Learning the Art of Bunraku and the Three-Man Puppet

Bunraku, or ningyo joruri, is the traditional japanese performing art of puppetry. In addition to the puppeteers and their tools, the puppets themselves, a usual bunraku performance will have two other key parts. One is the tayu, a narrator similar in practice to the Japanese performance art of Noh dramas, who, using a variety of voices and inflection, tells the tale the puppets are acting out on stage. In accompaniment to the tayu is the shamisen player, or players depending on the theatre. A shamisen is an instrument similar to a guitar or sitar, only with three strings and instead of using a normal pick or hand to play, a shamisen requires a specialized pick, called a bachi. (Examples of bachi (top) photo by KogeJoe. Examples of a shamisen (bottom) photo by Ryukei at the Chinese Wikipedia).

Usually, the tayu and shamisen player sit on their own small stage to the side of the main performance, remaining seated in the seiza position for nearly the entire performance. The pieces I saw performed by larger theatres would usually have multiple stories performed and the tayu and shamisen would swap out in between performances. Occasionally additional performers backstage handle other responsibilities such as playing on the taiko drums when required or assisting in quick scene changes.

We again watched taped past performances of the pieces we would be performing, Oshichi and Hidakagawa and began discussing who would be fulfilling each role. We had nine students and one student leader, just barely enough
to put on each performance, with some of us performing in both. I had found Sendo, the crass and burly boatman from Hidakagawa, to be a fairly hilarious character, adding boorish behavior such as scratching a mosquito bite in addition to his brusque rebukes of Kiyo-hime's attempts to cross the river. As luck would have it, my traveling companion, John, and our friend, Trevor, also wanted to perform as Sendo and so we formed what came to be known as our infamous "Sendo trio." John, Trevor and I all had a soft spot for otaku culture, and throughout the summer we became near inseparable, making it easier to get along and perform our role as the boatman.

Our decision to embody Sendo meant we would be performing in Hidakagawa, which included two other sets of puppeteers, one to handle the Kiyo-hime character as she laments on the bank of the river, and another to operate a demon version of Kiyo-hime, signalling her fall into despair and anger over her love Anchin's supposed betrayal. The Sendo trio was also responsible for the only scene change, the final scene depicting Kiyo-hime's rise from the river, evidently possessed by a demon of envy. (Below is a scene during one of our practices for Hidakagawa. Photo courtesy of Kelly Washatka).

Initially, Oshichi consisted of only two sets of puppeteers; one for Oshichi as she debates the decision to save herself or her lover, and another for Oshichi as she climbs the bell tower to sound the fire alarm. Other smaller parts and pieces would be added later, but I'm getting a bit ahead of myself.

Mondays would prove to be our most time-consuming day each week. We are scheduled to attend a makeshift language and cultural class every Monday, Wednesday and Friday, with our professor, Holman-sensei. These took place in the mornings, usually after our host families have left for their jobs and any host-siblings have left for school, about 10 a.m. each day. During these sessions, we were required to come up with three language questions we came across during our time with our host family and three cultural questions.

These could range from symbol vocabulary questions to questions about proper table manners, such as what to do when you are too full, but your host family still wants to stuff you with food (I can tell you from experience, this is a very common occurrence in host families.They were hosted more often than not at the second kouminkan, where we would actually have a good portion of our program activities, rather than the building in which we had the welcome party. The sessions would last anywhere from 1 to 3 hours depending on the amount of questions we had or any other program activities we had scheduled for that day. Mondays were the busiest, as after our language lessons, we had an hour or two to ourselves before we were schedule to reconvene at the station to head to puppet practice.

The train ride from Iida station to Tenryuukyo station, named for the Tenryuu River that ran through the city, literally translated as Heavenly Dragon River, took around 30 minutes. On days where we didn't have program-led activities, we would pick up several students on the way, as a majority lived closer to different stations throughout the city. From the Tenryuukyo station it was then about a 30-minute walk to the Imada theatre. Practices on Monday were scheduled for 2:30-8:30 p.m., meaning not only did we have a long day of practice, but it would be over after the final train ran for the day, forcing our host families to pick us up after it was over. We practiced twice weekly, the other day being a shortened practice on Thursdays from 6-8 p.m. (Photos: A shot of the Tenryu River winding through southern Nagano prefecture (Top) by K.F. The Tenryu River at a public access point in the city of Iida (Bottom) courtesy of Kelly Washatka).

After learning our roles, we were divided into our groups to begin learning the basics of puppetry, including how to move with the puppet and techniques for gaining the appearance of more natural movement. Another fortune fell on us that day, as we learned that during our practices for Hidakagawa, we would get to work exclusively with Zachou-san as he taught us how to bring the boatman to life. Zachou-san spoke very little English, so working with him forced us to quickly pick up instructional phrases when he told us what we need to be doing. Plus, much of what he wanted us to do could be communicated with movement rather than words.

Meanwhile, Kinoshita-san worked with the Kiyo-hime puppeteers during our practices. We wouldn't work with Yukihiko-san until about midway through the summer, as it wasn't until then we were at the skill level to perform with a live tayu and shamisen player. He would, however, spend most of our practices in the back rooms of the theatre, teaching one of our students how to play shamisen. Unfortunately, that student had to leave the program early, and so we would have neither a student tayu or shamisen, which actually turned out to be quite helpful. Having professionals to rely on to deliver the proper cues was much more reassuring than relying on one of our own.

Useful phrase in this week's post:

Bachi - ばち - 枹

Meaning: Pick, drumstick for Japanese drum