Nureki Chimuo Archive

I recently came across a text written by someone other than Itoh Seiu that discusses the Nakamura-za theater, where Itoh Seiu hired male and female actors to stage “shame plays,” performances he created and enjoyed as he pleased, under various titles. It is the eighth issue of “Hongo,” a community town magazine. Studio 609’s “Hongo” editing room produced this issue, which was published on March 10, 1995. The magazine was first published on November 10, 1985, so it is not that old. It is a 66-page booklet. Here, a former TBS38 announcer named Chiaki Suzuki, born in 1925, has written a 14-page essay titled “That Day in Hongo.” (Some of you may recognize the name Suzuki Chiaki as a television announcer. I, too, have a memory of this name.) I would like to introduce only the section concerning Nakamura-za from “That Day in Hongo” written by Chiaki Suzuki-san. “It wasn’t a movie theater, but what I still vividly remember is the Nakamura-za. This was after the war. The location was Higashikatamachi along the Nakasendo (National Route 17), around present-day Mukogaoka 1-chome 8-banchi. A single-story wooden and plaster theater building, usually so plain it could easily be mistaken for some repair shop or small factory. Yet Tokyo Broadcasting System

occasionally, as if suddenly remembering, it becomes adorned with a forest of flashy banners that catch the eye. Actually, I once took an 8mm camera (though this was still the era of 8mm film, before video existed) and went inside to film. I recently dug it out from the back of my closet and projected the film. The film box has “May 5, 1963” written on it in my handwriting. Thinking about it, the phrase “It’s no longer the postwar era” became popular around 1955, and the term “atmosphere of peace and tranquility" emerged around 1960. In other words, it’s necessary to clarify that this play and the theater itself were deliberately designed to evoke nostalgia in people during a time when they finally had some leisure time, by recreating the atmosphere of an old travelling troupe. The first banners that catch the eye have the words “Nakamura-za May Performance” in black on a white background. Below that, in red on a blue background, is “To Toyoji Nakamura-san,” and beneath that, “From Tokyo Theater and Performance Association, Shinohara Entertainment Hall.” Further down, banners displaying the names of the performing actors stand in a row, fluttering in the wind. At the entrance, there were photos of the performers posted, and a sign that read “Adults 80 yen, Children (ages 7-12) 70 yen, Young Children (ages 6 and under) 50 yen.” Having been immersed in memories of the pre-war and immediate post-war periods, I initially wondered if the “yen” mentioned for the entrance fee might actually be a mistake for “sen” (a smaller unit of currency). However, as mentioned earlier, although the theater looked like an old playhouse, it was actually the post-war period, specifically 1963 (Showa 38), so it must indeed be yen. I remember when a beer mug (what we’d now call a large mug) at Shinjuku Musashino Beer Hall and an admission ticket to Shinjuku Moulin Rouge both cost about 50 sen. Then one day, both prices were raised to about 70 sen. That was when I was in my first or second year of high school, meaning around 1941 or 1942. (Both closed soon after due to the intensifying war.) So, that’s how the money from that era became roughly equivalent to yen by 1963.

Now, stepping inside, the majority of the audience are women, particularly middle-aged and older. They’re all regulars, dressed casually in everyday clothes, many with bags of sweets in hand. Centered prominently is the Harima family’s swallowtail butterfly crest. Below it to the right is the phrase “From a patron in Fukagawa, Tokyo,” and below to the left is the inscription “Nakamura Toyoji San’ei” dyed onto the curtain. Then, on the stage left wing, stands a massive shitodaro39 sake cask for the celebration. Now, act one is essentially a special feature on the highlights of Kabuki and Shinkokugeki. While the ladies and grandmas might expect a succession of familiar showstoppers, tearjerkers, and famous scenes to leave them spellbound and deeply moved, that’s not the case at all. This is where grassroots theater truly shines: all sorts of things get hurled from the audience toward the stage. Sure, there’s the customary throwing of money, tips, but also quite large items, the size of small parcels, flying in and out. Cigarettes scatter everywhere. So every now and then, someone who looks like a stagehand in work pants dashes out, hurriedly gathers up the stage props, and dashes back in. Now, the second act takes a sharp turn in tone, becoming a lively song and dance show. In the blink of an eye, all the performers transformed into an All-Star Light Music Band. Kanpei, who had just committed seppuku, shakes maracas, Kunisada Chuji pounds the bongos to the rhythm of rumba, mambo, and cha-cha-cha. Is Okaru’s song “Besame Mucho”? After all, 8mm film doesn’t capture sound, so everyone just mumbles and mumbles in front of the microphone, and you can’t really tell what they’re saying. But their versatility in tackling anything and their dedication to entertaining the audience are truly awe-inspiring. I had to get back quickly or dinner preparations wouldn’t be ready in time. But here’s the thing. For some particularly devoted fans, the real highlight of the day was just about to begin. Approximately 72 litres.

Gathering in front of the Kagami-yu public bath across from Nakasendo, they wait in ambush for their favorite actors to arrive. In other words, they’re stalkers. For the ladies and grandmothers, it must be a moment when they feel like young girls again, all excited. About an hour must have passed. Finally, the actors seemed to have arrived, and a group of fans began to stir. “I’ve been waiting for this,” I said, rolling the camera. However, the outcome fell far short of expectations. First, perhaps because the surroundings were too dark, the only thing visible in the photo was the light at the entrance to the bathhouse, labeled “Men’s Bath” and “Women’s Bath.” And, well, this is only to be expected, but there were no shrieks of delight, no clamoring for autographs, only the sound of quiet conversation drifting through the air. Whether it was sweets or fruit, or perhaps homemade bento boxes, it was unclear, but all that could be heard in the dim light were murmurs of “It’s nothing special, just a small token of my appreciation” and “Oh, thank you, as always.” The above is an excerpt from “That Day in Hongo; As I Recall It,” written by Chiaki Suzki and published in Issue 8 of the town magazine Hongo. I have transcribed the only portion concerning Nakamura-za. It is a straightforward, easy-to-understand, and fine piece of writing. Fourteen 35mm contact prints, close-up, unedited photographs capturing Nakamura-za’s exterior, curtain, and stage are included within the text, effectively conveying its atmosphere. The source of these photographs is credited as Takeo Kanie of Hongo 6-chome. I suspect there is some connection between the 8mm film shot by Chiaki Suzuki-san and Takeo Kanie-san’s small photographs, but there is no annotation regarding this. The name of the troupe leader seen on the banners and curtains in the photograph is also Nakamura Toyoji. I’m also a fan of this kind of popular theater and watch it often. I didn’t know about this Nakamura-za in Hongo, but whenever I had the chance and time, I’d often go see shows at various small theaters. (More than just a fan, I have some connection to them. I plan to write about that eventually.) Just three days before writing this, I actually invited my manager, R-san, to see the “Kyushu Otoko Theater Company: Ryotaro Okawa Troupe” at Asakusa’s Mokubakan theater.

Due to time constraints, we could only catch the final dance show, but even so, it was enjoyable to soak in the unique fervor of this kind of troupe. Watching the actors dance in their splendid costumes and beautiful makeup, I become intoxicated by their movements, songs, and colors. A nostalgic, warm feeling washes over me, like slipping back into my mother’s womb. Even after the curtain fell and we left the theater, R-san and I remained utterly exhilarated. If we had the time, we would have talked about the appeal of the popular theater troupe all night long. R-san was thrilled to shake hands with the beautiful actor standing at the exit of the hut, bidding farewell. I also shook hands with Ryotaro Okawa. Somehow my story has veered off course again, and I seem to be writing unnecessary things. No, they aren’t unnecessary. Ever since I was little, I’ve felt admiration and affection for a troupe of popular theater performers. I can’t help but feel that the same blood flows through my veins as those actors. I am fully aware that this particular inclination of mine has been profoundly influenced by the novels of Mikihiko Nagata, such as “Decline,” “The Story of Ogi Noboru,” and “Mio.” All depict the lives of travelling actors and I immersed myself in them during my youth. (I still find myself returning to these novels time and again, reading them over and over.) And somehow, this longing for the travelling actor seems connected to a tendency to be drawn to SM. However, I must return to the old “punishment photographs" that I had enlarged at the sex museum. As evident from the essay “On the ‘Punishment Theater Company,’” from the prewar period through the postwar era, Itoh Seiu was widely active in the theater world and associated with many prominent figures. He was also said to be friends with the proprietor of the Nakamura-za theater. If so, he could certainly have hired actors performing at the Nakamura-za to put on a one-day “punishment play” for him. And at that time, the enthusiasts who gathered out of admiration for Itoh Seiu could likely have used actors as models for their “punishment photography” sessions through those connections.

Before me now lie sixteen “punishment photographs” specially selected and enlarged from over a hundred in the sex museum’s collection. I am writing this manuscript while looking at those photographs. The actress, wearing a period wig and with swirling tattoos drawn on her shoulders and arms, was clearly not tied up so skillfully and securely by Itoh Seiu. In other words, Itoh Seiu was not present at this photoshoot. If he had been there, he would have been the one doing the tying and the way the tattooed woman was bound would have not been like this. With Itoh Seiu, the binding and form are quite crude and rough. Looking at the photographs, most of it is just simple coiling. Itoh Seiu, a hair fetishist, pays considerable attention to how a woman’s hair is tousled. The hair of this tattooed woman shows no sign of that kind of obsessive disarray. This alone makes it clear that Itoh Seiu had no involvement in this shoot. Her hair isn’t messed up in a maniacal way, but her hands, bound behind her back, have a maniacal, pleasing shape. Due to the camera angle, only her fingers are visible on the back of her wrists. Probably her right hand’s fingers, but the fact that only the fingers are visible is also good. Both wrists are raised nearly to shoulder height. Consequently, the left elbow is also raised high. Though not visible in the photo, the right elbow should be raised high as well. This is a tight restraint. Because of it, the woman endures, wearing a sorrowful, beautiful expression. It’s not staged or acting; it’s a natural expression, and that’s what makes it alluring. As I mentioned last time, this must have been tied by the leader of this photography group. It’s bound with just a little rope, tied with a maniacal cruelty and strictness. Behind the bound woman, a man with a vile, snarling face sat with one knee raised. Completely naked, he bore tattoos from his shoulders down his arms. They typical white cloth wrapped around his torso from belly to chest added to his yakuza-like appearance, heightening the atmosphere of this torture chamber. The man held a lit candle in his hand, bringing its flame close to the woman’s buttocks. The woman’s ankles are spread apart and bound to a single pole. In other words, she cannot close her legs. The pain of being bound by ropes, the fear of the candle flame touching her bare skin; these make the tattooed woman appear like a masochistic, alluring beauty.

The composition follows a standard pattern, yet it carries an atmosphere rich with emotion, distinctly evoking a “punishment scene.” Such imagery is something every bondage enthusiast possesses. It embodies the universal image of a bondage scene. That is precisely why there is a sense of ease and emotional depth. That sentiment or emotion permeate this kind of composition, which should generally be considered a cruel scene, ultimately stems from the organizers and performers having a sense of ease and a playful spirit. Enjoying formulaic compositions is proof of a playful spirit, and it’s precisely within this relaxed atmosphere that enthusiasts can safely savor their pleasure. Performers, too, trust the organizers and can perform with peace of mind. Without a sense of playfulness, this kind of hobbyist activity takes on a grim mood and becomes utterly unbearable. It’s only natural for actors, but the yakuza man’s posture as he berates the tattooed woman is so theatrical, it’s absolutely brilliant. It feels as though I can hear the dialogue these actors are performing, from a night over seventy years ago (it must have been night). “Well, Otomi, how does it feel? Bound like this, hands behind your back, wrists and ankles tied tight? You can’t even run away. Give up on that Yosaburo fellow and just accept it. Why not become mine, Angoro’s?” “What the hell are you talking about? Who the hell would listen to a scummy little worm like you? Damn it, you tied me up so tight, ahh, it hurts, it hurts! Just you wait, I’ll remember this.” “Hmph, you’re really something, aren’t you, you stubborn woman? Tied up like this, and still so defiant. No matter how much you adore that Yosaburo, you’d better give it up now.” “Ah, ah, damn it! What the hell are you doing?! It hurts! It hurts, I tell you! Stop it! Damn it! Don’t pinch me there!” “What a cute little nipple. After Yosaburo sucked and licked it so much, you should start feeling good as I knead, punch, and pull it like this. Come on, how’s that? How’s that? Feels good, doesn’t it? How’s that?” “Ah, ah, it hurts, damn it, you bit me, you bastard!” “What? You call that dirty? Just biting a nipple? How is that dirty? This is what dirty is, you hear me!”

Among the enlarged copies of the old punishment photographs obtained at the Sex Museum, there is also a scene depicting the same male and female actors performing in the same room, bound in the agura40 position. “Gu-gu-gasp! Why are you binding me so tightly!” “Why tie you up? It’s obvious, isn’t it? I wanted to see Otomi’s special parts, so I tied you up like this, in the lotus position.” “Oh, no, no, no! Don’t look! Don’t look! Damn it, go away!” “Hehehe… You showed everything to your beloved Yosaburo, but you won’t show anything to me? What a stingy woman. Yosaburo, me, and you, we’re all fellow scoundrels with notorious reputations. Let’s all get along, scoundrel to scoundrel.” “No! No! Who the hell would be friends with you? Dammit! I’d rather bite my tongue and die than let you have me!” “Whoa, you sure talk a big game. See if biting your tongue hurts. Let’s see if you can actually die from biting your tongue. Do it right in front of me. Hey, Otomi, you bitch Otomi, this finger of mine, I’m not bragging, but it’s called a viper finger, you see. It’s no ordinary finger. There, there, see? It slithers in like this and moves like this. How’s that? That’s it, that’s it. Stick your ass out toward me more.” “Ahh, ahh, ahh, s-s-such a thing, wh-what the hell are you doing. Ahh, ahh, no, no, no, please, p-please don’t move your fingers so much!” “Hey, hey! This isn’t some house out in the boonies. What if someone hears you yelling like that? Alright, I’ll gag you. Open your mouth!” Among the enlarged copies of the old photographs, there’s also a scene from the same play where the tattooed woman remains bound in a cross-legged position, gagged. Moreover, it is a gag made from a spotted-patterned hand towel. Here I’ll add a little extra comment. Using a spotted-patterned hand towel as a gag is only appropriate when the setting is a period piece like this. Using a spotted-patterned hand towel as a gag in contemporary bondage photography (or even in video footage) is clearly a mistake. From the heyday of SM magazines to the present day, on any shoot, when someone says “gag,” directors, staff, and photographers alike blindly will pull out a spotted-patterned hand towel as if it were a rule. It’s wrong, and actually, I bear some responsibility for this. They don’t understand the meaning of Edo-period spotted-patterned hand towels. But writing about that now would lead me off on another tangent. So I’ll save it for later. Agura means sitting with legs crossed, i.e. the “lotus” position.

“Hehehe, how about that? I’ve shut your mouth tight. No matter how loud you scream now, it’s useless. Cry, yell, scream, you won’t make a sound. Your throat just twitches. Oh my, putting that gag in has made your eyes look even more alluring. Those eyes full of resentment are unbearable. Hey, Otomi, stop struggling around. Just give in and be quiet!” “Mmmph, mmmmphhhhh…” How nice. I really like the natural movements and expressions of the man and woman. This kind of SM scene has real emotional depth. I suppose it’s good that the photographer doesn’t direct poses, but instead lets them do whatever they want freely. Both the man doing the taking and the woman being taken are fully into it, moving their bodies and wearing expressions perfectly suited to the moment. You don’t hear the photographer shouting things like, “Turn this way, turn that way” or “Twist your shoulders more, stick your hips out.” That’s the beauty of it. Those kinds of commands, no matter how harsh, actually have nothing to do with SM. They’re just shouts for making the product. We enthusiasts sense that keenly. In that regard, this couple’s acting is good. They seem to be enjoying themselves, taking pride in it, freely playing out their roles. That’s why, just looking at the photo, I can hear the kind of lines I just wrote. The ability to be happy is the ability to believe in illusions. The ability to feel pleasure is the ability to expand illusions and fantasies. But without any basis or material, neither illusions nor fantasies can arise or expand. The old “punishment photographs” at the sex museum provide me with a rich and valuable source of material for my pleasurable illusions and fantasies. And, though I may sound repetitive, I must say this: SM photography that focuses solely on intense physical forms while neglecting to express the psychology of the person being restrained, no matter how beautifully or masterfully shot, fails to inspire any fantasy or illusion in us enthusiasts. The following comments were submitted by Mika Suzume-san and are reproduced here with her permission. Expressions from these comments are quoted in Chapter 30.

Mika Suzume-san’s comment Watching recent Hollywood movies, they use CG to the max, one incredible scene after another. But I just don’t feel moved. There should be a story they want to tell, and the CG technology should exist to recreate that story. But to me, it feels like it’s just a spectacle to satisfy the sponsors. Those kinds of Hollywood movies, no matter how amazing the visuals are, no matter how high-grossing the actors are, are just boring. SM photography that focuses solely on intense physical forms while neglecting to express the psychology of the person being restrained, no matter how beautifully or masterfully shot, fails to inspire any fantasy or illusion in us enthusiasts. That’s right. Just like my recent dissatisfaction with Hollywood movies, a lot of SM these days involves acrobatic sex where you can’t even tell if it’s supposed to be rough play, or if it’s even rough play at all. The depiction of sex, intended as a measure to prevent SM from becoming a cruel spectacle (or as a service to popularize it), may have transformed SM into something entirely different. When I watch foreign SM DVDs, I notice that so-called sex scenes are often almost nonexistent. That’s why I feel like Japanese SM alone has an extreme abundance of explicit sex scenes. Because these sex scenes exist, it does allow people beyond the hardcore fans to empathize and connect with the content. So, you could say sex scenes are a necessary evil. But I can’t help feeling like I’m lending my roof only to have the house taken away. Sex, which should be the bonus, is at the center of SM, with SM elements like ropes and whips added as mere garnish. No, even if it’s a bonus, if it’s SM-oriented, it can still be enjoyable. But it seems like many products labeled as SM don’t even have SM elements as bonus parts.

I, who have been dissatisfied lately with how SM feels different somehow, read your “Talking Theater” and I feel incredibly happy. I can talk about SM so eloquently, and somehow it makes me feel at ease.