A few years ago, I went to see "Izutsu (The Well Curb)" at the old Kongo Theatre in Kyoto. A key scene in this noh classic comes when the shite (principal character), a beautiful woman played by a man, offers prayers at the little grave mound beside a well in a dilapidated temple. In answer to the waki (questioner character), the shite begins to voice her deep attachment to her long-dead husband, Ariwara Narihira. Then, hunkering down by the well, she remains absolutely immobile and silent for some 20 minutes.
With this total absence of movement for such a long time, I felt a drowsiness come over me. Then, suddenly, the chanting narration of the chorus became clearly audible. It told in poetic language of the couple's courtship and their mutual attachment, and at that moment I understood what I was seeing: The loving memories of her encounters with Narihira, not re-enacted before my eyes, but conjured up in my mind's eye by the performance.
This I found very beautiful: the expression of intense dramatic moments with the minimum movement of the body -- the aesthetics of paradox. In noh, the expression of dramatic intensity approximates very closely to stillness.
The woman later appeared in Narihira's clothes, which were left to her as a keepsake. Waiting for her lover, who would never return, she looked into the well and imagined she saw his reflection and, overcome with joy, she danced to console her broken heart.
Then, at the sound of a dawn gong, she vanished into thin air and nothing but the wind and a fragrance like that of a flower remained behind.
"Izutsu," like most noh plays, comprises two acts: In the first, the principal character is the ghost of some dead person, and in the second act the ghost comes back to life, if briefly, to play out the character's long-buried emotions -- anger, hatred, jealousy, sorrow or mortification -- in poetic and graceful scenes and actions.
The dramatic form of noh derives from sarugaku ("monkey music") and dengaku ("field music") which, from the seventh to the 13th century, were performed as religious rites at Shinto shrines and Buddhist temples, and in farmers' rice-planting and harvesting rituals.
These rustic forms were transformed into a higher form of art through the efforts of Kan'ami (1333-84) and his son Zeami (1363-1443 ), who are remembered as the founders of noh as we know it today -- its form having remained nearly intact for the last 600 years.
In 1374, when Kan'ami and Zeami played at Imagumano Shrine in Kyoto, Shogun Ashikaga Yoshimasa (1358-1408) was in the audience. He was greatly struck by the performance and the handsome young Zeami, then 12 years old. Zeami, having thus won the patronage of the shogunate, developed and refined noh into something in which noblemen in the capital would delight.
As Zen was the official religion guiding Yoshimitsu and his age, Zeami wrote plays conforming to its artistic principles of restraint, economy of word and logic, and enlightenment.
Hence, though Zen holds that life on earth is evanescent, it also holds that the original purity of self-nature is fundamental. It is therefore important, in Zen and its numerous forms of expression, to seek its truth and express it with elegance and subtlety.
The Onin War (1467-77) hit hard at the foundation of noh. Although still partly patronized by the shogunate and other powerful soldiers during this turbulent time, noh actors had to move themselves and their theaters out of Kyoto as the capital became a battleground, and take refuge in the provinces. There, as noh music and dance was studied by priests, soldiers and commoners, it spread steadily throughout the country and seeped into the cultural fabric of the nation.
To entertain this wider audience, new plays such as "Ataka" and "Funabenkei" (both of which tell of the tragic samurai hero Minamoto no Yoshitsune and his faithful retainer Benkei) were written, incorporating more showiness and dramatic effects than the plays of Zeami.
Noh then found its most enthusiastic supporter in the warlord Toyotomi Hideyoshi (1537-98), who, in 1590, completed the work of national unification begun by Oda Nobunaga. Side by side with tea, noh became a required cultural attainment for those in power, and Hideyoshi was noted for not only patronizing noh, but also performing it himself. At this time, too, masks and costumes were refined to a fine art.
In the Edo Period (1603-1867) that followed, noh was accorded patronage by the Tokugawa Shogunate, and its actors were again subsidized as in the days of Hideyoshi. In 1618, the four pre-existing schools of noh -- Kanze, Hosho, Kongo and Komparu -- were joined by a fifth, the Kita school, added by Shogun Hidetada (1578-1632). Hidetada's successor, Iemitsu (1604-51), issued regulations governing all noh performances. Noh then became highly formalized -- almost frozen into a ritual form of entertainment with no scope for new development. Moreover, since that time right until the present, only the children of shite and waki have been allowed to play those roles in noh.
At the time of the Meiji Restoration 1868, however, noh was stripped of its privileges. Noh actors were again dispersed throughout the country, and had to start new lives away from the theater. It seemed then that noh's days were numbered.
That it survived at all is almost a miracle -- one that owes a great deal to the actors Umewaka Mimoru (1828-1909), Sakurama Sajin (1835-1917) and Hosho Kuro (1837-1917), and to high-minded sponsors including Iwakura Tomomi (1825-83). Since World War II, however, noh's only sponsor has been the public, since the government has only recently begun to offer some support as part of a policy of saving traditional arts from extinction.
In a positive vein, though, noh's release from its centuries-long shackles as a ritual entertainment has now encouraged its actors to perform in a way constantly questing for the essential meaning in their art.
There are about 240 plays in the repertories of the five Noh Schools, and they are divided into five thematic groups.
The first of these, Waki Noh -- 39 plays praising gods or goddesses, or describing the origin of a shrine -- includes "Takasago," "Kamo" and "Tsurukame." Shuramono -- 16 plays involving the ghosts of warriors -- includes "Tadanori," "Atsumori" and "Yashima." Kazuramono -- 38 plays concerning women or female spirits which, collectively, have for 600 years been considered the highest form of noh -- includes "Yuya," "Matsukaze" and "Izutsu." Fourth Group Noh -- 94 realistic plays, sometimes called "lunatic" plays, that are dramatic in structure and about real-life relationships -- includes "Aoi-no-ue," "Sumidagawa," "Semimaru" and "Sotobakomachi." These plays are the most frequently staged. Kiri Noh -- 53 plays about supernatural beings (fierce gods, flying goblins and demons) that traditionally conclude the program -- includes "Shakkyo," "Tsuchigumo" and "Momiji-gari."
Traditionally, a noh program comprised five plays -- one from each group -- but as this takes a whole day, nowadays a two- or three-play program with a short, generally humorous, kyogen comic drama in between has become the norm.
Of all noh's plays, the most dramatic are "Ataka" and "Shunkan," while that with the most spectacular costumes and special effects -- including a spider's web that appears to come out of the principal's mouth -- is "Tsuchigumo."
However, those plays most cherished by both noh actors and connoisseurs are the Kazuramono ones, in which beauty and elegance are at their peak, while Fourth Group plays, in which women (played by men) are the central characters, are popular with general audiences, playing to their emotions as they do, and frequently prompting tears.
