Thoughts on performing Funa Benkei – 能《船弁慶》を演じて

[Japanese follows English 英語の後に日本語が続きます]

On August 25, 2024, I performed the nō Funa Benkei at the Kongō Nō Theatre in Kyoto. This was my second time performing a full nō play—the first was Kiyotsune back in 2013—and my first time since obtaining the shihan (instructor) license. I have been encouraged to share some thoughts about this experience.

First, I spent a year preparing for this performance, working step by step, block by block, following the regular practice schedule which, in my case, means two practice sessions with my teacher, Udaka Tatsushige, per month. Although numerous amateurs have short classes, I am lucky enough to train for up to two hours per session. In addition to this there is individual practice, which may take place anywhere, in the car (I chant a lot when I drive), at home, but also borrowing our practice space, or even renting a full theatre hall (as I did in Otsu, near Miidera). These individual sessions increased as the performance date approached. I started with the chant, then moved on to the dances, and finally incorporated the dialogue. This gradual process was very helpful, giving me peace of mind as the performance day approached. By the time I was ready to perform, I didn’t feel overwhelmed or stressed. Instead, I had the space to enjoy the experience.

On the day of the performance, as I watched the others prepare backstage, I felt a deep sense of gratitude for the opportunity to share this moment with them. Even though I did not speak much (the shite is not supposed to be verbal before going on stage), I could feel the energy from everyone around me, especially from my teacher and his younger brother. Seeing them, the direct heirs of my previous teacher, reminded me of the continuity of this tradition, and I felt honored to be a part of it.

A particularly powerful moment was when I stood before the mirror, about to put on the mask. The mask symbolizes so much—the character, the history, the ethos of nō itself. Knowing that the masks I used were carved by my previous teacher, Udaka Michishige, and his daughter made it even more meaningful. As I placed the mask on my face, I had to hold back tears, overwhelmed by the weight of tradition, that is, the personal connection to those who came before me.

During the performance, I had little time to think. My focus was on avoiding mistakes, maintaining my composure, and creating the right shape. For an amateur like me, this alone is a great feat. I concentrated on my breathing, ensuring I had enough breath for my lines, and I listened closely to the other performers and musicians, responding to them as best I could. I felt the power of the other performers, and sensed how they were all deeply engaged in the performance. Their energy fueled me, which made me realize just how vital this collective effort is in creating something truly special. This sense of collaboration is what makes theater such a unique art form. Nō takes this to the extreme, reducing the number of performances just to one single event.

As I stood on stage, I recognized many familiar faces in the audience, which greatly motivated me to do my best. After all, nō is performed for an audience, and knowing that their gaze was on me put me in a good place, even though I felt humbled and somewhat worried, knowing that many important guests were present. I am fortunate enough to collaborate with top scholars of nō theatre, both in Japan and internationally. Performing in front of them was daunting, to say the least. Having the waka sōke, Kongō Tatsunori (the son of the iemoto) as the chorus leader, along with many other respected professionals from the nō arts participating in the performance, made me feel like the one out of place on that stage. However, after many years of practice, I’ve learned to overcome that shyness and accept that I can show them who I am without worrying too much about perfection.

Several people told me they thought the first half (Shizuka Gozen) was particularly good, and I have to agree—I enjoyed that part very much. Both halves of the performance had their own difficulties. Dancing in kinagashi, especially for someone with long legs like mine, is not easy. The costume restricts movement to tiny steps, making it challenging to maintain balance. The second half requires skills that take a longer time to hone. Performing powerful yet clean kata, knowing when to speed up and when to slow down, demands much experience, particularly when wearing a mask and costume. The added difficulty of handling the naginata in this play was something I was concerned about. I worried that I might accidentally strike the musicians with the blade, especially during jumps. Long arms can indeed be dangerous! The mask further complicates things by limiting stereoscopic vision, making it difficult to judge depth—crucial for ensuring the safety of the other cast members. This kind of awareness and control can only be developed through experience on stage with a full cast.

What struck me this time was the contrast between the solitude of preparation and the collaborative energy of the performance. In nō, much of the training is solitary, often just you and your teacher. But when you step onto the stage, it’s a group effort, and the tension created by this transition is essential to the rendition of the play. Had we trained and worked together for months, the performance wouldn’t have had the same intensity or spontaneity.

I was also very happy to share the stage with my student, Nami, who took the role of Yoshitsune. She started from zero and made remarkable progress over the past two and a half years. Witnessing their improvement and development has been incredibly rewarding, and I am deeply grateful for that.

After the performance, I felt surprisingly energized. In contrast to my first performance, where I felt too tired to even think about doing it again, this time I wanted to go back on stage right away and correct my mistakes. There were many, but I felt a strong desire to improve and continue.

When it comes to feedback, my teacher, who is usually very verbal, logical, and analytical during practice, is rather dry after performances. Actually, I appreciate that, because I understand how difficult it is to give feedback and how much weight words can carry. Anyway, his comments were generally positive, and although I was critical of myself, pointing out the things I didn’t do right or should have done better, he tried to turn that into something positive. He emphasized that each accomplishment is just a step toward the continuous path of development. This idea is really important and provides the fuel to keep moving forward.

All in all, I am satisfied with how the performance and the event in general went, and I look forward to my next project. Thank you for reading, and for your support.

Diego Pellecchia

2024年8月25日、京都の金剛能楽堂にて能《船弁慶》を勤めさせて頂きました。今回が私にとって二度目の能の公演であり、師範の免許を取得してから初めての公演となります。この経験について、いくつか思いを共有するよう勧められました。

まず、この公演に向けて一年間準備を進め、一歩一歩、ブロックごとに計画を立てて取り組みました。私の場合、月に二回、師匠の宇髙竜成先生の元でお稽古しています。一回の稽古はおよそ２時間です。おそらく、素人弟子にはたっぷりの時間を頂いていると思います。

これに加えて、自己練習も行いました。車の中（運転中によく謡います）、自宅、あるいは稽古場を借りて、さらには大津の三井寺近くにある伝統芸能会館を丸ごと借り切ることもありました。公演が近づくにつれて、これらの自習の頻度は増えました。まずは謡から始め、その後舞へと移り、最後にセリフ（脇とのやり取りなど）を組み込みました。この段階的なプロセスは非常によくて、公演の日が近づくと安心感が得られました。公演の準備が整った時には、圧倒されたり、ストレスを感じたりすることはなく、むしろその経験を楽しむ余裕が少しでもありました。

公演当日、楽屋で他の出演者たちが準備をしているのを見ながら、この瞬間を共有できることに深い感謝の念を抱きました。あまり言葉を交わしませんでしたが（シテは舞台に出る直前にあまり喋らないとされています）、周囲の皆さん、特に先生とその弟さん（徳成先生）からのエネルギーを感じました。彼らは私の前の師匠（通成先生）の直接の後継者であり、伝統の継承を目の当たりにして、この一部となれたことを光栄に思いました。

特に強く印象に残ったのは、面をつける直前に鏡の前に立った瞬間です。面は、キャラクターや歴史、能そのものの精神を象徴しているものであると思います。今回使用した面は、道成先生とその娘さん（景子先生）によって制作されたもので、その意味がさらに深まりました。面を顔につけた瞬間、涙をこらえる必要がありました。伝統の重み、つまり私の前にいた人々との個人的なつながりに圧倒されたからです。

公演中は考える時間がほとんどありませんでした。私の焦点は、ミスを避け、落ち着きを保ち、正しい形を作ることにありました。素人として、これだけでも十分に忙しいです。呼吸に集中し、台詞に十分な息を確保し、他の出演者や楽器奏者の声をよく聞き、できる限り応答しました。他の出演者たちの力も感じました。そのエネルギーが私を駆り立て、この集団的な努力が公演の成功にどれほど重要であるかを実感しました。このコラボレーションの感覚が、演劇を独自の芸術形式にしているのです。能はそれを極限まで追求し、上演回数を一度だけのイベントに絞っています。

舞台に立っていると、観客席に多くの馴染みのある顔を見つけ、それが私を大いに励ましました。能は観客のために演じられるものであり、彼らの視線を感じながら、謙虚でありながらも、重要なゲストが多くいることを意識していました。私は日本国内外の能楽研究の第一人者たちと共に仕事をする幸運に恵まれています。彼らの前で演じるのは、非常に緊張するものでした。若宗家の金剛龍謹（御家元の息子）が地頭を勤め、そして多くの偉い能楽師たちが出演している中で、私だけが舞台で場違いな存在に感じました。しかし、長年の稽古を経て、そのような恥ずかしさを克服し、完璧さにこだわらず、その日、その時の自分を見せることができるようになりました。

何人かの方々から、前半（静御前）が特に良かったと言われ、その通りだと思います。私はその部分を非常に楽しみました。公演の前半と後半にはそれぞれ異なる難しさがありました。特に足の長い私にとって、唐織の着流での舞は簡単ではありません。装束は動きを小さなステップに制限し、バランスを保つのが難しいです。後半では、面と装束を着けながら、強くかつ清潔な型を演じ、スピードの緩急を知る技術が必要です。この演目では長刀の取り扱いが難しく、特に飛び回しに囃子方に刃が当たらないか心配していました。長い腕は本当に危険です！面はまた、立体視を制限するため、他の出演者の安全を確保するための深度感覚を判断するのが難しいです。このような注意力とコントロールは、フルキャストでの舞台経験を通じてのみ養われるものでしょう。

今回私が感じたのは、準備の孤独さと公演の協力的なエネルギーとの対比です。能では、多くの稽古が個人で行われ、しばしば師匠との二人きりです。しかし、舞台に立つと、それはグループの努力となり、この移行によって生じる緊張が、演劇の重要な要素となります。もし私たちが何ヶ月も一緒に稽古をしていたら、今回の公演の持つ強度や自発性はなかったでしょう。

また、私の大学の教え子である奈美さんが義経役を勤めたことも、とても嬉しいことでした。彼女はゼロから始め、過去二年半で驚くべき進歩を遂げました。彼女の成長と発展を目の当たりにできたことは非常に報われるものであり、私は深く感謝しています。

今回の公演は、驚くほどハイテンションで終わりました。2013年、初めてシテとして能を演じた時、「もう二度とやらない！」と感じましたが、今回はすぐに舞台に戻り、間違いを修正したいと思いました。たくさんのミスがありましたが、改善し続けたいという強い意欲を感じました。

フィードバックについては、普段は稽古中にとても口頭で、論理的かつ分析的な師匠が、舞台の後は割と控えめです。実はそれがありがたく思います。教員として、フィードバックを与えることの難しさと、言葉が持つ重みを理解しているからです。私が自分に対して批判的であり、失敗したこと、もっと良くすべきだったことを指摘した時、師匠はそれを前向きなものに変えようとしてくれました。彼は、すべての達成が発展の継続的な道のりの一歩に過ぎないということを強調しました。この考え方は非常に重要であり、前進し続けるための燃料となりますね。

総じて、私は公演とイベント全体の結果に満足しており、次のプロジェクトが楽しみです。ダラダラと書きましたが、この感想文を読んでいただき、またサポートしていただき、ありがとうございます。これからも何卒よろしくお願い致します！

ディエゴペレッキア

Diego Pellecchia as Shizuka Gozen (Photo: Udaka Sanami)

4K video of torch-lit Noh performance in Kyoto

A beautiful video digest of the 2018 Heian Jingū Takigi Noh, the open-air, torch-lit noh performance taking place at Heian Shrine every year on June 1-2. Udaka Michishige is featured performing Hashi Benkei from min. 1:15. Check it out!

Kongo School events – January 2017

2016 was a terrible year in so many ways. What better way to start the new year than with Noh! Here are a few dates you may want to save if you are in Kyoto in January 2017

Jan 3 from 09:00 Yasaka Shrine Okina free of charge
Jan 3 from 12:00 Kongo Noh Theatre, Utai-zome (ritual chanting of Okina, plus maibayashi Yumi Yawata) free of charge
Jan 6-8 Udaka Michishige Men-no-Kai Noh mask exhibition, Kyoto Prefectural Cultural Art Hall
Jan 17 Yōseikai Young generation series at Kanze Kaikan. Various performances. Free of charge
Jan 22 Kongo Monthly performance at Kongo Noh Theatre. Noh: Tōbōku, Iwafune

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— Diego Pellecchia

Ominameshi (Kongo Monthly Noh October 2016)

This coming Sunday, 23rd of October Udaka Michishige is going to perform the Noh Ominameshi 女郎花 at the Kongo Noh Theatre in Kyoto.

Here is a summary of the play.

A Traveling Priest comes to Mt. Otoko on the western outskirts of the capital in the autumn and seeing that the area is covered with beautiful ominaeshi or ominameshi (a yellow-flowered valerian), one of the seven autumn herbs, he recalls poetic references to it and decides to pick one. Just as he is about to do so he is stopped by an Old Man. The Old Man explains that he is the guardian of the flowers. The Priest wonders that this particular flower is protected. Exchanges of poetic references with the Old Man convince the Priest that he is a man of feeling. The Old Man then takes the Priest to the Iwashimizu Hachiman Shrine where he shows him two graves which he describes as being that of a man and a woman. The woman’s grave is covered with ominameshi and the Old Man reveals that they were husband, Ono no Yorikaze, a man of the area of Mt. Otoko, and wife, a woman from the Capital and that there is a story behind their deaths. Entreating the Priest to pray for their souls, the Old Man disappears.

Later the spirits of the man and his wife appear. They describe how the wife drowned herself after being treated coldly by Yorikaze. When ominameshi blossoms appeared on her grave Yorikaze was overwhelmed with remorse and also drowned himself. He suffers in hell for his unwitting cruelty and prays for deliverance for their souls. (Rebecca Teele Ogamo)

— Diego Pellecchia

[FREE] 2016 New Year Noh performances

Okina - Kongo Hisanori — Okina – Kongo Hisanori (Yasaka-jinja, Kyoto)

The New Year period is a busy time for Noh actors! Augural plays wishing long life and happiness are performed at various locations, especially Shinto shrines. If you are in Kyoto during the first week of January 2016, I recommend that you check out these FREE Noh performances.

Link to a (partial) performance calendar of the Kongo school here)

January 1st Friday from 12:30 @Heian Shrine. Ritual Noh performance. Okina. Shite: Kongo Hisanori.

January 3rd Sunday from 09:00 @Yasaka Shrine. Okina. Shite: Katayama Kuroemon. Shimai: Tsurukame. Shite: Kongo Hisanori.

January 3rd Sunday from 12:30 @Kongo Noh theatre. First performance of the year. Recitation of the chant of Okina, shimai and maibayashi (Iwafune Shite: Kongo Tatsunori).

Noh and Kyogen: Lessons For School Teachers

Teaching Noh and Kyogen at elementary, middle, and high schools is part of a larger plan to educate the Japanese youth in the Japanese classic performing arts introduced by the ministry of education in recent years. This sounds like a good idea, as one of the biggest problems the contemporary world of Noh is facing is its inability to attract young audiences. If kids received more exposure to Noh and Kyogen, they could grow an interest in it, or at least it would not feel as alien as it does to most young Japanese. Teaching Noh at school sounds good… but how? Critics of this educational plan pointed out how school teachers, many of whom are ignorant of the classic arts in general, are in fact the reason why kids don’t get to like Noh and Kyogen. Adding plays to textbooks is not sufficient: teachers need to know what they are talking about in order to make the topic meaningful and engaging.

DSCF0993 — Kongo School Noh workshop at Uji Shiritsu Nanbu Elementary School

In order to address this important issue the Nōgaku Kyōkai (Noh Professionals Association) has organised educational activities in which Noh professionals visit schools and give workshops both to students and teachers. Last year I attended one of these at the Uji Shiritsu Nanbu Elementary School. The workshop was led by Udaka Tatsushige, who is one of the performers in charge of such activities for the Kyoto area. It was an interesting experience, and he students responded very well to the various activities offered.

DSCF0977 — Kongo School Noh workshop at Uji Shiritsu Nanbu Elementary School

However, sporadic visits to schools will not yield outstanding results: some Noh groups such as the Katayama family in Kyoto and the Tessen-kai in Tokyo are providing more extensive and regular teaching sessions, specifically aimed at instructing the teachers, who will then be able to lecture on Noh and Kyogen even without the need of specialists. One of these sessions, commissioned by the Agency for Cultural Affaires and organised by Tessen-kai, will take place at the Tessen-kai research office in Tokyo on August 22nd and 23rd from 13:00 to 18:00. This event targets school teachers and educators, who will be able attend the performance of the Kyogen Kaki Yamabushi (‘Persimmon Yamabushi’) and the Noh Hagoromo (‘The Robe of Feathers’), plays that feature current school textbooks. Participants will also join practical sessions on performance techniques, as well as lectures on the dramaturgy and history of Noh and Kyogen. The event is free of charge.

[VIDEO] Comparing styles: Kanze and Kongo

People often wonder what differences are there between Noh stylistic schools, or ryū. In this video Kanze actor Katayama Shingo (on the left), and Kongō actor Teshima Kōji (on the right) demonstrate side by side a number of kata that exemplify various differences between shite dance styles. Ō-tsuzumi (hip-drum) player Taniguchi Masayoshi, conducting the experiment, introduces the two styles according to a well-established view of Kanze style as refined, purified from unnecessary movements, and Kongō style as elaborate, focusing on bodily technique. From 19:14 you can watch the performance of the shimai dance excerpt from the Noh Yashima, followed by an analysis of the kata differences. From 30:00 the chant of the kiri final section of Hagoromo is compared. Again, Kanze is thought to be refined while Kongō is dynamic. Ask anyone in the Noh about the differences between these schools and they will most likely say something very similar to this. I have my reservations about what seems to be an oversimplification or even a stereotype, though I understand why marketing requires (over)simplification in order to enhance penetration. Kongō dance is often more theatrical, featuring wide movements, but Kanze dance can be very elaborate, too. If refined means heavily embellished then Kanze chanting style certainly is refined. However I think that, if properly performed, Kongō school’s more essential chanting style is equally sophisticated. Anyway here is the video – you don’t need to know Japanese to enjoy.

(sorry for the HTML code below the video – I don’t seem to be able to delete it when embedding USTREAM…)

<br /><a href=”http://www.ustream.tv/” style=”padding: 2px 0px 4px; width: 400px; background: #ffffff; display: block; color: #000000; font-weight: normal; font-size: 10px; text-decoration: underline; text-align: center;” target=”_blank”>Video streaming by Ustream</a>

School or ryu?

When I introduce myself or talk about my training in Noh, I often find myself in need to explain what I mean by ‘Kongō school’ (金剛流 Kongō-ryū). There is a common misunderstanding deriving from the use of the word ‘school’ (or it. scuola; fr. école; ger. Schule – it extends to all European languages) as translation of the Japanese ryū. Since many have asked me to explain what exactly a ‘Noh school’ is, I would like to use this space to clarify a couple of things regarding this matter.

The Kongō school, to which I belong, is one of the five stylistic schools of shite actors (the others being Kanze, Komparu, Hōshō, and Kita). ‘School’ is none other than a free translation of ryū (lit. ‘current’, or ‘flow’), a word defining a performance style peculiar to a certain group of actors who are organised in a ‘guild’, a pyramid structure on top of which is the iemoto (lit. ‘foundation/origin of the house’). These ryū are the contemporary configuration of troupes of performers called za, which emerged in the Muromachi period, and that later underwent a process of professionalisation that led to the creation of ryū specialised in particular roles and instruments. Various styles, or ‘ways of performing’ a specific element of Noh become formalised during the Edo period, multiplying the possible combinations of chant, dance, drum and flute performance when these elements come together on stage. In fact, one of the difficulties performers need to face is getting used to a variety of styles in order to be able to perform with more than one ryū, because all performing roles (as shite actors are grouped in the five ryū mentioned above, waki, kyogen, taiko, ko-tsuzumi, ō-tsuzumi, fue – all have different ryū). For example, a Kongō-ryū shite could perform with a Fukuō-ryū waki or a Takayasu-ryū waki, with a kō-ryū or okura-ryū ko-tsuzumi, etc. (However, ryū are not represented equally across the territory, which makes it so that some ryū always get to perform with a certain other ryū more often than others… it’s getting complicated… I might need to write another post to explain this).

Anyway, each ryū has a iemoto on top of it, and his (male) heirs immediately under him. However, ryū are also composed of other families which have been affiliated with a certain ryū, and might to some extent have developed a particular ‘style within the style’. Although dependent to the iemoto supreme leader, such families achieve a certain degree of independence which has often led (and still leads) to power struggles within the ryū. The obvious example is the Umewaka family, a formerly independent group which were incorporated into the Kanze school at the beginning of the Edo period (early seventeenth century). When, at the beginning of the nineteenth century, the Umewaka family attempted to declare independence, it was excommunicated from the Kanze school by the iemoto, only to rejoin a few years later. Disputes like this are common in the history of Noh, and still continue today.

In short, a ryū is a conglomerate of individuals, some of whom are descendants of families that have been in the Noh profession for generations, while others are associates of these families – they can be amateur students who turn to professionalism, or relatives adopted into the professional family. The iemoto family, from which the style takes the name, is the highest ranking within the school. The iemoto himself, as the ultimate leader of the school, holds the rights to grant teaching licenses, to authorise performances, to revise and publish scripts (hence to earn publication revenues), to accept and to expel members, etc.

This is to say that a Noh ‘school’ is not an educational institution like a drama academy, with lectures, practice rooms, recitals, etc. Noh actors do practice and perform recital, but their training and performance is not structured and regulated as in a Western-style conservatory. There is no ‘school building’ where all trainees report to in the morning. Most young professionals are either born into families of professionals, or become apprentices (uchi-deshi, or house-apprentice) to a professional. This means they either visit the home/practice space (the two do not necessarily coincide) of their teacher, or else they actually live in the home/practice space. This second option, called sumi-komi (live-in) is normal when the teacher is the iemoto or a high-ranking actor from an affluent family with a long heritage in the Noh profession, simply because these two figures are the only ones likely to own a stage as well as facilities big enough to serve the purpose of training disciples. An additional reason is that proximity to the origin of tradition (i.e. the iemoto) is likely to provide the ‘purest quality of technique’, as opposed to learning from another teacher, whose style will be similar but different from that of the iemoto. Finally, learning directly from the iemoto allows a performer to… well, claim that he/she has learnt directly from the iemoto: it is pedigree. For example, my teacher (Udaka Michishige) was uchi-deshi of the previous iemoto (Kongō Iwao II), which means he had direct transmission, while I am removed by one degree. In a small school like the Kongō school, undergoing an uchi-deshi training period with the iemoto is the only way to ensure a young actor is exposed to all the necessary kinds of knowledge he/she will need in order to become a full professional.

I feel like I have made things more complex than I intended to – feel free to ask for clarification if you need to!

Rare play: Genzai shichimen

Yesterday I attended the last of the Kongō monthly series of the year. As usual two Noh plays were performed, but I was particularly interested in seeing the Iemoto Kongō Hisanori perform Genzai shichimen, a play that has been staged yesterday for the first time in 60 years. The play is currently in the repertorie of the Kanze and Kongō schools only, and its special feature is a costume change and mask ‘change’ on stage (not seven masks, just one – in case you are wondering…) in second half. In this play two masks are donned one on top of the other.

Rebecca Teele Ogamo regularly writes extensive programme notes with detailed costume and mask information every month – thanks to Rebecca’s notes of Genzai shichimen I was able to appreciate the play even more. I did go through the utai of the play with Udaka Michishige-sensei, who was jigashira chorus leader, a couple of times, but the kyūhon ‘old’ cursive utai-bon script made it difficult to follow the story, so I am grateful to Rebecca for that!

The costume change in Genzai Shichimen - print by Tsukioka Kogyo — The costume change in Genzai Shichimen – print by Tsukioka Kogyo

In the play the waki, Nichiren Shōnin (1222-82), founder of the Nichiren sect of Buddhism, is preaching at Mt. Minobu (Yamanashi prefecture). A local woman rejoices in hearing the Lotus Sutra preached, and. upon Nichiren’s questioning, she replies that she suffers the Three Burning Torments. Eventually, she reveals her true nature: she is the Dragon who lives in the Shichimen Pond. At this point thunders and lightings fill the sky and the woman disappears. In the second half of the play, a Dragon enters, with a particular costume and mask set up. Though Kanze uses a Hannya mask, the Iemoto chose a terrifying dai-ja (great serpent) mask, of the kind used for the Noh Dōjōji. This mask in the Kongō collection is rather scary due to its asymmetry and grotesque, contorted fanged mouth. However, after Nichiren has recited lines from the Lotus Sutra, the Dragon goes retreats to the back of the stage, where assistants help to change costume and mask. Besides Dai-e, where the shite wears the shaka Buddha mask on top of a beshimi tengu mask, Genzai shichimen is the only other play I know were two masks are worn one on top of the other. I can only imagine how difficult it is to move on stage with such set-up. The Dragon transforms into a heavenly maiden (zo-onna was the mask used yesterday) who then dances a kagura Shinto Dance in thanks for having reached enlightenment, and finally flies away in the clouds.

Nichiren was a militant preacher, advocating the primacy of the Lotus Sutra above all other Buddhist doctrines. His aggressive attitude towards the other Sects, which he deemed responsible for the corruption of the country during his time, was extreme. He founded the first Buddhist doctrine originating in Japan, and could be seen as an precursor of Japanese religious nationalism (though this is usually associated with Shinto). The combination of Buddhist and Shinto elements can be found in other plays, but it is even more justified in this play since Nichiren (as others before him) comprised Shinto elements, such as the Sun-Goddess Amaterasu, within the all-encompassing cosmos of the Lotus Sutra.

The author of the play is unknown, but I wonder whether the various special features – a dragon god/heavenly maiden, an important waki character, special effects such as costume and mask change) – don’t indicate that the play was probably written in the late Muromachi Period. Yamanaka Reiko and Lim Beng Choo have written about plays composed during this period here and here.

10 years of Shin-Kongo Nogakudo

On Sunday 24th of November a special celebratory event marked the 10th anniversary of the construction of the new Kongō Nō theatre, in Kyoto. The old theatre in Muromachi-street was a landmark in the history of Kyoto Noh, as it was the only stage rebuilt after all three main stages in Kyoto were burnt during the the Meiji upheavals. In 2004 the new state-of-the-art Kongō theatre opened on Karasuma street, in front of the imperial palace. I never had the pleasure of visiting the old theatre, but I heard many stories about it from actors in the school. It still had tatami mats instead of chairs, and large windows that let warm daylight illuminate the stage, across clouds of tobacco smoke lifting from the back seats. There, important guests would be able to sit in privacy, hidden behind lowered bamboo curtains, which they would lift only to watch the performance. Unfortunately the building did not conform to the modern health & safety (and fire protection) standards, and had to be demolished.

The Shin-Kongō Nōgakudō (New Kongō Nōgakudō) is one of the best Noh theatres I have ever visited. The design style of the building mixes traditional and modern, wood and concrete, in a unique blend that creates an atmosphere that is not too relaxed, nor too intimidating. It has comfortable armchairs (but not too dangerously comfortable), and the temperature usually is just right, unlike other places where you either freeze or steam.

Sunday’s performance opened with a special variation of Okina a ritual performance celebrating long and prosperous life. In this variation, called jūnitsukiōrai, the Iemoto Kongō Hisanori and his son Kongō Tatsunori took the roles of two Okina exchanging verses describing the characteristics of each lunar month. The choice of the variation was excellent because it emphasises the cycle of time and seasons with both the Kongō father and son on stage, symbolising the generational transmission of the Kongō heritage. It closed with a final left-right salutation from Kongō Tatsunori, who will be the future Iemoto.

The maibayashi extracted from the Noh Ema featured three of the senior Noh actors in the Kongō school, Teshima Michiharu, Imai Kiyotaka and my teacher, Udaka Michishige, who took the strong role of the god Tajikarao, pulling the Sun-Goddess Amaterasu out of the cave where she was hiding.

Hagoromo (shōgi no monogi variation) featured the beautiful ‘phoenix robe’, a costume only worn by the Kongō Iemoto. In this variation the tennyō (celestial maid) dons the costume while sitting on a stool in the middle of the stage.

Shakkyō (The Stone Bridge) concluded the long day of performances, with Kongō Tatsunori taking the role of the lion (an avatar of the Bodhisattva Manjusri) frolicking among white and red peonies.

The Noh Diaries

In, on, and around nō theatre

Kongo