Puppet masters
Osaka, Japan
I AM WATCHING a performance of the National Bunraku Theatre in Osaka, Japan. Everyone in the theatre is Japanese but me. The English translation of the storyline is softly channeling through the headset on my ears. I am enthralled.
Each huge puppet is controlled by three puppeteers, one for the head and right hand, another for the left hand, the third the lower body and feet. Dressed all in black, the puppeteers silently walk around the stage, skillfully, invisibly, moving their part of the puppet, in perfect synchronization with each other. A narrator sits off to the side of the stage, dressed in traditional clothing, reading from a massive book. He plays every part, modulating his voice for the hero, raising it for the ingenue, growling gruffly for the villain, snarling for the fiendish mother-in-law. His narration is accompanied by a musician playing a 3-stringed instrument, a samisen.
The performance I am watching was written 400 years ago. It is a very long play of 11 acts, but only five will be performed today. The puppets are brought to life through the skill of the performers. I am transfixed. This classic love story of loyalty and revenge, devotion and betrayal, malice and spite resonates through the centuries.
I have been watching the performance for hours with one intermission. The audience gets up, so I do as well. We file out to the lobby and buy bento boxes. We eat our box lunches then file back in, take our seats. The sold out crowd is orderly, polite. They smile and nod at me. I smile back as I adjust my headset.
The five acts of the play are finally over. It is time to leave. I reluctantly get up but I’m not done. I want more! Will the young lovers be reunited? Will the hero return from exile? What becomes of the ruthless mother-in-law?
Ten years later, I return to Osaka. Number one on my list of things to do is “Bunraku”. To my profound disappointment, performances are held the first half of the month, before I arrive. I email the theater, hoping I misunderstood, am mistaken, perhaps got confused looking at the website, but no, they write back. No performances during my two weeks.
I vow to return. I’m not done.