Kabuki

by Zoë Kincaid

A glimpse of the dignity of the old sakusha and the theatre gatherings in which he figured, as well as some of his customs, is afforded in Engeki Taizen, or Complete-Account-of-Drama, by Sekine Mokuan, one of the leading modern writers upon the theatre.

The sakusha were divided into different classes, and assigned to various duties in the theatre. The tate sakusha, or leading playwrights, were also called the tate tsukuri, while the second ranked as nimaime, and the third were called the sanmaime. Under these were the kyogen sakusha, or kyogen kata, and there were still a lower class whose duty it was to act as secretaries and to write out the plays by hand. Another function of these supernumeraries was to write the announcement of the plays in big characters on the boards in front of the theatre, and they were responsible for the synopsis of the play, provided for the enlightenment of the audience. They also attended to the correspondence of the theatre folk. The different rôles in a new play were given to the clerical sakusha to be transcribed for the actors.

Since the performances began early in the morning and continued all day, it was a task to provide a long programme with many acts and scenes. In the writing of these lengthy plays an inferior sakusha was always allotted the opening scenes, which merely prepared the minds of the audience for what was about to happen, fixing a few landmarks by way of introduction. The secondary sakusha was held responsible for the act that followed, but the most important act of a piece was always reserved for the best writer. This is the reason why so many of the strongest scenes in a play have survived when the work done by the less gifted writers is now sunk in oblivion. The composition of the poor writers merely served to make known the characters of a play to the audience and generally had very little merits.

In the old days the first and second playwrights were obliged to attend the theatre every day before the second act, and to stay until the performances were over. It is therefore not surprising to find that they practically spent their lives in the theatre. When the good old customs began to relax, the chief writers took turns in visiting the theatre, and if there was no special place for their use, they sat themselves down in the space reserved for the superintendent, or disciplinarian of the busy world back of the stage. Later on a room was assigned to them.

The wages given to these men were very small. The head sakusha received a lump sum, and this he had to divide among the others. If a sakusha displayed some particular talent and the play went well, then he received a gift in money direct from the management.

Tsuruya Namboku was considered to have received quite an unusually high payment, for he was given 50 to 60 ryo for the run of one of his plays, and a certain small sum for every day of the performances. The ordinary sakusha was paid a sum very much less than this, and when he divided among the smaller fry there was precious little left for himself. Mokuami and Fukuchi, the two star playwrights of Meiji era, received as remuneration from 150 to 200 yen for their new plays in which Danjuro, the ninth, appeared. This was handsome treatment compared to the meagre compensation considered sufficient for the old sakusha. On the other hand, Danjuro reaped thousands of yen—a fortune compared to the pittance doled out to the men who had provided him with a vehicle for his talents and the means of stage success. The recognition of the talent of the yakusha was out of all proportion to that accorded the sakusha, and this still holds true of modern Kabuki.

In the early days of the Kabuki playwriters, it was the custom for a theatre to employ a first-class sakusha, and after he had written his piece, he would decide what actors were to take the different characters, and the play was planned according to the qualifications of the actors. But as time went on the actors came to decide themselves what should be performed, and the playwrights were invited to assist in the carrying out of the actors’ ideas. There were also the suggestions of the theatre proprietors to be considered, for they had an eye to the main chance, and the freedom of the writer of plays was continually curtailed, his dignity impaired, and his originality hampered.

One Kabuki ceremonial, however, allowed the leading sakusha to take a prominent part, and this was the announcement of a new play. It was called sekai-sadame, or world-decision, meaning the selection by the sakusha of certain material from the interesting world at large.

After the playwriter had received the approval of the chief actors, consulted with the theatre proprietor, and arranged the minor rôles with the players of lesser rank, he then began to write his play. He received a sum of money in advance, settled on a lucky day, and started to work. Paper and ink were supplied. Generally when the sakusha knelt before his small low table to begin he was provided with five bundles of the very best paper, and five bundles of a lesser quality, five pairs of fude, or writing brushes, and five tablets of concentrated ink, called sumi, which after being moistened and rubbed against the stone in the ink-box produces the jet-black fluid into which the brush is dipped before making the beautiful characters of the Japanese written language.

Those privileged to attend the “world-decision” were the leading playwright, chief actors, the proprietor and manager. After the time of the second Ichikawa Danjuro, second-class playwrights were allowed to be present and two or three onnagata. Originally it was a most dignified meeting, but the good old customs degenerated and it became less significant.