One look within and the would-be assassin sees that the crest on the sleeve does not belong to the man he seeks, and as he withdraws, the slumberer awakened sees the flash of the samurai’s sword and says: “Is that a falling star?” He little dreams that his friend’s overcoat lent to keep him warm has saved his life. One line only is spoken in this wordless drama.
Defeated by a court of justice, a villain is sitting in a dejected mood. A page brings him a cup of tea, and silently leaves a short sword as a sign that the sooner he takes himself away from the world the better for all concerned. The condemned person drinks his tea slowly, then regards the sword, and understands the message conveyed to him. He picks it up, and leaning upon it shows by the expression of his face that he is making up his mind in a very different direction, and intends to use it upon some one else.
Delicate and dainty, a charming heroine assists her warrior husband to don his armour, for he must not lose a moment in preparing for battle. She attempts to lift his helmet, but it is too heavy for her, and placing it with difficulty on the long sleeve of her kimono, she drags it across the stage. The audience is interested in how well and how long the onnagata is able to give the impression of a frail young woman struggling with the ponderous weight of a golden helmet.
Perhaps one of the best uses to which suggestion in acting is put is in the play Sendaihagi, in which Masaoka, the faithful nurse, prepares the food for the little prince in her charge, as his uncle wishes to poison him that he may administer the wealthy fief for his own purpose.
Masaoka unfolds a low screen that discloses a black lacquer table, under which are a gilded rice pot and water jar, and other kitchen utensils for boiling the rice and making tea. Those accustomed to realism will question how real food is to be cooked with such gorgeous and apparently theatrical stage furniture, and then will become lost in admiration, for the actor suggests all the necessary movements without actually resorting to them. The gold water ladle is used to dip up imaginary water, and the uncooked grains of rice are seen as though the water had all been poured off. Masaoka’s task comes to an end. The bubbling of the steam against the lid of the rice pot is imitated behind the scenes, and a black-robed property man is plainly seen to move a screen in such a manner as to place within easy reach of the faithful nurse the food that has taken fully an hour to prepare.
The actor plays many a rôle in his time, but it is given to those of Kabuki to play many rôles in a day. He may act as a humble servant, then as a robber, a resplendent priest, a drunkard, an upright samurai, and terminate his day’s work by appearing in a comic or picturesque dance.
CHAPTER VI
ACTOR CEREMONIALS
The Kabuki actor has long maintained a high regard for the dignity of his calling, and carefully preserves the old ceremonials in connection with elevation in rank, memorial plays in honour of an ancestor, introductions of young actors, succession to the headship of an actor family, and the observances of the anniversaries of actors past and gone.
These are stage events which serve to deepen the personal interest the playgoer takes in the actors, and are links that bind the player to the past, and express his hope in the future.
Kojo, or the announcement ceremony, is the one seen most frequently. The curtain is drawn aside, and there is seen a double line of actors prostrating themselves in the attitude of humility before the audience, their faces resting upon their outstretched hands.