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eerietomI’ve just had the most amazing musical experience ever: a Noh play called Dōjōji (道成寺), which is the name of a Buddhist temple.
Plot summary (there are variations, but this is the basic story): priests are installing a large bell in Dōjōji. A woman attempts to get inside the temple but is told that women are forbidden to enter. She manages to make her way inside and begins to dance for the priests. She suddenly runs under the bell, which comes crashing down and traps her inside. Long ago, the woman mistakenly thought she was betrothed to a priest. After incurring her wrath by rejecting her, he fled to Dōjōji and hid under a bell. The vengeful woman transformed into a demon and spat fire on the bell, burning the priest to death. When the priests are able to raise the bell, she has transformed into a demon again. The priests finally drive her away through prayer.
This wasn’t the first time I’ve seen a Noh play, but there were several quite outstanding elements in this one:
☆ The singing sounded like an operatic tenor trying to imitate a combination of Jimi Hendrix’s or Arto Lindsay’s guitar playing, a nightmare demon pigeon from hell (if you can imagine that), and a wolf, and then all of that sound was fed through a variety of electric guitar effects boxes. There were dramatic pitch jumps, timbre and volume changes, glissandi, and human high- and low-pass filtering.
☆ The chanting of the priests: maybe it’s because everything sounds more musical when I’m stoned, but there were some very unusual harmonies here, much more intricate and complex than standard Western harmonizing. Perhaps similar to what the Bulgarian State Female Vocal Choir does? Or was it even more complex, going into microtone territory? Between this and the vocal effects, they make Noh (which began in the 14th century) seem futuristic, avant-garde, and much more musically innovative than Western operatic music!
☆ There was a middle section where everyone onstage froze. Nobody moved, nobody made a sound. Then abruptly, the maiden would jerk a foot just slightly and one of the singers would either strike his drum or call out. The silence and stillness came again, for about 30 seconds, then the singer and maiden would again punctuate the silence. I wondered: was the singer watching the maiden for a cue? Or were they able to count time to themselves so accurately they managed to stay in sync? I later found out this section is called a ranbyōshi (乱拍子; “confused rhythm”). At first I was (I hate to say) a little bemused, but after a few minutes I was gripped in absolute, nearly unbearable suspense: how long would this go on? When would the next one occur? This section lasted about fifteen minutes.
☆ While most of the performers onstage wore kimono with flared “shoulders” cut on sharp geometric angles, a trio of priests wore kimono made of a very soft fabric in tones of brown. When the priests sat, the sleeves would hide their hands, giving the impression of daruma, small dolls that represent good luck and perseverance in Japan.
☆ When the bell fell, the force of it hitting the ground seemed to knock two priests over and caused them to roll around. One priest spoke a short phrase, then the other followed suit, then each repeated their phrases two more times. These repetitions were so precise it was as if they had sampled themselves.
☆ All musical hell broke loose after the ranbyōshi as the play turned into a rock concert: loud, raucous, and rhythmic, with the singers really beginning to howl, shriek, and wail. Especially interesting was the noise made by three priests rubbing their prayer beads together, in what sounded like a chorus of lawn sprinklers going tsch-tsch-tsch. And unlike most of us if confronted by a demon bent on vengeance, the priests were absolutely expressionless when trying to drive the demon away, giving the impression of solemn concentration and divine power at work.
☆ The trippiest moment of all was when the maiden began her dance. Due to the low resolution of my viewer, her painted mask generated moiré pattern interference, making the mask look as if an actual moving human face was projected onto it. It was an eerie moment, an imagined meeting of traditional theater and hi-tech special effects. The movement of the “projected face”, looking around and opening and closing its mouth, didn’t sync with the action or the singing, making it seem even more surreal and removed. (I have a thing for incongruity)
☆ Towards the end one of the priests opened a folding fan, and it appeared to have patterns of silver paint (which shone like mirrors), giving the rock concert a glam feel!
☆ In most Noh theaters, the lights above the audience are kept on, but in this production, they were not. The stage seemed to be in outer space. The surrealism was enhanced by the fact the “spaceship” was made of highly polished wood and partially opened to space.
☆ And finally, there was another appearance by the Godcat!
Click image for larger view; opens in new window.
The Godcat looks down from the upper left, silently observing the play. The cat image comes from an 1865 illustration of the Cheshire Cat by artist John Tenniel (1820-1914).
Plot summary (there are variations, but this is the basic story): priests are installing a large bell in Dōjōji. A woman attempts to get inside the temple but is told that women are forbidden to enter. She manages to make her way inside and begins to dance for the priests. She suddenly runs under the bell, which comes crashing down and traps her inside. Long ago, the woman mistakenly thought she was betrothed to a priest. After incurring her wrath by rejecting her, he fled to Dōjōji and hid under a bell. The vengeful woman transformed into a demon and spat fire on the bell, burning the priest to death. When the priests are able to raise the bell, she has transformed into a demon again. The priests finally drive her away through prayer.
This wasn’t the first time I’ve seen a Noh play, but there were several quite outstanding elements in this one:
☆ The singing sounded like an operatic tenor trying to imitate a combination of Jimi Hendrix’s or Arto Lindsay’s guitar playing, a nightmare demon pigeon from hell (if you can imagine that), and a wolf, and then all of that sound was fed through a variety of electric guitar effects boxes. There were dramatic pitch jumps, timbre and volume changes, glissandi, and human high- and low-pass filtering.
☆ The chanting of the priests: maybe it’s because everything sounds more musical when I’m stoned, but there were some very unusual harmonies here, much more intricate and complex than standard Western harmonizing. Perhaps similar to what the Bulgarian State Female Vocal Choir does? Or was it even more complex, going into microtone territory? Between this and the vocal effects, they make Noh (which began in the 14th century) seem futuristic, avant-garde, and much more musically innovative than Western operatic music!
☆ There was a middle section where everyone onstage froze. Nobody moved, nobody made a sound. Then abruptly, the maiden would jerk a foot just slightly and one of the singers would either strike his drum or call out. The silence and stillness came again, for about 30 seconds, then the singer and maiden would again punctuate the silence. I wondered: was the singer watching the maiden for a cue? Or were they able to count time to themselves so accurately they managed to stay in sync? I later found out this section is called a ranbyōshi (乱拍子; “confused rhythm”). At first I was (I hate to say) a little bemused, but after a few minutes I was gripped in absolute, nearly unbearable suspense: how long would this go on? When would the next one occur? This section lasted about fifteen minutes.
☆ While most of the performers onstage wore kimono with flared “shoulders” cut on sharp geometric angles, a trio of priests wore kimono made of a very soft fabric in tones of brown. When the priests sat, the sleeves would hide their hands, giving the impression of daruma, small dolls that represent good luck and perseverance in Japan.
☆ When the bell fell, the force of it hitting the ground seemed to knock two priests over and caused them to roll around. One priest spoke a short phrase, then the other followed suit, then each repeated their phrases two more times. These repetitions were so precise it was as if they had sampled themselves.
☆ All musical hell broke loose after the ranbyōshi as the play turned into a rock concert: loud, raucous, and rhythmic, with the singers really beginning to howl, shriek, and wail. Especially interesting was the noise made by three priests rubbing their prayer beads together, in what sounded like a chorus of lawn sprinklers going tsch-tsch-tsch. And unlike most of us if confronted by a demon bent on vengeance, the priests were absolutely expressionless when trying to drive the demon away, giving the impression of solemn concentration and divine power at work.
☆ The trippiest moment of all was when the maiden began her dance. Due to the low resolution of my viewer, her painted mask generated moiré pattern interference, making the mask look as if an actual moving human face was projected onto it. It was an eerie moment, an imagined meeting of traditional theater and hi-tech special effects. The movement of the “projected face”, looking around and opening and closing its mouth, didn’t sync with the action or the singing, making it seem even more surreal and removed. (I have a thing for incongruity)
☆ Towards the end one of the priests opened a folding fan, and it appeared to have patterns of silver paint (which shone like mirrors), giving the rock concert a glam feel!
☆ In most Noh theaters, the lights above the audience are kept on, but in this production, they were not. The stage seemed to be in outer space. The surrealism was enhanced by the fact the “spaceship” was made of highly polished wood and partially opened to space.
☆ And finally, there was another appearance by the Godcat!
Click image for larger view; opens in new window.
The Godcat looks down from the upper left, silently observing the play. The cat image comes from an 1865 illustration of the Cheshire Cat by artist John Tenniel (1820-1914).
