Nureki Chimuo Archive

I’ve been working single-mindedly and with total dedication to clear away the mountain of work that loomed before me, and now I’ve finally reached a point where things have settled down a bit.

Over the past three-plus months, even though I knew I was pushing myself too hard, I somehow managed to work really hard.

To put it dramatically, I feel like every day is a frantic struggle that pushed me beyond my physical limits.

(As a result, I’ve completely neglected this “Talking Theater” as well.)

An elderly man who’s about to turn eighty-three was, just a week ago, standing on stage acting, and not just in one role, but in five!

(Although, to be precise, this might not exactly count as work.)

I played five roles. A runaway bus driver, a retired elderly politician, a high school girl, an elderly man with dementia wandering the town, and Jam-Oji-san chasing after Anpanman.12

(As you can tell from the character names, it was a lighthearted play made up of a collection of skits.)

I’m not lying. There are plenty of witnesses.

I sent invitations to everyone who’s always worried about my mental and physical wellbeing and asked them to come watch. These are my witnesses.

12

Anpanman is a popular children’s comic that features a living piece of bread. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Anpanman

First, the Director of the Sex Industry Museum, and Mr. Akiyoshi Otaguro, who has been appearing frequently in this “Talking Theater” lately.

Well, Mr. Otaguro is a very dedicated professional. He watched the matinee performance that day, but during the two and a half hours before the evening performance began, while we were chatting in the hall’s lobby, he didn’t mention a single word about the play I had just performed. He talked exclusively about our upcoming publishing projects together.

(I was hoping he’d praise my acting, though.)

He really, really is a serious man. He loves his work as a publishing editor so much he can’t get enough of it. He’s the kind of person who’s completely absorbed in his craft.

Actually, Director Nakahara watched me during the final dress rehearsal the day before the performance.

She watched the entire production from the audience, the set, the lighting, music, and costumes, all exactly as they would be on opening night, but her feedback at the time was, my goodness, truly harsh.

With a stern expression, she ruthlessly and without the slightest mercy tore to shreds the performance of an aging actor, who’s about to turn eighty-three, who was giving it his all (or maybe not quite that much).

The substance of her harsh criticism was actually something I agreed with myself, so I couldn’t even argue with it.

All I could do was nod and say, “Yes, yes, you’re absolutely right.”

The Director is, well, an honest woman. I was reminded once again that she is a woman of steel who cannot tell lies or offer flattery.

However, on opening night, both the matinee and evening performances were sold out. The stage was energized by the enthusiasm of the audience who love our theater company. They laughed a lot, and overall the show was a huge success so I was relieved.

For this production, I commuted by train to the rehearsal space almost every day right up until opening night. At the same time, as I wrote in my letter to Mr. Otaguro, I was also pouring my heart and soul into my work in my main profession.

On top of that, this summer saw a record-breaking heat wave.

In short, over these past three months, I had pushed my 83-year-old body and mind to the limit, leaving me completely exhausted.

After huffing and puffing my way through all those tasks, the intense heat finally subsided, and the season arrived when I could finally catch my breath.

Oh my, I’m still alive, I’m still breathing, and I can still move my arms and legs.

As soon as I truly realized that, the season for me to accompany the Museum Director and study ways to keep my mind sharp arrived as if it had been waiting just for me.

If I neglect this study to keep my mind sharp, not only I, but also the Director, will fall into a kind of mental starvation.

“Come on, let’s go!”

“Let’s go!”

First up, we headed to a photo exhibition by a certain photographer being held at a studio in Shinjuku.

We wrapped things up there early, then made our way from Shinjuku to Higashi-Ginza and headed to the Togekijo Theater.

We watched the Cinema Kabuki production “Kago Tsuru-be: Sato no Yoizame.”

The cast was fascinating. Nakamura Kanzaburo as Sano Jirozaemon, Bando Tamasaburo as Yatsuhashi, Kataoka Nizaemon as Shigeyama Einosuke, and Kataoka Gato as Tachibana-ya Chobei. And Nakamura Kantaro (now Kankuro) played the servant Jiroku.

Although it wasn’t a live stage performance but rather Kabuki projected on a screen, it’s not something to be taken lightly. It’s by no means a trivial affair.

As I watched, I soon lost the ability to distinguish between the real stage and the film.

Both the cinematographer and the editor (in other words, the director) of Cinema Kabuki are well versed in the characteristics and appeal of kabuki theater itself.

There were moments when I found myself even more drawn into the actors’ performances than when watching a live stage production.

While there is a distance between the audience and the stage in a theater, that distance does not exist on the screen.

The reason the film version is clearly superior is that actors’ subtle facial expressions, the position of their eyes, the movement of their gaze, the movement of their mouths, that is,

their vocal delivery, and other psychological expressions conveyed through the movements of various parts of their bodies can sometimes be observed clearly from the audience through close-ups.

For the viewer, this allows for a deep and accurate understanding of the essence of the play and the individual roles played by the actors.

While the precision of the film camera leaves performers with no room for even a split-second lapse in concentration, for the audience it provides a remarkably detailed and meticulous explanation, a welcome feature that allows us to deeply savor the drama’s appeal.

In this production of “Kago Tsuri-bune,” I found Kantaro’s portrayal of the servant Jiroku particularly fascinating.

It was the first time I had ever seen a Jiroku who was so young and full of life (which means that neither the Director nor I had seen this production of “Kago Tsuri-bune” on stage. I do recall seeing Matsumoto Koshiro’s Jirozaemon in a previous production at the Kabuki-za. That performance featured a grand fight scene on the roof the rear second-story balcony during the climax).

Kantaro’s portrayal of Jiroku was refreshing, passionately conveying the emotions of a loyal retainer concerned for his master, who is consumed by lust.

However, he was a bit too energetic, which made him lack that rustic, country-boy vibe. I watched the performance with great enjoyment, wondering if, in a few years, Kantaro might take on the role of Jirozaemon, and if so, would Yatsuhashi be played by Shichinosuke?

On the way home, at “Hacho no le” next to the Kabuki-za, which was undergoing renovations at the time, we ate curry rice along with some separately ordered fried oysters and, while sipping coffee, we chatted about the performance of “Kago Tsuri-bune” we had just seen.

This marked the first step in my return to my studies, and at the same time the resumption of the “Talking Theater” I’d been neglecting.

After that, spurred on by Director Nakahara, I continued watching plays and movies at a breakneck pace to make up for the days of study I’d missed.

Namely, the dance numbers from Asakusa’s Jun Koikawa Troupe’s “Rakuda no Uma” and “Ippon-to Dohyo-iri,” as well as the dance form “Tojuro no Koi.”

In Hobiya, the American film “The Magnificent Seven” and the spaghetti western “A Fistful of Dollars.”

At the National Theater, “Ukiyo-zuka Hiyoku no Imazuma” starring Koshiro and Fukusuke.

More details next time.