Sweat dripped down my exposed neck as I roasted in my gold and orange kimono, much too thick and hot for July in Japan. I longed to tear away the obi tied at my waist, release my feet from their white tabi socks, and cease the charade of a foreigner in traditional dress. Japanese locals openly stared at me and my friends, whispering to each other and pointing at our colorful, out-of-season attire. I wondered if they were thinking “That’s a yukata obi, not a kimono obi,” and I wanted to tell each one of them I didn’t have time to learn to tie a kimono obi. I wanted to tell them I know I shouldn’t wear such a thick robe in summer. I wanted to tell them it’s rude to stare. Oh, the things I will suffer for free tickets to a kabuki play.
At the invitation from our professor, most of my classmates from a Japanese performing arts class and I took a bus to the Kosaka region of Akita, to see a kabuki performance like the ones we had been studying. Our professor told us that the theater had given us a special offer. Dressing in the summer style of the lighter, cooler Japanese robe called a yukata would get the attendant a discount. But if we showed up in full kimono attire, despite the heat, we could see the play for free. My suspicion is that the professor, known for his generosity, was actually covering the “discounts” with his own money, but as a poor college student desperate to stretch my funds, I wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. Having just bought a kimono set, I was eager to get the chance to wear it. I really did underestimate the heat.
Stepping off the bus, we had about an hour to kill before the show, and we were all hungry. Luckily, a local summer festival was happening in the grassy park in front of the theater, with funds going to help tsunami relief on the opposite coast. Belying my fancy clothes, I quickly bought a savory pile of yakisoba noodles and sat on a bench watching the festival. The park was beautiful in its lush green splendor, and it was pleasant to watch all the children enjoying the festival.
Stepping off the bus, we had about an hour to kill before the show, and we were all hungry. Luckily, a local summer festival was happening in the grassy park in front of the theater, with funds going to help tsunami relief on the opposite coast. Belying my fancy clothes, I quickly bought a savory pile of yakisoba noodles and sat on a bench watching the festival. The park was beautiful in its lush green splendor, and it was pleasant to watch all the children enjoying the festival.
(A pretty view of the train tracks separating the theater from the park.)
(The mascot of Akita prefecture, a tree who likes to do various sports. Japan loves mascots.)
Eventually I noticed a man pulling a rickshaw, carrying two regal looking people. One was an elderly man dressed in grey kimono, his brown hair (probably a wig) tied in a top knot. Beside him, dressed in a beautiful red and purple woman’s kimono and elaborate hair ornaments, was a second man—an onnagata.
Onnagata are a unique feature of the kabuki style of performance, which is also characterized by humor, dramatic makeup and costumes, and an approachable play format. This is in contrast to noh plays, which can be dry, slow, and too high-brow for some. Kabuki was initially designed by low-class travelling female performers in the early 1600s for other lower-class citizens of Japan. As such, it is a more light-hearted, comic form of art when compared to its courtly alternatives. The actresses were so popular, that they caused fights among the rowdy crowd. Soon, the government made a law that only men could be actors. To fill the void, male actors took on female roles, dressing like women. Thus, the onnagata, which means “woman role,” was born. Unfortunately for the government, the onnagata were equally, if not more, popular than their female counterparts, and the spectators fought just as much. The cross-dressing actors became tradition.
The modern-day onnagata in Kosaka was the star of the theater, and he was being pulled about the festival to drum up business. His beautiful kimono and charming nature made me eager to make my way to the theater. I finished up my yakisoba, but before I could stand up to walk away, a beetle the size of my first thumb joint circled my head and dropped into the neck of my kimono. Bound up tightly by the belt at my waist and numerous hidden ties keeping the robe together, I had no way to dig the ugly thing out. I started to freak out, making quick, short whimpering noises while trying to hold still for fear of it biting me. Justin didn’t believe that I had a bug stuck in my robe, despite watching me twitch and recoil from the tickling sensation as it walked across my back. It moved onto my shoulder, thankfully, where I could herd it with my finger across my arm and out my sleeve. Meanwhile, an elderly man missing several teeth was sitting next to me laughing, which was contagious.
Smiling over the scare, we made our way back to the group, who were standing in front of the theater. Due to Kosaka’s booming mining history, many foreigners had traveled there to cash in on the abundance. As a result, many of the buildings in the neighborhood sport a Western architecture style, including the kabuki theater called Kourakukan. Since most other theaters have been rebuilt, Kourakukan, built in 1910, happens to be the oldest kabuki theater in Japan. The white and light blue façade hides the traditional kabuki setting inside.
The modern-day onnagata in Kosaka was the star of the theater, and he was being pulled about the festival to drum up business. His beautiful kimono and charming nature made me eager to make my way to the theater. I finished up my yakisoba, but before I could stand up to walk away, a beetle the size of my first thumb joint circled my head and dropped into the neck of my kimono. Bound up tightly by the belt at my waist and numerous hidden ties keeping the robe together, I had no way to dig the ugly thing out. I started to freak out, making quick, short whimpering noises while trying to hold still for fear of it biting me. Justin didn’t believe that I had a bug stuck in my robe, despite watching me twitch and recoil from the tickling sensation as it walked across my back. It moved onto my shoulder, thankfully, where I could herd it with my finger across my arm and out my sleeve. Meanwhile, an elderly man missing several teeth was sitting next to me laughing, which was contagious.
Smiling over the scare, we made our way back to the group, who were standing in front of the theater. Due to Kosaka’s booming mining history, many foreigners had traveled there to cash in on the abundance. As a result, many of the buildings in the neighborhood sport a Western architecture style, including the kabuki theater called Kourakukan. Since most other theaters have been rebuilt, Kourakukan, built in 1910, happens to be the oldest kabuki theater in Japan. The white and light blue façade hides the traditional kabuki setting inside.
A kabuki stage includes elevated seats along the sides and two sections of floor seating that reach right up to the stage. The sections flank a pathway through the center called the “flower path” or the hanamichi, which is an extended stage and alternative entrance way for the actors. Since our group was sitting in the front row on the floor, cross-legged on cushions, we were looking right up at the actors, creating a feeling of intimacy absent from most of the plays I have attended. We waited anxiously, staring up at the beautiful glittering curtain, decorated with an image of deer in a snowy landscape.
The troupe started out with a traditional play. It was all in Japanese, so I couldn’t quite catch most of the plot, but I still got most of the jokes. This troupe did a modern twist on the tradition, throwing in jokes such as an elderly man showing up in a school girl’s sailor uniform. Another mark of their modern tendencies was the female actors, who have only recently been allowed back into the kabuki field.
(This is one of the few pictures of the play I took, before I was told I wasn't allowed. They allowed photography only for the small skits afterwards.)
After the play, the leader of the troupe called up one of my classmates to perform in a demonstration. She got to catch a bumbling thief. For the finale they performed a series of small dances to music, including selections from Hayao Miyazaki’s movies and Pirates of the Caribbean. Each one paid homage to the tradition, but spiced it up with impressive visuals (smoke and lights), vibrant costumes with David Bowie-like wigs, and upbeat choreography. All the while we sat so close it felt like we were on stage with them. I've included some videos below, which are short because I was afraid I wasn't allowed to do video tape. I apologize in advance for their horrible quality.
Outside the theater, the cast mingled with their audience, taking pictures and talking. They were very interested in our international assembly, and we took a big group picture. Justin and I ended the day by hiring one of the rickshaw men. We stepped into the seat in our kimono, and immediately everyone around us starting taking pictures. Our friends, of course, were obliging us, but many other Japanese visitors apparently found this sight fascinating. Tourists had become the attraction. Finally the gentleman took off, running with surprising agility and ease. We talked to him as he explained each of the Western-style buildings. I assumed he must have been doing the tour for years, with his endurance, but he actually had only started that summer. The neighborhood was beautiful, but I felt strange making someone pull me around in a cart.
When we returned, we immediately boarded our bus back for AIU, which was buzzing with the leftover excitement from the kabuki performance. It had definitely been one of the most fun and interesting parts of our study abroad. If you ever visit Akita, I highly recommend visiting the Kourakukan.
Have you ever been to a kabuki performance? What are some traditional dance styles in the countries you’ve visited? Have you had an uncomfortable experience with an unwelcome bug? Let me know in the comments!
Have you ever been to a kabuki performance? What are some traditional dance styles in the countries you’ve visited? Have you had an uncomfortable experience with an unwelcome bug? Let me know in the comments!
In the above videos, the onnagata is walking onto the hanamichi to interact with the audience and to collect donations for the troupe. This has been a tradition in kabuki since its inception. The song is from Castle in the Sky directed by Hayao Miyazaki.
The finale done in an extremely modern, or as they called it, "Super Kabuki" style.
This was my favorite piece of the whole night.