しばらく
I went to Tokyo over the weekend, and had a wonderful time.
Teh Tokyo Trip
Fuji-san
I decided somewhat randomly to take a Mt. Fuji-themed tour, as I've never seen the actual mountain. Well, except that once from the plane, but that doesn't really count. So I signed up for a tour-- a trip that included a trip up to 5th station on Fuji, a brief lake cruise, and transport up a ropeway.
As the tour was geared towards foreign tourists, I was in a position of knowing more about Japan than just about everyone on the bus-- which isn't surprising considering how long I've lived here. That and one of my defining characteristics is my limitless curiosity, which I've had four years to indulge freely. Of course the problem with knowing a great deal is how to share one's information without coming across as an arrogant jerk, which I attempted mainly by keeping my mouth shut unless specifically asked for information. Still not sure if I managed it, though.
But. The weather was excellent, and I was able to see Mt. Fuji quite a lot! Although stupidly I forgot my camera and had to make do with disposables and my cell phone. I was determined not to be upset about that, though. The other people on the tour were nice enough, but mostly I went my own way and was glad of it. While they all went inside a hotel to eat lunch, I took my combini-bought bag and found a high perch where I could eat and stare at Fuji-san's splendid glistening white peak at the same time. At 5th station, a narrow lane between two shops led me to a lovingly tended shrine. Later, at the top of the ropeway, I followed a small hiking trail and found a beautiful view of Fuji-san in the setting sun, perfectly framed by tall trees.
The weather was fine and clear-- I could hardly have asked for better. The only hitch in the day was the traffic jams leaving Tokyo and returning, which turned the day into a very long one.
Haru Comic City
Nothing in particular to note save that I didn't see a single foreigner at Comic City. Usually there are at least a few-- but no, zero, zip, zilch.
Kabuki
I went to see kabuki at the Kabuki-za in Ginza on Monday. It turns out that this was well-timed, as they're refurbishing (rebuilding?) the theater staring in May, and so there will be no performances there for some time. Of course it's good for the theater, which is starting to look run-down and can use the attention, but it means that the only place I know of where one can watch kabuki (relatively) cheaply will be down for the count for the forseeable future.
For reference, if you go to the Kabuki-za on the day of the performance, you can stand on line and buy cheap tickets to the plays showing that day (before each individual act commences. You buy them by the scene, for however many scenes you would like to see. The seats are waaaay up in the fourth balcony, so there are certainly disadvantages-- you're quite far away, you don't have the best angle for viewing the stage, and you can't see the flower path by which major characters generally enter and leave at all. Also, if you're not early enough in the line, you might not get a seat, which means you have to stand to watch, in the back. (A Groundling in the air!) However, it's still the only cheap way to see kabuki, and is more than worth the while. Now you can even get earphone guides, which provide very excellent and perfectly-timed commentary for each scene.
In my case, I wanted to watch two complete acts, the first consisting of three scenes, the second of two. For the first act I paid 700, 800, and 1200 yen, and was able to get a seat. Then I went downstairs and rejoined the line. I bought tickets for the two scenes in the next act for 1200 and 1300 yen, although for the first act I didn't have a seat and had to stand. Needless to say my feet were not very happy with me. But was it worth it? Yes, yes, a thousand times yes.
The first scene from the first act was the first from a larger play called "Sugawara and the Secrets of Calligraphy." In that scene we watch as a young retainer, Sakuramaru, sets up a liason between his master Prince Tokiyo and Princess Kariya. Sakuramaru is the hero of the piece, being very loyal to his master and a strong guardian thereof (the Prince and Princess barely do anything in terms of the story, other than getting to "know" each other (wink wink nudge nudge) and then running off. Far more interesting is the interplay between Sakuramaru and his wife Yae, who are a very good team and very much in love themselves. When Sakuramaru has to leave to search for the missing noble couple, Yae is left with handling the massive oxcart by herself-- and, when the enemy who threatened the noble couple returns and threatens her, she takes care of him all by herself and leaves him unconscious on the ground.
It was a pretty awesome start to what turned out to be a great day for female characters. Of course, the next play had none, but was incredibly spectacular despite its short length. The famous thief Ishikawa Goemon, wearing the makeup of a major villain, sits on the upper story of the Sanmon Gate of Nannzen-ji Temple (I've been there, incidentally), looking over the cherry blossom trees. In the end he sees his enemy Hisayoshi (aka Hideyoshi; they always changed the names from the historical originals in kabuki plays) and the two strike a pose before they fight. The most spectacular moment is when the Sanmon Gate rises from the stage to reveal Hisayoshi standing below it, although I was really impressed at how Goemon threw a dirk at Hisayoshi, which Hisayoshi intercepted with the water ewer he was using. There's a fabulous tableau with Goemon having just thrown the dirk, and the dirk stuck, quivering, in the water ewer-- how the heck did they do that?
The third scene of the first act of plays was actually a parody of a traditional play, one of the oldest in the kabuki lexicon, called "Shibaraku." In this case the role of the main aragoto hero was played by an onnagata actor-- that is, an actor who specializes in female roles was playing the part of the extremely manly and strong hero. Thus the scene was titled "Onna Shibaraku," and contained an inherent aspect of hilarity. Everyone who's ever seen a Bugs Bunny cartoon or a Shakespearean comedy knows that crossdressing is inherently funny. Crossdressers crossdressing? It's the same thing raised to the second power!
Interestingly, this fascination with/humor at crossdressing is something that seems to carry across to most cultures that I've had cause to research. Indeed, my students exhibit this strange inherent fascination once every year, when a good 1/4 of the male student population of the school (mostly) willingly dons female uniforms to perform on stage in the school festival.
Back to the play, though . . . the name of this scene literally means "wait." That probably wasn't the original name; apparently an actor, seeking to damage his rival who was playing the lead role, refused to take his cue, and the lead actor was forced to continue shouting his last line ("Shibraku!") from backstage until the ill-intentioned actor allowed him to make his entrance. This backfired, though-- the audience loved it, and the play has been performed that way ever since.
The main source of humor for the scene was of course the juxtaposition between a "woman" playing the male lead roll-- and of course it was quite funny watching "her" turn away all the people trying to get rid of her, beating up a battalion of guards, solving the nasty political mess, and then cutting the heads off another battalion of guards. However, a lot of the jokes came from what we would call "breaking the fourth wall"-- making direct reference to the fact that all of the actors were playing parts in a scene. For instance, the heroine had to give a long speech-- at the end of it she loses her nerve and complains about how embarrassing it is to have to give such a threatening speech, although she thought it was going pretty well at the beginning. In another instance, one of the other onnagata was tasked with the job of getting rid of the heroine; she tried to persuade the heroine by referring to her familiarly by her acting-house name.
And then at the end of the play, when the heroine is trying to leave, the "manager" of the theater (another actor) comes out from behind the curtain and tells her that she has to do the final dramatic dance-pose of the hero. When she protests, saying that it's embarrassing and does she really have to, he apologetically tells her that "the audience expects it." She then asks him to teach her how, and he says that while he's never done it himself, he's seen some pretty famous actors do it, and he'll give it his best shot. They end up going through the whole thing three times, and then she asks him to carry the oversized sword she's been carrying out for her because it's much too heavy for her.
I went back again for the second act, and ended up having to stand for the first scene, which was a looooong drama. It continued the story of the Secrets of Calligraphy from the very first scene. In the new scene, the father of the princess from earlier, a palace minister and master of calligraphy, has been ordered to pass on the secrets of his art by the Emperor. He calls back his most promising disciple, a humble man named Genzo who was thrown out for having an affair with a household maid named Tonami, now his wife. Genzo receives the secrets, but his master is then arrested by a rival and confined to his residence. However, Genzo and Tonami rescue his young son-- of course, to do this, they have to vanquish a whole troop of guards. Continuing the theme of strong female characters for the day, first there's the master's wife, who pretty much Knows All in terms of everyone's motives and feelings and expertly manages events. And then there's Tonami, who doesn't seem like much at first-- until it comes to the fighting, and Genzo hands her his short sword without hesitation-- not to kill herself with should the worst happen, as one might expect in such circumstances, but so that TOGETHER they can KICK ASS.
And they do.
Interestingly, the humorous themes of crossdressing and breaking of the fourth wall that I discussed earlier also occurred in the second scene of the afternoon program. In that scene, a male character has disguised himself as a woman in order to rob a shop. While "she" and the shopkeeper are talking, the shopkeeper tries to guess "her" favorite kabuki actors-- his first guess is the actor currently playing the man-disguised-as-a-woman, his second guess is the actor who plays "her" samurai attendant, and his third guess is the actor who is playing his own character. Later on, when the thief's crossdressing con is discovered, he abruptly switches from acting like a woman to acting like a man, and more specifically a rough and uncouth gangster-- while still wearing the woman's kimono and female hairstyle he started out in. He uses gangster-language, adopts a wide-legged male posture, smokes a pipe, and uses only male mannerisms. It's nearly impossible to describe, but it was absolutely hilarious to see.
The thief's name is Benten, one of a troop of five thieves who form the gang Nippon Daemon. They have a very cool scene where each one declares his name, history, and deeds in front of the police who have come to arrest them. They even make reference to the poem attributed to Goemon that was quoted in the first act-- "the sands of the shore will run out, but the number of thieves will never run out."
xOxxOxxOxxOxxOxxOxxOxxOxxOxxOxxOx
And that was it. Ye gods, you're still reading? Well, after kabuki I walked over to my favorite Korean restaurant, and there had Korean curry (mostly like Japanese curry except with different veggies and red pepper powder on top) and kimchee chijimi and Korean beer (OB). I sat at the counter, which was fun because I could watch the cooks hard at work in the kitchen. The woks and frying pans sat on domed hobs, with jets of blue fire darting out any space they could get. One dish required dexterous flipping of its hot contents, and the boiling oil kicked up from the pan burst into little sparks of golden flame with each flip.
Alone, yes. I did everything alone. I am starting to learn the futility of struggling against fate; yesterday I acted in acknowledgement of that realization.
In any case, it was a great trip, and I am well pleased.
Teh Tokyo Trip
Fuji-san
I decided somewhat randomly to take a Mt. Fuji-themed tour, as I've never seen the actual mountain. Well, except that once from the plane, but that doesn't really count. So I signed up for a tour-- a trip that included a trip up to 5th station on Fuji, a brief lake cruise, and transport up a ropeway.
As the tour was geared towards foreign tourists, I was in a position of knowing more about Japan than just about everyone on the bus-- which isn't surprising considering how long I've lived here. That and one of my defining characteristics is my limitless curiosity, which I've had four years to indulge freely. Of course the problem with knowing a great deal is how to share one's information without coming across as an arrogant jerk, which I attempted mainly by keeping my mouth shut unless specifically asked for information. Still not sure if I managed it, though.
But. The weather was excellent, and I was able to see Mt. Fuji quite a lot! Although stupidly I forgot my camera and had to make do with disposables and my cell phone. I was determined not to be upset about that, though. The other people on the tour were nice enough, but mostly I went my own way and was glad of it. While they all went inside a hotel to eat lunch, I took my combini-bought bag and found a high perch where I could eat and stare at Fuji-san's splendid glistening white peak at the same time. At 5th station, a narrow lane between two shops led me to a lovingly tended shrine. Later, at the top of the ropeway, I followed a small hiking trail and found a beautiful view of Fuji-san in the setting sun, perfectly framed by tall trees.
The weather was fine and clear-- I could hardly have asked for better. The only hitch in the day was the traffic jams leaving Tokyo and returning, which turned the day into a very long one.
Haru Comic City
Nothing in particular to note save that I didn't see a single foreigner at Comic City. Usually there are at least a few-- but no, zero, zip, zilch.
Kabuki
I went to see kabuki at the Kabuki-za in Ginza on Monday. It turns out that this was well-timed, as they're refurbishing (rebuilding?) the theater staring in May, and so there will be no performances there for some time. Of course it's good for the theater, which is starting to look run-down and can use the attention, but it means that the only place I know of where one can watch kabuki (relatively) cheaply will be down for the count for the forseeable future.
For reference, if you go to the Kabuki-za on the day of the performance, you can stand on line and buy cheap tickets to the plays showing that day (before each individual act commences. You buy them by the scene, for however many scenes you would like to see. The seats are waaaay up in the fourth balcony, so there are certainly disadvantages-- you're quite far away, you don't have the best angle for viewing the stage, and you can't see the flower path by which major characters generally enter and leave at all. Also, if you're not early enough in the line, you might not get a seat, which means you have to stand to watch, in the back. (A Groundling in the air!) However, it's still the only cheap way to see kabuki, and is more than worth the while. Now you can even get earphone guides, which provide very excellent and perfectly-timed commentary for each scene.
In my case, I wanted to watch two complete acts, the first consisting of three scenes, the second of two. For the first act I paid 700, 800, and 1200 yen, and was able to get a seat. Then I went downstairs and rejoined the line. I bought tickets for the two scenes in the next act for 1200 and 1300 yen, although for the first act I didn't have a seat and had to stand. Needless to say my feet were not very happy with me. But was it worth it? Yes, yes, a thousand times yes.
The first scene from the first act was the first from a larger play called "Sugawara and the Secrets of Calligraphy." In that scene we watch as a young retainer, Sakuramaru, sets up a liason between his master Prince Tokiyo and Princess Kariya. Sakuramaru is the hero of the piece, being very loyal to his master and a strong guardian thereof (the Prince and Princess barely do anything in terms of the story, other than getting to "know" each other (wink wink nudge nudge) and then running off. Far more interesting is the interplay between Sakuramaru and his wife Yae, who are a very good team and very much in love themselves. When Sakuramaru has to leave to search for the missing noble couple, Yae is left with handling the massive oxcart by herself-- and, when the enemy who threatened the noble couple returns and threatens her, she takes care of him all by herself and leaves him unconscious on the ground.
It was a pretty awesome start to what turned out to be a great day for female characters. Of course, the next play had none, but was incredibly spectacular despite its short length. The famous thief Ishikawa Goemon, wearing the makeup of a major villain, sits on the upper story of the Sanmon Gate of Nannzen-ji Temple (I've been there, incidentally), looking over the cherry blossom trees. In the end he sees his enemy Hisayoshi (aka Hideyoshi; they always changed the names from the historical originals in kabuki plays) and the two strike a pose before they fight. The most spectacular moment is when the Sanmon Gate rises from the stage to reveal Hisayoshi standing below it, although I was really impressed at how Goemon threw a dirk at Hisayoshi, which Hisayoshi intercepted with the water ewer he was using. There's a fabulous tableau with Goemon having just thrown the dirk, and the dirk stuck, quivering, in the water ewer-- how the heck did they do that?
The third scene of the first act of plays was actually a parody of a traditional play, one of the oldest in the kabuki lexicon, called "Shibaraku." In this case the role of the main aragoto hero was played by an onnagata actor-- that is, an actor who specializes in female roles was playing the part of the extremely manly and strong hero. Thus the scene was titled "Onna Shibaraku," and contained an inherent aspect of hilarity. Everyone who's ever seen a Bugs Bunny cartoon or a Shakespearean comedy knows that crossdressing is inherently funny. Crossdressers crossdressing? It's the same thing raised to the second power!
Interestingly, this fascination with/humor at crossdressing is something that seems to carry across to most cultures that I've had cause to research. Indeed, my students exhibit this strange inherent fascination once every year, when a good 1/4 of the male student population of the school (mostly) willingly dons female uniforms to perform on stage in the school festival.
Back to the play, though . . . the name of this scene literally means "wait." That probably wasn't the original name; apparently an actor, seeking to damage his rival who was playing the lead role, refused to take his cue, and the lead actor was forced to continue shouting his last line ("Shibraku!") from backstage until the ill-intentioned actor allowed him to make his entrance. This backfired, though-- the audience loved it, and the play has been performed that way ever since.
The main source of humor for the scene was of course the juxtaposition between a "woman" playing the male lead roll-- and of course it was quite funny watching "her" turn away all the people trying to get rid of her, beating up a battalion of guards, solving the nasty political mess, and then cutting the heads off another battalion of guards. However, a lot of the jokes came from what we would call "breaking the fourth wall"-- making direct reference to the fact that all of the actors were playing parts in a scene. For instance, the heroine had to give a long speech-- at the end of it she loses her nerve and complains about how embarrassing it is to have to give such a threatening speech, although she thought it was going pretty well at the beginning. In another instance, one of the other onnagata was tasked with the job of getting rid of the heroine; she tried to persuade the heroine by referring to her familiarly by her acting-house name.
And then at the end of the play, when the heroine is trying to leave, the "manager" of the theater (another actor) comes out from behind the curtain and tells her that she has to do the final dramatic dance-pose of the hero. When she protests, saying that it's embarrassing and does she really have to, he apologetically tells her that "the audience expects it." She then asks him to teach her how, and he says that while he's never done it himself, he's seen some pretty famous actors do it, and he'll give it his best shot. They end up going through the whole thing three times, and then she asks him to carry the oversized sword she's been carrying out for her because it's much too heavy for her.
I went back again for the second act, and ended up having to stand for the first scene, which was a looooong drama. It continued the story of the Secrets of Calligraphy from the very first scene. In the new scene, the father of the princess from earlier, a palace minister and master of calligraphy, has been ordered to pass on the secrets of his art by the Emperor. He calls back his most promising disciple, a humble man named Genzo who was thrown out for having an affair with a household maid named Tonami, now his wife. Genzo receives the secrets, but his master is then arrested by a rival and confined to his residence. However, Genzo and Tonami rescue his young son-- of course, to do this, they have to vanquish a whole troop of guards. Continuing the theme of strong female characters for the day, first there's the master's wife, who pretty much Knows All in terms of everyone's motives and feelings and expertly manages events. And then there's Tonami, who doesn't seem like much at first-- until it comes to the fighting, and Genzo hands her his short sword without hesitation-- not to kill herself with should the worst happen, as one might expect in such circumstances, but so that TOGETHER they can KICK ASS.
And they do.
Interestingly, the humorous themes of crossdressing and breaking of the fourth wall that I discussed earlier also occurred in the second scene of the afternoon program. In that scene, a male character has disguised himself as a woman in order to rob a shop. While "she" and the shopkeeper are talking, the shopkeeper tries to guess "her" favorite kabuki actors-- his first guess is the actor currently playing the man-disguised-as-a-woman, his second guess is the actor who plays "her" samurai attendant, and his third guess is the actor who is playing his own character. Later on, when the thief's crossdressing con is discovered, he abruptly switches from acting like a woman to acting like a man, and more specifically a rough and uncouth gangster-- while still wearing the woman's kimono and female hairstyle he started out in. He uses gangster-language, adopts a wide-legged male posture, smokes a pipe, and uses only male mannerisms. It's nearly impossible to describe, but it was absolutely hilarious to see.
The thief's name is Benten, one of a troop of five thieves who form the gang Nippon Daemon. They have a very cool scene where each one declares his name, history, and deeds in front of the police who have come to arrest them. They even make reference to the poem attributed to Goemon that was quoted in the first act-- "the sands of the shore will run out, but the number of thieves will never run out."
xOxxOxxOxxOxxOxxOxxOxxOxxOxxOxxOx
And that was it. Ye gods, you're still reading? Well, after kabuki I walked over to my favorite Korean restaurant, and there had Korean curry (mostly like Japanese curry except with different veggies and red pepper powder on top) and kimchee chijimi and Korean beer (OB). I sat at the counter, which was fun because I could watch the cooks hard at work in the kitchen. The woks and frying pans sat on domed hobs, with jets of blue fire darting out any space they could get. One dish required dexterous flipping of its hot contents, and the boiling oil kicked up from the pan burst into little sparks of golden flame with each flip.
Alone, yes. I did everything alone. I am starting to learn the futility of struggling against fate; yesterday I acted in acknowledgement of that realization.
In any case, it was a great trip, and I am well pleased.