Masks hide too much

Strangely funereal, the “Miracles and Mischief” exhibition at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art presents artifacts of the Japanese Noh and Kyogen theaters as if they belonged to a lost world rather than an enduring performing tradition. You half expect mummy cases or, at the very least, gravestones.

In dim light and behind glass, the antique masks, costumes, musical instruments and scroll paintings suggest the unique stillness and splendor of the Noh drama, but nothing of its intensity and conceptual rigor. Video clips on a few monitors convey (at very low volume levels) impressions of the objects on stage, the way the play of light can transform them as an actor moves. But if you come to LACMA from the world of the theater, the approach seems dangerously incomplete.

Dating back more than 600 years, Noh remains an uncompromisingly anti-material idiom, insisting that the riches, pleasures and relationships of this world are all an illusion. So an exhibition that ignores the spirit of Noh to focus on the apparel quickly becomes unsatisfying -- and even arguably anti-Noh. But it suits the philosophy of the Kyogen, the comic counterpart to Noh, that highlights the schemes and temptations of daily life.

Of course, some of the conditions of the exhibition were dictated by the fragility of costumes that can no longer bear their own weight and masks painted with pigments in danger of fading. But even on its own terms, this first comprehensive U.S. survey of Noh and Kyogen lore remains short on context, more interested in displaying costumes in isolation as gorgeously patterned textiles than showing how the various pieces might be layered on, and wrapped around, a living, moving body.

Although some of their colors can be best appreciated in the extensive published catalog, the costumes repay careful attention for their intricate workmanship and varied decorative techniques.

A nearly transparent 18th century silk-gauze robe in soft green, with a bamboo pattern in gold leaf, looks like it could float on a single breath, while many of the sumptuously embroidered patchwork costumes seem heavy enough to reinforce the weighty, ceremonial footwork of Noh dancing.

(Those with a special interest in the costumes should time their visit to include one of the docent-led tours on Thursdays and Sundays at 2 p.m.; the detailed insights about weaving and methods of embellishment prove fascinating when specific examples can be examined at length.)

Arranged like decapitated heads, the masks freeze characteristics of age, class and temperament in formal sculptural statements without losing the spark of life.

Side by side, two versions of the horned Hannya demon mask brood magnificently, one dated 1558, the other from the 15th to 16th century.

Even in an intimate Noh theater, they might look identical, but here you can savor their differences of color, variations in shape, degrees of dignity and malevolence.

Occasionally curator Sharon Sadako Takeda provides a life-size photograph of a Noh dancer in full regalia, or a showcase in which all the items that an actor would need to portray a certain role are gathered together. Most of the time, however, the vital connections are missing.

Near the end of the exhibition, you find the mask of Otobide -- all gold except for the wide, open mouth, and remarkable for the gleam in its bulging metal eyes. But who is this character? What does he do? What vision of human existence does he embody? The exhibition tells you practically nothing, the catalog a little more. Perhaps the talks and screenings and workshops and classes related to the exhibition will help fill in the blanks.

But some of the most important questions about Noh can only be answered by the greatest dancing actors keeping the tradition alive in this new century. And their artistry is absent or marginalized at LACMA.

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‘Miracles and Mischief: Noh and Kyogen Theater in Japan’

Where: Los Angeles County Museum of Art, 5905 Wilshire Blvd., L.A.

When: Monday, Tuesday, Thursday, noon-8 p.m.; Friday, noon-9 p.m.; Saturday, Sunday, 11 a.m.-8 p.m.; closed Wednesday

Ends: Feb. 2

Price: $1-$7; children younger than 5 free.

Contact: (323) 857-6000