Nureki Chimuo Archive

This is a real mess.

I’m going to be the instructor for a theater workshop.

I’ll be speaking as an instructor in front of people who are studying to become actors or actresses, as well as men and women who are already working in the theater.

What’s more, this request comes from a very reputable, official organization in the field.

Since I’m really not cut out for this, I was about to turn it down when the draft flyer for the workshop was completed. When I read it, I found the text introducing me to be quite interesting.

It was written by Mr. T, a director whom I deeply respect.

So, I changed my mind.

I reread the flyer several times, and thought, “Maybe I’ll give it a try, just for fun.”

I decided to do a stand-up comedy routine instead of a workshop.

I could transcribe the entire flyer here, but if I accidentally mention any proper names, who knows what kind of trouble might arise these days.

So, I’ll replace proper names and other details with “xxxx.”

As I’ve repeatedly mentioned in this “Talking Theater," I’m a rather shady character, so I might end up causing trouble for someone.

I know a few people who, fearing that others might recognize them as my acquaintances and wary of being seen with me, always walk at least five meters away when accompanying me.

Even though, in the ordinary world, nobody knows my face.

So, although it’s a bit of a hassle, I’ll go ahead and explain it after blurring out the details.

Now, here’s the text of the flyer. “Special Lecture: Exploring the Underground Currents of Japanese Theater”

That is the theme of the lecture. Next, in particularly large letters,it reads, “Mr. xxxx Tells All!” xxxx is my other stage name.

I should have mentioned in the “Profile” at the beginning of this “Talking Theater” that I have numerous pen names.

By numerous, I mean over a dozen, close to twenty. For a single person to have so many aliases, even if there were reasons and necessities for them, is, in and of itself, hardly something one could call normal.

It gives the impression of a shady character.

About fifty years ago, during the height of the “Campaign to Ban Obscene Books,” I was summoned to the Metropolitan Police Department.

I was told, “Why do you use so many names? A person who uses so many names must surely be a shady, bad sort.”

Kurama Tengu sometimes goes by the name Kurata Tensan, but that is his only pseudonym.

A good person who benefits society would never have a dozen or so aliases.

Since I have to use placeholders like “xxxx” even in “Talking Theater,” I suppose I really am a bad person after all.

You might be thinking, “Why not just be honest and use your real name, Nureki Chimuo?” But if I did that, I’d have to deal with all sorts of troublesome complications and stress.

It seems that the work of Nureki Chimuo does appear quite bizarre, lewd, and unusual to ordinary people. If I tell them I know him, they immediately start looking at me through the lens of curiosity.

I want to avoid causing trouble for others as much as possible.

Next, the text on the flyer, “...Regular member of the xxxx Theater Company, xxxx (my name), plays such roles as, ‘A character whose neck is tightened by a rope thrown from the stage, crawling up from the audience’ ‘A homeless person who’s too realistic’ ‘A suspicious cult leader’ ‘A fortune-teller’ ‘A king forced to eat a poisoned apple by his wife and daughter’ And more, a renowned actor who exudes a unique charisma that you won’t forget once you’ve seen him. In fact, he was involved in comfort theater during the war, and after the war, he dabbled in everything from kabuki to underground theater. He’s also worked as a street tout in the Asakusa area, and is well-versed in popular performing arts such as live film narration, kamishibai, and street theater. He’s even researched the history of theater dating back to the late Edo period. But his true identity? No one knows. We’ve created an opportunity to hear valuable stories unique to this man, who has walked the underground currents of modern theater, stories you won’t find in the ‘History of Theater’ taught in official textbooks. If you’re interested, please join us. The event runs for two hours, from 7PM to 9PM. The participation fee is 500 yen…”

Well, that’s all there is to the flyer’s tagline.

Whether officially or unofficially, I have absolutely no qualifications or knowledge to lecture on theater history in front of an audience, so I’ll spend at least thirty minutes of the two-hour show performing the tachi-e “The Well Known Suzukamori” as thoroughly as possible. (I have a little confidence in this. This alone is worth the 500 yen.) I’ll kill time with that, and for the rest, I’ll come up with a plan to fudge my way through by entertainingly recounting anecdotes from the immediate postwar era, when I was an actor with the xxxx theater company and was taken in by traveling troupes performing “Don Quixote” and “Treasure Island,” touring all over Japan.

Immediate postwar refers to Showa 21, or 1946.

Since this happened seventy years ago, most details have faded from memory, so I don’t have to worry about being found out no matter what nonsense I spout or how big a tall tale I tell (ah, I really am a shady character).

The reason I came up with this idea was that last night, while listening to NHK’s late-night radio program “Midnight Express,” I heard Ai Sasaki of the Bunka-za theater company on the show, talking about her troupe during and after the war. In a nutshell, she is an actress who was born and raised in the theater world.

I was surprised when, at the end of the radio segment, Ai Sasaki said, “I’ve turned sixty-seven myself.”

Wow, that demure young beauty, Ai Sakai, is that old now?!

I’ve seen Ai’s mother, Mitsue Suzuki, perform on stage.

My mother and Mitsue Suzuki were childhood friends.

Even before Mitsue Suzuki joined Masao Inoue’s Inoue Theater Dojo, and even after she became an actress, my mother remembered her well and would sometimes speak of her to me with pride.

No, now is not the time to write about such things.

However, the story of Ai Sasaki’s pure and noble life in the theater troupe after the war moved me, an eighty year old man.

In comparison (though there’s really no need to compare), my life immediately after the war was one of low aspirations, poverty, and a day-to-day existence spent wallowing in the murky sludge of vulgarity.

I’ve digressed, so let me return to the text of the original flyer.

In my brief biography, it states, “...I used to solicit customers around Asakusa…”

“Of course!” I thought.

When introduced as hustling for customers around Asakusa, it brings to mind the figure of Heikichi Yoshimura (we called him “Hei-san”), the Asakusa connoisseur who passed away a few years ago.

In other words, I was a hustler who guided men to the nightclubs.

The kind of hustling I did was somewhat different from that. No, quite different.

It was an extremely simple job. It involved standing in front of a traditional comedy theater and loudly calling out to passersby to invite them in.

In other words, it was a form of touting aimed at attracting passersby who enjoyed traditional performing arts to come in and enjoy the shows.

Unfortunately, I have no experience as a stylish, alluring tout like Taira-san. However, “wait a minute,” I thought. That line on this flyer, “working as a hustler in Asakusa…” is spot on. In a different sense, hasn’t Nureki Chimuo’s work up until now been exactly that? “Hustling?”

A life as a hustler.

Taira-san’s work as a hustler in the world of chic allure is something anyone can understand and accept, and is sometimes even treated as a badge of honor. But the kind of hustling I’ve been doing is obscure. It’s a specialized form of hustling that ordinary people simply cannot comprehend.

It’s the sort of thing I can’t explain even if I tried, and I can’t carelessly speak of it. If I’m not careful, I’ll be terribly misunderstood. I want to avoid being misunderstood.

man.

Since I cannot speak of it carelessly, I end up being nothing more than a mysterious old

“Mysterious old man.”

Well, I suppose that’s the perfect name for me.