When the maneki name boards go up above the theatre, it’s the sign that Kaomise season has come around again, and the excitement just won’t stop. And 2023 was an especially special one: the name succession of Ichikawa Danjūrō XIII, Hakuen, and the stage debut of Ichikawa Shinnosuke VIII. A ten-year-old’s debut brought unexpected tears. Today, too, was wonderful, of course.
What is the Kaomise?
Held every December at the Minamiza Theatre in Kyoto, the “Kichirei Kaomise Production” (the Festive Kaomise Production) is a year-end kabuki tradition, often counted among Kyoto’s annual events. When the rows of “maneki” name boards (signboards bearing the names of the actors appearing in the run) go up across the front of the theatre, the whole town slips into end-of-year mode!
This year it was a celebration-filled production, marking both Ichikawa Ebizō XI’s succession to the name of Ichikawa Danjūrō XIII, Hakuen, and the stage debut of Ichikawa Shinnosuke VIII.
A town saying “We’ve been waiting!”
Actually, even before the run began, the streets of Gion were lined from November with banners reading “We’ve been waiting!! Gion loves kabuki,” and I grinned every time I passed one. The name-succession billboards and the kōjō (stage announcement) signage stood in front of the Minamiza too, and the whole town felt like it was restlessly waiting for opening day.
This “time spent waiting” is part of the Kaomise as well, I thought, and it made me smile.
The adorable, endearing Yogorō
My seat this day was the front row of the second level, dead center. Not as close to the stage as a hanamichi-side seat, but a wonderfully comfortable spot with the whole stage in clear view.
The Matinee opened with Futatsu Chōchō Kuruwa Nikki: the “Sumō Arena” scene. Ichikawa Somegorō, one of the actors I’d been looking forward to, played Yogorō, the young master of the Yamazakiya. Yogorō is a “tsukkorobashi” role — a soft, foppish, easily-toppled young-master type with a sweet charm. The way he repeats “Nanjai, nanjai… nanjai” (“What’s that… what of it?”) in frustration was so adorable, so endearing. Getting to meet a soft, sweet role like this is one of the joys of kabuki.
Tears at a ten-year-old’s debut
And then Uirō Uri (The Medicine Peddler). This was the stage debut of ten-year-old Shinnosuke, taking on that long tongue-twisting speech (a rapid-fire extended monologue).
Seeing how splendidly he had grown — the toughness and the pluck of a boy standing on that stage carrying all kinds of things on his shoulders — brought tears to my eyes. I couldn’t help imagining the daily efforts of his father, Danjūrō, either.
That has nothing to do with the stage itself, of course. Before evaluating him as an actor, I found myself weighing his human side — which makes me, through and through, an amateur spectator. But that’s perfectly fine (ha).
Intermission: the curtain and a Nada Man lunch box
The treat of the intermission was the celebratory curtain whose original artwork was created by Takashi Murakami. It had been the talk of the town, so I was delighted to see the real thing — “so this is it!” As celebratory curtains go, it was packed with things to look at; I could have spent the whole intermission just staring at it. Even if I was eating while I watched (ha). The Nada Man lunch box I’d lined up for inside the theatre after entering was delicious.
Wrap-up
A name succession, a stage debut, and Murakami’s curtain — a Kaomise full of special things. The white curtain bearing the Mimasu crest was brimming with festive spirit, too.
I also took in Danjūrō’s stage in Otokodate Hana no Yoshiwara and Kagekiyo, for a thoroughly satisfying Matinee. Getting to witness the next generation growing up in the world of kabuki is a happy thing for an audience member too, I felt.
I’d bought a ticket for the Evening Show as well, so there was still plenty to look forward to — which meant I could head home this day with no lingering reluctance (ha).
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