The Fusion of Sharpness and Splendor: Noh Sesshōseki with Hayashi Sōichirō as Shite Kyoto Kanze-kai November Regular Performance, November 27, 2022

Cast

• Shite (Tamamo-no-Mae / Yakan [Fox Spirit]): Hayashi Sōichirō
• Waki (Gen’ō, the monk): Oka Mitsuru
• Ai (Local man): Yamashita Moriyuki
• Kotsuzumi:  Genjirō
• Ōtsuzumi: Ishii Kageyuki  
• Taiko: Maekawa Mitsunori
• Fue: Sako Yasuhiro  
• Kōken (Stage Assistants): Inoue Hirohisa, Sugiura Toyohiko
• Chorus (Jiutai): Umeda Yoshihiro, Kawamura Kazutaka, Ōe Kōsuke, Tani Kōnosuke,
  Mikata Madoka, Kawamura Harumichi, Furuhashi Masakuni, Matsuno Hiroyuki

Synopsis (from the能.com)

The high priest Gen’ō passes through the fields of Nasu in Shimotsuke Province (present-day Tochigi Prefecture). He notices birds falling dead near a certain rock. While he ponders this strange sight, a woman appears and warns him not to approach: the stone is the “Sesshōseki” (Killing Stone), which slays all living creatures that come near. When questioned, she recounts the stone’s origin:
“In the time of Emperor Toba, there was a court lady named Tamamo-no-Mae, famed for her beauty and wisdom. Favored by the Emperor, she was revealed by the yin-yang master Abe no Yasuchika to be a nine-tailed fox in disguise. Exposed, she fled to the fields of Nasu but was slain. Her spirit remained, possessing a great boulder and transforming it into the deadly Sesshōseki.”

Having told this, the woman reveals herself to be Tamamo-no-Mae’s ghost and vanishes.

Gen’ō conducts a Buddhist ritual to save the soul bound to the stone. The rock splits, and the fox spirit (yakan) appears. It recounts its history: how it sowed chaos across India, China, and Japan, only to be subdued by Abe no Yasuchika, hunted down by warriors Miura-no-suke and Kazusa-no-suke, and finally shot down at Nasu, where it lingered as the Killing Stone for centuries. Now, receiving the mercy of Buddhist law, it vows never again to commit evil, and disappears.

Performance Reflections

In the first act, Tamamo-no-Mae is portrayed as a beauty so captivating that she won the Emperor’s love. Yet she is more than a beautiful woman: she is imbued with supernatural allure, which may well be understood as erotic power. This role is therefore marked by a “sign”—difficult to embody without tipping into exaggeration. Hayashi Sōichirō, himself striking in appearance, conveyed this elusive quality with subtle restraint. Behind the Noh mask, a faint aura of mystery and sensuality seemed to shimmer. Both mask and costume radiated refinement and elegance, making a profound impact—especially from my fortunate vantage point in the front seats.

In the second act, the shite transforms completely into the monster itself. Donning a red wig and dazzling golden robes, he emerges as the fox spirit. When the dark-blue wicker cage symbolizing the Killing Stone splits open, the red-headed yakan sits revealed. The beautiful woman has become a manlike beast, narrating its downfall—from India and China, to service at Emperor Toba’s court as Tamamo-no-Mae, to exposure, subjugation, and finally death at Nasu.

The performance was sheer power unleashed. The dynamism of the shite’s movements was overwhelming: aggressive gestures contrasted with perfectly controlled footwork. Each spin revealed a flash of white tabi, punctuating the stage with sharp, clean strokes. The interplay of crisp lines and fluid arcs created a rhythm both sharp and graceful, demanding immense concentration. The movements, more vigorous than in kabuki dance, were at once violent and exquisitely beautiful.

Broader Significance

The play brims with fascinating motifs: a double transformation across gender and species, the fox as a symbol of rebellion expelled by the ruling order, the contest of power with the yin-yang master, and an exoticism stretching across India, China, and Japan. It is no wonder the tale became endlessly retold in Edo-period kabuki, novels, and illustrated books—the allure of Sesshōseki is inexhaustible.

Yet the thrill of the story comes alive most powerfully on stage. The vibrancy of performance surpasses anything that could be captured in prose or print.

Final Impressions

Hayashi Sōichirō, with his youth and vigor, gave a shite performance that was dynamic and commanding. Ōkura Genjirō’s kotsuzumi resounded with a striking punch, even from behind the stone. Maekawa Mitsunori’s taiko, with its fierce and driving rhythms, whipped the audience into exhilaration.

It was, quite simply, a joy.

Noh “Tōru” Performed by Master Soichiro Hayashi (Shite) at the Memorial Performance for Ishii Jinbei’s Seventh Anniversary — Kyoto Kanze Kaikan, July 24

This play, too, is attributed to Zeami. The aesthetic charm lies in the striking contrast between the humble salt-drawing old man in the first act and the elegant nobleman he transforms into in the second. Yet, in Master Soichiro Hayashi’s performance, both the rustic elder and the courtly prince exuded an unbroken air of refinement and grace.

In the first act, the old man appears, carrying salt-drawing buckets balanced across his shoulders. Despite his humble guise, there is an unmistakable elegance in his bearing. When questioned by a traveling monk from the eastern provinces as to why he performs the task of drawing brine in Kyoto—far from the sea—the old man begins to recount the legend of the Rokujō Riverside Mansion. The site, he explains, was once the residence of Minister Tōru, the “Minister of Melancholy,” and its garden was designed as a perfect imitation of Shiogama in Mutsu Province. This reflects, of course, the deep nostalgia of Minister Tōru for the distant north, as expressed in his poem from the Hyakunin Isshu:
“From Mutsu’s far shore,
The tangled dyeing of remembrance—
By whom begun to blur?
Not by me, yet I am caught
In its ever-mingling hues.”

The old man laments the desolation of what was once a glorious estate, mourning its decline and longing for its past splendor. As he speaks, he offers an elegant geographical tour of Kyoto—Otowayama, Seikan-ji at Nakayama, Mount Fukakusa, Ōhara, Fushimi, Arashiyama, and beyond—his words painting a lyrical map of the capital’s beauty.

In the second act, the shite reappears transformed: wearing the Chūjō mask and a radiant yellow hunting robe (kariginu), clearly embodying a youthful nobleman. True to the phrase “scattering light like blossoms,” his dance radiates a brilliance of youth and nobility.

Chorus: “Here too, the waves of Shirakawa rise in name and fame—”
Shite: “Ah, how delightful—the cups of the meandering stream!”
Chorus: “Floating, floating—the sleeves of playful dance.”

“Shirakawa” refers to the region in Fukushima Prefecture, and the “cups of the meandering stream” allude to the elegant kyokusui-no-en—a poetic banquet held by a flowing brook, where guests compose verses before the floating sake cup drifts past, and later recite them in refined competition. It is an image of courtly grace and fleeting pleasure.

A long dance follows, exquisite to the point of sadness. Through his movements, one senses the beauty and fragility of a bygone age—the graceful vision of Minister Tōru himself. The interplay between the shite and the chorus becomes a spell of poetry, a verbal enchantment conjured by Zeami’s genius, unfolding a world of yūgen—the subtle, ineffable profundity of the Noh stage.

At last, the shite fades away, softly and serenely, as if dissolving into the lingering echo of chant and dance.

Cast

Shite (Main Role):  Hayashi Soichiro
Waki (Supporting Role): Arimatsu Ryōichi 
Ai (Interlude Role): Yamaguchi Kōdō 

Flute: Sugi Shintarō 
Small Drum: Sowa Kodō 
Large Drum: Ishida Kensaku 
Stick Drum: Inoue Keisuke 

Stage Assistants: Yasuhiro Urata, Masasaburō Ōe

Chorus:
Kawamura Kazuaki, Kawamura Kazutaka, Umeda Yoshihiro, Matsuno Hiroyuki,
Tamo’i Hiromichi, Hashimoto Kōzaburō, Kawamura Kazushige, Kawamura Haruhisa 

“Momijigari” in Summer Vacation Bunraku Program, Part III at the National Bunraku Theatre, July 17

Walking through the underground passage from Nipponbashi Station toward the Bunraku Theatre, I was struck by how eye-catching the new posters were — quite flashy for a Bunraku advertisement. They were also displayed in major Osaka subway stations, boldly promoting the upcoming Momijigari performances.

According to the information I found online:

A collaboration has been announced between the play Momijigari, performed at the July Kabuki Appreciation Class in Tokyo’s National Theatre and at the July–August Summer Vacation Bunraku Special Performances in Osaka’s National Bunraku Theatre, and the sword character ‘Kogarasu-maru’ from the online game Tōken Ranbu – ONLINE.

In the PC game Tōken Ranbu, one of the characters is named “Kogarasu-maru,” the same name as the sword used by Taira no Koremochi to slay the demon woman in Momijigari. This coincidence led to the current collaboration between the game and the Bunraku production.
I am not a gamer myself, so I’m hardly familiar with such things, but I do hope that this collaboration will inspire younger audiences to develop an interest in Bunraku. At the center of the poster stands the character Kogarasu-maru—very stylish indeed! On the left are the Bunraku puppets representing Koremochi, the demon woman, and Princess Sarashina; on the right are the Kabuki actors for the same roles—Matsushiroku as Koremochi, Umegawa as Princess Sarashina, and the demon. The tagline reads:
“Will you see it in Bunraku or in Kabuki?”

What’s slightly disappointing is that the Noh version of Momijigari wasn’t included. Perhaps the world of Noh, with its subtle aesthetics, simply doesn’t suit the showy visual style of the game. That said, Momijigari is one of the more flamboyant Noh plays, with its numerous characters, elaborate costumes, and dynamic choreography. The princess, her attendants, and the demon women all appear in vivid costumes, and there are several spectacular fight scenes. Its appeal lies in movement rather than stillness—a quality it shares with both Bunraku and Kabuki.
Perhaps this vibrant publicity worked: the audience that day seemed noticeably younger than usual.

The Performance

Rōse Tayū’s portrayal of Princess Sarashina was absolutely perfect. In the first act, his voice was high and clear, while in the second, as he transformed into the demon, it dropped to a deep, resonant tone, effectively dramatizing the metamorphosis. I had thought recently that his voice range had lowered in general, but it seems this was a deliberate adaptation to the role.
I also greatly admire Yoshiho Tayū, who performed Koremochi; his interplay with Rōse Tayū was controlled and beautifully synchronized. Both performers have relatively high voices, which, I think, helped convey the fairy-tale, almost fantastical nature of the story without strain.

As for the puppets, Ichisuke’s Princess Sarashina was magnificent. Each time I see his work, his artistry seems to have advanced further; he is already at a master’s level.
In the first act, when Sarashina dances, the way he manipulated the fan, tilted the puppet’s body, and added subtle twists was breathtaking. In the second act, when she became the demon, his vigorous movements rivaled those of live Kabuki actors. Expressing such transformations through puppetry is far more difficult than with one’s own body, yet he executed them effortlessly and naturally. There was applause, of course—but I felt it deserved to rise to the level of a storm.

Comparative Reflections

I have seen Momijigari many times in both Bunraku and Kabuki. The most recent Bunraku version I attended before this one was in November 2017 at the Bunraku Theatre, with the same pairing of Yoshiho as Koremochi and Rōse as Princess Sarashina.

In the Kabuki version, the princess is attended by four ladies-in-waiting—just like in the Noh version. The emphasis on splendor in this staging seems to have its roots in Noh, which is fascinating. In that sense, Kabuki’s version is actually closer to Noh than Bunraku’s is.

In any case, comparing Momijigari across Noh, Kabuki, and Bunraku offers a special pleasure.
“Will you see it in Bunraku, in Kabuki—or in Noh?”
Perhaps the best answer is: see them all.

“A collaboration has been announced between the play Momijigari, performed at the July Kabuki Appreciation Class in Tokyo’s National Theatre and at the July–August Summer Vacation Bunraku Special Performances in Osaka’s National Bunraku Theatre, and the sword character ‘Kogarasu-maru’ from the online game Tōken Ranbu – ONLINE.”