Kamigata (上方) refers to Kyō, or Kyoto, seat of the imperial court from 794 to 1868, and its surrounding areas. Kamigata geinō refers to the performing arts of the Kyoto-Osaka area, a millennium-old tradition displaying distinct characteristics compared to upstart Edo (Tokyo) forms. Kyoto, and then the commercial center Osaka, were cradle and constant contrast to artistic styles developed in the later capital of Edo.

Nations develop representative culture and performing arts at their political centers. In Japan's Yamato and Nara eras (300–784), the capital Nara was its center; when the capital transferred to Kyoto in 794, the cultural center also shifted. Yet even after Edo became the political center in 1603, Kyoto's centrality to culture and performing arts continued for another century. When Edo developed as a political and cultural capital, it first borrowed Kyoto culture, then gradually created its own performing arts style. After 1700, the performing arts of each of Japan's great cities – the political capital of Edo, the old capital of Kyoto, and the merchant hub of Osaka – began to develop its own distinctive characteristics.

Three competing cities

During the Edo period (1603–1868), the three cities of Kyoto, Osaka, and Edo enjoyed special status, and the discourse concerning these three cities (santo-ron), comparing their unique characteristics, was in vogue. The system to deal with the three cities as distinct entities was also employed in kabuki-hyōbanki (commentaries on kabuki) published annually, beginning in the middle of the Edo period. Even after the abolition of feudal domains with the Meiji Restoration, the three cities had their status changed to fu (regions) not ken (prefectures), as in the rest of the country, as they had never been feudal domains originally.

As Kyoto's power declined with the shogunate's transfer to Edo, Osaka's economic power grew, and “Kamigata” came to include both places as antipode to Edo. As Osaka's power increased further, Kamigata culture and performing arts became dominated by those of Osaka. However, in nihonbuyo, at least, Kyoto retains its distinct culture even today.

Even before the city of Edo was formed, numerous branches of literature, fine arts, and performing arts developed and flourished in Kyoto. Music and dance genres introduced from abroad such as gagaku and bugaku, appropriated to forge a national culture, had by the eleventh century already become distinctively Japanese performing arts.

Japanese theatre in the 1980s inherited much of its style and dramaturgy from Sixties Theatre. To some extent this was not surprising, since so many key artists from that period – including Suzuki Tadashi, Ninagawa Yukio, Kara Jūrō, Ohta Shōgo, Inoue Hisashi, and Ohno Kazuo – continued to produce challenging and fresh work. Many younger playwrights, directors, actors, and other artists trained under masters of Sixties Theatre or were inspired by them. Themes explored by angura (underground, vanguard) playwrights – memory and loss, quixotic quests for identity, false or dubious gods and prophets – were taken up and developed in 1980s theatre. Structurally, 1980s drama inherited angura's complex and surrealistic dramaturgy – the collage technique mastered by Kara in which several motifs and narrative strands intersect, introducing wildly disparate elements culled from Western or Japanese popular and classical culture. Typically taking their shape and themes from fantasy and dreams, they call into question the nature of reality itself, a motif sounded with frequent recourse.

Post-1980s theatre moved from fringe to mainstream culture, such that the Sixties Theatre term “little theatre” (shōgekijō) hardly seems appropriate any more for describing angura's legacy. Today, Ninagawa's productions are typically staged for long runs in mid- to large-sized theatres like Theatre Cocoon or Nissay Theatre in Tokyo, for 700 to over 1,000 people. The most popular playwright to emerge from the late 1970s, Noda Hideki (1955–), drew an audience of over 26,000 people on one occasion (8 June 1986, in Yoyogi Stadium) and currently stages his plays at the 834-seat Tokyo Metropolitan Theatre, where he is artistic director. Theatre of this kind, amplified by microphones and projections, has more the character of a rock concert than the intimate club-like atmosphere of “classical” angura. Unlike the devoted and eccentric amateur actors of angura, Ninagawa and Noda depend for their popularity, and even artistic survival, on casting major celebrities, singers, and actors from television and cinema.

Yet this invasion of the angura spirit into mainstream theatre was not accompanied by a similar political mobilization. By the 1980s, the Japanese public had become increasingly conservative and complacent, accustomed to the miraculous nature of Japan's postwar reconstruction.

At the beginning of the twentieth century, a number of privately operated theatres appeared that modernized the kabuki theatre through the introduction of new forms and technologies. This section discusses the changing face of Japanese theatre design during the first three decades of the twentieth century through theatres such as the Yūraku-za (Yūraku Theatre, 1908), Teikoku-za (Imperial Theatre, 1911), Teikoku Gekijō (Imperial Theatre, 1911), Tsukiji Shōgekijō (Tsukiji Little Theatre, 1924), and Takarazuka Daigekijō (Takarazuka Grand Theatre, 1924) and its sister, the Tōkyō Takarazuka Gekijō (Tokyo Takarazuka Theatre, 1934). These significant innovations altered the relationship of audience to stage, thereby establishing Japan's modern theatre age.

Kabuki theatre architecture reformed

In keeping with various reforms to kabuki acting and theatre management proposed by the Theatre Reform Association established in 1886, Suematsu Kenchō (1885–1920) expounded the value of Western architectural methods in the design of new Japanese theatres. He believed that innovation began with the initial design, and argued for three-storey brick structures with Western chairs rather than straw-matted floors for seating. He also wanted to abolish the system of selling tickets at adjacent teahouses, to permit audiences to wear shoes, to modernize toilet facilities, and to do away with the hanamichi walkway, while retaining the revolving stage (mawari butai). Suematsu's new theatre reached the planning stage, with English architect Joseph Conder (1852–1920) commissioned as designer, but the plan was finally dropped; such a theatre would not be fully realized until the Imperial Theatre (1911).

Until the Meiji era (1868–1912), kabuki theatres seamlessly merged audience and stage through such elements as the hanamichi, rakandai (onstage seating), the yuka platform situated downstage left for chanters, and partitioned tatami-mat seating spaces (masu) throughout the house. Unlike much Western practice since the Renaissance, sets (except in rare cases) were not constructed on the principle of perspective with a privileged ideal spectator. However, as theatres began to modernize along with the play content, a proscenium arch was added (the earliest version at the new Shintomi-za in 1878) and the walkway and onstage seating were removed, thereby creating a clear separation between stage and audience. Audiences were now forced to view the stage from a single perspective, even in multi-storey auditoria, rather than the multiple axes possible in Edo theatres. The hierarchy of distinctions of privilege and proximity gave way to homogeneous stage and spectator spaces.

The lead-up to World War II (sometimes referred to as “the Fifteen-Year War”) dates back to the “Manchurian Incident” of 1931, but Japan's aggressive expansionist activities originated much earlier. Japan abandoned its centuries-old exclusionary policies with the arrival of Commodore Perry's “Black Ships” in 1853; other ambitious European powers soon followed. Inspired by the large-scale expansionism of the West during the late nineteenth century, Japanese imperialists realized as early as 1874 – when they gained control of the Rbl>yūkyūbl> Islands from China – that Japan could supplement its limited natural resources and fortify its defenses by gaining control of weaker Asian entities.

Military strength allowed for Japanese territorial expansion. In 1876, Japan forced Korea to concede special trading privileges; the Sino-Japanese War (1894–5) brought about the annexation of Formosa (Taiwan) and other valuable territories from China. The need to eliminate Russia as a competitor for power in Asia led to the Russo-Japanese War (1904–5). Japan's conclusive victory allowed it to acquire Guandong (Kwantung) Leased Territory and Karafuto (South Sakhalin). The way was thus cleared for the annexation of Korea in 1910, making Japan a major world power. In 1914, the Japanese Navy seized Nan'yo (Micronesia) from Germany under the terms of the South Pacific Mandate.

Japan's presence spurred the economic development of its new colonial territories, including railways, bridges, and other infrastructure that could bring Japan precious raw materials. However, it also imposed severely repressive colonialist controls, with Japanese military administrators keeping indigenous people in strict subjugation while the authorities, emulating Western colonial policies, existed in an elite Japan-centric society. Development of the colonized territories included both agricultural improvements and investment in heavy industry; education of both Japanese settlers and the local population was also a priority, with an emphasis on Japanese curricula, including teaching of the Japanese language.

This Timeline is an attempt to show linearly the convoluted, inter-related trajectories of Japanese traditional arts through time. Some caveats concerning Japanese traditional arts deserve mentioning.

New genres evolve from older ones, but rarely is the older form completely abandoned. Instead, new genres distinguish themselves from previous ones often by borrowing from, or absorbing, a number of prior styles of music, song, costume, dance, or text, in an innovative manner. Establishing a popular new genre does not necessarily mean the diminishment of older forms. They may, in fact, benefit from a surge in popularity from new attention that newer genres focus on them.

Traditions, even after rigid codification, have expanded their repertoire by incorporating new pieces or accompanying music; expanded their audiences by performing at new venues or touring to new regions; or expanded their performers by admitting females into previously all-male traditions. Contrarily, some have condensed to narrow specialties when forced to compete with new genres or schools for ensuring niche market share. Shogunal restrictions on repertoire also resulted in much rationalization and reduction. Yet traditional performance in Japan is a braided strand of rope that rarely breaks despite the twists and frays that occasionally occur. In lean times, some genres are maintained by just a single family (or person) until their popularity revives, bolstered by branch families or even amateurs who broaden the art through their idiosyncratic variant interpretations.

Inevitably the Timeline's description of creative development may seem to some as mere competent continuation. A wave of new pieces and popularity may not necessarily demonstrate development: it could be a desperate attempt to regain popularity before fading from the scene. On the other hand, brilliant actors breathe new life into stale repertoire; even a few extant troupes can bring legions of fans to minor genres. While eliding such exceptions, the following schematic may provide some sense of the transmission and transformation trajectories of Japanese traditional dance and theatre through time, and the rich feast available to contemporary audiences of any time period.

With Japan's defeat in World War II, shingeki (modern theatre) tasted freedom from government constraint for the first time, enjoying a spectacular revival. Three companies became dominant in the 1950s, as new artists emerged while veteran artists continued their activities. Yet through failure of practitioners to reflect collectively on shingeki's wartime responsibilities, coupled with reversals of American Occupation policies and interference of the Japanese Communist Party, shingeki eventually lost direction and vitality as a movement.

Criticism of shingeki was raised from the mid-1950s from within and without, leading to the rise of angura (avant-garde) theatre, discussed in the following chapter. Massive resignations from major shingeki companies took place in the 1960s–1970s and experiments with Brecht and avant-garde theatre by major shingeki companies could not bridge the gap. From the mid-1970s, the surging angura showed signs of returning to shingeki, but the latter could not revitalize itself, either before or after the bursting of Japan's bubble economy and end of the Cold War. With their last founding members gone by the end of 2012, and theatre receding as a popular pastime, major shingeki companies are commissioning plays by “post-shingeki” playwrights, among other things, to engage contemporary audiences in a new age.

Revival under the Occupation, war responsibility, and the red purge

Japan's defeat brought about a dramatic change to the environment in which shingeki could operate. In October 1945, the GHQ (General Headquarters) of the Occupation authorities abolished all restrictions issued by the state on theatre, including the notorious Peace Preservation Law. Shingeki, long under strict government control, tasted freedom for the first time in its history, leading to its sudden revival. In December that year, shingeki artists in Tokyo presented a joint production of Chekhov's The Cherry Orchard in a symbolic demonstration of the genre's revival.

Shingeki's revival has been characterized as “sweeping,” but the road to revival was by no means smooth. Such bumpiness was due to “the weighty issue of politics and art” underlying various issues in the postwar shingeki movement. War responsibilities were one vital issue. In October 1945, the Shingeki Roundtable Conference was held to discuss the specifics of the genre's revival. Kubo Sakae, one of the organizers, proposed to eliminate fellow organizers from the roster, including Kubota Mantarō.

Achieving a viable theatre alternative to the venerable traditional genres in the modern period, a theatre that could resonate easily with Japan's changing society, was no easy task. This chapter charts the various steps in this quest up to the late 1920s.

Continuity, reform, and radical change

Theatre had been directly caught up in another facet of the Meiji modernizing process. An urgent preoccupation of Japan's political leaders in the 1880s had been how to convince Westerners that Tokyo really was modern. After 1883, visiting dignitaries and diplomats were treated to receptions, banquets, and balls at the Rokumeikan, a grand Western-style building constructed specifically for that purpose. Entertaining foreign visitors in a manner to which they were accustomed was bound to include the theatre, because Japanese visitors to the West had been taken to the theatre and opera in New York, London, and Paris, initially much to their amazement. To take Western visitors to kabuki – bawdy, boisterous, and officially despised – could not be contemplated, so kabuki would have to be reformed.

Reformers duly appeared from inside the kabuki world. Ichikawa Danjūrō IX (1838–1903) and Morita Kan'ya XII (1846–97) willingly and Kawatake Mokuami (1816–93) somewhat less so responded to government encouragement during the 1870s in their respective fields of acting, theatre management, and playwriting. Already in 1874 the influential intellectual journal Meiroku Zasshi (Journal of the Meiji 6 Society) had carried an article urging theatre reform, followed by vigorous intellectual debate in a number of publications in the early 1880s. This decade saw the buzzword kairyō (reform) prefixed to just about everything, but only the theatre acquired, in 1886, a “reform society” to which some of the most powerful politicians affixed their signatures.

From the present viewpoint, Japanese theatre in the modern period has had an abundance of genres. In Tokyo in the mid-1880s it seemed that it might only have one – kabuki, which the government-backed Engeki Kairyō-kai (Theatre Reform Society) was trying to refashion into a national theatre. Noh and bunraku, for their parts, were verging on the moribund. Kabuki changed in several ways after the theatre reform movement, but acting families, the core of the genre, stayed intact. A new theatre would have to emerge from outside the kabuki establishment.

Japanese performance genres share the tendency to develop their own playing space. These stages remain one of the least flexible of the many components comprising a performance; for example, indoor civic halls and commercial theatres replicate “noh stages” and “kabuki stages” to the exact dimensions of their conventional models. Some stages have developed as extensions and adaptations of the rectangular or square temple and shrine sites of their origins, while others suit the specific needs of concealing and/or displaying performers and stage technologies to their best advantage, while at the same time maintaining distinctions of spectator hierarchies through spatial differentiation. When touring domestically or overseas, traditional genres bring their own temporary structures with them in the form of backdrops or side-curtains, decorative pillars, or even a raised walkway that runs through the first-floor seats.

As part of reforms begun in the early twentieth century, new Western-style theatres were constructed, doing away with aspects of earlier theatres such as bridgeways, onstage spectators, and partitioned floor-seating. Modern straight plays and musical spectaculars were produced in purpose-built theatres based on European models. The postwar reconstruction of Japanese urban areas included integration of theatres with urban shopping and cultural centers. Angura (lit. “underground”) theatre companies adopted spaces (factories, schools, as well as sometimes literally “underground”) and temporary tents outside conventional theatres as both political and aesthetic statements. Multipurpose halls gave way to specialized theatrical spaces, a few with resident professional companies. Six distinct national theatres, some housing several halls, have been constructed in the past half-century, capable of hosting the variety of theatrical activity performed today. The following three chapters by practicing architect-scholars trace salient aspects of the trajectory of Japan's physical theatre's continuous evolution.

Creative constraints on Japanese traditional genres have produced performances of tremendous theatrical potency. Troupes have adroitly exploited their strengths, negotiating the desires and demands of spectators and patrons, and evolving conventions and customs. Genres are classified according to a great specificity of repertoire, styles, and physical stages. These developed as a result of a proclivity of performance venues throughout the medieval era, then strict enforcement of building and sumptuary regulations by the Tokugawa shogunate (1603–1868), followed by standardization through teaching under the iemoto (headmaster) system. While differing greatly in content, acting style, mise-en-scène, and spectatorship, the traditional dramatic and dance forms share a remarkable number of meta-patterns – enduring expressions of this isolated island nation's character, common historical circumstances, and artistic tendencies. This chapter explores meta-patterns of staging (role and space specialization; distinction of visual/aural channels; transformations) and spectatorship (actors’ theatre; connoisseurship; local and seasonal accommodations), and their synthesis in iconic poses and imagery.

Role specialization and spatial framing

Specialization is key to the organization and aesthetics of Japanese super-elaborate performance genres. Once this was founded as a professional genre, troupe members quickly created systems of specialized roles. This occurred in noh (shite lead, waki side man, shoulder, hip, or stick drum and flute musicians, or kyogen comedian), in bunraku (chanter or puppeteer [body, left arm, leg]), and in kabuki (swashbuckling aragoto hero, onnagata femme fatale and so on). Moreover, among all traditional arts, only katari traditions such as bunraku and rakugo have required their respective chanters and raconteurs to possess broad vocal artistry, narrating in addition to portraying all characters in any play. While in some genres, such as kabuki, performers can advance to progressively more complex roles, in others an actor spends decades or even a lifetime confined to specific roles. A Shakespearian spear-carrier might later play Laertes and succeed to Hamlet, but the career trajectory of a noh accompanying waki player will never raise him to stardom. Instead he learns waki roles for each of the 200 or so plays in the repertoire, including diverse stylistic school versions and kogaki variants, playing this supporting role throughout his life.

As each genre developed increasingly specialist roles, playwrights were better able to utilize role types for more complex plots, which in turn created greater specificity of role type articulation and sophistication.

Theatre construction restarted with the needs of existing theatre activities shortly after the end of World War II, then expanded with postwar revival and economic growth. Highly diverse theatres were established, reflecting varied backgrounds: client, purpose, and technological innovation. The continuing pursuit of Western-style theatre that began in the Meiji period (1868–1912) can be observed in the process.

The revival of theatre by Shōchiku and Tōhō

With the war over, Japan's theatrical arts, chiefly kabuki, needed to recover their lost performance spaces. American bombs had destroyed or heavily damaged most of the big city theatres; postwar activities were limited to the few surviving theatres, such as Shōchiku's Tōkyō Gekijō (Tokyo Theatre, 1930), and Tōhō's Teikoku Gekijō (Imperial Theatre, 1911) and Nihon Gekijō (Japan Theatre, 1933), which raised their curtains soon after the end of the war.

War-damaged theatres either belonging to or affiliated with Shōchiku included Tokyo's Shinbashi Embujō (restored in 1948), Meiji-za (1950), and Kabuki-za (1951), Nagoya's Misono-za (1947), and Osaka's Naka-za (1948). Most Shōchiku and Tōhō theatres were relatively large due to their commercial use, independent buildings unattached to larger office or shopping complexes. Even the smallest could seat approximately 1,000 people, while the larger ones held over 3,000.

Theatres constructed by new private agents

From the 1950s onwards, a new kind of private theatre developed. These were constructed in urban centres by large enterprises with no direct connection to show business. Relatively early examples are Osaka's Sankei Hall (1952), constructed by a newspaper company, Tokyo's Daiichi Seimei Hall (1952), created by an insurance company, and Tokyo's Tōyoko Hall (1954), built by a department store.

These new theatres, created in accordance with modern administrative systems, differed somewhat from the commercial and artistic goals of Shōchiku and Tōhō venues. Often, they were not free-standing buildings but comprised a portion of their client's corporate office complex or department store, enhancing the companies’ images. When placed on an upper floor of a department store, as with the Tōyoko Hall, it was also presumed that a so-called “shower effect” would generate a trickle-down of customers to boost sales across the whole store. However, such theatres had limitations, being constructed according to the needs of the stores, which resulted in a lack of clear separation between audience and performers, narrow backstage areas, and technical difficulties in transporting stage sets.

Okinawa developed a culture outside the framework of the Japanese state for much of her history. This was reflected in the dramatic form first created for court performances in the eighteenth century, during a period of “dual subordination” to Japan and China. Kumiodori (kumiudui, “ensemble dance”) and uchininā shibai, performed in “Okinawan language” (uchinā-guchi), developed as distinct genres at the boundary of Japanese theatre, and still function to project and affirm the cultural memory and identity of Okinawans today.

Dual fealty: envoy entertainments

Okinawa is a series of islands lying midway astride the Ryūkyū archipelago, separating Kyūshū from Taiwan. In early Japanese historical records, it was only considered a shadowy primitive border region, referred to as Nantō (Southern Islands). After its period of warring provincial chieftains, Satto (1350–1405) of Chūzan (“Central Land”) became the most influential, initiating a tribunal relationship with Ming China, which acknowledged it as the “Ryūkyū Kingdom,” and eventually succeeded in uniting the archipelago. Between 1404 and 1866, Chinese envoys came twenty-two times on ukwanshin (“crowning ships”) to officially install new Ryūkyūan kings, and stayed as guests of the Ryūkyū court for several months each time. Special performances of music and dance called ukwanshin udui (“dances for crowning ships”) were prepared for welcoming feasts. The study of literature and performing arts was encouraged among the ruling class as a way to educate young Ryūkyūan aristocrats about Chinese learning and culture.

Meanwhile, mainland Japan's southernmost Satsuma domain (present-day Kagoshima prefecture) claimed rights to the Ryūkyū archipelago, sending an expeditionary force there in 1609. The kingdom thus technically came under Satsuma control. The Ryūkyūans began sending envoys to central Japan while remaining a Chinese tributary state. Since court entertainments played important roles for Ryūkyūan dual diplomacy, art and music, rather than swordsmanship, came to be regarded as important accomplishments for court officials. Each time emissaries from Okinawa were sent to Kyoto and Edo (present-day Tokyo) via Satsuma (eighteen times between 1634 and 1850), a prince was chosen as ambassador, assisted by bureaucrats including those in charge of court entertainments. Chinese plays and music, possibly taught by Chinese immigrants to Ryūkyū, along with native Ryūkyūan dances, were included in these ambassadorial shows during the journey to display the expected “foreignness” to mainland Japanese. Such trips also provided opportunities for emissaries to see Japanese performing arts, which were then incorporated into their eclectic repertory.

Japan's somewhat reluctant “opening” to the West during the Meiji Restoration (1868–1912) coincided with Western fascination for Japan generated through international expositions, touring troupes, and travelers’ diaries. These helped to establish Japanese dance and theatre in the Western imagination as “original,” “authentic,” “ancient,” and “exotic.” Western artists also discovered that they could effectively incorporate these aspects into their own works, whether through emulation of physical techniques, appropriation of staging techniques, adaptation of stories and structures, or inspired meldings. This chapter examines the influence of Japanese theatre overseas in milestone intercultural performances.

Intercultural performance: fruitful misunderstandings

Postcolonialism and global artistic cross-pollination through international performance festivals and online forums have made appropriations between Western and non-Western cultures increasingly the norm of vanguard experiments. However, the problematic term “intercultural theatre” has recently become more ubiquitous and mutually influential than previously described. Adaptation of plots, techniques, and structures, and the variable Western interpretations of Japanese traditional theatre's “essence,” have all depended on willing and able partners in Japan. Often these advisers and collaborators are in turn changed by their encounter with Western artists and their methods, resulting in similar attempts to change the substance or structures of their own arts, solving problems from a continuously fertile state of “in-betweenness.”

The path to significant intercultural performance is not necessarily straight or predictable, as evidenced by the confusion of language used to describe it. Cross-cultural theatrical interactions have been described variously as hybrids and creoles, melting pots and stews, fissions and fusions, an hour-glass of sifting between Source and Target cultures, and a crossroads. In the early decades of the twentieth century, Japanese theatre practitioners assimilated Western naturalism and problem plays into their nascent modern theatre, but neither consistently nor thoroughly. Brecht's influence came much later than initial contact, while Beckett's was almost immediate; kabuki male onnagata (female role specialists) played alongside actresses in new plays for many decades. Luck of timing and receptive circumstance, and the accidental careers of a few pioneering artists, created modern theatre's variegated textures.

Simultaneously, Western scholars’ and artists’ interest in postimpressionism and art for art's sake, symbolism, futurism, montage, and transcendental philosophies discovered in Asia in general, and in Japan in particular, a living museum of endless inspiration.

Oriza Hirata (1962–) is playwright, director, owner of Komaba Agora Theatre, and leader of the Seinendan (Youth Group) Theatre Company based in Tokyo. With Sōru Shimin (Citizens of Seoul, 1989), he established “Contemporary Colloquial Theatre Theory” which, in contrast to Western-influenced shingeki, bases its grammatical structure on everyday Japanese: pronouns omitted, verbs repeated, and stress accents discarded; long pauses and simultaneous chitchat. His Tokyo nōto (Tokyo notes, 1994; Figure 47) received the Kishida Kunio Drama Award, and was consequently produced in Brest, France (directed by Frédérick Fisbach). His productions have regularly been invited to theatres around the globe, most recently with his “android theatre.”

Hirata has published highly debated theoretical books such as Gendai kōgo engeki no tame ni (Approaching contemporary colloquial theatre, 1995) and Toshi ni shukusai wa iranai (Cities need no festivals, 1997) strenuously arguing about the development of the ever-contentious modern Japanese theatre scene from historical, aesthetic, and above all linguistic perspectives. In this interview, held on 9 December 2012, Hirata was asked to discuss Japanese contemporary theatre in the context of wider international markets, describing how creative shifts by the younger generation may lead to a “theatrical evolution from the periphery.”

Native theatrical language

Hirata foresees the future by casting his eye over the past. His initial argument is that the struggle of Japanese drama to create a modern, native, theatrical language per se began during the anomalous and arbitrary development of shingeki. At the beginning of the twentieth century, Japan imported Shakespeare, Ibsen, Chekhov, and Maeterlinck almost simultaneously, eliding cultural specificities in favor of importing texts and staging from Western masterpieces. Thus, when Japanese playwrights and directors attempted to develop their own dramaturgical equivalents in Japanese settings, they inevitably achieved perplexing results: attempting to match European language locutions, dialogue often became stilted and remote. This was anathema to Hirata; from early in his career, he criticized the “unnatural” language of shingeki.

Hirata asserts that compared to Japan's successful integration of Western modern music, Japanese theatre, to which the modernization movement came late, never had time to fully digest Western dramaturgical traditions. By the 1930s Japan had entered its fascist era and arguably any cultural evolution was neglected except those directly accommodating the military and colonial project.

Knowledge of Japanese traditional theatre outside Japan took many forms: from travel accounts by visitors, tours abroad, translations, and lecture-demonstrations (see Chapter 21, p. 463). For nearly a century, intensive, custom-made training programs by Japanese masters have existed, flourishing today in domestic and international courses and collaborations.

Fascination, imitation, acquisition, adaptation

As with so much else in twentieth-century intercultural performance, such experimental experiential learning began with Denishawn, the dance company of Ruth St. Denis and Ted Shawn. While on an extended tour of Asia in 1925 with a fifty-person troupe, they were particularly fascinated with kabuki, taking personal lessons from star actor Matsumoto Kōshirō VII (1870–1949) and his Fujima dance school. While in Tokyo, members trained four hours a day for thirty-six days at Imperial Theatre rehearsal rooms or rooftop, accompanied by shamisen. Film excerpts of young Denishawn dancers show a high-spirited but serious group absorbing the choreography of Momijigari (A maple-leaf viewing party).

While recognizing the value of their experiences, the two company heads deviated on how best to appropriate the acquired techniques. Shawn, who had succeeded with his pseudo-Japanese Spear Dance (1919), learned how to apply authentic kabuki makeup, then purchased a wig, fans, and expensive costumes. He performed both Princess and Demon roles in a condensed version of Momijigari on Denishawn's triumphal return tour 1926–7 throughout the USA; however, it was not revived.

St. Denis had long been fascinated by Japan, studying dance with a “former geisha” in Los Angeles for six weeks prior to her acclaimed 1913 O-Mika. This employed remarkably authentic backdrops and costume; photographs displaying a stillness and frenzy perhaps influenced by Sadayakko, whom St. Denis had seen at Loie Fuller's Exposition in Paris. When actually visiting Japan, however, she contented herself merely observing; a promotional film catching her posing in kimono holding a shamisen. Like Shawn, she respected the forms and spirit she witnessed: “If you will master to any degree the Japanese art of dance, anything else you do will be better done. For … I know nothing, not even the ballet at its strictest, which can exceed the precision and discipline of Japanese technique,” which, if mastered, “everything else you do will be better done.”

Noh is masked, lyric dance-drama which developed alongside kyogen comedy in the mid-fourteenth century. Scripts of great poetic force tell of the spirits of unrequited lovers, fallen warriors, mothers who have lost children to slave traders, and hunters paying for their sin of killing sentient beings. One “dances” (舞う, mau) the central role of a noh play, unlike other theatrical genres, where one “acts” (演じる, enjiru). An elegant costume, wig, and painted fan are often the only properties, framing a delicately carved mask – an indispensable tool that controls all aspects of performance. As musical dance-theatre, noh has been compared to Greek theatre and to opera. It is considered the world's oldest continuous theatre tradition, with scripts, theoretical writings, masks, and family lines dating back six centuries. In 2001, noh, including kyogen, was designated by UNESCO in its first ever Proclamation of Masterpieces of the Oral and Intangible Heritage of Humanity.

ELEMENTS OF PERFORMANCE

Noh (能, sometimes transcribed as nō, “skills or artistry”) is a musical dance theatre that is fundamentally non-realistic. One or two masked characters act while the chorus sings (utai, 謡) poetic verses of five–seven syllabic meter, with instrumental musical accompaniment (hayashi, 囃子). Noh performance is usually translated as theatre, because of its dramatic plots. However, Zeami Motokiyo (1363?–1443?), who perfected the art of noh in the fourteenth century, wrote that noh performers needed to master nikyoku-santai: the two basic arts of dancing and singing of the three roles of old man, woman, and warrior.

Restrictive forms and space

Noh's smallest units of movement are called kata (型, forms), beginning with the most basic: posture (kamae) and walk (hakobi). Kata range from simple movements such as standing and sitting to purely abstract ones, such as circling or zig-zag floor patterns, to stylized movements with clear meanings such as shiori, bringing the cupped hand to eye-level, symbolizing crying. With various kata as building blocks, a sequence of movements is created. This limited number of kata is strictly choreographed; their size, speed, angle, or power is determined according to the character portrayed. Selection from multiple permissible kata allows some flexibility of interpretation. The appeal of kata lies in this paradox of restraint bringing forth infinite possibility.

Since the European “discovery” of Japan in the sixteenth century, diplomats, scholars, intellectuals, and artists have been fascinated by theatrical arts witnessed or read in translation. Many undertook the task of teaching and writing about Japanese theatre for Western readers, thus creating a genealogy (of sorts) of Western scholarship on Japanese theatre. This chapter on the English-language historiography of Japanese theatre will explore how narratives, translations, and studies of Japanese theatre have intersected with larger perceptions and geopolitical positionings of Japan and the West.

Any study of such a diverse field forces scholars to impose some order. In this study, works are divided into five major eras:

1. 1 pre-Meiji era (–1868): amateur observation

2. 2 Meiji to World War II (1868–1945): scholarly (primarily literary) recognition

3. 3 Cold War (1946–66): overviews of theatrical performance and text

4. 4 postmodern revolution to bubble economy burst (1967–91): global recognition and participant-observation

5. 5 globalization to today (1991–2013): generational conversation and an end to exceptionalism.

As with any study of this sort, these are arbitrary delineations. Not all scholarly work can be mentioned; thus this chapter will merely suggest prevailing trends and attitudes. Areas of scholarship may overlap and boundaries may blur. Despite these limitations, it is hoped that this will serve as both overview of Japanese theatre scholarship in English and guide to current trends.

Amateur description until 1868

The first Western observers of Japanese theatre were amateurs writing about performance in the context of their diplomatic or commercial visits. Under the Tokugawa shogunate's closed nation (sakoku) policy, foreigners were limited to treaty ports in Nagasaki and Yokohama; however, they occasionally saw theatre in cities such as Osaka and Edo as a part of specially arranged visits. Visitors included government officials, merchants, and/or scientists who went to the theatre as a part of their leisure time in Japan. Their diaries, letters home, and travel journals focus more on sociological description of theatre than aesthetic analysis.

The first English-language record of Japanese performance comes from the Diary of Richard Cocks. Cocks lived in Hirado, Nagasaki, from 1613 to 1623, serving as head of the British East India Company trading post.

In the rule-laden, formalized performance traditions of noh and kyogen, costuming – including masks and fans – is one vital means for interpretation. Although on stage (as in life) the age, gender, profession, and status of a character determine the outfit to be worn, the color combinations, design patterns, and specific masks within a generic type are fundamentally the actor's choice.

Interpretation

On the bare noh stage, the ability of costume and mask to express season and scene, and to evoke emotional state, stature, and the non-human, was recognized by Zeami (1363?–1443?) already in the fifteenth century. In the Fūshikaden 風姿花伝 (Transmitting the flower through effects and attitudes), he goes so far as to define the portrayal of certain roles by their costume, particularly roles that cannot be played realistically by a male actor, such as women, deities, and Chinese. Zeami also comments on the effectiveness of other actors’ costuming – an expressive element that adds a fresh touch to a well-known piece.

The actor chooses a costume within codified rules. Today noh libretti (utaibon) stipulate mask and costume elements for each character, down to fans, small properties, headgear, and under-robes. The type of mask and style of broad-sleeved outer cloak (ōsode) and box-sleeved kosode robe were determined by the mid-Edo period (1603–1868) according to traditions of each noh or kyogen school.

In preparing for a performance, the shite actor often starts by selecting the specific mask within a name-type; there are over two hundred, about eighty being standard stock for a family-based theatre troupe. The types, such as beshimi (clenched mouth) or ko-omote (small face, see Figure 9), define unique iconographies carved and painted to detailed specifications, such as curvature of silhouette, placement and thickness of eyebrows, and even number of loose strands of hair. Most types, however, are not play-specific, but can be used for any number of roles. Conversely, each mask of a type, however closely it follows an ideal model in measurement, modeling, and painting, contains a unique spirit – this is what the actor assesses in making selections.

When choosing his garments, the actor has the greatest freedom in selection of color and pattern. Outside the use of red (iroari) to indicate youth, color choice is informed by centuries of associations generated by plant dyes used for aristocratic dress.

Shingeki had its heyday from around 1929 to the end of World War II. By 1929, the spotlight of modern Japanese theatre had already shifted from pioneering artistic expressions of Tsukiji Shōgekijō to proletarian theatre. Inspired by Marxist ideals to fight for the working majority instead of entertaining only the intellectual few, proletarian theatre artists produced pieces that strongly influenced the audience, turning shingeki into a school about capitalism. This provoked government suppressions, which led to political apostasy by shingeki leaders, while a separate group of artists pursued apolitical shingeki.

The split of Tsukiji Shōgekijō

As Powell notes in the preceding chapter, the pioneering Tsukiji Shōgekijō company split into two troupes in March 1929. Several factors can be identified as immediate causes. Co-founders Osanai Kaoru and Hijikata Yoshi had conflicting artistic visions for the company, with Osanai aiming at pre-Revolution Stanislavski-style realism, while Hijikata targeted more innovative approaches to theatre including Expressionism and those of Meyerhold. Meanwhile, financially, the company faced difficulties for most of its existence. Each time a deficit was incurred, Hijikata would cover the loss personally. Hijikata's position as co-founder and his constant financial sacrifice made sympathetic company members find it unfair of the majority to try to expel him.

Politics had played a decisive role in the shingeki movement's orientation, from before the split to the postwar period. As early as January 1926, actor Senda Koreya (1904–94) resigned from the company because he could not bear its art for art's sake orientation, a clear sign of Marxist influence. His political consciousness was awakened in the aftermath of the Great Kantō Earthquake in September 1923, which killed over 100,000 in fires, tsunami, and landslides. In the wake of this devastation, anti-Korean sentiment and rumors fueled violent mobs and police to attack Koreans as saboteurs. Senda was taken to be a Korean provocateur near Sendagaya Station in Tokyo, and almost killed. This incident prompted him to take a lifelong critical stance against authoritarianism and assume his professional name, homonymous to “Sendagaya Korean.”

Other members, including Kubo Sakae (1900–58) and Susukida Kenji (1898–1972), were also attracted to Marxism. They formed the Young Tsukiji School (Seinen Tsukiji-ha), a secret study group, and even tried to stage a play of their own selection.