• Kabuki: 高時, 西郷と豚姫, 素襖落, 外郎売 (Takatoki, Saigo and the Pig Princess, Suo Otoshi, The Medicine Peddler)

7/24/19 (Wed), Tokyo Kabukiza

This month’s performance was completely sold out on the strength of a six-year-old actor, son of superstar Ebizo, taking on a role usually played by an adult. The boy is often featured in his father’s widely followed blog, and Ebizo fever has basically enveloped him as well. The first three shows today were all Meiji or Taisho Era pieces that veer from traditional Kabuki in certain ways, while the last, in which the child appears, is a once-archaic Edo Era sketch that was revived/reconstructed in 1985.

Takatoki: A dumb piece by the usually reliable Kawatake Mokuami about an imperious lord whose cruelty leads to his own punishment by the gods. It was one of the Meiji Era’s experimental “living history” Kabuki plays (活歴物) that were supposed to be closer to historical fact than the more vivid old-style Kabuki dramas. This is one of the few plays of that short-lived genre that is still performed, though I imagine this has more to do with the dancing and glamorous setting than any historical truths. Takatoki was a real-life 14th-century figure known for his dissolute lifestyle and love of dogs.

A samurai slays Lord Takatoki’s beloved pet dog after it bites the samurai’s mother and attacks his child. This so infuriates the lord that he summarily orders the samurai to be executed. He is persuaded with difficulty to rescind the order on the grounds that valuing animals over humans will bring the family name into disrepute on this day, the anniversary of his ancestor’s death, but his merciless spirit is clear. While he is subsequently carousing at a party, the scene suddenly goes dark. As the maid and guests flee in terror, the lord is attacked by tengu goblins and left unconscious. When his attendants rush in to revive the humiliated Takatoki, we can hear the scornful offstage laughter of the tengu, gleeful that they have taught him a lesson.

The attack by the dogs – played by children (or very small people) in dog outfits – is amusing, and the samurai delivers a nice speech on how the regime’s brutality will be its doom, a distinctly Meiji touch. After a short fight sequence between the samurai and guards, he is forced to surrender when they take his child and mother hostage. So far so good. The second act features a party in progress with a colorful array of female attendants and samurai. The presence of the lord on stage when the curtain rises (itself atypical – Kabuki curtains traditionally open from left to right) was apparently a shock to audiences of the day, who would have expected a bigger buildup before his appearance. His outsized reaction to the dog’s death and overbearing attitude were fine, and the dances performed on his behalf were entertaining. The problem is the embarrassing tengu attack, a strange development for a “living history” drama. The dance was apparently based on ancient dengaku, which would have been contemporary to the era portrayed and thus historic in a sense. But the turn to the supernatural as a way to deliver a moral message didn’t fit the mood whatsoever and felt childish (though it must be said that this is evidently the show’s most popular bit). I’m surprised Mokuami settled for this. The makings of a good play are there, but this isn’t it. For what’s it worth, the cast was quite good, led by Udanji as the title character and Kudanji as the samurai, and the large group of singers and shamisen players sounded great.

Saigo and the Pig Princess (Saigo to Butahime): A drama from 1917, only six years after the end of the momentous Meiji Era whose creation is being portrayed here. Saigo Kichinosuke, better known historically as Meiji Revolution leader Saigo Takamori, is on the run, uncertain of whether the lord supports him and the other rebels or the shogunate. With the shogun’s men out in force, he escapes to the pleasure quarters and his mistress O-Tama, called the Pig Princess for her hefty profile. He is threatened at one point by the authorities when they find a dead body outside (murdered in fact by his follower), but he fends them off ably with bluster of his own. He begins to lose faith in his mission to overthrow the government and decides at one point to commit suicide with O-Tama. He changes his tune, however, when he learns from his Satsuma colleague Okubo Toshimichi that the lord does back his side after all. In a curious dénouement, he leaves O-Tama as brusquely as he ran to her, though he does give her nearly all his money on hand as a parting gift.

The ladies of the establishment are given distinct personalities, and their lively talk makes for a strong opening. The Pig Princess, the actual nickname of Saigo’s real-life mistress (is it indelicate to wonder if her bulk was an attraction for the famously outsized samurai?), is the true star of the show. She acts as a (non-threatening?) confidante for the ladies and proves a tough character when defending her lover against the authorities. Nevertheless, that sturdiness contrasts with an insecurity over her looks that drives her to despair. Shido, not always my favorite, does an excellent job of balancing both sides and makes no attempt to be particularly feminine in his acting, an adroit approach. Saigo (Kinnosuke) is presented as calm and analytical, shrugging off the urgent warning by his fiery follower of the imminent danger posed by the shogun’s authorities. He seems a bit overly cool at times, coming to life only when he is directly countering the authorities, and his late turnabout is rather abrupt. A knowledge of history probably helps appreciate his portrayal here, but the show shouldn’t depend on that. Still, it all comes together by the end. While the dialogue overall could as usual be trimmed to better effect, the piece benefits from exceptionally beautiful language by Ikeda Daigo, and the plot flows smoothly. The variety of characters and humor throughout make this an enjoyable piece.

The Dropped Robe (Suo Otoshi): Comedy does not come naturally to Ebizo, and the seams were showing here. The show is an 1892 adaptation of a medieval Kyogen farce, a common occurrence in the Meiji Era when the Kabuki world was seeking more respectable sources as a means of upgrading its common-class image. The Dropped Robe is one of the more successful results, cleverly transforming the text into a comic dance piece that has become a permanent part of the repertory. The servant Taro Kaja, on a mission to his master’s relatives, is plied with drink, and his tipsy dance prompts the delighted hosts to give him a robe as a present. He tries to hide the robe from his employer, who he fears will want it for himself. Still plastered, Taro Kaja unknowingly drops the robe in front of the master, who uses the moment to tease the servant.

The play builds nicely on the Kyogen sketch by adding a significant dance element for the servant with both the relatives and the master. His inebriated actions are easy for an actor to overdo, a trap that Ebizo unfortunately falls into. I suppose it’s unfair to compare him with the late Kanzaburo, a born entertainer, but I couldn’t help remember the latter’s effortless approach to the same material, which made every move seem spontaneous. The piece was a completely different experience in his hands. Ebizo has all the right moves but simply tries too hard, making the slapstick overly obvious. He has undeniable stage presence, and his good looks and relative youth (42) win him a lot of leeway from his legion of fans – he remains the only Kabuki actor at present who can fill a house. But I suspect that’s made him lazy. He really needs a better director.

The Medicine Peddler (Uiro Uri): Everyone was waiting for first-grader Kangen in his big moment, and he delivered. The show is one of the Eighteen Famous Plays of the Ichikawa line of actors, to which Ebizo belongs. It dates from a brief sketch of 1718 and had taken various forms in subsequent years, but had been virtually forgotten by the time Ebizo’s father had it reworked upon taking the legendary Danjuro name (which Ebizo will inherit next year) in 1985. It proved a major hit thanks in good part to the rapid-fire tongue-twisting sales pitch by the medicine peddler and has since been frequently revived.

Today’s production is a modified version featuring father-and-son peddlers, with the big speech given to the son – in this case, Ebizo’s son Kangen, who has just started elementary school. The role, which involved several mie poses and fight sequences as well as the long tricky tongue twister, seemed a lot of pressure to put on a child, but Kangen came through with terrific poise for a small boy. (In his debut two years earlier, they had him flying through the air from the stage to the fourth floor – they’re not taking it easy on him.) My friend was convinced that this is a star in the making, proclaiming him more skilled than his father (not necessarily a high bar), but whatever the truth of that prediction, he certainly earned his applause here.

The show offers plenty of spectacle: the drop curtain at the very beginning falls to reveal an immediate splash of colorful warriors and princesses in aragoto style at a hunting party in front of a huge backdrop of Mt. Fuji, featuring animated dialogue and a lovely dance by courtesans. In addition, the peddler is revealed to be the warrior Soga Goro, who has come in disguise to avenge his father’s death. That spurs a brief battle scene in the style of the much-loved Soga Brothers genre. It offers everything but a logical story.

For all that, the inimitable speech is the make-or-break point, and the audience got its money’s worth. The show seems a good candidate for Ebizo himself to perform in next year’s accession to the storied Danjuro name, and his kid has set a nice standard.