Noh Theatre - by Tony Hajjar
"After having had the opportunity to enjoy the spectacle
of the oldest form of theatre in the world, I feel that everyone
should have the chance to partake in this most reverent style
of entertainment. Noh kidding."
This is a quote by me because I simply couldn't resist the pun,
just as most English trainers I talk to about Noh can't do. Several
of us FIA English trainers who study Japanese were lucky enough
to get to see live theatre as part of our Japanese study. I have
been a thespian for many years, and I never lose the sense of
awe I get every time I see a live theatrical production. The outdoor
Noh plays I saw at Shimizu on Saturday, October 12th, didn't disappoint.
In fact, there was a mystical quality to the entire evening.
The plays were set in ancient times in the Shimizu area. The
Hagoromo allegory is set at Shimizu beach, which is exactly where
we were as we watched the plays. There was an outdoor stage built
for this production, including a long ramp lined by a bamboo gate,
which acted as the road to Gotemba. At least I think that's where
the road lead. There were two other plays put on for the evening
as well. Atsumori, another famous Noh allegory, and a peculiar
little comedy with a character that thought he was a hummingbird…or
maybe a bee. I didn't catch the story line of this one, but it
sure seemed funny at the time.
We all had summaries of the stories, so we knew the basic plot
lines of the plays we were watching. There were even a few times
that I was able to catch a word or two. But it was the atmosphere
that really took my breath away on Saturday evening; it struck
me as being somehow surreal. As the play began it was just dusk.
The sun was falling and the glimpse we could still see of the
ocean waves beating at the shoreline soon faded into the black
silhouette of ancient pine trees that soon became the backdrop
of this ethereal stage. (What? Too flowery? Don't be a philistine.)
The rich texture of chorus, players, music and costumes wove
together and provided an elegant beauty that drew you into the
action, and engaged your aesthetic sensibilities at the same time.
The wind started to blow as the play began; almost as though it
was part of the stage directions.
As the Kumagair-Jiro-Maozane character in Atsumori lamented his
killing of the young lord, his retelling of how he decapitated
16-year-old Atsumori ended with a spectral white paper blowing
across the stage. Perhaps the ghost of Atsumori was with us after
all.
The same was true of the Hagoromo play. The heavenly bodies we
saw blowing across the stage could have been phantoms of ancient
Japanese fishermen who had traveled through Shimizu over 500 years
ago, still searching for the elusive feather mantel. Who's to
say they were just the zigzag papers that were blowing off the
rope hung above the stage? The beautiful flute playing was enough
to allow me to suspend my disbelief for the evening. The music
and the costumes made me believe I was in 15th century Japan.
The gigantic 650-year-old pine tree buttressed with four large
log supports which sat directly behind the stage, set the mood
for a 600 or so year old morality play.
I was extremely impressed by the concentration of the actors.
The stage was cold with a brisk westerly, and the debris that
floated across occasionally was certainly a distraction to the
audience. But the actors never lost concentration. They never
broke character even to blow warm air on their hands. The chorus
was particularly stoic. They sat there on the stage with their
legs tucked under them for hours, without even twitching. I was
amazed.
The Hagoromo play was the last performance of the evening. It
ended with the angel doing a mystical dance for the fisherman,
(some say a priest) who gave her dress back. This was a stunning
performance in and of itself with the music, the elaborate costume
and the skill of the actor performing the dance. As the dance
got closer to the end, the music built to a final crescendo. Just
as the performance was over for the evening, the wind stopped…right
on cue.
