Book review: Traditional Japanese Theater, An Anthology of Plays
This book review was written in early 2006 for my theatre publication. As such, it does not specifically reference the content in the book about Japanese puppetry, but gives an overview of the book as a whole. The book itself covers a range of Japanese theatrical styles, not just bunraku, which is why the following is an overview. You may also want to read the companion book review (A Guide to the Japanese Stage) here.
Traditional Japanese Theater by Karen Brazell
This book is about 550 pages long so it takes one a while to read. It is basically a selection of excerpts (the Japanese write very long plays, some up to several hours, and only excerpts of plays are now performed) of traditional Japanese plays, each with its own introduction, and each type of Japanese theatre gets a short chapter explaining the styles, traditions, costumes and staging. First of all, the book has a lengthy introduction to the history of performance in Japan, as well as four short excerpts from each style; noh, kyogen, bunraku, and kabuki. (Noh is a style of peformance that uses masks in its plays, as well as being the high art of Japanese theatre; kyogen could be likened to a Japanese version of commedia dell’arte; bunraku is puppetry; and kabuki is, literally, song, word, dance.) Each excerpt in the introduction deals with the story of a thunder god, and is a perfect way to show the differences of each style, without confusing the reader too much.
What a pity then, that the editor, who I am presuming wrote the introductions, can not write succinctly enough for anyone to understand the subtleties of Japanese theatre. Reading the introduction chapter was so boring, I probably read it over a period of several weeks, a page at a time. You know how some books are just easier to read than others? Well, Brazell’s writing is simply too boring to follow. Nevertheless, I stuck with it. In each introduction for each style of theatre, there were explanations about history, development, traditions, costume, staging, sets, music, blocking, and so on. Depending on what section you were reading, it also gave a description of the styles of makeup, masks, puppets, and so on. These descriptions were great - except for one thing. In several cases the descriptions were half-assed. In the noh/kyogen intro (as they are classed as one ’style’, and noh/kyogen as another, since each pair grew out of the other’s developments), there is a diagram of the stage, listing each various important ’spot’ (the stars of the performance stand in certain ’spots’ on the stage, which gives them prominence for important moments of the play). However, this is the only diagram given of any of the stages, and since both bunraku and kabuki use different stage set-ups, it is disappointing that you are given only one diagram. Overall, there seemed to be a bias - there was more explained in the kabuki section than there was for either the noh, kyogen or bunraku, and one got the sense that the editor was more familiar with one area, with no attempt at making the explanations clearer for the others. In fact, looking at Brazell’s bio, you could almost sense that she had no interest in theatre as a performer or designer. Her bio says that she is a professor in East Asian Studies, and is a translator. So one could almost say that she is interested in the Japanese theatre, but has never actually worked in it. Which could explain the problems of stage directions and the following:
The editor continued to annoy me, when at the end of the noh/kyogen introduction (this section was presented before the bunraku/kabuki section, and obviously after the intro chapter), there was an explanation of the way in which Japanese theatre and scripts must be read differently to Western scripts. Nothing wrong with the explanation in itself, very clear and concise, and was good to know for a first-timer to Japanese theatre. But it should have been in the intro chapter, since the intro chapter also contained short scripts as a quick overview of the styles. Should not, then, the explanation about the translations have preceded this chapter?
Each script however, was a joy to read. You become much more familiar with the way in which Japanese writing flows in and out of third person speech to first person and back again, or the way they use lists to create beautiful imagery of the ones they love, or the way the language can be entirely full of puns because of double meanings in the characters of Japanese. You develop attachments to the heroes, hate the bad guys, and through this collection, you can really become aware of the reasons why these plays have lasted so long - the playwrights and performers create complex characters, where to kill oneself over what we would consider a trifle, suddenly becomes heroic, and where honour and loyalty seems just as prized as deceit. And one really does learn that in Japanese theatre, every image, movement and phrase, means something.
My favourite scripts: Saint Narukami, a kabuki in which a dancer manages to ’seduce’ a saint, a highly tongue-in-cheek performance about innocence and the sanctity of religion. Izutsu, a noh performance in which a woman dispairs for her lover, and reveals a highly poetic language used in Japanese theatre. Shunkan and Shunkan on Devil Island, a noh play and a kubuki respectively, about the emotional struggle that a man faces when his fellow exiles are allowed to return to mainland Japan, but he is not. In the latter, Shunkan the exile, commits murder in order that his fellow exile may return with his wife (who is from the island they are exiled from, and is not allowed to go to Japan with them). Another noh, Dojoji, is an example of the spectacle of Japanese theatre, where a dancer/woman serpent is dancing underneath a temple bell. The bell falls, and as it does, the performer jumps up into it, and quickly changes costume (remember the performers wear kimonos and a lot of layers) inside the bell.
In kyogen, there was Two Daimyo, in which, in Japenese commedia dell’arte, two men manage to convince a warrior into their slave, with hilarious results. In The Delicious Poison, a similar hilarity ensues when a master leaves his servants in charge of some ‘poison’ - sugar - and the servants mistakenly eat it all up. Of course, my favourite section, the puppets, were a delight. The Battles of Coxinga represent all the good things of Japanese puppetry - plenty of characters and action, as the puppets go to battle with other puppets, and even a tiger. There is also an short explanation of the Awaji tradition in this chapter, about the street theatre version of bunraku, and examples of it with The Song of Sambaso, a ritual/religious performance. Then there was The Miracle of Tsubosaka Kannon, in which a blind man jumps to his death, his wife follows him, and Kannon, a goddess, saves them both and returns his eyesight. The kabuki chapter really honed in on the concepts of Japanese society, with Suma Bay exploring the honour of death - two men, enemies, discover their honour, when one of them must kill the other in order to maintain loyalty to their leader, despite not wanting to kill him. This play also produces ‘horses’ into the theatre; actually two men dressed in costume. I thought only English pantomimes did that? And finally, the brilliance again of tongue-in-cheek plays, with The Hamamatsu-ya Scene, in which two thieves set out to steal from a cloth-shop, only to be revealed by another thief in disguise, who proceeds to rob the shop anyway!
The scripts also come with the help of small notations at the bottom of the page: some explaining the history of a name mentioned and why it is important; others explain puns; some reveal the complexity of Japanese literature, explaining the quotes infused in the script; others merely clarify what is said. And despite the use of Japanese terms - the names of performance styles, the roles of the actors, the costumes, etc. - you get used to the terms very quickly, and there is a glossary at the back of the book to help you out. Plus, the book comes with pictures (sadly, no colour), showing different characters, performances, angles, props, costumes, masks, and puppets.
But here we must get technical - for as a theatre person, much of what makes the scripts easier to understand, are the stage directions. And most of them are incongruous. What, for instance, does this signify "Sugawara throws down the branch, and his body is waved up and down". Now this particular character is a puppet, so some leeway should be given for the direction. But what does "wave" mean? In context, this character is supposed to be turning into a thunder god. But no, I still don’t get it.
What infuriated me even more, was the lack of continuity in explaining the areas of the stage. In the diagram for noh/kyogen, the stage areas are listed as ‘back center’, ‘back corner’, ‘right center’, and so on. Now, given that each script was translated by someone else, you could understand that the editor may have wanted to retain meaning, rather than exchange the words so that the terms would be the same. However, given that there were so many different terms used, I think that there should have been some attempt at producing continuity. Here is an example: in the play Atsumori, a character "stands, goes to center back" and then a few seconds later "returns to backstage" (here referring to upstage, but you would never know unless you had been remembering the lack of continuity). In yet another play, Yamamba, a character is said to "[circle] left to upstage center".
As for the explanations of music, this again seemed half-assed. Now, we must remember that the book tries to give a sense to a style of theatre that for us Westerners, isn’t very literal, and requires a lot of translation between the two; especially given that we must also translate Japanese terms (also not very literal, since Japenese letters translate differently depending on the other letters around it) into English. So, when in trying to read about the musical terms of the theatre, an important part of traditional Japanese performance, it was extremely difficult. What exactly does "the shamisen [a type of string instrument] play delicate, spring flower-viewing patterns (haru wa hanami)" mean? Now, I know that the names of the music patterns are important, and probably do refer to what they ’sound’ like, but no effort is made to inform a possibly ignorant reader about the definitions. Luckily for us, there is the glossary.
One looks up "haru wa hanami", and gets this "spring flower-viewing; a delicate, kabuki music pattern played by a shamisen". I don’t know about you, but I don’t feel as though I am more enlightened about the term. Does the pattern come in time, or is it a bunch of improvised strumming? How can one get an image in one’s head about the style of music that is so important to the scene, play, and style of performance? Of course, nothing compares to seeing the performances for yourself, and keeping that in mind, we continue reading, hoping that at least the scripts will give us some idea of the Japanese theatre. There are several other examples of this lack of description; in the noh/kyogen intro especially, as here the music was ‘described’. "Three basic styles: intoned speech (kotoba) and two modes of singing - melodic song (yowagin or wagin) and dynamic song (buyogin or gogin)." And from there it continues with explanative words like, "elegance", "sensitivity" and "suffering". Well, that certainly cleared that up! There are so many examples of the confusion of music definitions, that I simply won’t waste your time by listing them all.
Similarly, none of the dance terms are explained fully, and naturally, without a proper description, one is left with the thought, ‘Perhaps I should have bought a DVD of this instead’.
Despite all these niggly little things, the book is an excellent place to start for those who want to read about Japanese theatre, especially scripts, and combined with A Guide to the Japanese Stage: From Traditional to Cutting Edge, the two books make a perfect place for those who are new to Japanese theatre.
Upon reflection, a year later, and having seen a bunraku performance, I can say that both books in fact were better than first readings. The information gleaned from the books allowed me greater insights into the style, traditions, music, costumes, blocking, and stories of the bunraku performances. When at the performance, I found that I suddenly understood intricate and subtle symbolistic gestures, made by the musicians, the narrator, and the performers. Looking back on this review, I was perhaps correct in being so critical; but had I not seen a bunraku performance, it would not now be so clear that it is indeed difficult to succinctly define (in English) the poeticism of Japanese theatre. More than that, Traditional Japanese Theater is a great resource as a list of Japanese plays and excerpts, for those who want to perform them, or for those who simply want to learn about Japanese theatre and literature.
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