The Land od the Rising Yen

‘Oooooooh...’
(emphasis on the last ‘o’ with guitar accompaniment) for thirty-four minutes.
Then he says: ‘Oooooooh...’ without the guitar for seventeen minutes. Then
guitar without ‘Oooooooh’ for eighteen minutes.
    The cave is pushed on with the
monster inside. The pursuers reappear all dressed in yellow (I forgot to
mention that they all went out during the Ooooooohs...’) One of them makes a
brief (nine minutes) chanting speech on the theme, ‘We must not waste a minute
otherwise the monster might get away’! They all squat, then get up, go out and
reappear in green. This time they tell us about the frightful, hair-raising
fate that awaits the Earth Spider.
    They surround the cave and look at
the monster but none of them sees him. The monster utters an awe-inspiring
deafening howl: no one hears him. The pursuers say: ‘We shall never find him.
Our relentless pursuit was all in vain. The monster has managed to get away.
Alas! All hope is lost.’
    They dance round the cave. (They are
in purple now.) Even the monster cannot bear to leave them in such deep despair
any longer, so he comes out of the cave. At once they all sit down. A great
deal of chanting ensues; the monster prepares for the final life-and-death
struggle. But no one offers combat: in fact, no one moves. Suddenly the
monster, the Earth Spider, collapses and dies. I think he has had a stroke.
Boredom may have brought it on.
     
    I have since felt slightly remorseful
about these views. Was I too harsh? Did I lack understanding? Had I looked with
arrogant, Western eyes at an ancient oriental tradition?
    So I went to see Kabuki plays once
again, as a reformed character, and found that, if anything, I had been too
indulgent. Kabuki, of course, is an acquired taste but fewer and fewer young
Japanese acquire it; they too look at it with arrogant westernized eyes, or
with condescending smiles, and regard it as modern British youth regard
Trooping the Colour: a harmless but unimportant foible, remnant of a bygone
age.
    This time I saw it in the new
National Theatre, an ingenious and attractive building, uniting the grace of
old Japanese architecture with the requirements of a modern theatre. The
auditorium was half empty.
    The scenery of Kabuki is still
beautiful; the movements are often grotesque but just as often graceful; and
the costumes are fabulous. But these are accessories and incidentals: the
play’s the thing — or should be. I watched it dejectedly and longed for the
wit, speed and clarity of The Earth Spider. At least I could follow that
play. This one had seven main and thirty-nine sub-plots. A wicked old man tried
to seduce a beautiful young maiden. But everyone on stage looked like an ugly,
middle-aged man and for a long time I could not make out which of them was the
wicked seducer and which the beautiful young maiden.
    In fact, they all were middle-aged men. There are no women in Kabuki, all the parts are played by men.
An actor cannot just decide on the spur of the moment: ‘Now I shall have a run
in Kabuki.’ One has to be trained for it for a lifetime and sons often follow
in fathers’ footsteps. It seems that before an actor is really good enough to
play a leading part — that of a beautiful, innocent and young maiden — he must
be a man of at least fifty-five.

    Kabuki is going through a crisis and
this crisis is typical of modern Japan. They try to accept Western ways; yet
they also try to save as much of their ancient traditions as possible. This new
production at the National Theatre was considerably de-traditionalized,
modernized and westernized. The orchestra was moved off the stage; there was
much less moaning and whining — although more than enough remained. The whole
performance was an odd mixture of traditional Kabuki, Edwardian music-hall
fooling and Parisian grand guignol of the twenties. Of course it failed
to come off; this modernization is a self-defeating attempt. Some traditions
stand up to modernization, others don’t. Often you may give new meaning to old
ideas; you can frequently pour new wine into old bottles; but when the essence
of the old tradition is simply old wine in old bottles, your task is more
difficult. If you perform Kabuki it is better to follow the style of The
Earth Spider and remain defiantly antiquated, primitive and archaic. The
old Kabuki had its devoted followers; the new seems to fall between an Eastern
and a Western stool. One may wear a kimono or may go around