Linus Sinnard
Linus is a first year JET working in the Matsuyama neighborhood of Yugun. Most of his time is spent either grinding through Genki, listening to music, or learning the saxophone. When life’s stresses become too much, he often goes into the woods and doesn’t return for several days. He is deeply interested in people other than himself, and he appreciates his opportunity in Japan to see the range of experiences that humanity has to offer. After JET, he intends to continue his international streak and travel the world, by whatever means necessary.
Behind the Mask: Experiencing the Noh Tradition
If you’ve ever been interested in Japanese culture, you’ve probably seen masks like the one pictured below. A horned visage eternally frozen in a horrific gaze, halfway between a maddened grin and a scream. Not to mention bullhorns, metallic eyes, and a gaping mouth. In its original context, such a mask would represent a vengeful female demon, perhaps a witch or other similar archetype.
Hannyae type mask. Japanese Cyprus. Masks in Noh leave emotion and facial expression up to the imagination of the viewer and lend more weight to the actor’s body movements
But regardless of what it seeks to portray, it is clear that whoever made such a thing wanted to invoke fear in whoever saw it. Masks like this one are a defining part of Noh theatre, a dramatic tradition within Japan that has persisted for over 600 years. This October, I had the opportunity to enjoy the splendor, the horror, and the tedium of a full five-hour Noh program.
As much as I would love to describe what I witnessed, I think it’s apt to first give some background on what Noh actually is. Of course, it can be lumped into the broad category of “theatre”, but it’s far too surreal and archaic to fit that label comfortably. The simplest way of describing it I’ve found is to list what’s usually included.
First and foremost is the shite (do-er), who is the principal character and subject of the play. The shite is very often some sort of supernatural role, ranging from ghosts all the way to full-fledged gods.
Throughout Noh’s history, the role of shite has usually been reserved for the masters of respective Noh guilds. The second key role is the waki (side), who serves as a counterpart to the shite, and who helps progress the story of the play. In most plays I’ve seen, whether in person or online, the waki is a monk or traveler who encounters the shite. The waki’s name comes from their tendency to sit to the side as the shite does their thing. One or two additional actors can join the shite or the waki to fill a role within the story, but rarely do they play any substantial part other than literally following their counterpart.
And that’s it for actors: just two. Noh is notoriously minimalist, and by reducing the number of players, it seeks to zero in on the main performance and its themes. Often times the story will involve large battles with many warriors, but even in such instances, all you can see is the shite slashing away at open air. It’s even more sparse with props, usually only consisting of a fan. The one area they don’t skimp out on is the outfits, which are beautifully embroidered and works of art in their own right.
But if that’s all the actors, who else is there? Quite a few people actually. Everyone else involved in Noh wears black, symbolic of their non-existence within the scene that the play portrays, as they sit, sing, or play their instruments. Did I mention Noh is a musical? Sitting just outside of the stage to the right are the chorus, who chant deeply as scenes progress, describing what’s occurring in sparse poetry. I was amazed at how low these singers’ voices were. And not like the croaky, smoke-forty-packs-a-day low you hear in something like Mongolian throat singing. It’s more like a waking-up-at-four-in-the-morning-with-the-flu kind of low, with such a round and smooth sound. Lastly are the musicians, who use everything at their disposal to create some really haunting music. There’s the sharp hip drum, the tabla-like shoulder drum, the piercing transverse flute, and finally the beating stick drum. Every musician besides the flute player also incorporates various calls, shouts, and screams to add further texture and anticipation to the intricate, off-kilter atmosphere. Please take a listen.
Nakairiraigyo – The Kyoto Nohgaku Kai. This excerpt features the four main musicians in isolation without the accompaniment of Noh’s chanting and dialogue.
Sometimes I’ll listen to this stuff in my apartment for hours and without fail I always freaking out. It’s amazing. It’s challenging and definitely has got to elicit some form of sleep paralysis, but it’s also very masterfully crafted to serve its purpose within the play. And when the story picks up and the climax occurs, the music really adds something sublime.
Which brings me to the plays themselves. My first surprise when I walked into the theater was the size of it. It was small, quaint, and without many adornments. There were a few lyric books for sale, and tablets with English captions for a thousand yen. These captions would serve as my only perspective on the events unfolding in front of me. I sat in the section to the right of the stage, which the OG Noh aficionados will tell you is the spot to be. In front of the stage is of course the clearest and best view, but you have to pay extra. And in between the two sections are the worst seats, due to the presence of a pillar that obstructs their view of the stage. So I was sitting pretty with my good seat, waiting for them to start Noh-ing.
The first members to enter were the musicians, who took their seats slowly and carefully, considerate of every move. Silence was maintained for a minute or so until the flute let out a shrill cry, nearly giving me and the Ojisans around me a heart attack. The whole experience was much louder than I had anticipated. A song heralding the beginning of the play echoed as a monk made his way to the stage. The play progressed slowly from there, with the monk meeting a weeping woman who is eventually revealed to be a ghost. She related her story, reenacting it as she did. The play concluded in a fast and climactic dance, which saw her donning armor and a halberd. Slashing furiously in the air, she symbolically killed her pursuers, with acrobatic leaps and stomping which complemented the intense drumming of the scene. The music reached a brief fullness, with the flute, drums, yelling, singing, and stomping all locking together in a rhythm that marched on like the music to a religious service. Everyone on stage, despite the reserved and conservative nature of Noh, was doing everything in their power to contribute to the atmosphere.
Excerpt from Tomoe. As it occurs the musicians, chorus, and actors work in tandem to create a supernatural atmosphere.
The next play started after a brief comedic interlude, Kyogen, which I could somewhat understand involved a kid tricking a guard to give him his weapons. But most of the comedy was lost on me. The next play involved a lonesome tree spirit who asks a traveling monk to intercede for it, so that it too may reach enlightenment despite it being a plant. It was a great concept, but with my lack of Japanese, the slow dialogue driven play was a slog to get through. It was very unintentionally funny at times though. Noh in general was so surreal and dense that many moments came off as really strange and absurd. For example, there are two stagehands who enter during the play to take props or give them to the actors. They sit behind the stage in the corner, just chilling. But there were times where they would emerge from the sliding door, sit down, do nothing for like twenty minutes, and then leave.
Why did they even come out in the first place?? Is that in the script?? It made me chuckle quite a bit. Another funny part came when they brought out the prop for the “tree”. In reality, it looked like a pop-up changing room with leaves on top. Which to be fair was its function, as the shite went into it in order to don his regal tree spirit costume. It was also entertaining seeing the stagehands helping the actor change in the tree, as there was no mystery, it was obvious and it took like fifteen minutes.
Afterwards, the reveal was cool, but the way the tree was played was surprisingly slow. The whole play took like two hours of the program. Most of that time was the tree spirit referencing poetry that I’ve never heard of. This play in specific was so slow that for most of it, everyone around me had fallen asleep. I think people who often attend Noh understand it’s going to be slow and so have no qualms with getting some rest before the good parts. And it’s often easier to enjoy the music with your eyes closed anyway.
After this slog in the middle, the program had a 15-minute break, which I spent buying random snacks at the local konbini. I hadn’t eaten since breakfast, and it was nearly three, so I was stuffing down the classic luncheon of chips, oreos, and milk. I had to run back, and even then, I was late for the last one. This one was much abridged, involving a vengeful spirit who failed his exams (relatable) and comes back to cleanse the imperial court of wrongdoing. The plot barely existed, and the play was definitely created with the goal to excite the audience as fast as possible. It was a lot of fun, but by the end of it I was thoroughly Noh-ed out.
But afterwards, I couldn’t help but shake the feeling that I had learned something, or that I now saw Japan in a different light. I was in Kyoto, the cultural capital. And in Noh, I got a glimpse into how Japan views itself and its mythic history. I gained an appreciation of the underlying beliefs, symbols, and aesthetics that inform Japanese sensibilities. The crimson and gold maples that flanked every road and crowned every hilltop turned from spectacles to illustrations of supernatural forces always at work. The temples I visited appeared not as old buildings but as the cloisters of spirits, gods, and demons. Everything took on a new aura, and Noh left a lasting impression on the way I look at myth, history, and Japan.
Hey everyone! Thanks for checking out this month’s article. If there is a story, experience, or idea you’d like to share please reach out to us at themikanblog@gmail.com. We’d love to hear from you!
Best, Justin
