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.
