• Kabuki: 新版 雪之丞変化 (An Actor’s Revenge)

8/26/19 (Mon), Tokyo Kabukiza

Based on the hit 1934 novel and its many adaptations, including a stage show, an opera, a Takarazuka spectacle, several TV versions and two hugely successful films (1935 and 1963) both starring Hasegawa Kazuo. The Japanese title this time is preceded by “shinpan” or new version, suggesting a significantly revised work. Tamasaburo takes on the part of Yukinojo, an onnagata female-role specialist seeking to avenge his parents’ murder, thus nominally playing a man (albeit dressed and acting throughout as a woman). This seemed a natural fit for Kabuki since the story is after all about Kabuki actors, offering plentiful opportunity for show-within-a-show snippets, and Tamasaburo himself is the most famous onnagata on the stage today. He has directed and adapted this production.

The play is upended by far too much clumsy exposition and too little dramatization, managing to make the melodramatic story dull – a tendency common to Tamasaburo’s directorial efforts, such as his tedious staging of Izumi Kyoka’s novels. Yukinojo seems too weak here to be serious about revenge, perhaps an (unsuccessful) attempt to refocus the plot on the Hamlet-like question over whether vengeance is really the answer. The production seems to have been conceived largely for insiders. One friend noted, for instance, that the acting styles of Shichinosuke and Chusha in various roles were virtual copies of their legendary fathers (respectively the late Kanzaburo and now-retired En’o) and speculated that Tamasaburo, who was close with both, may have designed the production specifically with those former performers in mind. That’s fine for those familiar with the actors but baffling otherwise, since the characters were dramatically unconvincing as presented, and makes the production pretty much unplayable with others. There was also substantial inside humor referring to the actors themselves. The material is borderline camp in any case, but I had been hoping for something more substantial, like the way the 1963 film remake exploited the show’s absurdities to create its own mad world. Touches like the irksome miming in one scene were more fitting to a college show. The one nice touch was the number of well-known Kabuki pieces replayed or referenced, such as the excerpt from Musume Dojoji, a classic that Tamasaburo has played many times.

The most notable feature of the production was the extensive use of video projections and voiceovers, off-putting given that the show is about stage actors. In the opening, an actor, recreating a bit from Meiboku Sendai Hagi, exits along the hanamichi to the back of the theater only to reappear in video on a large screen, where he is shown walking backstage and chatting with stagehands. The actor eventually reemerges on stage to continue the drama, giving the impression that the video was just padding used to give the actor time to get into position. That was true in numerous cases where actors were playing multiple roles, showing a serious lack of directorial imagination. Quick role changes have been a staple in Kabuki for 300 years, so there was ample precedent to draw from.

The videos could be amusing at times (as when the five villains, all played by Chusha, are shown on the screen leering at Yukinojo’s performance) and offered astonishingly high-quality images rivaling IMAX. But it takes away from the live aspect, where actors can’t rely on a second take or editing to do the work for them. Tamasaburo, for instance, plays not only the onnagata but a woman in love with that same onnagata, which might have been fun. But he is shown in the latter role only in video, completely diluting the impact. The template seems to be the trendy video-loving Belgian director Ivo van Hove, and maybe that approach is worth exploring at other theaters. But at the Kabukiza? Come on. New Kabuki plays and productions are always welcome at this venue, but, as at London’s Globe Theatre (where the artistic director was kicked out for such experiments), the emphasis should always be on live performance. Similarly, some of the music was canned (not for the first time), particularly galling given what they’re charging for tickets.

Other technical innovations were less disruptive. The set was largely abstract pieces lowered or shifted into place, ensuring a smooth flow, with some scenes performed unusually on just half the stage. Some of the lighting effects were also memorable, like the star-filled night where a sage appears and disappears into the darkness. As long as the technical side was supporting the drama rather than the other way around, it all seemed to work. It was hard to judge the actors in this fluff, but Tamasaburo was underpowered versus the more energetic Chusha in his many (at least five) roles.

One bizarre development at the show’s end: the death of the villain and Yukinojo’s final monologue were followed, in Takarazuka-like fashion, by a blindingly lit dance featuring Tamasaburo and others against a large group of on-stage musicians. That had nothing to do with the story, but it finally gave us a huge cast, full orchestra and highly colorful presentation, making up for the darkly lit and themed story. Don’t know what that was about, but it made me realize what we had been missing for the past two hours.