• Bunraku: 絵本太功記、勧進帳 (Ehon Taikoki, Kanjincho)

2/23/26 (Mon)

These were the second and third shows of a three-part production this month. Part 1 consisted of the first few acts of Ehon Taikoki, with succeeding acts in Part 2. I considered seeing the first two together since the full show is not done often in Bunraku (this was the first time in the Kanto region for certain acts in 20 years) and not at all in Kabuki, which has preserved just the 10th act of the 14-act show. But that would come to over six hours of showtime, a bit too much to ask of my friend. Bunraku lost its permanent home in Tokyo when the National Theater closed several years ago and is wandering among venues with each production, shedding fans along the way; this one was not even in Tokyo, and the theater was way too large for a puppet drama. But Yokohama is a massive city as well, and with the rarity of the pieces, both shows were nearly sold out, which was nice to see. The overall theme seemed to be losers from turning points in Japanese history, namely Akechi Mitsuhide and Minamoto Yoshitsune. (The first play uses different names due to shogunal restrictions, but I’m using the historic names here.)

Ehon Taikoki, produced in 1799, was based on a popular serialized novel that was still underway when the play appeared. The original Taikoki (太閤記) from 1626 during the third shogun’s reign is a biography of the warrior Hideyoshi, who was still well within living memory at that time, while the later novel romanticizes that. This play (太功記 – note the different Chinese character) centers on Akechi Mitsuhide, the traitor who emerges here as a tragic figure. In a shocking betrayal, Mitsuhide had murdered his mentor, Japan’s ruler Nobunaga, in a surprise attack at Honnoji Temple for reasons still unknown and reigned for just 13 days before his defeat by Hideyoshi. This play is cleverly set up in 14 acts, representing a prologue and one act for each day. Part 1 today presented the prologue and Days 1, 2 (the Honnoji Incident), and 5, which include an imagined justification for Mitsuhide’s behavior. By the time Part 2 begins, it was already Day 6, followed by Days 9 and 10, the last of those including the play’s most famous scene, Amagasaki.

On Day 6, Mitsuhide’s mother Satsuki is furious with her son for defying their lord and bringing disrespect to the family. She slips away from the temple where he’s based to an undisclosed location. Mitsuhide orders his men to follow. When they have gone, he takes out his sword to commit suicide for his treachery, but is stopped by his son and a retainer. They encourage him to carry forward in his plan to take power, and he rides off on horseback to seek backing from the Imperial throne. The show benefited from a typically powerful delivery by the popular narrator Oritayu.

Skipping forward a few days to the rarely performed Day 9, we encounter Hideyoshi, who is heading for the capital to deal with Mitsuhide’s rebellion. He is visited by a farmer and a priest, who present an offering of two squashes. His camp is suddenly attacked by Mitsuhide’s men, leading to a lively battle scene. The visitors offer to guide him to safety, but Hideyoshi realizes that these are in fact the enemy’s hired hands, who are trying to lure him into a trap. He dispatches them quickly and, disguised as a priest, rides off to safety.

The next day, in the famous Amagasaki scene, we find Satsuki, still fuming about her son, hidden away in a small hut at Amagasaki. She is visited by her daughter-in-law Misao and her grandson’s fiancée. A mendicant priest approaches and asks for lodging for the night. The mother accepts, not realizing that this is in fact Hideyoshi in disguise. Then, Satsuki’s grandson shows up. Despite severe reservations about his father’s dishonorable actions, he intends to remain loyal to the father and seeks permission from the grandmother to take part in the battle. She understands his predicament and grants permission. She offers a toast to him and his fiancée, effectively making them a couple.

Once he has gone, Mitsuhide appears. He has recognized Hideyoshi and sneaks in to kill him in the bath. He thrusts in his spear, only to learn to his horror that he has stabbed his own mother. She has purposely put herself in this position in disgust at her son’s treachery against his lord. To make matters worse, the grandson returns with a fatal wound due to the battle that Mitsuhide himself has initiated. Both Mitsuhide’s son and mother die before his eyes, causing him to weep profusely. Hideyoshi then appears from hiding and promises to meet Mitsuhide again on the battlefield as the act closes. The plot sounds more confusing in synopsis than it is in performance, where the action moves swiftly and logically. Narrator Rosetayu was terrific in the final scene.

The show didn’t feel its three-hour length. The story really benefits from a full rendering, and I’m curious to see the acts unperformed today (though their reputation isn’t particularly good). I wonder why Kabuki doesn’t pick up some of these. They might want to consider using the real names for these characters at this point, such as Hideyoshi instead of Hisayoshi, there being no reason to stick to Edo Era restrictions. That would give it greater immediacy given how important this rebellion was in Japanese history and how familiar these names are to any Japanese. (The same applies to the TV series Shogun, where the made-up names take away from the drama.)

In any event, I’m kicking myself now for not seeing Part 1 (this is the final day) since I’m unlikely to get another chance for a while. Ah, well.

Kanjincho: This is a relatively rare case of a Kabuki show being adapted into Bunraku. While it does incorporate some lines directly from the earlier Noh version (Ataka), it’s largely an outright copy of the Kabuki; even the Noh-like set is based on the Kabuki rendering. The puppet rendering apparently dates from the Meiji Era, which would have been shortly after the play’s Kabuki debut, but the staging was reportedly only brought closer to the Kabuki in the 20th century, where it has remained.

That’s not necessarily a good thing since things that work for human actors don’t always translate well to the puppets (and vice versa). Spots like the guard Togashi trying to sneak a look at Benkei’s scroll are not clear when dealing with expressionless puppets, though that may also be a function of the size of the hall. Also, the show removes the panel that disguises the feet of the puppeteers, so that the puppets give the appearance of moving in thin air rather than on an imagined floor. I don’t see the purpose of that. They even include a Kabuki-style hanamichi for the exits of the priests and Yoshitsune and inevitably Benkei’s celebrated roppo exit (which even Kurosawa felt obligated to use in his otherwise realistic film version). One nice variation is that all three puppeteers for Benkei are unhooded, so even the foot manipulator (who plays a big role here) gets recognition.

While perfectly enjoyable, this version just substitutes puppets for people without truly re-envisioning the story for puppet theater. That may explain the use of fully seven narrators, dominated by the ones for Benkei and Togashi, and an equal number of shamisen. The play was virtually sold out – I got the final pair of adjoining day seats – so it’s clearly a crowd pleaser with its well-known name and characters, simple narrative, and short running time. I just wish they’d try reconceiving this in real Bunraku style.