Kagekiyo shows some traces of human emotion, and is overcome at the treatment meted out to his wife and daughter, yet still keeps a stout heart, even when his son is placed within the gloomy cavern.
He scorns the Genji generals who gaze on his captivity, by refusing their offerings of food, kicking it unceremoniously away, and bellows in the extravagant style that is so typical of aragoto. At length his outraged feeling getting the best of him he lifts up the great stone on which he has been sitting and uses it as a missile to throw at the Genji followers, who, driven hither and thither, are finally routed. Kagekiyo, fighting to a finish, reaches a climax of grotesqueness as he poses in triumphant attitude brandishing a large beam of wood which has been his weapon of defence.
VI
Odori is closely allied to the Kabuki arts, and forms an essential part of a great variety of pieces. Since without it no theatre programme would be considered complete, odori becomes one of the most important Kabuki forms.
Tamura Nariyoshi, a theatre manager with a long experience of Kabuki behind him, a genius of the Meiji period, who died a few years ago, once said that the mere movement of the limbs was not dancing. Should a dancer wish to suggest that he was looking at Mount Fuji, gazing at the sea, or watching a shadow, the three ideas must be expressed in different ways. Dancing, like acting, he said, should have a meaning, and the performer must keep steadfastly to the central idea, otherwise interest would be lost.
This is the clue to the understanding of odori. The least gesture made by the dancer has significance, and nothing is left to chance. The training in dancing the yakusha undergoes gives him control over all parts of his body. He uses his head and shoulders equally with the eyes and face; the arms, hands, and fingers are all expressive, while the waist and feet play no small part in the presentation of the idea of the dance. Pantomime is first cousin to odori, and rhythm and song next of kin.
Of the many material objects the Kabuki dancers have chosen as media of expression, the chief is the fan. For a thousand years this has been a symbol of the dance, and its technique has come about through the desire of centuries of dancers to convey emotion through the movements of the dance.
What magic this fragile object is able to create is clearly visible when some dancer of long training who has acquired a mastery of movement, opens and shuts his fan, causing flowers to bloom, and rain to fall; or waving it outstretched, butterflies flutter and a boat tosses on the waves. He closes it and traces the outline of a mountain and points to the stars; or opens it sweepingly in imitation of the frolic of the wind.
What a world of romance the fan discloses, suggesting shyness, affection, disapproval, consent! How the widespread silver fan beckons to some enchanted moonlit garden; upraised, reveals a triumphant mood; or the dancer, with a stamp of feet and swift motion of the body and fan thrown about from hand to hand, describes some merry festival under the falling petals of the cherry trees.
In connection with odori there is an important Kabuki expert, the furitsuke-shi (lit., movement-to-make master), who is largely responsible for the charm of the descriptive dance, but who has received scant recognition for his work. The furitsuke-shi has trained the actors, assisted in the production of the music-posture dramas and innumerable short dances, and when given an opportunity to create has left behind him pieces that are still the stock-in-trade of the actors.