Interest in the Theatre, and in the arts and crafts which belong to it, is to-day so lively and so general that it is rather surprising how little has been written about the popular theatre in Japan. There have been several books on the Nō, that unique form of drama which rigidly maintains unaltered all the traditions and fine conventions of the medieval period. But this stationary, aristocratic art has never entered into the life of the Japanese people as has the Kabuki theatre, with which the present volume is concerned. In January of this year was opened the new building of the Kabuki-za, rising from the ashes and ruins of the capital. It is a huge building, with a seating capacity of four thousand. The Japanese cannot live without the theatre: it is in a most real sense part of the national life. Through the theatre the least educated become familiar with the heroic past of their country, its legends and its actual history, so abounding in dramatic episodes “where duty and inclination come nobly to the grapple”. It stimulates and sustains their imaginative life; it is a bond of union for all sorts and conditions of men. Such a theatre is worth knowing about; and the art of this theatre is, in all its details, of extraordinary interest. No nation is so thorough as the Japanese in any art they undertake; and the Kabuki theatre exacts the most prolonged and rigorous training from childhood in those who serve it; their art is of the most finished. Technically, also, the devices and conventions of Kabuki scenes—the revolving stage, for instance—offer points of comparison and contrast with the European theatre which we can profitably study, as readers of this book will discover.
The writer of this book has lived for years in Japan, has assiduously frequented the theatre (and not the Kabuki theatre only), and has made herself intimately acquainted with its history. Collectors and students of Japanese colour-prints know how entwined with that popular art is the life of the theatre. Some of the finest designers of those beautiful prints devoted their lives to depicting the actors of the day in their most successful scenes. And print-collectors have long been in want of a book which would tell them about the famous actors, whether of masculine or feminine parts (for women, as on the Elizabethan stage, were played by men), and about the plays in which they appeared. Only quite recently has it been discovered that the actor-prints can very often be dated by the help of theatre-records; and thus we are enabled to distinguish between the different actors of stage-families bearing the same name. (The hereditary character of the actor’s calling is another interesting feature of the Japanese stage.) In this book one’s natural curiosity about the lives and personalities of the successive Danjuros and other great actors is in large measure satisfied: and I am sure that print-collectors will welcome this illuminating aid to their study. But it is to those interested in the theatre as theatre that these pages will appeal above all.
Many of us remember the performances of Sada Yacco and her husband, Mr. Kawakami, in London, now many years ago. They gave us just a glimpse of the fascination of Japanese acting: but they represented an experimental effort—Sada Yacco herself was an actress only by accident—and in the West we have never seen any true representation of the national drama of Japan. I cannot but express the hope, which I am sure will be shared by those who read these pages, that before long Tokyo may be persuaded to send a company to Europe, and at last allow us to enjoy and understand something of the scrupulous and intense dramatic art, so rich in tradition yet so alive to the finger-tips, of the Japanese popular theatre.
LAURENCE BINYON.
KABUKI
CHAPTER I
KABUKI
Solid attention from the close-set heads of the playgoers kneeling on their cushions in the boxes of the pit to the crowded galleries on three sides, and enthusiasm displayed in the tachimi, or standing-to-see place near the ceiling, where patient people remain on their feet for long hours—the keenest critics as well as the warmest supporters of the actors—such is the scene witnessed daily in the theatre of Japan.
The Occidental cannot long withstand the mass psychology of this audience; that is, if he makes an attempt to share its point of view and appreciate the excellent things provided upon the stage. He feels its subtle unity, its amazing cohesiveness; he is carried away by an unseen stream, engrossed, engulfed, and wakes up with a start to find himself an entity again; or else, detaching himself from the atmosphere in which he has been immersed, wonders at this overflowing expression of Japanese life.
Statesmen, publicists, and editors of the Occident wax eloquent about Japan and her problems, but here is something they quite ignore and leave out of consideration, this manifestation of the pure spirit of the people with minds relaxed enjoying the theatre art that pleased their ancestors.
Seekers after mystery will not find it here, for there is nothing that is inscrutable. Merely the people laughing or crying as the play proceeds, spontaneous in their approval of the triumph of right over wrong, absorbed in the clash of evil and good,—the same theatre material that has served to amuse and attract mankind for the last two thousand years.