IrishOboe

Miwako invited me to go to a kabuki concert a long time ago and I’d never seen it so I accepted even though the ticket was like Broadway prices (or so it seemed, anyway). Tonight we went in our own local hall in Kofu to see the great stars of Kabuki who normally only perform in Tokyo. The seats were worth the price. We were way off to the side, but were in front of an isle nearly the front so we had a perfect view. I could see facial expressions and watch the musicians closely enough to learn a thing or two about the instruments, but I’m getting ahead of myself.

At the beginning one of the most famous kabuki actors came out in normal clothes to give a welcome speech and the crowd went nuts. This is clearly one cool guy even though he’s an expert in an ancient art form. I can’t imagine my students being interested in kabuki actors, but there was a wide range of ages there tonight. This is not your blue-hair crowd. It’s neat that a classical art form has such vibrancy today. Still, they used the first half of the show to talk about kabuki and, well, I’ll get to that part.

I wish I could understand Japanese! Not only is the vocabulary for describing a classical art form quite different from all that I’ve learned, they used the most polite way of speaking, which I’m not used to hearing. I could tell our “guide” was interesting and I knew what he had to say would help me appreciate the show. They audience was engaged and I could tell they’d put together a pretty nice outreach show. Then, the lights went up and Miwako said they’re looking for volunteers to try dancing kabuki. Of course, before I thought for a second I was on my feet, chosen, and walking up on stage (having remembered to take my shoes off since our kabuki guide had done the same earlier). Then it hit me – I don’t understand Japanese! How dare I volunteer when I can’t understand their instructions? I begin to panic as I try to guess what he’s saying. Will he give me a character and tell me to ham it up? How can I play the role of love-sick housewife when I don’t know what it means in Japanese? I had a million of those thoughts in the span of a few seconds and soon the mic was on me. Of course the Japanese are always gracious enough to have ladies and foreigners go first; it’s respectful but robs me of my best survival skill – imitation! Question number one was easy, though I should have said “Janet degozaimasu” instead of “Janet desu” to be as polite as he was being with me. I think I’m forgiven for that. I also passed question number two easily since which he was kind enough to put into English. It took a moment for him to remember “Where are you from?” but he’s an obvious performer and stayed composed. How amazing that he’d accommodate me like that! Then came question number three. I don’t know if there was supposed to be a question four, because my answer to “Are you mhmhmm?” (in Japanese) was a blank stare. Uh oh, 600 Japanese and I’m sure a few disapproving gaijin feeling ashamed of the dumb gaijin on stage are staring at me and I don’t know what “ryugakusei” means. Well, he didn’t let me stare blankly for long before moving the show along, which would have been great but a moment after he took of the pressure I remembered that “rhyugakusei” meant a student of some kinds (though I didn’t know it meant a student studying in a foreign country to learn the language). Eh, it doesn’t matter what they think I do. For all they know it’s my first month in Japan . . .

After introducing the other (young male) volunteer I was assigned my part. Fortunately, all I had to do was perform a set of dance movies demonstrated by a kabuki actor. First he did a complicated dance with two supporting acrobats and I think I was supposed to have a look of horror on my face in thinking they’d ask me to do that. Unfortunately, I knew they couldn’t possible be asking me to do that so I just enjoyed the show. After the joke they showed me my part, and I found it quite challenging to remember all the moves! I got to practice three times before I had to perform. To give you an idea of the length it was something like this: turn left, center, right, center, right for forward then back, arms out then in, then up then down, step slowly with the right foot, curve arms above the head, roll head around in that typical kabuki manner and freeze. It doesn’t sound like much here, but when you’re trying to filter Japanese instructions and do a decent job with hundreds of eyes on you, the memory space in the brain suddenly becomes much smaller. I think I managed okay, but I couldn’t fully appreciate having the musicians back up my movements and the acrobats doing tricks on the cue from my arm movements since I was trying so hard just to get it right!

Before sending us back to our seats they gave us omiyage, as if the experience wasn’t enough! I got a book on kabuki (in Japanese, of course), a handkerchief-type thing (sorry, I don’t remember the Japanese name), and a calendar with fancy photos of the kabuki actors in modern dress. Kakkoi!

Fortunately soon after I returned in my seat we had an intermission so I had a chance to let my adrenalin drain out. My performance sparked a conversation with my neighbors and they gave me a fan as a present for dancing – as if I’d done them a favor! The Japanese are too sweet.

The second half was one act of a kabuki play and it was absolutely fascinating! I wasn’t bored at all and though my butt started to fall asleep the rest of me was totally engaged. I think being so close had a lot to do with it. I also concentrated more on the vocal techniques and musical accompaniment. It’s so different from Western music it can be hard to grasp anything or recognized any structure. Often all that’s happening is the singing of the actor and the tap of a drum at the ends of phrases. The actors themselves were so smooth and in control and artistic I would have to tear my eyes away from them to watch the instruments. Of course when the full orchestra (about six shamisen (Japanese banjo), six singers, six drummers, and a flute player) was playing the dancing was in full swing and I could never decide what to watch.

When it was over I thought it was just between acts. I was ready for more! How cool is it see kabuki in Japan and get to be a part (however trivial) of it!

Afterwards Miwako and I went out to dinner for unagi domburi (unagi means eel and doburi is a way of serving it in a bowl of rice from which you take some out three times and each time you mix different ingredients with it), which was delicious! Many of the customers in the small restaurant had been at the show, too, and of course they all recognized me. One lady saw me eyeing her huge shellfish and she gave me on as a congratulations for “doing my best” on stage. Later at school one of the Japanese teachers (who I’d never seen before!) told me she saw me, too! One of the students (I don’t teach him, but I know him) also saw me looking out the window and called up to say “Jannetto! Kabuki!” Hazukashi! How embarrassing! Ah, I’ll miss Japan!