Art of bunraku
An all-female puppeteer group on the island of Naoshima keeps the Japanese oral heritage alive. Rebecca Ilham writes
“DO you want to see bunraku?” I remember Mizuho asked me this question.
I met Mizuho during a trip to Japan in 2016. She is originally from the island of Naoshima in Kagawa Prefecture, just off the coast from Okayama Prefecture on the main island.
Mizuho’s inaka, or hometown, has been developed since 1985 to be a modern and contemporary art site, with built-for-purpose bare concrete museums designed by one of my favourite Japanese architects, Tadao Ando. Thus, I made a resolution that the next time I return to the Kansai area, I would visit the island.
Then, few weeks prior to departure, Mizuho proposed something else that is hard to pass up.
While always on the lookout for traditional Japanese performing art performances on travels in the Land of the Rising Sun, I am resigned to the fact that most of the performances, especially provincial ones, performed by independent small performing art troupes, are beyond foreign visitors such as myself, who have mediocre fluency in the Japanese language.
Bunraku is one of them. Sure it has a permanent, state-of-art home at the National Bunraku Theatre in Osaka, but nothing beats seeing it performed in a more intimate and less formal setting.
MASTERPIECE
An essentially traditional puppet performance, bunraku consists of two main elements: puppet (ningyo) and joruri to tell a story, commonly local folktales. Usually a performance will feature at least one (maximum three) puppet, manipulated by three puppeteers, in tune with the musical dramatic narrative — joruri.
The ancient art has been gazetted as an Important Intangible Cultural Property of Japan since 1955, and in 2003 it was recognised by Unesco as a Masterpiece of Oral and Intangible Heritage of Humanity.
Apart from its national home, the art also remains alive through the dedication of smaller performing troupes, such as the one in one of the major islands in the Seto Inland Sea - Naoshima.
That isn’t all, though — apart from its undeniable skills, I’m mostly excited about the fact that the group in Naoshima also stands out for one unique reason: it consists of female members only, hence its name
While Bunraku has a permanent, state-of-the-art home at the National Bunraku Theatre in Osaka, nothing beats seeing it performed in a more intimate and less formal setting.
Naoshima Onna (Women) Bunraku.
After a whirlwind tour to two museums and various site-specific art installations all around the island, Mizuho drives to a community centre, which apart from serving as a gymnastic hall, is also where the Naoshima Onna Bunraku Group holds its practice sessions.
PRACTICE PERFORMANCE
The building is new, its low-sloped hinoki (cypress) roof built in an architecture style that reminds me of gassho-zukkuri, usually found in farmhouses with traditional Japanese thatched roof.
The architect Hiroshi Sambuichi has succeeded in infusing a modern, polished look grounded in Naoshima’s proud roots. This can’t be a more fitting home to sustain a local heritage.
We meet the leader for the bunraku group, and after a short greeting, she joins her group members on stage for their practice performance.
The stage is designed specifically for a bunraku performance. It is elevated from the floor, and a slightly lower than waistlevel partition is erected on stage. Puppeteers take positions behind the partition, while holding the puppet(s), which appears to be standing and walking on the surface of the partition.
We are treated to a practice performance of a popular folktale titled Dango Uri (The Dumpling Seller), which consists of two puppets dressed in light blue satin kimono costume, representing characters Kinezo and Ofuku. Each one is manipulated by three female puppeteers. They are responsible for different parts of the puppet’s anatomy, based on their skills.
A puppeteer starts with manipulating the leg, and as she gains skills and experience, moves to the left hand before being entrusted with manipulation of the right hand and head of the puppet, while balancing herself on a pair of platform-like wooden sandals.
The story, which is about the couple’s misadventures while peddling their wares, is highly entertaining. In no time at all, despite the language barrier, which is lessened by Mizuho’s interpretation, I am lulled into the melody of the joruri.
In a real performance, the joruri is performed live by a tayu (chanter), who narrates the story in a song-like manner, accompanied by musicians playing a traditional three-stringed instrument called shamisen. However, the group is accompanied by an audio recording today.
Still, I am captivated.
IMPRESSIVE REPUTATION
I am interested in the back story of how the group came to be exclusively female. I am expecting something feministic, something dramatic, something heroic.
After all, bunraku originated as a form of court amusement among the royals during the Heaian era. A family of royals were then exiled to Japan Inland Sea area, bringing the art with them. Later bunraku was performed by commoners, who successfully infused their folktales into the once inaccessible form of entertainment.
Originally, bunraku in Naoshima was performed by male puppeteers, before dying out in the early 20th century. Then after World War II, it was revived by three women. Since then, the art has always been passed down among a group of women on the island.
They are no professionals, but ordinary housewives who are passionate in sustaining the legacy of their heritage. Through consistent practices in between house chores and other responsibilities, they have managed to build quite a reputation for the group.
Now, apart from the contemporary art, a cultural event in Naoshima is incomplete without a bunraku performance by its female puppeteers. The group has also travelled overseas to perform at events that promote diplomatic ties between Japan and other countries.
Not exactly the climatic story I am expecting, but impressive nevertheless.
The puppets move so gracefully across the stage that it is hard to fathom the fact that they are not living creatures. In a real performance, the puppeteers supporting the puppets wear black uniform and cover their faces with a piece of black cloth, appropriately disappearing into the dark background.
Hence it isn’t hard to imagine the puppets having a life of their own! I am later informed that these days, the main puppeteer of Onna Bunraku Group does not cover her face anymore at the request of the audience, who likes to connect with the human behind the wooden puppet.
Either way, my Japan connection now feels stronger than ever.