The first Noh play I saw was Yamamba at the National Noh Theatre.  I shall never forget the sound of that first piercing note from the flute nor the sense of anticipation as the curtain rose and the performers walked slowly along the bridge to the stage.  I was also struck by how the expression of the mask changed so often throughout the performance.  I couldn’t believe it was the same one throughout.

I was fortunate enough to see a performance of Sumidagawa together with Curlew River at the Izumi Hall in Osaka.  It had always been my dream to see Sumidagawa, but I thought the chances of it being performed during my short visit to Japan were too small.  Kanze Tetsunojo was the shite and he performed the role of the Madwoman with extraordinary depth, grace and elegance.  I met him after the performance and found him to be a man of great humility and kindness.  The years of quiet dedication to his art seemed to radiate from him.  It was fascinating to see Curlew River alongside Sumidagawa and compare Noh and opera directly.  In modern theatre, it is all too easy to hide behind the lights and the music and rely on them to create atmosphere.  In Noh, it is entirely down to the performers to create the appropriate mood.

The most prestigious event I attended was the 70th birthday celebrations of Noh actor Sakai Otoshige at the Kanze Theatre.  He performed Ataka and Dojoji and the masters of each theatre in Tokyo performed a number of shimai.  I felt privileged to see so many great masters in action.  It was also wonderful in Ataka to see so many performers on the stage but Dojoji was, of course, a highlight of my whole trip.  The climax to the play, when the shite jumps up into the bell as it falls from the ceiling, is breathtaking.  However, it wasn’t just the act itself that made it so exciting.  Dojoji is a lesson in how to heighten the effect of an event in the theatre through the use of anticipation.  After the bell has been mounted, there is a natural excitement in the audience.  As the play begins, the actors counter this by slowing their movements and chanting.  This focuses the audience’s energy and conserves it for the climax.  The serpent dance, which leads up to the climax, is the most difficult dance in Noh.  The long repetition of technically difficult stamps and movements of the head in time with the drum takes this feeling of anticipation and builds it with monotonous control so that when the act finally occurs, the audience is bursting to see it.

I was also lucky enough to see Takigi Noh in Kyoto at the Heian Shrine.  The plays performed were Kagetsu, Hagoromo and Momijigari with the ritual Okina beginning the event and the Kyogen Tsuribari providing light relief.  Okina reminded me of the provenance of Noh from Bugaku and religious ritual.  By enacting a piece about or in reverence of the gods, you are making them manifest in some way – that is a very powerful dramatic tool.  One of the actors, by crouching and then standing while slowly raising his arms, was able to give the impression he was floating which was remarkable.  Kagetsu itself was not very interesting but it served the principle of jo, ha, kyu perfectly.  It allowed time for the sun to set and the mood to settle so that under a misty moon, a balmy evening and the glow of the flames, we watched as the maiden in Hagoromo danced along the beach and up into the moon and we sat aghast as the beguiling Lady and her attendants turned into raging demons and were killed by Taira no Koremochi.  The shocking and thrilling moment when the demon falls flat on her back was surpassed only by Dojoji.

FWW

Next Installment- Part 3: Young People and Japanese Culture (Previous Installment- Part 1: Before Embarking on the Journey)

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