• Noh: 清経, 竜田, 熊坂  (Kiyotsune, Tatsuta, Kumasaka)

11/8/20 (Sun), Tokyo

Today’s shows, appropriately enough, were all pieces set in autumn. Having seen shows by the Kanze, Kita and Hosho schools in recent weeks, I added Konparu to the list today, though without knowing it until after the fact. The theater had a dismal showing at maybe 10-20% capacity. I was furious to see that the singers wore masks hanging loosely over their faces. I really don’t want to be reminded of this virus while I’m watching a 15th-century play. If I had known that was the case, I wouldn’t have shown up. I’m definitely going to call beforehand and check that the next time.

Kiyotsune: A warrior’s wife is horrified to learn that his death in battle was due not to fighting but suicide by drowning. She considers this as a cowardly act, essentially giving up rather than facing the enemy to the last, and a personal betrayal as he had promised to return to her. She angrily gives away the lock of his hair that she had received as his keepsake. His ghost then comes to her in a dream and explains that he had strived as hard as he could but, facing insuperable odds, chose to die at his own hand so that he could enter paradise. He berates her for discarding the hair, accusing her of forgetting him. He acts out his story to the bitter end, describing not only the battle and his leap into the waters (including his playing of a flute just before to calm his soul) but the subsequent torments of the special warrior hell (shura) in which he’s confined. She weeps to hear his fate, and neither questions the other’s love any longer. He then says a special invocation that allows him to achieve Buddhahood.

It’s a lovely story. There is no costume change here (the lead only plays one role), so the play moves especially smoothly compared to other redemption plays. The text is beautiful as well, especially the poetic analogies like the boats as scattered leaves and the Genji flags as birds in the trees, and the description of hell was fantastic. As is common with Noh, there are numerous puns that are simply not translatable such as hair (髪) and god (神) or Usa (宇佐 place name) and depression (憂さ). This Zeami play is considered one of the great masterpieces of Noh, but more than that, it’s very enjoyable. Highly recommended. 

Tatsuta: A rather esoteric play by Zenchiku that evidently has deep religious symbolism and philosophy, all of which went over my head. A maiden stops monks from crossing the Tatsuta River in Nara, saying that crossing the brocade of autumn leaves would offend the gods of nearby Tatsuta Shrine, which protects an ancient spear that belonged to the gods who created Japan. When the monks point out that the river is in fact iced over, she finds a poetic ruling against that as well. She disappears into the shrine, only to reemerge as the goddess of autumn herself. She performs a long and engaging celebratory dance, trading in her fan for an onusa (大麻, the stick hung with paper streamers used by Shinto priests), and ultimately ascends, says the text, into the heavens. I guess the priests had to find another way to get across the river.

This is not officially classified as a god play (which are usually set in spring), but it sure looks like one to me. It basically exists to celebrate the holy nature of the shrine and its goddess. I found the text tedious and not particularly convincing – what’s wrong with crossing a river? I don’t get it. The saving grace was the elegant dance, which is extremely well staged; it did not feel its considerable length at all. I’d like to see that part again, hopefully detached from the rest.

Kumasaka: A traveling monk is asked by a local monk to say a prayer on the anniversary of a certain person’s death – but the latter will not reveal the person’s name. The traveling monk considers that odd but agrees anyway and says a sutra. When he visits the monk’s hut, he is surprised to find weapons instead of Buddhist icons. The monk explains that he has stocked up to protect the villagers from roving bandits. He then disappears into thin air along with the hut; the traveling monk is surprised to find that the landscape has become a single pine tree. In the morning, the monk reappears as the ghost of Kumasaka Chohan, a famous real-life thief. Kumasaka tells of his lurid past. He related how he and his men attacked a caravan that included the teenaged Ushiwaka (later known as Yoshitsune), who turned the tables and killed them all. The ghost asks the traveling monk for absolution before going into hiding in the shadows as dawn breaks.

A very interesting piece implying that even a villain can receive a blessing for his soul in the afterlife, suggesting perhaps that evil can be redeemed in the next life. (Somehow I thought of Yasukuni Shrine, where politicians have been pilloried for praying for the souls of the war dead, including several war criminals. But I’m not going there.) The ghost had a terrific mask, but his dance was less dynamic than I had imagined. The movements were less sharp, more controlled. It could have been a real showpiece given the character. I wonder if that was due to the limitations of the actor. Still, the show was fascinating and well worth seeing. I had three English translations (Waley, Pound, noh.com) that were quite different in their points of view, sometimes actually conflicting – the beautiful ambiguity of the Japanese doesn’t help. This third show offered the best musicians of the day and singers with strong clear voices. A rewarding show.