[In the following essay, Leiter discusses the different styles used in the collection of plays known as Juhachiban, or “Kabuki Eighteen,” and describes some of the most popular plays from the group, noting the Japanese fondness and reverence for these pieces, partly because of their association with the prestigious actor-family of Ichikawa.]

In the classical Kabuki play, Narukami, first presented in 1684, a young princess, Taema-no-hime, has come to the mountain retreat of the priest, Narukami, to trick him into releasing the rain-god, whom he has captured. Her method is seduction. When she feigns illness the priest undertakes to cure her and the following dialogue ensues:

TAEMA-NO-HIME:
… Oh, it pains!
NARUKAMI:
How pitiful. … Here, let me massage you a little.
TAEMA-NO-HIME:
That would be more than I deserve. How could I ask a priest to … ?
NARUKAMI:
Lady, you are ill; you need not be modest. Now are you ready? [He rubs] There, it seems that the source of the illness has been suppressed.
TAEMA-NO-HIME:
It is pleasurably smoothing. [As he is rubbing her breast, he suddenly pulls out his hand and looks surprised.] What is the matter?
NARUKAMI:
I touched something very extraordinary.
TAEMA-NO-HIME:
What did you touch?
NARUKAMI:
It is the first time since my birth that I have put my hand into a woman's breast. On your breast I felt something very soft like a pillow with a little tip.
TAEMA-NO-HIME:
Dear priest, how silly. That is a nipple.
NARUKAMI:
A nipple? How sinful of me. I have forgotten the gratitude I owe to my mother's nipple which reared me from a suckling. Truly, priests have no more human feelings than an offshoot from a tree.
TAEMA-NO-HIME:
Your words are laudable.
NARUKAMI:
Come let me massage you more. Below the nipple is the center of breath; and below the breath, the center of health, where the pain originates; below the pit, there is Paradise. …
TAEMA-NO-HIME:
My dear master, what are you doing?(1)

At this point the priest's sexual excitement becomes intense, the princess manages to carry off her ruse, and, when the deception becomes clear to him, Narukami undergoes a spectacular change of make-up and costume to become a veritable deity of rage. The piece ends with the depraved priest making a magnificently exaggerated exit on the runway (hanamichi) that passes through the audience of the Kabuki theatre.

In another play, Yanone, the hero, awakened from a dream warning him of danger to his brother, mounts a horse carrying radishes and, brandishing a radish about two feet in length as a whip, gallops down the hanamichi to the rescue. In the play Zōhiki, the climactic point comes when the chief male characters pose dramatically as they attempt to pull an elephant apart (the prop for the elephant is about five feet from tail to trunk and looks like an overstuffed toy). In Kenuki a pair of tweezers about a foot in length dance around on stage to the bafflement of the hero who is similarly puzzled by the malady troubling his master's fiancée, whose hair seems to stand on end whenever she removes a cloth covering it.

These rather outlandish scenes and situations are found in a variety of Japanese Kabuki known as aragoto (“rough thing”), where exaggeration is the fundamental theatrical principle. Aragoto is particularly evident in the acting of the chief male characters; as can be seen above, however, the mise en scene must correspond to the broad theatrics of the performers. This style of performance is said to have originated in 1674 when Ichikawa Danjuro I (1660—1704) performed it in the role of Sakata Kintoki. Modern scholars have cast doubts on this genesis,² but, true or not, there can be no doubt that Danjuro I and his son, Danjuro II, perfected the style, and handed it down as the special province of the Ichikawa family of actors.

The Ichikawa family, Kabuki's most prestigious actor-family, owns sole rights to a group of plays popularly known as the Kabuki Juhachiban (“The Kabuki Eighteen”). The examples of outlandish scenes described above are drawn from plays in this collection. The Juhachiban was compiled by Danjuro VII (1791-1859) from among the great successes of Danjuros I, II (1688-1758), and IV (1711-1778). When one of the plays is revived today the crest (mon) of the Ichikawa family (three squares, one inside the other, representing three measures of rice) is clearly in evidence on the costumes, even if the actors producing it are of other families. Special permission must be given by the Ichikawas before another family can do one of these pieces. Judging by the frequency of productions of such works as Kanjinchō, this permission appears to be a mere formality. Still, the “copyright” idea is of importance, for the Juhachiban includes several of what must be considered the most popular plays in the entire Kabuki canon, plays which are never failing attractions for Kabuki audiences. Plays like Kanjinchō, Sukeroku, and Shibaraku are familiar to people throughout Japan, even to those who have never been near a Kabuki theatre. It has long been a custom to decorate items of popular consumption with pictures of Kabuki actors and scenes and this custom persists today, the characters from such plays as have been mentioned being those most often used. It might be said that the Juhachiban plays symbolize Kabuki to the average Japanese.

Still, it must be understood that the style of performance in these plays is really not totally representative of Kabuki, which includes many styles, being an extremely eclectic theatre form. Nor are all the Juhachiban plays done in pure aragoto style. Sukeroku, for example, mixes elements of the more refined wagoto (“soft thing”) style, which flourished in the cities of Kyoto and Osaka, with the aragoto; the latter style was a product of Edo (Tokyo) which, as a much younger city, had a far brasher and less cultivated populace. Sukeroku is an exception in another sense, since it is considered a sewa mono, that is, a play of contemporary life, as opposed to the majority of the other Juhachiban numbers, which are set in the past and classed as history plays (judai mono).

Ironically, though the Juhachiban collection is the most respected of all actor-family play collections in Kabuki,³ most of its pieces are rarely revived. The original scripts for a good many are lost, one or two having perished even before the list was drawn up by Danjuro VII. Thus, the translation of the term Juhachiban, which literally means “eighteen,” really should not be something like “Kabuki's Eighteen Best Plays,” which is so often the case. When a revival is staged, a good deal of research is made into old prints and critical accounts and, invariably, a new script is prepared, using the basic plot of the original. Even when an old play receives several revivals within a space of a few years, if it is one that for many years has lain in abeyance, the rewritten versions are likely to differ widely in details from one revival to another, though the basic outward form is generally preserved. This is a typical Kabuki procedure for actors' preferences have always been dominant in this theatre form.

In earlier years if a particular stage effect or character was found to be popular in one play, the chances are that the next time the effect or character appeared it was embedded in a totally different play, or at least in a greatly revised version of the original. The title was also invariably changed at each revival, until some actor came along and “set” the presentational details. Kabuki has become “ossified” only in modern times; historically, it was a living, pulsating entity, constantly undergoing revision and alteration until just the right combination of elements were put to work in a specific piece; at such a time the play's kata (“forms”) would be considered fixed. Any future revisions would usually be minor.

Most of the Juhachiban plays, like others done in Kabuki, are not “plays” at all in the Western sense; they are mostly popular scenes extracted from longer works which are no longer performed. Kanjinchō is virtually the only full length play in the entire Juhachiban, though one or two others are in essence one-act dance dramas (buyo geki).

The most frequently revived plays of the Juhachiban are Kanjinchō, Sukeroku, Shibaraku, Yanone, and Narukami. Less frequently seen are Kenuki, Kagekiyo, Kamahige, Fuwa, and Zōhiki. Plays which have revived only once or twice in modern times⁴ are Fudō, Kanu, Oshimodoshi, Uranari, Uirō, Nanatsumen, and Jyayanagi.

Though this collection holds so high a place in the world of Kabuki it has never been treated comprehensively in English. It is mentioned in almost every book on Kabuki, the plays are often all listed, and in one or two cases a sentence or two has been given to describing the basic plot of each play.⁵ Several of the more popular plays have been given plot descriptions in English in various sources⁶ and a few have been translated into English.⁷ Since these plot descriptions and translations are readily available only those Juhachiban pieces not previously discussed in English are presented here. These descriptions are generally quite brief as the available information in Japanese is itself quite scanty.

The plays to be described in this paper are, in order, Fuwa, Kamahige, Zōhiki, Uirō, Jyayanagi, Uwanari, Oshimodoshi, Nanatsumen, and Kanu.

One of the most popular Kabuki characters is Fuwa Banzaemon, who provides the title for Fuwa (also called Saya-ate). Fuwa was a 16th century samurai who was a close friend of another legendary samurai, Nagoya Sanzaburo. The latter is best known for his alleged relationship with Okuni, the founder of Kabuki, though scholars differ as to whether or not this aspect of the legend is valid historically. Plays featuring Fuwa and Nagoya are called Fuwa Nagoya mono (mono is used here to mean “plays”). The first such work in Kabuki was Yujo Ron, written in 1680 and performed with Danjuro I as Fuwa.

The oldest existing Fuwa-Nagoya script dates from 1697. It is Sankai Nagoya, done at the Nakamura-za, with Danjuro I. Its plot deals with the love rivalry between Fuwa and Nagoya over Katsuragi, a courtesan. The play's many interesting features include the fact that it contains the scene which was later developed into the Juhachiban called Shibaraku, mentioned earlier.

The love rivalry plot was fixed in Tsuruya Namboku's 1823 work, Ukiyogara Hikiyoku no Inazama. The climactic scene, called Saya-ate (lit., “scabbard touching”), is still performed as a one-act play. However, this Saya-ate is not considered a Juhachiban number. This is somewhat unusual; the piece so often played today as Saya-ate was based on a very similar scene in the original; though essentially conveying the spirit of the Juhachiban piece from which it derives, it is not included in the collection.

Danjuro VII picked for the Juhachiban the version of Fuwa found in Yujo Ron. Danjuro I developed the original Saya-ate, and this was further polished in form by Danjuro II. Danjuro VII perfected it in the Tsuruya Namboku work. This latter play is described in the Halford book.

Modern revivals have based their approaches upon the version found in Sankai Nagoya. The two most notable of these revivals are Ichikawa Sansho's, done in 1933, and that by the troupe called the Zenshin-za, staged in 1959 with Kawarasaki Chōjuro as Fuwa. The following description is based on eye-witness accounts of the Zenshin-za production.⁸

When the main curtain opens, two vassals of a powerful Court Minister are conspiring together. These men are the lay priest Akamatsu Enshin and Kajikawa Gunbei. We learn that the treasured sword “Cloud Clearer,” owned by the Emperor's chief advisor, is missing. The night watchmen at the time of the theft were Nagoya and Fuwa; the ensuing investigation resulted in their being banished. However, the loss appears to be the work of Akamatsu and Kajikawa.

The blue curtain before which these men are standing is removed and the entrance to the great gate of Yoshiwara, the pleasure quarters of Edo, is revealed. Fuwa appears wearing the costume traditionally associated with the role in this, the Saya-ate scene. It is a kind of over-kimono called a haori decorated with a cloud and lightning pattern. His head is hidden in a large straw hat. Sanza enters wearing a haori with an embroidered pattern of rain and wet swallows on it. He has come to visit his love, Katsuragi. Having forgotten his part in the business about the missing sword, he behaves as though nothing has happened. Fuwa, seeing him, tries to start a fight with him to get him to give up his visit to the quarters when there is more important business to be done. The brushing of their scabbards gives the scene its name. As they draw and are about the fight, Fuwa's wife, Matsukashi, comes between them, forcing them to stop. In the original, Fuwa and Nagoya begin to fight with neither recognizing the other, but in the version reported here, Fuwa starts the fight on purpose. The sword is soon recovered and returned to its master; Fuwa reproves Nagoya but the latter refuses to give his courtesan girl-friend up. Fuwa determines to test the courtesan's feelings to see how sincere they are, since Nagoya himself doubts that his love is fully returned. If Katsuragi is sincere Fuwa will redeem her and arrange her marriage to his friend.

During the scene in Katsuragi's room, a fight breaks out between Katsuragi and another courtesan. In the struggle Fuwa's hair becomes undone and Katsuragi, after getting rid of the other woman, combs it into place for him. The Zenshin-za apparently cut this traditionally intimate and suggestive scene and retained only its shell. The couple become more intimate as they exchange wine-cups, Fuwa eventually becoming intoxicated. He grows passionate and, far from his original intentions, seduces the courtesan. In the original, he sees her beauty reflected in a mirror, really falls in love with her, feigns illness, gets her to massage him and, taking her hand, seduces her. The Zenshin-za version was thought by critics to be inferior to the original in their treatment of this material.

Nagoya, who has been hiding within, rushes out now and strikes Fuwa with a sandal. Such scenes, known as zori-uchi (“striking with a sandal”), are fairly common in Kabuki; they represent a severe insult to the character being struck. A scene of lamentation follows and, in the Zenshin-za production, Fuwa is killed. The original has him committing suicide. These events, from the Saya-ate to this scene, constitute Act Three of Sankai Nagoya.

Kamahige's (literally, “scythe beard”) first performance took place in 1774 at the nakamura Theatre. It was the last scene of the second act in Sakurada Jisuke I's Oatsurae Zome Soga no Hinagata. The scene is set in a metal forger's shop. Danjuro IV acted the role of Yoshikado, in reality, Kagekiyo (the same hero described earlier), who stops at the smith's house, disguised as a rokubo, a kind of Buddhist pilgrim.

The smith, Shirobei, who apparently specializes in scythes, is in reality, Mihono no Tanai no Shiro, an enemy of Kagekiyo's. Recognizing Kagekiyo, he tries to cut his throat with a scythe, pretending to shave him, but the instrument won't cut the hero's invulnerable skin and they glare fiercely at each other. Afterwards Kagekiyo performs magic and the piece shows him taking the appearance of seven different people.

Danjuro VII revived these materials but had it rewritten as a new play, Hisagoro Gunbai. After a lapse of many years the former Ichikawa Danshiro and Ichikawa Ennosuke II staged Kamahige in 1910 at the Kabuki Theatre. In their version, a pilgrim asks for lodging at a certain farm house, where he is requested to recite sutras; as his beard is too long, he wants to shave. A servant recognizes him as an enemy (the servant is, typically, under an assumed name, as is the pilgrim) and the scythe business from the original is enacted. A stage fight follows between the pilgrim and the disguised servant-samurai.

In his review of the most recent revival (1971) Kawatake Toshio notes that “Kamahige was revived in 1910 by Ichikawa Danshiro II and Ichikawa Ennosuke II and again in 1930 by Ennosuke II and his son Danshiro III.”⁹ The 1971 production starred Ennosuke II and Danshiro IV. There were also several productions of the piece by the Zenshin-za in the late 1940's.

Kabuki's readiness to capitalize on items which prove popular can be seen in the many plays dealing with certain famous characters such as the Sogas, Kagekiyo, Fuwa and Nagoya, etc. Similarly, when certain techniques have proven attractive they have been adapted quickly for use wherever feasible. One such popular idea is that of the pulling apart of something by two or more powerful aragoto characters. Such “tug of war” scenes are called hikiai goto (“pulling things”) and use such items as a huge carriage, a torii gate, and a piece of armor as their central objects. Zōhiki (Pulling the Elephant Apart) uses an elephant. This unusual play, which has not been revived often in modern times, derives from a 1700 work, Usuyuki Ima Chiyo Hime. The elephant pulling scene was incorporated in a different play in 1701, Keisei Oshokun, with Danjuro I. The character he played and that of his antagonist confront each other, the former pretending deafness and the latter blindness. They test each other out, the antagonist failing in his attempt to poison the character played by Danjuro (Gennaizaemon). The real villain of the piece, Iruka, then appears riding a white elephant (a prop with two men inside) which he sets on Gennaizaemon. The hero's wife enters and, making a leash out of her long hair, halts the beast in its tracks. Gennaizaemon now uses the elephant to defend himself when Iruka attacks again, resulting in a Kabuki type stage-fight (tachimawari). Iruki and his cohorts flee, Gennaizaemon puts his wife, Yadorigi, on the elephant's back, and they dance off stage.

The role of Gennaizaemon was performed in turn by Danjuro II and Danjuro VII, who put it in the Juhachiban. The piece was put aside, however, and not revived until 1913, when Sadanji II produced it in a new version only slightly resembling the original. A further revision by Yamazaki Shiko was done by Ichikawa Sansho in 1933 but when the piece was once more brought to the stage in 1958 by the Zenshin-za, a version closer to the original was used. Like their production of Fuwa, the Zenshin-za was not very successful with the critics, illustrating the difficulty of reviving some of the older and more unfamiliar Kabuki works.

The most unusual thing about the “pulling scene” in this play is that the object pulled is a living being, as opposed to the inanimate objects of similar scenes. Also the rarity of elephants in Japan when the piece was written caused it to have great interest for audiences. The following description, like that for Fuwa, is based on Japanese accounts of the Zenshin-za production.¹⁰

Soga Iruka has received a white elephant from abroad. He controls it with magic and tramples on those who refuse to follow him. He is thrilled by his new-found power.

When the curtain opens Iruka's wife's maid is seen pursuing a wild stag. Gennaizaemon's retainer, Asayama Kurodo, drives her back and saves the animal. After the stag disappears, General Harumichi's daughter, Matsugae (actually, the spirit of the stag) enters and thanks Asayama for rescuing the animal. She asks him to fetch his master, as dangerous circumstances seem to be developing.

The next scene shows the stage covered with red leaves, the locale being Mount Takao. Iruka's men are arranged across the stage in front of a curtain suspended there. They are banqueting and Matsugae, acting as her father's proxy, is serving them wine. When the drinking begins, servants enter bringing Gennaizaemon's wife, Yadorigi, with them as a hostage. One of the men attempts to seduce her. Iruka now appears astride the white elephant. The man who tried to take advantage of Yadorigi moves to take her away and lock her up. However, at this juncture a voice is heard from within the room at the rear of the hanamichi, crying “Wait!” This is quite similar to the hero's entrance in Shibaraku. Iruka, furious, dismounts. His henchmen, looking for a brawl, push the elephant over to the place where the hanamichi joins the stage, shouting “Arya! Arya!” as they go. These are nonsense words typical of aragoto acting. Gennaizaemon, dressed in customarily elaborate fashion, appears on the hanamichi and, with both hands extended as if to push them all back, approaches the elephant, pulls its head down, and lets it go again. The animal staggers back, and Gennaizaemon grabs its tail and pulls it onto the stage.

He then makes a lash for it out of Yadorigi's hair (she must wear a special wig for this scene). The elephant desperately swings its trunk but our hero valiantly hangs on and, defeated, the pachyderm gives up and sinks to its knees. It has met its master. Gennaizaemon steps on it but it has had enough; it jumps up and leaves.

Matsugae showers praise on the hero but his wife, jealous at this display, interferes and quarrels with the girl. A struggle follows but, as Matsugae is really the spirit of the stag, she is too hairy for Yadorigi to get a grip. Matsugae now reveals her true nature to them.

An uproar is heard once more. Matsugae makes mystical signs with her fingers and Iruka's men, who have come to attack again, are quelled.

The stage undergoes a decorative change of scenery as hanging branches of maple leaves descend and the stage is given the glow of an autumn sunset. We see Iruka and Gennaizaemon standing in the traditional pose of “pulling the elephant apart” as depicted in woodblock prints; only, the elephant of the previous scene has been replaced by one of only five or six feet in length. The rivals enact the pulling as they shout “Eiya! Eiya! Eioo!” This moment is the core of the whole piece, its raison d'etre.

Soon, a crowd of people gather to attack the hero; the small elephant is removed and everyone is driven away. The original elephant now enters and prostrates itself at Gennaizaemon's feet.

Yadorigi is helped onto the elephant's back and Gennaizaemon, laughing loudly, declares, “This has been an amusing visit to Daikoku,” referring to the nearby shrine of that god.

The chief role in this work is little different from those supermen who dominate such plays as Kenuki and Shibaraku. The villain, too, is stereotypically super-evil.

The remaining Juhachiban plays, Uirō, Oshimodoshi, Kanu, Uranari, Nanatsumen, and Jyayanagi, are the least often performed of the collection. Descriptions of them and background information will necessarily be briefer than the above materials.

Uirō is a kind of medicine that used to be hawked in the streets by a colorful type of character who came from a place called Odawara, where the uirō was produced. His sales pitch was a perfect vehicle for Danjuro II who was famed for his elocutionary talents. A scene utilizing these talents was devised by him as part of the 1718 production, Wakamidori Ikioi Soga, performed at Edo's Morita Theatre. The uirō seller in this piece was, in reality, the legendary figure, Soga no Juro. Uirō, as the performance came to be called, never existed as an independent play, merely being a display of a kind of “speechmaking” peculiar to sellers of uirō.

The role was inserted into the popular Juhachiban piece Sukeroku in 1832 and was afterwards performed as part of this play. Its use, today, however, is rare, one of the only recent performances being by Danjuro XI at the special 1940 performance honoring his assumption of the name of Ebizo, the name he held prior to becoming Danjuro.

The sales pitch of the uirō seller is one long tongue twister which must be spoken without a single error, though it has barely any literal meaning. The version revived by Ichikawa Sansho in 1921 was more of a dance than a speech, probably because Sansho was never a skilled actor, having begun his training after marrying into the Ichikawa family. He was the son of a businessman.

Jyayanagi (the title literally means “snake-willow”) was first staged as the third act of Momochidori Ooi Soga Yoi in 1763 at Edo's Nakamura-za. It starred Danjuro IV. The story was about the return of the vengeful ghost of a woman who had died of unrequited love. The ghost takes possession of a foolish, clown-like character named Suketaru, played by Danjuro, The piece afforded Danjuro the chance to show the contrasting nature of the clown before and after his soul is possessed. Nothing remains of the original except some notion of its theme and several Toyokuni III woodblock prints showing scenes thought to be from the play. The demoness is apparently released from her mortal ties by the efforts of the famed priest, Kobo Daishi, according to these prints.

Ichikawa Sansho revived it in 1946, but it has not been done since. According to some Japanese accounts, the Sansho revival had no basis for its version, and misappropriated the theatre's signboards by playing on the prestige of the Juhachiban to draw audience.

The title of another Juhachiban, Uwanari, which literally means “second wife,” is written with a Chinese character created just for this piece. Its composition consists of two ideographic elements for “woman” placed on either side of the element for “man.”

The play, which has perished, was based on an old Japanese custom whereby the female relatives of an estranged or divorced first (or “legal”) wife would break into and destroy the home of the mistress or second wife as a means of taking revenge. The theme was fairly common in Kabuki plays at one time, plays dealing with the theme being called uwanari uchi mono.

Koga Saburo Kishin Taiji Isshin Gokai no Tama is the name of a play done at the Nakamura-za in 1699, the Uwanari of the Juhachiban being contained within it. Its writer and star was Danjuro I, who played Koga Saburo. Saburo is making love to his mistress when his daughter, Kuretake, driven by the jealous spirit of his legal wife, comes to take possession of him. The theme of the Nō play, Aoi no Ue, is similar in its depiction of a living woman's jealousy taking the form of a raging demoness.

In 1946 Yamazaki Shiko wrote a new script based on the results of extensive research and Ichikawa Sansho produced it at the Kabuki-za. The production used elements of Aoi no Ue for its effects.

Several Kabuki plays, including Kyogannoko Musume Dojoji, Narukami, and Onna Narukami contain the role of an oshimodoshi, “repulser of demons.” This character, a superhuman type acted in traditional aragoto style, gives the name of his role-type to the Juhachiban number, Oshimodoshi. These characters, who appear with different character names from piece to piece, normally make their entrance on the hanamichi in order to repulse some demonic character who is causing mayhem on the stage proper. His make-up and costumes are basically the same, regardless of the play, consisting of the red and white variety of kumadori known as nihonguma, the boldly upswept wig style called hishi kawa, long padded red underwear with bright buttons all over it, leg and arm gauntlets, a straw raincoat, a wide straw hat, high wooden clogs, two or three extremely long swords, and a large stalk of bamboo with which he poses dramatically.

The role was perfected by Danjuro VII in the one-act play he included in the Juhachiban. It is not certain, but a similar character may have been done by Danjuro II as early as 1714.

Upon his entrance, the oshimodoshi character engages in relay dialogue with the ghosts and demons he has come to subdue. He performs various dramatic poses intended to frighten the demons away.

Sansho staged the work with a new script in 1934 but other revivals, aside from the character's appearance in other works, have not been produced in recent years.

The piece called Nanatsumen (Seven Masks) was developed to show off Danjuro II's skillful quick change technique. It was first done at the Ichimura Theatre in 1740 as the second act of Sugatami Sumidagawa with a script by Fujimoto Tobun. Danjuro is said to have gotten his inspiration for the work after being shown a collection of masks owned by a Nō master. He took the part of a supposed mask maker (he is really another character in disguise) who performs a dance with five different Nō masks which he removes from their decorative cases set up on stage. The piece culminated in a dramatic display of an important scroll painting which, apparently, has been recovered from the villain who stole it; the scroll is held in the mouth of the buaku type mask worn by the mask maker at this moment.

The original version was staged with five masks; seven, however, were used when Danjuro played the piece in Osaka in 1742 as Act IV of Hoshiai Sakae Kagekiyo. The title probably derives from this presentation.

Despite its great success for Danjuro II it was rarely revived after his death, probably because it was created for his own special qualifications. Its script perished but Danjuro IX produced a Shin Nanatsumen (New Seven Masks) at the Kabuki Theatre in 1893. Fukuchi Ōchi's script for this was included in the special play collection devised by Danjuro IX called the Shin (“New”) Juhachiban. Yet another version, with a script by Yamazaki Shiko, was staged by Ichikawa Sansho in 1936. This work illustrates the idea seen so often in Kabuki, i.e., that the script is far from being thought “sacred.” It is merely a vehicle for the actor. If a rarely produced piece is revived, the whole story may be changed provided the central element (such as the use here of seven masks shown in a succession of quick changes) is retained.

Kanu illustrates this even more clearly. The original play, one of the least often performed of the Juhachiban, revolves around the appearance of the legendary Chinese super-warrior, Kanu, whose might and main are required to quell various evil-doers. Actually, another character has disguised himself as the ancient warrior whose picture is part of the stage decor. Danjuro II, in a revision of the original (which he had staged in 1737 as the climax of Act I in Urozuki Ninin Kagekiyo) entered by seeming to come right out of the picture, mounted on a white horse and brandishing Kanu's famed “Green Dragon” sword.

The script for this work, like the others mentioned above, has disappeared. Practically all that remains is the Kanu mie used by bearded characters such as Shunkan in Kikaigashima and Kanki in Kokusenya Kassen. In this mie the character poses as he draws his long beard through one hand, in a manner quite similar to such poses in Chinese opera.

The revival of Kanu by Danjuro IX in a version written by Kawatake Mokuami reduced the original to a pantomime (dammari) performance. Other than its 1929 revival by Sananji, with a new script, and a later one by Sansho, the piece has been ignored.

Finally, there is Fudō, named for the deity Fudō Myo-ō, who is its chief character. Danjuro I came from a samurai family which worshipped this god (the family's “shop name,” Naritaya, derives from Narita, where a temple dedicated to the god is located). Danjuro I is said to have prayed to the god for a worthy son and to have been blessed with Danjuro II as a result. Thus, it is natural to find a play dedicated to the deity among the works Danjuo helped to create.

The Juhachiban, despite the fact that some of the pieces in it are mere memories, continues to have a magic aura in the world of Kabuki. The number eighteen, as Gunji points out,¹⁰ has long had auspicious meanings in Japan, perhaps because of its relation to the age at which a boy is considered to make the transition to manhood. Of course, this is not the whole reason for the respect this collection generates among theatre people in Japan. Mostly, the Juhachiban has attained its rank because of the prestige and influence of the acting style it largely incorporates and the family of actors who are supreme in that style. One cannot say “Kabuki Juhachiban” without immediately calling to mind the name of Ichikawa Danjuro. It is with reverence for this name that those of the Juhachiban that still survive will continue to be performed.

Notes

1. From Miyoko Watanabe's translation of Narukami, in Vera R. Irwin, ed., Four Classical Asian Plays (Baltimore, 1972), p. 304. This scene is also translated by Faubion Bowers in Japanese Theatre (New York, 1952), pp. 87-88. James Brandon's translation will soon appear, published by Harvard University Press.

2. See, for example, Gunji Masakatsu, “Aragoto no Tokushitsu” in Ichikawa Danjuro, special edition of Engekikai, XX, No. 4 (1962), 116. See also his “Aragoto no Seiritsu,” Engekikai, XXV, No. 1 (1967), 69-71.

3. Other collections include the Shin Kabuki Juhachiban, the Shinko Engeki Jusshu, the Kataoka Hunishu, the Ganjiro Junikyoku, the Koga Jusshu, the Kyoka Jusshu, etc. Each is the province of a specific family of actors.

4. By “modern times” is mean the periods beginning in 1868, when the Japanese Emperor was restored to power and the military government was abolished.

5. See, for example, Bowers, op. cit., and Kawatake Shigetoshi, Kabuki, Japanese Drama (Tokyo, 1958), Ch. V; also, the same writer's notes to a collection of prints by the Torii school of theatre artists, Kabuki Juhachiban (Tokyo, 1952).

6. See especially, Aubrey S. and Giovanna M. Halford, The Kabuki Handbook (Rutland, Vermont and Tokyo, 1956) and Japanese National Commission for U.N.E.S.C.O., comp., Theatre in Japan (Tokyo, 1963). The best modern edition of the plays in Japanese in Gunji Masakatsu's Kabuki Juhachiban (Tokyo, 1965). In addition to helpful prefaces and appendices, this work contains excellently annotated versions of the extant Juhachiban texts, namely, Yanone, Sukeroku, Shibaraku, Fuwa (which Gunji publishes under its alternate title Saya-ate), Kanjinchō, Narukami, Kenuki, and Gedatsu.

7. See note 1 above and A. C. Scott, tr., Kanjincho, A Japanese Kabuki Play (Tokyo, 1953); James R. Brandon and Tamako Niwa, tr., Kabuki Plays (includes Kanjinchō) (New York, 1966); and Bowers, op. cit., for a translation of Sukeroku. Fudō will soon be published in James Brandon's translation as the last act of Narukami Fudō Kitayama Sakura.

8. See Tobe Ginsaku, “Kabuki Juhachiban Saiken” in the Danjuro edition of Engekikai, op. cit., 130-131.

9. “Ennosuke Hyakunen Kinen no Goyaku,” Engekikai, XXIX, No. 8, 14.

10. Tobe Ginsaku, op. cit., 126-127.