own impulsive nature has led to his own downfall. This is not the show’s main character, and the author doesn’t really push it to its limits. But the moment is gut-wrenching. I’ve never noticed this depth in his shows before, though maybe I just haven’t watched closely enough. A classic by any measure.