Posted: Tuesday June 15, 2010

The Gull: An Inside View

By David Fujino


April 25-May 7, 2005 – Burnaby, British Columbia

I thought my ankle was broken.

Sensei had asked me to squat down and sit with my left buttock on my left ankle. My body rebelled, and I crazily leapt up, white lights in my eyes, cursing with pain. Things weren’t looking too good.

It was, after all, only the first leg of a two-week training period in the highly specialized world of Noh Theatre, and already my survival was in question – both my physical survival and the survival of my reputation as an actor. At least, this is how I felt.

Along with six Vancouver actors, I was receiving classical Noh training – rigorous training, as it turned out, in the posture (kamae), the walk (suri ashi), the movement patterns (kata), the dance, the use of fans, the sitting posture (seiza), the speech pattern (kotoba), the singing (gogin and wagin), and the spiritual philosophies of Noh – specifically, Noh as practised by the Kita School.

After this two-week intensive, we were contracted to present two staged readings of the Noh play, “The Gull.” There’d be one reading at The Gulf of Georgia Cannery Museum in Steveston, and a second at the Nikkei Centre in Burnaby. Staged readings allow a director and playwright to test run a play and see what needs to be fine-tuned before going into full production with a set, music and musicians, costumes, lighting, and props.

Our teachers were the director and lead actor, the internationally acclaimed Noh master, Akira Matsui, and the American-born composer, Richard Emmert. Richard is a 30-year resident of Tokyo and a professor of Asian theatre and dance at Musashino University, while Matsui-sensei hails from Wakayama where his ghost character also comes from. Anxiety was high among the actors.


What is The Gull?

“The Gull” is an English language Noh play written by the internationally recognized poet and novelist, Daphne Marlatt, who lives in Vancouver. Intended as a collaboration between western theatre artists and Noh artists, Marlatt has written in the printed programme of the play that “The Gull” maintains the musical structure of a classical Noh play, but differs slightly in a few respects.

The scene I appear in – referred to as “Ai-Kyogen” – borrows from “the separate tradition of Kyogen, short comical plays with broad humour that serve as interludes between the more tragic and lyrical plays from the Noh repertoire” explains Marlatt in the programme. Positioned between Act I and Act II, this Ai-Kyogen is a “prose interlude that’s both longer and more realistic than usual.” The characters of the Waki and Wakitsure (the two fishermen brothers) are more fully developed than customarily required. And the lead role (The Shite) first appears as a bird-woman instead of as a human being, again a departure.

The other four actors were cast in the role of chorus members. Unlike me –Toronto boy – they were required to kneel in seiza the entire 75 minutes of the play and sing with the three drummers and the flute player who animated the space (mah) with their deeply effecting drum calls and their focused primal energy.

But few western stage actors are accustomed to Noh’s constant physical and psychological demands of kneeling, squatting, turning, and moving purposefully upright with a low centre of gravity. Let’s just say, we Canadians had our work cut out for us.


The Story

“The Gull” is the story of two brothers who’ve returned to the hostile West Coast in the 1950’s, after the forced internment of World War II, to fish. The ghost of their Issei mother visits their boat. She died in New Denver during internment and is angry that they’ve returned to Steveston instead of relocating to what she considers their true spiritual home, her home village of Mio, Japan. The brothers explain that this Canadian coast is their home, and that she is still trapped in the past. As in so many Noh plays, the release of a character from their suffering is a central concern.


March 20-25, 2006 – Richmond, British Columbia

We’re at Gateway Theatre in the rehearsal hall for one week, 10 am to 6 pm. Richard-sensei is patient and professional as he puts us through our suri ashi paces. His gentle sense of humour keeps everything light. The by-now-familiar company of actors are intent on their tasks. Two actors – they’re really good − are brand new replacements for a couple of guys who took on other work. The business of acting is that of always looking for work, so you really can’t blame actors if they grab a job that comes their way.

During break time, one chorus member pointedly tells me that he’s been working his legs hard since April-May, 2005. (Seiza and suri ashi are twin mountains to climb, whether anyone speaks about it or not. This is a good cast. Nobody whines.) I share the information that I, too, have been working on my seiza − and suri ashi − even though the whole cast knows that Ai-Kyogen’s not required to perform these movements in his scene. In an act of neurotic self-defence, I add that I know most of the chorus songs. Sigh. The real point is that we all have our individual mountains to climb. And each of us is on our own.


How Did The Gull Come About?

Here’s how the producer/actor, Heidi Specht, explains it in the printed programme: “I first approached Joy Kogawa to write the piece, but she felt that Daphne Marlatt who had already written so much about Steveston would be a better choice. I’ll never forget the feeling of excitement I had after my first meeting with Daphne. I knew Joy had been right, and “The Gull” was on its way to becoming a reality.”


So, Where’s Ai-Kyogen, My Character?

An actor’s job is to build a character. Looking back on it all, it took me about 14 months from the spring of 2005 to the spring of 2006 until I delivered a clearly defined character onto the Noh stage at Richmond City Hall Plaza. Hours were spent studying the script as well as my scene. I listened to audiotapes and CDs of Richard-sensei performing all the chorus songs, drum calls, and the percussion parts. I did my daily stretches and added the stretching of the ligaments in my legs before sitting in seiza for a few minutes. And always I struggled to keep away the beast that lurks, an actor’s self-doubts …

Richard Emmert had a lot to do with getting me there. For example, we worked on how to drink whiskey − yes, there’s a specific way that characters drink spirits in Noh plays. Then Matsui-sensei interposed and told me there was a difference between getting thrown about a boat and stumbling around drunk. I had to work on that. And Richard had me rehearsing new exit movements a week before the Preview performances. In addition, parts of the Ai-Kyogen scene were still being written.

I laugh each time I recall Daphne Marlatt handing me another version of the Ai-Kyogen scene and saying, “Sorry, David …” Each time I had more lines to learn, but I quickly reminded myself that for an actor, it’s good to get more lines! As it turned out, Daphne’s rewrites deepened my relationship with the two fishermen brothers, and on a practical level, made the scene more personal and therefore easier to act.

When the Waki character tells me that his ailing mother’s coughing got worse in Greenwood, the right emotional chord was struck. I was born in Greenwood. Then to hear the names of other internment camps like Orchard, Kaslo, Slocan, Popoff and New Denver, simply made the Japanese Canadian internment experience even more real for me. However, while busy empathizing with the brothers’ story, I began to speak quieter. So my onstage task became that of making sure the volume of my speaking voice didn’t drop. This is one example of over-riding one’s natural instincts in order to maintain the intensity of a scene –especially important in Noh theatre, where intensity is the name of the game.


About Noh (excerpted from the May 10-14, 2006 Programme)

Classical Japanese Noh is one of the oldest continually performed theatre forms in the world. A powerful and stately performance experience requiring intense inner concentration and physical discipline, Noh is an integrated combination of dance, drama, chant, music, and poetry. Richly symbolic and beautifully stylized, its roots lie in Japanese Shinto and Zen Buddhism. Plays are often deeply philosophical and concerned with spiritual beliefs and moral codes.

Noh developed into its present form during the 14th and 15th centuries under the leadership of the distinguished performer playwrights Kannami and his son Zeami. Largely based in the cities of Tokyo, Osaka, and Kyoto, it is performed throughout the country by professional artists, mainly men, who have passed down the art among family members for numerous generations. There is also a wide following of both male and female amateurs who practice and perform its chant, dance, and instruments.

(Though) Noh cannot be described as a popular art among the average Japanese…its supporters are enthusiastic and its professional performers are highly trained and extremely busy performing and teaching throughout the country. There are today approximately 1,500 professional performers who make their living largely through performing and teaching Noh. (There are five shite schools: Kanze, Hosho, Kongo, Konparu, and Kita.)


What Did I Learn?

Each time I finish an acting job. I always ask myself two questions: “What did I learn?” and, “What did I contribute?”

In terms of acting craft, performing in “The Gull” confirmed my understanding that a direct physical action –a look, a hand gesture, a well-timed body turn – can speak volumes about one’s character. In playing Ai-Kyogen (also known in the play as Harry Takahashi), the overall interpretive challenge was to play the scene in a naturalistic manner, yet somehow still be doing Noh. My eventual solution was to embody a strong older fisherman (the Noh part) who’s actively interested in the lives of the two younger fishermen (the naturalistic part). My socializing and conversing with the two younger fishermen – during which time my character drank about four double shots of whiskey – made for an involving and amusing scene (judging by audience laughter and post-show feedback).

I learned that since “The Gull” was an intercultural collaboration – a two-way effort between Japanese Noh masters and professional western theatre artists – the contributions of the Canadian cast cannot be minimized. Frequently, and understandably, we were placed in the position of students of Noh. Noh-body among the Canadians can claim to be “great” in classical Noh. (The Waki actor is a possible exception, as he demonstrated considerable technical ability in kamae and suri ashi from Day One.) And if I quote the old show biz saying, “What are we, chopped liver?” I simply mean to assert that the Canadians played a major role in creating a true piece of Canadian Noh.

I also learned the difference between a traditional mindset versus a western/contemporary psychology. This came about during the final cast party at Daphne Marlatt’s home. While enjoying sushi and a glass of wine, I found myself receiving – in translation – some comments about my performance from one of the Japanese musicians: “It was very ‘unusual’ how you played the Ai-Kyogen part…and you were VERY LOUD in your drinking sounds…(‘Welcome to Canada,’ I thought)…Well, in the future it depends on how interested you are in pursuing Noh theatre…”

In dramatic contrast, two other Japanese musicians later came up to me, actually speaking English, saying “We’ll never forget your Ai-Kyogen performance. Thank you very much…” As a professional actor, and a human being, I’ve learned that it’s important to honour one’s self, one’s work ethic, and one’s craft – objectively. All this to say, I’m not a great Noh student, but myself and the entire Canadian cast did our best, and we can be extremely proud of our work in “The Gull.”


Here We Are

April 25-May 14, 2006, in Richmond, British Columbia. It’s the world premiere of Daphne Marlatt’s “The Gull” In the Plaza at Richmond City Hall sits a dominating white tent that houses the Noh stage – an all-charcoal-grey stage, looking very much like a fisherman’s wharf. On the upstage wall – traditionally in blonde wood – is a large painting of the sky, mountain and water at China Hat (Klemtu in Finlayson Channel). It’s all so Canadian west coast! Each of the 150-200 seats is fitted with a Japanese textile cushion. It feels just great to be a part of this production.


Final Thanks and Congratulations

Thank you, Daphne, once again, for telling our story so well. “The Gull” is a fine piece of writing and a true gift. To Matsui-sensei, thank you very much for a wonderful and inspiring performance as The Ghost. Emmert-sensei can’t be thanked enough for his music and energetic co-direction of the Canadian cast. And a special thank you to both the Producer Heidi Specht for making it all happen, and co-producer Lenard Stanga for his multi-tasking skills in publicity and production.

And, finally, a huge thank you to all the Creative team – the designers of the costumes, set, lighting, the shite masks, the stage manager, stage attendant, dresser, the rehearsal translator, interpreter, script translator, and the poster and program designers. Without you, “The Gull” could not fly. It WAS wonderful working with all of you.


A Final Note

Akira Kurosawa’s 1957 film, “Throne of Blood” (Kumonosuju-Jo), is a fine example of a Noh-influenced film. A faithful and striking adaptation of Shakespeare’s Macbeth, much of the film’s power comes from its stripped-down presentation and its intensely imagistic qualities.

To learn more about traditional and contemporary Noh, please consult these websites:

www.pangaea-arts.com
www.theatrenohgaku.org


CAST

SHITE (A GHOST)−Akira Matsui
WAKI (A Canadian born Fisherman)−Simon Hayama
WAKITSURE (Younger Brother of Waki)−Alvin Catacutan
AI-KYOGEN (An Older Japanese Canadian Fisherman)−David Fujino
MUSICAL DIRECTOR−Richard Emmert
CHORUS−Ari Solomon; Michael Robinson; Minoru Yamamoto; Kerry VanderGriend

MUSICIANS

Otsuzumi (Floor drum)−Mitsuo Kama
Taiko (Taiko drum)−Hitoshi Sakurai
Kotsuzumi (Shoulder drum)−Naoko Takahashi
Noh Flute−Narumi Takizawa


Reprinted by permission from Nikkei Voice, VOL. 20, NO.7, September 2006
www.nikkeivoice.ca