His taunting of the stately old villain in the attempt to arouse his ire, and the intimidation of a samurai whom he causes to throw down his swords and then crawl on all fours between his outstretched legs, are full of humour.
As a last attempt to make the venerable miscreant show his sword Sukeroku, championed by Agimaki, the gorgeous belle of the quarter, suddenly jumps forth from his hiding-place behind Agimaki’s ample robes, and assaults the brocade-clad dignitary, who involuntarily draws his blade. At sight of it Sukeroku immediately recognises that it is the precious weapon of his search.
Later he kills the villain and takes the sword, when a new danger threatens him as the men of the enemy are about to surround him. He looks about to find a place of concealment, and as a last resort jumps into a big water tank used on the occasion of a fire. Throwing aside a pyramid of small tubs, that are used as ornaments across the top of the same, he knocks the bottom out of one and placing it over his head allows it to float on the surface of the water.
The searching party look everywhere to find him. They even climb to the roof of the house, but Sukeroku and his stolen sword are safe under the water.
When he emerges real water splashes all over the stage and comes as a surprise in a play so entirely artificial and unreal. Perhaps on that very account it has the intended effect, for the audience is quite startled by the audacity and bravery of this highly imaginary hero.
Kagekiyo, a legendary character, the hero of several Nō dramas, is the central figure in an aragoto piece in the possession of the Ichikawa family. It represents the actors’ impress upon theatre material, nebulous, without the concentration that comes from a literary mind. Yet to lovers of the unreal it is full of attraction.
Certainly very little of the world of reality clings about the material or movement of this one-act species of drama which has for motive the valour and strength of Kagekiyo, a general of the Heike clan, whose cause has been defeated and who is confined in a cavern.
His appearance is dramatic in the extreme, when the guards allow him to gaze forth from a square opening in the bars of his prison-cave. His face is heavily lined with broad red lines, his fierce and threatening top-knot of hair that stands straight on end is accentuated by peculiar side wings of lacquered wood suggesting strands of hair that form a frame for the ferocious countenance. His costume of glittering gold brocade, with vivid touches of green and red, is in keeping with the strange visage of the dauntless warrior.
That he may taste all the bitterness of defeat, his wife and daughter are led in bound with rope, and he is brought forth to speak with them, his arms tied behind him in the most approved manner of the modern serial moving picture.
When everything seems against the outlandish hero, he is freed from his fetters and allowed to sit on a huge boulder in the centre of the stage, where he postures as he relates the misfortunes of his clan and declares his loyalty—an active figure whose every gesture is all the more conspicuous because of the groupings of the immovable personages on either side.