Just when I think I can let it go I find myself craving it, like some unfortunate drug addiction.
Chiang Mai made that apparent. I finally came across one falang (foreigner) theatre group. Hell I missed the theatre so much I would have delivered coffees if they needed. Finally I made contact with a very nice man who informed me they were auditioning for two young female parts.
Oh my God!
I am a young female!
Can you do a British accent?
I’ll learn one just let me be in your show.
The possibility of working on something really lifted my spirits during a particularly difficult week in Thailand. So, you can imagine when this all fell through I was slightly heart broken. Poor director had to return home to England for health reasons... no one stepped up to take his place.
I almost considered giving directing a whirl just to be involved. But alas, it was a no go.
Thailand is a lovely country with picturesque landscapes, an exciting food culture and smiley folks. But as far as acting goes the scene is sparse…unless you count the acting that the young bar girls do to hook their 60 year old balding clients.
After I decided to leave Thailand in November I chose to make a pit stop in Japan to visit my good friend Matt (Hoov) from university. I hadn’t seen him in forever. It was a fabulous plan, I was excited to see my friend. I was even more delighted when I remembered that Tokyo Disney existed. Then when I realized I could finally see traditional Japanese theatre, I was ecstatic.
Back in high school our class studied traditional theatre from around the world. I remember finding Japan’s to be the most intriguing. So, naturally I spent an outlandish amount of money to witness this gorgeous art form in action.
There are four different types of traditional Japanese theatre: Kabuki, Noh, Kyogen and Bunruku. Kabuki is sort of the daddy of the group and the others are sort of the offspring.
My third night in Tokyo I was out to dinner with a group of few people, I mentioned to one Japanese man I was interested in seeing Bunruku, which is just like Kabuki but with puppets. He ended up going home doing a bunch of research found out there was a performance at the National Theatre while I was in Town and had the info forwarded to me through two people a couple days later.
I immediately noticed there was the mini stage set over on the stage left side of the theatre. I learned that this is where the Narrator and the Shamisen (musician) kneel. The Narrator is the only person who makes any vocal noises during the whole production. He voices every single speaking character and manipulates pitch, diction and breath to do so. The Shamisen accompanies him on a three stringed instrument. He plays music that would not be considered pleasing to most Western ears because the distance in pitch between notes is smaller than that of a typical Western scale.
This dynamic duo is switched out for a new pair for each act. Each new set wearing a spiffy new color of giant shouldered garments. One can imagine why. It seems exhausting to put that amount of effort in for one act, forget two. I was impressed with the vocal agility of the Narrators and their ability to control minimize emotional facial expressions. Not only did they all successfully characterize each puppet, but they did it with impressive projection. Microphones were not used and I could hear each and every sound out of their mouths.
Of course I couldn’t understand a thing he said. Fortunately an ear piece translator was provided.
My only previous exposure to puppeteers was Avenue Q where they are actors moving puppets. In Bunruku, they are not. The puppeteers are strictly mechanical engineers and do not in any way express emotion. That is the sole the responsibility of the Narrator.
The puppeteers move in rehearsed harmony with each other to execute the specific stylized movements of each stock character. For example, female charcters, for the most part, move using small ineffectual steps. The male characters walk using varying degrees of giant, emphasized and purposeful steps. The more important the character or the higher their status, the more stylized the steps seemed to become.
Much like commedia dell’arte, Bunruku uses stock puppet heads. The head for a young attractive female should look a certain way just as the head for an old warrior should have specific features. I observed that the whiter one’s face appeared, the more desirable they were to other characters. So naturally an antagonist can have a red face. I can appreciate this symbolism. I think it makes understanding for a modern audience much simpler.
One aspect of the performance that felt awkward from a western perspective was, if there is a conversation or action we are supposed to focus on, the other action surrounding this halts until it finishes. I remember one scene in particular where a general from an army came to capture the leading male character. One would think this scene would have a sense of urgency. No. the general patiently waited for about 20 minutes while the leading male spoke to his wife about various events of the day. This was consistent with the pace of my entire experience. Now I know I was only listening to a translation but seriously this seemed like the most inefficient story telling ever. Things were repeated and explained with way more words than necessary. Take this, of course, with a grain of salt because my goodness we know how things can get lost in translation.
I loved watching this art form. This was my ideal way to learn about a culture. The recreation and dramatization of traditional life in Japan is a wonderful commentary on what life was like and how it has developed. There was talk of clothing, food, battles, social norms, historic events, geography and interpersonal relationships. A wonderful introduction to an intriguing country.
By Christina Corsaro
