Kimono-clad Mayuko Kashiwazaki delivers her lines in guttural tones and transforms into an evil snake in the lead role of a Japanese Noh play where, unusually, most of the cast are women.
Noh, with its elaborate layered costumes and hand-crafted masks, is one of the most ancient surviving forms of theatre, with origins dating back to the eighth century.
Unlike kabuki, another type of classical Japanese theater, or sumo wrestling — both steadfastly male — Noh has been open to performers of both genders for over a century.
Photo: AFP
But women are still a rarity in the traditional Noh world, where fathers often pass the vocation to their sons.
Women represent just 15 percent of the 1,039 actors and musicians registered with the professional Nohgaku Performers’ Association.
And their opportunities to appear on stage are “relatively limited,” 43-year-old Kashiwazaki said.
Photo: AFP
“One reason is that Noh audiences are generally older, and often see Noh as a masculine art form,” she said.
But now it’s time “for women to reflect on their future in Noh, and to play a role in building that future.”
Kashiwazaki acted the principal part in Dojoji, a famous drama about the revenge of a betrayed woman, at Tokyo’s National Noh Theater last weekend.
Twirling a fan, and wearing a heavy kimono embroidered with a crane motif, the masked actor belted out her lines in an archaic, warbling style as the story slowly unfolded.
After hiding under a prop representing the bell of a Buddhist temple, she emerged transformed as a demonic serpent character with wild, fiery tufts of red hair.
‘BEAUTY AND POWER’
Kashiwazaki, encouraged by her Noh mentor, tried to find as many women as possible to participate in the production.
“Dojoji is an extremely important piece for Noh actors,” Kashiwazaki said, and “you have to be very lucky to get a chance to perform it, even once in your life.”
“Because I was lucky enough to have this opportunity, I thought it would be great to stage it with other female Noh actors.”
Yoko Oyama, who played a handheld drum in the show, said it was unusual to see “so many women in the chorus and among the musicians on stage.”
“It’s not only the fact that they are women, but also that most of them are young for Noh performers, which makes the show even more special,” she said.
However, for some parts, including the supporting actor or “waki” in Noh — often a monk or priest character — there were no women to fill the role, so it was played by a man.
“There are no women performing waki... it has always been that way,” Kashiwazaki’s mentor, 72-year-old Yasuaki Komparu, told AFP.
While Komparu is the scion of one of five prominent Noh families that have bred generations of actors, Kashiwazaki first discovered Noh as a student.
She was charmed by its lyrical dramas and the heavily stylized acting in a minimal setting. A painting of a pine tree behind the stage is usually the only decoration.
“I was fascinated by how cool this Japanese art form looked, and thought I could only truly understand it by taking part myself,” she said.
‘VICIOUS CYCLE’
Kashiwazaki’s first mentor tried to dissuade her from becoming a Noh actor, having experienced herself the difficulties women face in the ancient art.
Now recognized by UNESCO as “intangible cultural heritage,” Noh developed towards its current form in Japan’s Muromachi era from 1336 to 1573, a period when the performers included women among their ranks.
In the Edo era from 1603 to 1868, patronage from shoguns helped Noh’s popularity grow.
But women were banned from the stage under government morality rules that repressed individual liberties.
Only at the end of the 19th century were women once again allowed to act in Noh, but they had to wait until 1948 to be recognized as professionals.
“There are extraordinary Noh actors, men and women, but the public tends to seek out a particular type of Noh, with a fixed idea of what it should be,” Kashiwazaki said.
That lack of opportunities creates a “vicious cycle” because actors can’t build up the experience to progress their careers, she said.
After Saturday’s show, audience member Kazuaki Ieda, 40, said he was “very interested and excited” by the performance.
“I think this may be the future of Noh in Japan,” Ieda said.
In the March 9 edition of the Taipei Times a piece by Ninon Godefroy ran with the headine “The quiet, gentle rhythm of Taiwan.” It started with the line “Taiwan is a small, humble place. There is no Eiffel Tower, no pyramids — no singular attraction that draws the world’s attention.” I laughed out loud at that. This was out of no disrespect for the author or the piece, which made some interesting analogies and good points about how both Din Tai Fung’s and Taiwan Semiconductor Manufacturing Co’s (TSMC, 台積電) meticulous attention to detail and quality are not quite up to
April 21 to April 27 Hsieh Er’s (謝娥) political fortunes were rising fast after she got out of jail and joined the Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT) in December 1945. Not only did she hold key positions in various committees, she was elected the only woman on the Taipei City Council and headed to Nanjing in 1946 as the sole Taiwanese female representative to the National Constituent Assembly. With the support of first lady Soong May-ling (宋美齡), she started the Taipei Women’s Association and Taiwan Provincial Women’s Association, where she
Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT) Chairman Eric Chu (朱立倫) hatched a bold plan to charge forward and seize the initiative when he held a protest in front of the Taipei City Prosecutors’ Office. Though risky, because illegal, its success would help tackle at least six problems facing both himself and the KMT. What he did not see coming was Taipei Mayor Chiang Wan-an (將萬安) tripping him up out of the gate. In spite of Chu being the most consequential and successful KMT chairman since the early 2010s — arguably saving the party from financial ruin and restoring its electoral viability —
It is one of the more remarkable facts of Taiwan history that it was never occupied or claimed by any of the numerous kingdoms of southern China — Han or otherwise — that lay just across the water from it. None of their brilliant ministers ever discovered that Taiwan was a “core interest” of the state whose annexation was “inevitable.” As Paul Kua notes in an excellent monograph laying out how the Portuguese gave Taiwan the name “Formosa,” the first Europeans to express an interest in occupying Taiwan were the Spanish. Tonio Andrade in his seminal work, How Taiwan Became Chinese,