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As the art evolved, with men known as onna-gata performing the female roles, Kabuki became more explicitly theatrical, drawing on the earlier dramatic conventions of serious Noh theater, comic Kyogen plays, and stories from the Bunraku puppet theater. Parts were passed down the generations as leading theatrical families established themselves. Today, when a Kabuki actor reaches a sufficient level of artistry, he is rewarded with the name of a distinguished ancestor. Leading Kabuki artists like Tamasaburo, 32, a brilliant onnagata, may achieve the popularity of rock stars. One of the most effective works in the tour repertory is Narukami (The Thunder God), first presented in 1684. A stirring tale somewhat resembling the biblical stories of Judith and Delilah, it recounts the bravery of Princess Kumo-no-Taema (Tamasaburo), who journeys to the mountain redoubt of Priest Narukami (Ebizo) to seduce him and free the god of rainfall, whom Narukami has imprisoned. Tamasaburo, a picture of idealized femininity, and the virile, matinee-idol handsome Ebizo both display the mastery of gesture and vocal control that Grand Kabuki requires. Also noteworthy is Tomijuro, who plays the brave retainer in Kanjincho.
Even better is Kumagai Jinya (Kuma-gai's Camp), a work of epic sweep. Set during the wars of the 12th century, it relates the terrible dilemma of General Kumagai, who must kill his own son to spare the life of an enemy whose mother had helped him long ago. Playing the general, Kanzaburo is a figure of universal, tragic stature who is shattered by his act. An accomplished, versatile actor, Kanzaburo also displays a sly comedic sense as the errant husband in Migawari-zazen.
Enjoyable as Kabuki is, it has elements that Westerners may find difficult. The musical accompaniment—voices, flutes, drums and three-stringed plucked instruments called shamisens— is of real but recondite beauty. Performances are long, running close to four hours. And there is the language barrier as well.
But such problems are small considering the art form's exquisite grace, its awesome dramatic power and delicate beauty. In Kabuki, there is a world of meaning in the sweep of a fan, the cast of an eye or the crook of a finger. What is outlandish about a song-dance-skill like that? —By Michael Walsh