Two days of Reading, Finally Posted

I'm playing catch-up on actually posting my posts:

18 February 2007
Entry #11
Work: Japanese Nō Dramas

Plays/Pages Assigned for First Class:
General Introduction
Funa Benkei -- Benkei Aboard Ship
Kantan
Matsukaze -- Pining Wind

The introduction to Japanese Nō Dramas is a little confusing to follow, most likely because of the Japanese names and terms and necessary historical information included. My eyes tend to skim across those hard syllables requiring that I do a lot of back peddling when I realize that in order to understand a term further along in the text, I need to have absorbed one that came before.

My inner rebel soon reared her head when I read the line (under "Discussion of theme and meaning"), "Although nō plays are works of art, not religious or poetic treatises, they evoke important religious or poetic themes" (5). My instinct tells me that what is called art (the aesthetic--beauty, wonder and awe for its own sake) is essentially the same though occurring on a higher plane than that which is called religion, and that which is called poetry can exist on either plane. But that's just me pitching a fit before getting started.

My second resistance to nō is the small corner that women occupy in the discipline. Again, it's my own rebellion.

As a writer, I was intrigued by the description of "Persons speaking for one another; inconsistencies of grammatical person" as a narrative technique. I imagine a masked face with lips that do not move, disembodied voice coming from somewhere else. Or a half-mad actor, speaking of himself as he acts. The effect must have been extraordinarily eerie.

(Added later:)
*Dr. McCarthy explained in a later class that this can sometimes occur because a character is involved in a dance and require that the chorus or another person speak for him or her, though now I will say, after having read a number of the plays, that it is a little unnerving to hear a speaker suddenly begin speaking in the third person. My youngest son does that--he even has a myspace profile as "the3rdperson"--and if it will heighten the drama at the dinner table, I would imagine, masked & in elaborate dress, it would most definitely be effectively dramatic on the stage.*

In the play, Benkei Aboard Ship, I don't quite understand the power that Benkei seems to have over Yoshitsune. Yoshitsune is played by a kokata, as the introduction explains, portraying him as small and perhaps vulnerable. He allows Benkei to make the decision (attributed to him) to turn back Shizuka, his lover, who is very passionate in her love and desire to remain with Yoshitsune. But Yoshitsune and Shizuka never come together to discuss the news delivered by Benkei. He is the liaison throughout. I'm not sure if this dispatching of Shizuku is too trivial a matter for him to handle (She obviously thinks it's a big deal) or that his faithful servant is more wise in these matters (though too humble or knows his place too well to admit responsibility in the decision).

He surely lacks no power of decision in the second part as he slays the evil spirit of Tomomori. His chorus proclaims him "wholly untroubled"(94), and he has asked, "what harm could [evil spirits] possibly do?" (93) How the first part and the second part relate to each other, I'm not quite sure. Perhaps it is a testament to Benkei's wisdom that a woman should not have been present at such a violent moment, though Yoshistune seemed to have the situation in hand.

Kantan offered a bit more meat--in my opinion. To sleep on the magic pillow, to see that a life of riches and power pass away as though in a dream ("frittered away") and to be satisfied that he has seen what he came to see and can now return home is more of an answer than many who seek ever find. Oh, to have such a pillow!

I do question one thing, however. In his first speech, Rosei says, "Kantan, once simply a name,/lies before me, for I have arrived" (135), and I must wonder if "lies" is one of the pivot words that are mentioned in the introduction. Is what he sees in his dream upon the pillow a lie? Or is his journey a lie? His aspirations? *I will have to remember to ask Delbert or Dr. McCarthy about this.

Pining Wind is sad as hell. I can feel the dampness of saltwater-soaked and tear-stained sleeves. It seems the sun never shines on the shores of Suma, or it didn't in my imagination in the time it took me to read and reflect on the play. The music is sad (in my imagination), the beach is cold, and the landscape is dreary. Again, my rebellious inner child rears her head while reading the introduction and Tyler states, authoritatively, that "[Pining Wind's] yearing for Yukihira has nothing to do with transcendence. It is the quintessence of human love" (189). Perhaps this is true, but I prefer to interpret in my own way, from my own experience.

(Added later:)
*After speaking to Dr. McCarthy and spending some more time in reflection (in a non-rebellious state), I have come to agree with Tyler, though I think it's all the more reason to deem this a horribly depressing play. Love stinks and all that--and one who has spiritual aspirations, who desires transcendence and persists in clinging to the past, to that which is lost, is horribly stuck. And that may very well be why it's called "the human condition."

*sigh**

Till later...


21 February 2007
Entry #12
Work: Japanese Nō Dramas

Plays Assigned for Second Class:
Atsumori
Aya no tsuzumi -- The Damask Drum
Chikubu-shima
Sumida-gawa -- The Sumida River

I'm tired, so I will save any long commentary for later.

Again, though I know that Japan is a beautiful country, I have a cold feeling as I read these plays. They have a very spare feeling. Perhaps it's just the art form. Perhaps its the culture or the time.

Atsumori is another lonely play. Boy, left behind, retrieving his beloved flute, and big bad barbarian warrior strikes him down, sees the brutality of his actions (I can almost see Frankenstein carrying the poor, drowned little girl), and in repentence, changes his name and devotes his life to helping the spirit find freedom. The boy, attached to the flute. The man, attached to his guilt. The two of them at the end, cleaving unto each other, a yin and yang and a perfect balance for each other. So, even though a young boy is beheaded (after all, it was an act of mercy, as Kumagai did not trust the other murderous warriors to accept the responsibility for the spirit of Atsumori), a happy ending was received by all!

The Damask Drum got under my skin. Problems on both sides: The Old Man, so foolish to think that he could recieve the love of the Consort, and the Consort, so insensitive to the feelings of a foolish old man to hang a drum that she knew would not require her to fulfill her promise. He learned the hard lesson of being made a fool, and she learned the rath of a vengeful spirit scorned. Possession, whether by infatuation or by that of the self, closes one off from the spirit and invites sorrow.

I like the role of woman in Chikubu-shima, even in the knowledge that women probably came nowhere near a production of the play. They are still treated with reverence, and that sits well with me. And the treasures--if I understand rightly, they are comprised of a key, a rosary and a bamboo tree. They are spiritual and symbolic treasures, much like the painted pine on the back of the stage. And I like that.

I could say much about The Sumida River, but it seems that much has already been said about it from reading the introduction. The grief of the mother, as she realizes that the child under the mound is her own, is wrenching. The tension is palpable. My heart felt broken along with hers as I read.

While reading the play itself, I was wishing that I knew more about Japanese poetry. I most enjoyed the chanting at the end and could hear it resonating in my mind as the final scene came to a close. Though it is not clear that the mother has found peace at the end--after all, she has had but a moment to feel the hope turned into grief--I found myself praying that she had.

Till later...