His Grandfather’s Kabuki

In a long, bare room, emptied of furniture except for a few Japanese floor cushions, the sharp sound of wooden clappers signals the start of the Kabuki drama.

This, however, is Kabuki unmasked: a rehearsal with no props by actors with unadorned faces in simple cotton kimonos. The scene is startlingly austere for a theater celebrated for its pageantry of spectacular costumes and magnificent makeup, elaborate wigs and glimmering stage sets.

Yet the actors of the Grand Kabuki Theatre, accompanied by musicians on traditional flutes and drums, quickly fill the sparse room with a palpable power as they rehearse “Shunkan,” the 18th century drama of an exiled lord’s agonizing choice between freeing himself or his followers, between self-sacrifice and self-preservation.

The actors’ unpainted faces reveal their subtle expressions--the narrowing of the eyes, the arch of an eyebrow, the flash of angst. Delicate body movements are more discernible without weighty costumes. After 80 minutes, the drama builds to its gripping conclusion in a drench of sweat and emotional exhaustion.

It is a heart-stopping performance, nearly impeccable save for a few flubbed lines and mistaken dance movements. Yet it is only the second--and final--rehearsal the troupe will perform before heading off on a four-city overseas tour that includes five performances at the Wiltern Theatre in Los Angeles starting Thursday.

The cultural treasures who constitute Japan’s world-famous stable of Kabuki actors do not rehearse much. They don’t need it. Trained from the time they are toddlers in dance, music, movement and acting, they grow up breathing the classic tales of revenge, honor and love.

They have memorized hundreds of plays, absorbed the intricate movements that define the form and, in a pinch, can instantly substitute for one another in a repertoire of more than 500 plays that range from farce to ghost stories to heroic samurai legends.

“I was trained this way from the time I was a child, so I can easily do this. Everything is inside my head,” says Nakamura Kichiemon II, one of Japan’s leading Kabuki actors, who will direct and star in the two pieces the troupe will perform during its U.S. tour.

He likened that talent to a Japanese proverb, “Monzen no kozo”: Children who play before a temple will naturally memorize all of the sutras.

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Nakamura, an arresting presence with silvery hair and a broad, handsome face, made his stage debut at age 4. As is traditional in Kabuki, he is a descendant of an acting family. His grandfather, who became his adoptive father, was Nakamura Kichiemon I, a Kabuki star whose first appearance on stage came in 1897.

Now 52, the younger Nakamura has mastered a towering range of roles and the leadership to direct. In the rehearsal hall, as he approaches a climactic scene in “Shunkan,” he suddenly stops the action and briskly instructs the chanting narrator not to hold his notes so long, then smoothly reenters his pose of despair.

As the wooden clappers sound again, this time to close the play, Nakamura falls to his knees and, forehead nearly to the floor, bows and thanks the cast. Then he springs back up and huddles with the other actors, a dance teacher and tour manager in lively conversation about the rhythm and timing of the work.

“Shunkan” is, in fact, a signature piece for Nakamura and the Kabuki family from which he hails. It was written in 1719 by Chikamatsu Monzaemon--Kabuki’s first and most famous playwright, often called the Japanese Shakespeare--and features a nobleman, Shunkan, and two comrades exiled to an inhospitable island for plotting to overthrow the ruling Heike clan. When an imperial envoy arrives bearing a limited number of pardons, Shunkan is forced into a life-defining choice between saving himself or saving his followers.

Despite Kabuki’s ritualized movements and the formalized Japanese delivered by the narrator known as gidayu, Nakamura says the story’s theme is simple and universal: “Love.”

“When you discard yourself, real love comes into relief,” the actor says in a post-rehearsal interview at the Tokyo headquarters of the Shochiku production firm, which is co-sponsoring the overseas tour.

Nakamura, clad in a blue summer kimono and Japanese traditional pleated trousers called hakama, adds: “In the end, you come to nothingness. Then you can be spiritually awakened and die in peace. This is what the play is about.”

While the play does not feature the fierce makeup or swaggering, exaggerated aragoto style that has fascinated audiences around the world, its dramatic tension and morality-play essence has made “Shunkan” the most frequently performed Kabuki piece overseas, says Chikashi Mogi, Shochiku vice president. Nakamura himself has performed the role several times.

The other play on the tour, which will lead off the Kabuki performance in Los Angeles, is a light comedy and dance called “Tsuri Onna” (Fishing for a Wife). The work, written by Kawatake Mokuami and first performed in 1902, concerns a foolish nobleman and his wily servant, who embark on a journey for beautiful wives.

Nakamura’s performance as a homely woman will mark an atypical departure for him into comedy and as an onnagata--a male playing a female role. The actor is mainly known for his manly, passionate, dramatic roles.

Indeed, during his youthful training, he had so much trouble learning how to walk as a Kabuki-style woman, knock-kneed, that his grandfather, the first Nakamura Kichiemon--tied his knees together with a towel. Nevertheless, Nakamura’s strong, husky voice could never be entirely masked, and some of his early onnagata performances drew gales of laughter, he recalled in a biography.

Asked for the message of “Tsuri Onna,” Nakamura says with a grin: “Women’s strength.”

The play’s homely woman who refuses to be rejected underscores the steely character of Japanese women--too frequently misportrayed as soft and yielding, says Nakamura, who has four daughters. Japan’s ancient legends of goddesses and the dominant role women played in choosing lovers during the Heian Era 1,000 years ago reflects his nation’s historical adoration of the female, he says.

Mogi says “Tsuri Onna” was selected as the opening piece because its dance, pantomime and comic turns make it accessible to U.S. audiences. He says “Shunkan” was selected in response to a request from an American sponsor in Dallas who saw Nakamura perform the title role.

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Despite the Grand Kabuki Theatre’s elaborate trappings, the costumes, props and stage sets all have a short shelf life and are usually retired after one theater run, which lasts 25 days. Under glaring stage lights, the brilliant colors fade quickly and the actors’ sweat renders the costumes unusable, Mogi says.

For the current tour, all sets, costumes and props were newly constructed in about a month and shipped in advance in mid-July. Nakamura says the performance will not be adjusted at all for the American audience, but special sets were built to fit the smaller U.S. theaters. All told, Mogi says, the production is expected to cost about $735,000, a sum lower than usual since the number of actors and props is relatively limited--the company will be bringing 68 members, including 39 of its approximately 250 actors and musicians.

As in past Kabuki performances, headphones will be available for simultaneous translation/commentary, a device Nakamura regards with mixed feelings. His clear, commanding voice is one of his strongest characteristics, but the voice-over will prevent most Americans from hearing it.

Still, he says, when the headphones were used during his last performance in Los Angeles six years ago, he found to his delight that the American audience laughed at exactly the same spots the Japanese did--confirming Kabuki’s universal appeal, he says.

A few differences exist, howKabuki actors share with their Japanese audience--most notably the professional fans who integrate calls of praise and encouragement, known as kakegoe, into the pregnant pauses and frozen poses that mark critical dramatic moments. Actors here say they miss the lively calls when performing before foreign audiences, as well as the more festive atmosphere in Japan, where fans break out box lunches and feast during the plays.

But Mogi says Americans have come a long way in understanding Kabuki since the troupe’s first U.S. performance in 1960, when one New York reviewer called it over-stylized and imponderable--”as different as pot roast and sukiyaki” and predicted its failure abroad.Despite the Grand Kabuki Theatre’s elaborate trappings, the costumes, props and stage sets all have a short shelf life and ever. One is the special relationship are usually retired after one theater run, which lasts 25 days. Under glaring stage lights, the brilliant colors fade quickly and the actors’ sweat renders the costumes unusable.

Today, Kabuki is listed in Webster’s dictionary and was even referred to by President Clinton when he expressed hopes that an international economic meeting would not be “a ceremony like Kabuki.”

The commentary that U.S. audiences will hear will be provided by Faubion Bowers, the former U.S. Army lieutenant and assistant to Gen. Douglas MacArthur, who is regarded as the postwar savior of Kabuki.

The theater was outlawed after World War II by the Allied Occupation, which feared that the feudalist dramas would reignite militarism. But, working his way into the job as artistic censor, Bowers lifted the ban step by step after translating entire plays to demonstrate the theater’s artistic merit and emphasis on human values such as love and loyalty.

Created in 1603, just as Japan was moving from a century of vicious civil war to an era of political stability, Kabuki was an immediate hit among the masses. One reason was that it was initially performed by gorgeous women of questionable repute, which ultimately led Japanese authorities to outlaw women and, at one point, young boys from performing.

But Kabuki (it means “song-dance technique”) endured for its flashy theatrics and emotional themes plumbing the depths of human nature. It quickly outstripped in popularity the slow and ritualistic Noh theater, characterized by solemn religious themes and austere white masks.

In form and content, the theater has not changed much over nearly four centuries, and Nakamura is particularly known for his devotion to tradition.

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Nakamura, born in Tokyo in 1944, is the second son of the only daughter of a leading Kabuki family. His mother, Masako Fujima, promised her father she would give up one of her sons to him for the Kabuki stage, leading to Nakamura’s adoption into his grandfather’s household.

Although he doesn’t remember his first role at age 4, Nakamura describes vivid memories of the huge, helmeted American soldiers stationed in Japan after the war who handed out chocolate and gum. Today, he still associates the United States with those treats; asked what message he would like to convey to Americans before embarking on his tour, he quips: “Chewing gum, please.”

Nakamura was subjected to the strict training typically imposed on Kabuki children, who often begin dance lessons from the time they can stand, along with voice training and music, in addition to their regular schooling. In his teens, he flirted with the idea of becoming an artist instead, but in the end he surrendered to his surroundings.

“In my house, I was surrounded by actors, by nothing but talk of plays and performances, so I felt it was more advantageous to go in that direction,” Nakamura says. “Now, I can’t quit.”

He regards his craft as a quest to faithfully preserve the style and form of his grandfather rather than break out into a new, defining style of his own. But since his grandfather died in 1954, leaving behind no videos to study, he must re-create Nakamura I’s performances from the memories of his childhood and his own intuition; it is the only creative flair he allows himself.

In that sense, the orthodox Nakamura is a different breed from Ennosuke, the flamboyant Kabuki actor famous for introducing such innovations as aerial acrobatics and rapid action. But Nakamura is no less well regarded, with a fan club of more than 700 people--13 of whom will accompany him to the United States--and top rankings by critics, who praise the actor’s passion.

“Our hearts are different,” Nakamura says of his grandfather. “But I have to protect tradition.”

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Grand Kabuki Theatre of Japan, Wiltern Theatre, 3790 Wilshire Blvd. Thursday and Friday, 8 p.m.; Saturday, 2 and 8 p.m.; next Sunday, 2 p.m. $15-$100. (310) 825-2101.