Nureki Chimuo Archive

R-san is truly a person I am deeply grateful for.

She searched through past records on her computer and found information about Ichikawa Fukunosuke and Bando Takejaku.

It was information I had never seen before.

I’m always complaining about computers and cell phones, but when I think about how the internet holds such rare, precious records like this, I realize I really can’t take it for granted.

It’s called the “Kabuki Actor Directory: Memorable Masters Edition” and it includes profiles, career histories, and even photographs of the two actors.

It’s truly a blessing. Honestly, it brought tears to my eyes.

R-san, thank you. What can I possibly do to repay you for this?

Within those records, there’s a mention of Fukunosuke and Takejaku in grand kabuki productions after the dissolution of their small theater troupe, the Katabami-za.

It was a brief entry, but it meant the world to me.

I’d like to transcribe that part of the record here now, but doing so would mean interrupting the flow of the Tsurukame Theater and Shirahige Theater era again.

Therefore, I will postpone introducing that valuable record for now.

No, even though I said I’d postpone it, I’ll go ahead and transcribe one line from that record right here.

It concerns Ichikawa Fukunosuke.

“Was promoted to named actor in November 1932, playing O-san and Koharu in ‘Shigure no Kotatsu’ at the Miyadoza.”

“Shigure no Kotatsu” is the scene immediately following the “Kawasho” scene in Chikamatsu Monzaemon’s “Double Suicide.”

Then, in the early spring season of 1946 at the Tsurukame Theater, immediately following the “Kawasho” scene, this very scene from “Shigure no Kotatsu” was performed as the second act.

Tsurukame Theater. Second Show

1. Pure Love and Regret. One Act

Koyama … Kataoka Tobei Lieutenant Murayama’s Daughter … Bando Reiko Her Sister … Bando Takemaru Murano Sawamura Tetsuzaburo Seiichi … Umezawa Hideo

2. The Love Suicide at Amijima: The Kotatsu Scene in Kamiya’s House

Kamiachi Jihe … Bando Takejaku O-san … Ichikawa Fukunosuke Koharu … Onoe Otojo Father-in-law Gozaemon … Onoe Takenosuke Daughter O-Sumi … Bando Takemaru Son Kantaro … Bando Kotake Apprentice Sangoro … Umezawa Hideo

3. A Nighttime Conversation by the Yagawa River. One Act.

Shinnojo … Bando Takejaku Hayato … Onoe Takenosuke Kinu … Ichikawa Fukunosuke

I have absolutely no memory of the first play, “Pure Love and Regret.”

It’s a strange title, or perhaps one should say mysterious. A decidedly antiquated one.

This too was likely a rehash of a Soganoya Goro play.

It’s also baffling that wartime rank names like “Lieutenant” appear in it.

Now, the second one is “Shigure no Kotatsu.”

It was a good stage production.

Within the cramped, poor stage set of the Tsurukame Theater, I saw the atmosphere of the paper shop owned by Kamiji, also known as Kamiebe of Tenma in Osaka.

At seventeen, I still didn’t know the city of Osaka. I didn’t know the town of Tenma either. Born and raised in the downtown area, I had never left Tokyo.

Of course, I also didn’t know the layout inside and out of Osaka merchant houses at that time.

Yet, I found myself completely immersed, body and soul, in the dark, poignant, and frustrating atmosphere of Kamiji’s shop.

I was utterly captivated by the performances of Jihe, played by Takejaku, and his wife O-san, played by Fukunosuke.

I would sit in seiza in the dark, cramped corner of the stage wings, hands on my knees, watching every performance without blinking.

Though weekdays had only one evening show, Saturdays and Sundays had matinee and evening performances, so I saw it nine times at the Tsurukame Theater.

The following week, the Takejaku troupe moved to a new venue, the Heiwa Theater in Totsugi, Katsuhika Ward. They performed “Shigure no Kotatsu” there too, so just like with “Kawasho,” I was able to see this play eighteen times.

As mentioned earlier, “Shigure no Kotatsu” followed the scene from “Kawasho” and the story connected.

I felt the actors’ emotions were connected too. They showed us their skilled, fine artistry.

Especially Fukunosuke. This was the play where, in November 1932, he performed the roles of O-san and Koharu at Asakusa’s Miyodoza, and it was with this role that he was promoted to the rank of named actor.

Fukunosuke brillantly portrayed the agonizing, desperate feelings of a wife whose husband loves another woman, a courtesan, no less, and might even commit double suicide with her tonight, using his superb onnagata expressiveness.

Watching Fukunosuke’s O-san, I wept silently in my heart every day.

You might wonder, how could a seventeen year old boy possibly understand such a sad, complex woman’s feelings? As if I could understand!

But they do understand.

They do understand.

I understood it well back then. More than understanding, I think I just sensed it intuitively.

Now, as I approach eighty, I can still clearly recall the feelings I had sixty-three years ago, the emotion I felt then, and the certainty of my understanding of that play.

That’s precisely why I still remember the lines of the wife, O-san, from that scene in “The Love Suicide at Amijima: The Kotatsu Scene.”

I can say them in Fukunosuke’s voice, in O-san’s tone.

If you doubt me, the next time we meet, I’ll perform it right there on the spot.

“---Well, that’s a bit much, Jihe-san. If you’re so reluctant to part, I shan’t write the pledge. Why do you hate me so?”

Then Takejaku’s Jihe rose from the kotatsu24 and said this (I can even do Takejaku’s voice from that moment; I’m quite good at it):

“What are you saying, O-san? How could I possibly hate you when we’ve even had a child together?”

That’s right. Jihe loves his wife. He doesn’t hate her at all. Yet he has fallen in love with the courtesan Koharu.

The trouble is, Koharou, O-san, and Jihe are all kind-hearted, compassionate, good people.

It is precisely because the portrayal of these characters is so superb and convincing that this drama is considered a masterpiece and remains a wildly popular kyogen to this day.

Hearing Jihe’s words, O-san grumbles.

A kotatsu is a low wooden table.

This scene of her complaining is also wonderfully human.

What’s great is that O-san isn’t portrayed as a stereotypical, meek, chaste wife.

“No, no, you hate me, you hate me. You hate me, don’t you? You really do hate me, don’t you?”

Here the Gidayu begins,

—In October two years past, on the day of the Boar in the middle of the month, as a gift for opening the kotatsu…

O-san’s lines:

“Here, here, since we laid our pillows here—”

Gidayu:

—If a demon dwells in your wife’s bosom, or a serpent dwells there, if it troubles you so much, then cry, cry. If those tears flow into the Shijimi River, Koharu will scoop them up and drink them—-

O-san’s lines:

“How cruel, Jihe-san! No matter how painful your duty may be, what about our two children? Don’t you care for them at all?”

Gidayu:

—I’ll plead with all my heart, pour out my resentment, truly—

Jihe’s subsequent lines of explanation are also splendid, and I can perform them in Takejaku’s voice.

“---Oh, you’re right. I apologize. Sad tears flow from the eyes, and tears of regret flow from the ears. If that be so, then one should see the heart without words spoken. Yet these tears, spilling from the same eyes, flowed for nearly three years. To speak this to you, who never once showed the slightest jealously, is shameful. But just the other day, at Sonezaki, I heard it all, that Koharu was unfaithful…”

Right, I’ll see R-san again soon. I’ll act out Jihe’s lines for her, just like Takejaku did.

Even if she says no, I’ll do it. It might be a bother for R-san, but I’ll make her listen whether she likes it or not.

But when I write like this, it just goes on and on.

I’ll probably keep going like this until the curtains close.

Ah, before I knew it, I’d gone off on a tangent again.

I need to get back to the story.