Nureki Chimuo Archive

My letter of thanks to the person who, knowing my love of theater, graciously invites me every month to special seats at the Grand Kabuki, a person I am most grateful to, continues on and on.

If I am a fan of Ichikawa Kamejiro, then does this person who sends me expensive special seat tickets count as my fan?

At the small theater called Heiwa Gekijo, a five-minute walk from Yotsugi Station on the Keisei Line, Ichikawa Fukunosuke, dressed as Kiyohime, danced with puppet-like movements in “Hidakagawa Iriai Zakura.”

That winter of 1946 (Showa 21), I staved off hunger by eating roasted rice given to me by Taketsugu in the shadow of the waves at Takigawa.

Sixty three years later, I sink into the plush, soft special seats of a grand theater, watching the play performed by top-tier kabuki actors with a smug, know-it-all expression.

It’s like a dream.

No, is this not a dream?

Could it be that I’ve been sleeping in the shadow of the waves on the Takigawa River all this time, simply watching the dream continue?

When I think that, it begins to feel like it might be true.

It’s not a bad feeling.

Well, for some reason, I found myself strangely enchanted and forgot to continue writing my fan letter to Kamejiro.

Come to think of it, Kamejiro is the actor destined to become the head of the Omotakaya troupe.

Kamejiro’s performance, dancing and leaping with relentless intensity, never letting up, pouring his soul into it, and serving the audience to the fullest, truly evoked the dynamic energy of the great Sannosuke of old (I have seen all of his revival performances of the Tsukikigen cycles, and that too, two, three, four times over).

Enough already, stop now, the audience is thoroughly delighted, you don’t need to keep dancing so fiercely. Tomorrow you must perform the major role of Komaru in “San Go Daichi,” you mustn't tire yourself out. Such unnecessary worries from me, a mere spectator with no connection or ties to Sawagataya.

Yet, in my heart, I was hurling those very words at him on stage.

What a fiery young actor he was.

This intensity is the very strength that will carry tomorrow’s kabuki forward.

Not only was his body remarkably agile, but every single movement of Kamejiro’s dance, every single pose, had a dignified elegance to it.

Before Sarashina, he truly embodied the spirit of the demon woman of Togakushi Mountain, and the theme of his dance drama had deeply penetrated his mind and body.

I sensed the artistic soul and dignity of Grand Kabuki, firmly inherited from his grandfather, Ennosuke.

Huh? Huh? Wait a minute. Isn’t Ennosuke Kamejiro’s grandfather? Does that make him a generation older?

So that would make him his great-grandfather?

For Kamejiro, his grandfather would be Danshiro, the father of the current Ennosuke, who passed away young.

This is getting confusing.

So does that mean I’ve been watching this family’s performances for four generations now? The current Kamejiro, his father, the current Danshiro, his father, the Danshiro who appeared in movies and TV (like playing Toyama no Kinnosuke), and his father, the previous Sannosuke; that is, Sannosuke himself?

I saw Ennosuke (En’o) perform the role of Benkei in “Kanjincho” at the Enbu Hall during the final days of the Pacific War.

The Togashi at that time was the 16th Usaemon.

I recall Yoshitsune was played by Ebizo, who later became the 11th Danjuro.

On the stage of the current Kabuki-za, I have seen four generations of Sawagataya.

I hear Ukon Ichikawa will perform “Kurozuka” at the Enbujo theater next time, but I wonder if he can perform it with the same artistic spirit, depth, and high elegance as Kamejiro.

I hope he doesn’t become just a superficial, empty-shelled Demon Woman of Iwate.

A superficial Demon Woman is boring. The audience won’t feel Iwate’s sorrow. Ukon, I beg you. I feel like praying.

Kamejiro will likely perform “Kurozuka” in due time.

Judging by this “Momijigari,” “Kurozuka” will be fine too. He can do it splendidly. Kamejiro has soul.

Ah, I want to see Kamejiro’s “Kurozuka.” I am looking forward to it.

I saw Ennosuke’s “Kurozuka” before he became En’o, back during the war. And then, how many times did I see “Kurozuka” performed by his grandson, Ennosuke? I’ve seen it countless times.

The current Sarunosuke’s “Kurozuka” seems to have only gotten better with age.

When Iwate, now a demon woman, dances under the moonlight, recalling the past, it brings tears to my eyes.

Even the moon itself is a hindrance Leaves on the branches, dew and frost Once more, I hate the wind and clouds Oh, woe is me, oh, woe is me

That part.

Sarunosuke portrayed the heart of the woman who had no choice but to become an ogress with such deep, poignant emotion.

Is it just me, or could the current Kamejiro perform “Kurozuka” even better than Sarunosuke?

Kamejiro was also excellent as the geisha Komama in the matinee performance of “Meisangotai.”

You could see he had a firm grasp of the character’s personality. I was thoroughly satisfied.

He embodied the form of a woman in Kabuki. This is crucial. He must not become a woman. He must be an onnagata.

Ever since seeing him as Otsuta in “Ippon To Dohyoiri,” I’ve been a fan of Kamejiro performing onnagata roles.

(Kantaro’s Komagata Shobei was also good. Both Kamejiro and Kantaro made me feel the strong presence of the bloodline of great actors.)

Kamejiro’s Otatsu was, quite frankly, the best Otatsu I’ve ever seen.

If I were to list here all the actors I’ve seen playing Mobei or Otsuta, it would sound like I’m bragging about how many plays I’ve seen, so I’ll refrain.

I’ve also seen the legendary Otsuta performed by the late Kumikitaro of the Senzenza troupe several times. As for Shin Kokugeki’s “Ippon To Dohyoiri,” I’ve seen it countless times because I loved Shimada.

Utaroku’s Tosaemon Denkichi in “Sannin Kichisa” was excellent, wasn’t it?

I thought, “So this is what it means to have a flavorful, compelling delivery of lines.”

He must have practiced and refined his craft tremendously on his own.

Utaroku has really improved a lot lately.

I thought it was a convincing, excellent Denkichi.

Perhaps because everyone else around him was young, he stood out even more.

Utakichi, whom I’d always considered one of the young talents, and Utasho too, had quietly become pillars of the Yorozuya troupe.

It seems the young actors once trained in the Sannosuke troupe have all built up their skills and now hold important positions.

Shido, for instance, was just a toddler-like child actor not so long ago.

Sarunosuke’s achievements are immense.

Komai has quietly succeeded Monnosuke, Umee has become Tokizo and greatly improved his skills, and Tokizo’s son has become Umee, now showing off his fresh young onnagata charm every month.

His Otose in “Sannin Kichisa” was particularly fresh, endearing, and excellent.

(Ah, I’ve now seen four generations of the Manya family. I remember as if it were yesterday when Tokizo’s grandfather, Tokizo, brought the toddling Kinnosuke and Kazuo to dance “Kairoshi” for their debut performance. That Kinnosuke later became Manya Kinnosuke, and Kazuo became Nakamura Katsuo.)

Above Kinnosuke and Katsu was an older brother named Shido, whose son is the current Nakamura Shido.

Writing about this could go on forever. I’ve ended up writing quite a lot.

I am deeply grateful for your constant invitations. I shall come to express my thanks properly at a later date.

On the 19th and 20th, I plan to go to Pegasus Hall consecutively to see Tsuka Kohei Theater Company’s “New Atami Murder Case” and “Romance.”

I sent this thank-you letter by fax to the kind person who treated me to an expensive play.

They called back immediately.

“As always, your review is youthful and passionate. More than a review, this is a critique. Why not send a copy to Kamejiro-san too? I’m sure he’d be delighted.”

Being called youthful warmed my heart even more.

When I calculated it, I realized I had spent a full sixteen hours watching quite a bit of kabuki.

It felt like a dream.

Just yesterday, I was on the stage of a theater in Yotsugi, Katsushika Ward, a place that used to be a warehouse, immersed in the waves of Hidaka River, chewing roasted rice given to me by someone to stave off hunger.

I feel a strange illusion that the person I was back then, buried in those waves, and the person I am now, are directly connected.

The sixty-odd years between them have vanished.

I live within the play as if in a dream, and I die while watching the play as if in a dream.

I am happy.