“…it is a play rich in elements of recreation which are enjoyed by the general public.”
–Shotaro Miyoi, 1953
“Advance warning came from Tokyo that we would all be bored to death.”
–John Martin, New York Times dance critic, 1954
(both quotations come from Wetmore Jr., pgs. 89-90)
When Kabuki first came to America in the 50s and 60s, neither the U.S. nor Japan was completely sure of what to expect. While, of the above quotations, one seems completely positive, the other dreadfully negative, they actually encompass two sides of the same idea: Americans were either unwilling or unable to understand Kabuki as true theater, so instead it would be presented as a spectacle. What does “elements of recreation” mean, more than great singing, lively dancing, and vibrant costumes? It’s entertainment without a purpose. Of Westerners who had already been exposed to Asian theatrical traditions, James Brandon writes, “Asian theatre was a source of inspiration for Western playwrights and directors in writing or directing plays for Western audiences … It was not the intention of these professionals, working wholly within Western culture, to study or reproduce Asian performances themselves.” The first Western exposure to Kabuki was based on the correct assumption that Westerners would not take the time to study the intricacies of Kabuki. And while that policy may have served well to transition Kabuki smoothly to the world, it also clouded Kabuki’s literary value behind the fog of the word “Oriental.” Kabuki is an art form with origins in Japan, but now that it has gone global, other cultures must recognize as more than a Japanese novelty. Through watching Shunkan, we can see that while some aspects of Kabuki Theater, particularly the stage, the musical accompaniment, and the onnagata have no obvious Western counterparts, they are all components of Shunkan that can be critically analyzed for their additions to Shunkan‘s value as a play.
Upon entering a Kabuki theater, the most noticeable difference between it and a standard Western theater is the stage’s structure. Kawatake Toshio compares the two, calling Western theaters “horizontal” and Kabuki theaters “vertical.” Relative to the audience, there is a straight line separating the crowd from the stage in Western theater, whereas the stage juts into the audience for Kabuki. Furthermore, the hanamichi allows for added audience interaction. The hanamichi also adds to character development: in Shunkan, for instance, as the two retainers make their way onto the main stage, they wear drab colors, they talk among themselves as they slowly advance towards the stage. Their entrance is not particularly flashy or memorable, and that’s the point. The audience watches them enter the stage, but the focus is not on them. As they walk and talk, Shunkan continues his decrepit mourning in the hut. So by making them enter as minor characters, the play makes sure the audience realizes that this play is not about the three men, but about Shunkan.
While the instruments themselves may be foreign, the music of Kabuki does have Western equivalents: in form, it is reminiscent of a movie’s soundtrack, and in purpose, it acts as a meter for dancing. There is no rule against music in Western theater, but it is far more prevalent in and necessary to Kabuki. Among many roles of music in Kabuki, Toshio make not of its importance in “depicting psychological states” and “accentuating a fight scene or pose.” The fight scene between Shunkan and the envoy, demonstrates both qualities of the background music. The shamisen keeps the tempo of the fight, the clappers symbolize clashes of the swords, and the drums speak volumes about the uncertainty and intensity of the scene without speaking a line. Kabuki is inherently musical, and the music will often play the role of dialogue in Western theater. So while Kabuki is “rich in elements of recreation,” those same elements add to the actual value of the play as a piece of art.
Finally, there’s the onnagata. According to Wetmore Jr., early proponents of Kabuki in America felt it necessary to gloss over the fact that men were playing the roles of women. They feared that, while the plays were being marketed as exotic, Western crowds might take onnagata as advocating homoeroticism. Many of the first Kabuki plays in America even used female actors in place of onnagata. Chidori, like Shunkan’s retainers, is not the focus of the play. But as a character, she can be analyzed, if not through her lines, then through her entrance and her actions. Thirty seconds into the her entrance, the audience can confirm one of Chidori’s personality traits: she’s shy. Not only does she initially run away from the main stage upon seeing Shunkan, she doesn’t even introduce herself, leaving that job to Yasuyori. She speaks in a falsetto voice, and rather than walk with her legs straight, she shuffles with bent knees, both working to emphasize her femininity. Yet when Shunkan puts his life on the line for her sake, she does not sit back. Rather, she does what she can to interfere with his opponent. She is shown to be courteous and shy, but also brave and loyal. She is an emblem of femininity, yet serves the greater purpose of having a personality, shown not by her words but by her actions.