Lost Japan by Alex Kerr

of teachers and millions of students, it is a broader world than Kabuki. Many of the finest dancers are women, which is a return to Kabuki’s pre-
onnagata
roots. Some of them are legends such as Takehara Han, who began as a geisha in Osaka and ended up as the premier master of Zashiki-mai (sitting-room dance), a subtle form of dance which originated in the intimate quarters of the geisha house. If you included classical Kabuki dance styles such as Fujima-ryu, as well as the numerous varieties of Zashiki-mai, Kyo-mai (Kyoto dance) and even
enka
(modern pop dancing), you could spend your life watching Nihon Buyo.
    When the Fates were planning my introduction into the world of Kabuki, they arranged not only the Kaika teahouse and my meeting with Tamasaburo, but also that I should become friends with a man named Faubion Bowers. Faubion traveled to Japan as a student before World War II, and had become enamored of Kabuki, sitting up in the rafters night after night learning from the
omuko.
He was especially a fan of the prewar actor Uzaemon.
    During the war he was a translator and ended up as General Douglas MacArthur’s aide-de-camp, and at war’s end MacArthur dispatched Faubion a few days in advance of his arrival to make arrangements. So, when Faubion and his group arrived at Atsugi air base, they were the first enemy soldiers to set foot in Japan. A contingent of Japanese officials and press nervously awaited them, fearful of what the Americans’ first move would be. But Faubion approached the press and asked, ‘Is Uzaemon still alive?’ The tension instantly relaxed.
    Following the war, all ‘feudalistic’ customs were banned by the US Occupation, and Kabuki, with its subject matter of samurai loyalty, was banned as well. However, Faubion managed to get himself appointed as censor of the theater, and so was able to revive Kabuki. He later received an award from the Emperor in recognition of his historic role. Having seen Kabuki’s prewar greats, and having been close to postwar leaders Baiko, Shoroku and Utaemon when they were still young, Faubion has an unparalleled knowledge of Kabuki.
    During our lifetimes, Kabuki has undergone a critical transformation. The art form will of course continue, but we will never see the likes of actors such as Utaemon and Tamasaburo again. As foreigners, Faubion and I both had access to Kabuki in a way that is unlikely to be repeated. We hope to put our knowledge together in a book some day for future generations.
    However, Faubion and I disagree about everything. For instance, I am not partial to Kabuki’s historical plays such as
Chushingura
(
The Forty-Seven Samurai
); most of them involve tales of
giri-ninjo
, and for me there are more interesting themes. For an earlier audience, trained fanatically to obey their superiors, these plays about sacrificing oneself for one’s lord were truly heart-rending; it was what all Japanese did every day of their lives, at the office or in the army. There is a moment in
Chushingura
when the lord has committed hara-kiri and is dying, but his favorite retainer, Yuranosuke, is late. Finally, Yuranosuke arrives, only to see his master expire with the words, ‘You were late, Yuranosuke.’ Yuranosuke looks into his master’s eyes and silently understands that he is to wreak vengeance for his lord’s martyrdom. I have seen older audiences weeping uncontrollably at this scene. But for people who have grown up in soft, affluent, modern Japan – including myself – resonances of personal sacrifice are growing faint. Faubion, however, insists that these historical plays embody the essence of Kabuki. He also contends that the ugly old ladies I remember from my youth epitomize the true
onnagata
art, and that the beauty of Tamasaburo and Jakuemon is far too striking, even ‘heretical’.
    On no point do Faubion and I disagree so much as on the subject of
onnagata
, which brings me to the difficult question of what
onnagata
really are. Obviously,