Takarazuka
My brother happens to to live in a town in Kansai called "Takarazuka". When I tell people this, they will inevitably ask me: "have you seen a play?" Takarazuka theatre is very famous within Japan. Basically, it is an extravagant style of musical where all of the actors are women. They are trained from their teens in singing, dancing, and acting like men.
Of course I haven't gone to see a play there.
Although my brother lives so close, he has never gone to see a play, and he intends it on staying that way. Still, I was prone to go and see one, even if only to be able to dismiss that annoying question with an affirmative answer.
An American also living in Toyama turned out to be a big Takarazuka theatre fan. Despite this, we became friends. You see, Takarazuka fans generally are... well , I don't know how to describe them. I've seen them before, lining up outside the theatre wearing actor-sponsored apparel in any weather, just to catch glimpses of the actors coming or leaving the theatre.
This weekend, my friend came down to Kansai for the weekend to watch three of these plays, and I was in Kansai to get drunk. I came up with the brilliant idea of combining a hangover with watching a play. I had to wake up at 7:30 so we could line up for an hour to get tickets. It was lucky we did, as we only just got seats, right at the back of the theatre. My friend came prepared, bringing a pair of binoculars. I prepared by drinking a can of coffee.
The whole theatre complex was immense. In Japan there is a romantic fascination with Europe, and especially France. This theatre was a disneyland version of a French avenue. Garish pink lamposts, sift/souvinir shops with European storefronts, and signs written in flowery French. The shops provised much entertainment with its ingenious marketing of crap. Most had displayed the heavily made up faces of the actresses. The european fascination extends to the make-up, as the Japanese actresses actually have nose-bridges.
I still don't understand this. You know, I have recieved compliments about the bridge of my nose, in a tone usually reserved when you ask someone if they've lost weight. So the faces of these heavily made up actresses is disturbing. They don't look female, but they dont look quite male either; they don't look Japanese, and you can't simply bridge a nose and expect to look caucasian. It's eeire, and almost disturbing. They sit suspended somewhere beyond definition.
In fact, the whole performance was beyond definition. The huge theatre was packed out with 95% women. There was a giant moving stage, holes in the floor where characters would appear and dissappear, stage sets that floated into place, hoardes of relentless backup dancers, and a flawless orchetra. The show began, and when the main actresses appeared they were greeted with applause. Although, it wasn't applause like I have ever seen it. It was concise applause, exectued with precision. To be polite, I tried clapping too, but by the time I started, the applause had already finished. Basically, the whole theatre was a well-practiced, seamless machine, from the actors to the spectators.
The play I watched was called "El Halcon" (The falcon, エル・アルコン). It was about Spanish and British sailors and pirates and stuff... It was bizzare trying to figure out who was who, who was good and bad, and even who was male and female. If you have ever watched a Hollywood movie in Japanese voice-over, you'll be aware that all males are voice-acted by the same guy, doing the same voice. I could not distinguish Eddie Murphy from Gene Hackman. I believe this same guy teaches the acrtresses to speak like men. And I was so far away, I couldn't often tell who was speaking.
Also, Takarazuka theatre is known for the extravagant costumes, even in period dramas. Colours and glitters and even feathers. I manage to figure out a fail-proof system for sexing the actresses:
Pants = Male character.
Things became simpler once I figured that out. The story line of deceit and treachery was well above my Japanese ability, especially when they have most of their lines in song and dance. There was a lot of fighting, but it was odd seeing women acting out swordplay (the only real aspect that seemed to be rather half-assed). I don't know, it just felt that was noteworthy... But I did follow the love story that developed. The main character, Captain Tyrian Persimmon, fell in love with Gilda Lavanne- the brave woman pirate born from noble French stock. At one point Captian Tyrian grabbed her by the shoulders and told her to undress. She tore the top of the dress open (she was still decent underneath. No Janet Jackson action here) "you fancy such a scarred body as mine?" she laughed. They said some more stuff, very intimately, and the scene ended with the two of them on the bed, appearing to be making out. I wasn't quite sure, as we were in the cheap seats, and I had no binoculars.
But this brought up a very real moral dillemma: Should I be turned on? I mean, on the one hand, it was a Captain having his way with a proper lady which we all have become immune to since Disney's Beauty and the Beast. But on the other hand it was two women. It was almost like the movie Boys Don't Cry. But the thing is, even the actresses who play male characters are flawlessly beautiful. The Takarazu theatre takes in thousands of applications every year from girls aged 15-18 and only 50 of the best dancers, singers and lookers are chosen. There is a lot of talent here. They are trained very strictly, in disciplines of dance, song, acting, and- I like to imagine- pillowfighting. And any other spare time must be spent at beauty parlours. So basically, would it be wrong to be turned on? I finally decided there wasn't any reason why not. But then the lights dimmed. These actresses have restraint.
The play finished in dramatic style. They did a great job acting out a multiple-ship battle on one stage. As soon as the applause stopped, hundreds of women ran out of the theatre. "Those crazy fans" I thought. But no, they were running to get first in line for the toilets. This was the halftime pause. It was a long performance. Amazingly, the seat infront of me was ocupied by a male. The sillhouette of his head was at such an angle that he was obviously asleep.
The 2nd half of the show was a revue, which was basically over an hour of song and dance numbers. Tango's and tap, ballet and a lot of partner dancing. As well as they were dancing the male parts, you can't expect to simply wear a tuxedo and pass as a guy. Which was cool, because I'd rather watch chicks dancing together. There was a big Can Can, and the the finale showcased the main actresses coming down the giant staircase wearing feathers that were so big they had to have come from the dinosaurs. (high-lighter-coloured dinosaurs, obviously). The final applause was sustained. This time I was able to join in. The dancers deserved this; they really worked for it.
I walked out of the theatre as if I'd just walked in on a childbirth. I was almost shell-shocked from all the song and dance and colours. There is probably nothing outside of Vegas that could prepare you for this. My friend really enjoyed it, and asked what I thought. It was too soon.
When I got home to my brothers place, and he said "How was it?", in that knowing older-brother tone.
"It was good", I replied.
I think I was more surprised than him at the reply. But it really was. I mean, sure it's eerie with the blurring of gender roles, and the over-the-top spectacle of it all was sensory overload. But no amount of feathers, glitter or fake nose-bridges can mask the fact that these performers are good. Really good. I sometimes see the actors on the trains, and they have this unnmistakeable authority about them. It's not the boys haircuts or enormous glasses that gives them away. They move with so much confidence. They stand with so much confidence. They simply exist with so much confidence. And not the kind of arrogant western confidence that we now expect starts to have.
Even someone like me, who can't go to a club-night without hurting myself or others (usually others), their talent is so obvious. For someone who played and sang a 4 -chord ukulele song at the school festival 3 weeks ago for hundreds of people, they humble me. The main character (playing the Captain) was apparently a Soprano earlier in her career. In this age of such superficial stardom, seeing these real, talented, throwback performers in a big-scale show was great. The question seems to be, would you rather your daughter have a poster in their bedroom of one of the unplace-able Takarazuka actresses, or a conventional celebrity?
They haven't created a new fan out of me, but I admit it really was a great show, and it seems to be getting better the more I think about it. And you cannot complain about ticket prices. Our seats for the play and the revue cost only slightly more than going to the cinema, and all they do there is push the play button. Would I go to another show? Probably, but I would like to know the story well, so I don't get as lost, and I would pay more to get a better seat (I still figure that'd be cheaper option than buying binoculars. But really, it was good beyond simply crossing it off the list of 'things to do before I die'. And finally I have a different answer to that annoying persistent question.
Of course I haven't gone to see a play there.
Although my brother lives so close, he has never gone to see a play, and he intends it on staying that way. Still, I was prone to go and see one, even if only to be able to dismiss that annoying question with an affirmative answer.
An American also living in Toyama turned out to be a big Takarazuka theatre fan. Despite this, we became friends. You see, Takarazuka fans generally are... well , I don't know how to describe them. I've seen them before, lining up outside the theatre wearing actor-sponsored apparel in any weather, just to catch glimpses of the actors coming or leaving the theatre.
This weekend, my friend came down to Kansai for the weekend to watch three of these plays, and I was in Kansai to get drunk. I came up with the brilliant idea of combining a hangover with watching a play. I had to wake up at 7:30 so we could line up for an hour to get tickets. It was lucky we did, as we only just got seats, right at the back of the theatre. My friend came prepared, bringing a pair of binoculars. I prepared by drinking a can of coffee.
The whole theatre complex was immense. In Japan there is a romantic fascination with Europe, and especially France. This theatre was a disneyland version of a French avenue. Garish pink lamposts, sift/souvinir shops with European storefronts, and signs written in flowery French. The shops provised much entertainment with its ingenious marketing of crap. Most had displayed the heavily made up faces of the actresses. The european fascination extends to the make-up, as the Japanese actresses actually have nose-bridges.
I still don't understand this. You know, I have recieved compliments about the bridge of my nose, in a tone usually reserved when you ask someone if they've lost weight. So the faces of these heavily made up actresses is disturbing. They don't look female, but they dont look quite male either; they don't look Japanese, and you can't simply bridge a nose and expect to look caucasian. It's eeire, and almost disturbing. They sit suspended somewhere beyond definition.
In fact, the whole performance was beyond definition. The huge theatre was packed out with 95% women. There was a giant moving stage, holes in the floor where characters would appear and dissappear, stage sets that floated into place, hoardes of relentless backup dancers, and a flawless orchetra. The show began, and when the main actresses appeared they were greeted with applause. Although, it wasn't applause like I have ever seen it. It was concise applause, exectued with precision. To be polite, I tried clapping too, but by the time I started, the applause had already finished. Basically, the whole theatre was a well-practiced, seamless machine, from the actors to the spectators.
The play I watched was called "El Halcon" (The falcon, エル・アルコン). It was about Spanish and British sailors and pirates and stuff... It was bizzare trying to figure out who was who, who was good and bad, and even who was male and female. If you have ever watched a Hollywood movie in Japanese voice-over, you'll be aware that all males are voice-acted by the same guy, doing the same voice. I could not distinguish Eddie Murphy from Gene Hackman. I believe this same guy teaches the acrtresses to speak like men. And I was so far away, I couldn't often tell who was speaking.
Also, Takarazuka theatre is known for the extravagant costumes, even in period dramas. Colours and glitters and even feathers. I manage to figure out a fail-proof system for sexing the actresses:
Pants = Male character.
Things became simpler once I figured that out. The story line of deceit and treachery was well above my Japanese ability, especially when they have most of their lines in song and dance. There was a lot of fighting, but it was odd seeing women acting out swordplay (the only real aspect that seemed to be rather half-assed). I don't know, it just felt that was noteworthy... But I did follow the love story that developed. The main character, Captain Tyrian Persimmon, fell in love with Gilda Lavanne- the brave woman pirate born from noble French stock. At one point Captian Tyrian grabbed her by the shoulders and told her to undress. She tore the top of the dress open (she was still decent underneath. No Janet Jackson action here) "you fancy such a scarred body as mine?" she laughed. They said some more stuff, very intimately, and the scene ended with the two of them on the bed, appearing to be making out. I wasn't quite sure, as we were in the cheap seats, and I had no binoculars.
But this brought up a very real moral dillemma: Should I be turned on? I mean, on the one hand, it was a Captain having his way with a proper lady which we all have become immune to since Disney's Beauty and the Beast. But on the other hand it was two women. It was almost like the movie Boys Don't Cry. But the thing is, even the actresses who play male characters are flawlessly beautiful. The Takarazu theatre takes in thousands of applications every year from girls aged 15-18 and only 50 of the best dancers, singers and lookers are chosen. There is a lot of talent here. They are trained very strictly, in disciplines of dance, song, acting, and- I like to imagine- pillowfighting. And any other spare time must be spent at beauty parlours. So basically, would it be wrong to be turned on? I finally decided there wasn't any reason why not. But then the lights dimmed. These actresses have restraint.
The play finished in dramatic style. They did a great job acting out a multiple-ship battle on one stage. As soon as the applause stopped, hundreds of women ran out of the theatre. "Those crazy fans" I thought. But no, they were running to get first in line for the toilets. This was the halftime pause. It was a long performance. Amazingly, the seat infront of me was ocupied by a male. The sillhouette of his head was at such an angle that he was obviously asleep.
The 2nd half of the show was a revue, which was basically over an hour of song and dance numbers. Tango's and tap, ballet and a lot of partner dancing. As well as they were dancing the male parts, you can't expect to simply wear a tuxedo and pass as a guy. Which was cool, because I'd rather watch chicks dancing together. There was a big Can Can, and the the finale showcased the main actresses coming down the giant staircase wearing feathers that were so big they had to have come from the dinosaurs. (high-lighter-coloured dinosaurs, obviously). The final applause was sustained. This time I was able to join in. The dancers deserved this; they really worked for it.
I walked out of the theatre as if I'd just walked in on a childbirth. I was almost shell-shocked from all the song and dance and colours. There is probably nothing outside of Vegas that could prepare you for this. My friend really enjoyed it, and asked what I thought. It was too soon.
When I got home to my brothers place, and he said "How was it?", in that knowing older-brother tone.
"It was good", I replied.
I think I was more surprised than him at the reply. But it really was. I mean, sure it's eerie with the blurring of gender roles, and the over-the-top spectacle of it all was sensory overload. But no amount of feathers, glitter or fake nose-bridges can mask the fact that these performers are good. Really good. I sometimes see the actors on the trains, and they have this unnmistakeable authority about them. It's not the boys haircuts or enormous glasses that gives them away. They move with so much confidence. They stand with so much confidence. They simply exist with so much confidence. And not the kind of arrogant western confidence that we now expect starts to have.
Even someone like me, who can't go to a club-night without hurting myself or others (usually others), their talent is so obvious. For someone who played and sang a 4 -chord ukulele song at the school festival 3 weeks ago for hundreds of people, they humble me. The main character (playing the Captain) was apparently a Soprano earlier in her career. In this age of such superficial stardom, seeing these real, talented, throwback performers in a big-scale show was great. The question seems to be, would you rather your daughter have a poster in their bedroom of one of the unplace-able Takarazuka actresses, or a conventional celebrity?
They haven't created a new fan out of me, but I admit it really was a great show, and it seems to be getting better the more I think about it. And you cannot complain about ticket prices. Our seats for the play and the revue cost only slightly more than going to the cinema, and all they do there is push the play button. Would I go to another show? Probably, but I would like to know the story well, so I don't get as lost, and I would pay more to get a better seat (I still figure that'd be cheaper option than buying binoculars. But really, it was good beyond simply crossing it off the list of 'things to do before I die'. And finally I have a different answer to that annoying persistent question.
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