Konpira Kabuki was a window that opened up a new world.

In April, I went to see the 'Shikoku Konpira Kabuki Grand Theater' at the Old Konpira Grand Theater in Kotohira, Kagawa Prefecture, commonly known as Kanamaru-za.

It is not that I was well-versed in Kabuki. If anything, I was almost a complete beginner. Even so, the reason I wanted to go was because I learned that 'Sagi Musume' (The Heron Maiden) would be performed. Influenced by the film 'National Treasure,' I wanted to see that famous dance on stage at least once.

My initial goal was very simple.

I want to see 'Sagi Musume'.
I want to see Kabuki at Kanamaru-za.

With just that much in mind, I set out to watch the second part on April 22nd.

It was a special day even before entering Kanamaru-za

A large crowd had already gathered in front of Kanamaru-za.

Red lanterns, banners with the names of Kabuki actors, and the wooden playhouse. Just seeing the audience gather there and wait for the doors to open made my heart flutter a little.

From before I even entered the theater, this day was already not just an ordinary day. It felt as if the entire town of Kotohira was wrapped in a special atmosphere unique to the Kabuki season.

I have visited Konpira-san as a tourist destination before. However, Kotohira during the Konpira Kabuki season is a little different. Japanese theatergoers head to Kanamaru-za, and tourists from overseas walk through the town. The playhouse from long ago and the bustle of modern tourism were overlapping in the same place.

Upon entry, a volunteer guide in a kimono led me to my seat. Unlike a large theater where you show your ticket and find your own seat, being guided by someone into the wooden playhouse—I think my heart was already captured at that point.

Watching in a wooden playhouse

Once inside Kanamaru-za, I was first overwhelmed by the building itself.

The stage, the hanamichi (runway), the seating area, the ceiling, the lanterns. There is a closeness that is completely different from modern theaters.

It is beautiful. But at the same time, I also felt the fragility and transience unique to an old building. However, once the performance began, that transience did not turn into anxiety, but into a sense of comfort.

This is a place where people have gathered, laughed, cried, and watched plays for a long time. Thinking that, I felt a strange sensation—as if I should straighten my back, yet also a sense of nostalgia.

Perhaps Kabuki is not something you watch while quietly searching for the correct answer, but something where people gather, laugh, are surprised, and hold their breath.

I was supposed to have come to see 'Sagi Musume'

The performances for the second part were 'Imoseyama Onna Teikin: Mikasayama Goten' and 'Sagi Musume'.

Originally, the play I wanted to see was "Sagi Musume" (The Heron Maiden). However, what I actually saw at the Kanamaru-za and what unexpectedly left a deep impression on me was "Imoseyama Onna Teikin: Mikasayama Goten," which was performed before it.

In the story, a woman who visits her lover is bullied by the maids. That scene is quite comical, and it even drew laughter from the audience. But the story does not end with just laughter. In the final act, the woman sacrifices herself for her lover and loses her life.

The scene that had been drawing laughter just moments before took on a different kind of weight afterward. That contrast left a very strong impression on my heart.

Looking at it with modern sensibilities, there are parts that are confusing. The class differences, the woman's devotion, the depiction of bullying. If it were a new work today, it might be difficult to handle as a subject.

However, on stage, it was not just presented as an old set of values. Through the bodies, voices, and timing of the actors, the ridiculousness, cruelty, and sorrow of humanity were brought to life.

I realized that watching classical performing arts is not about uncritically immersing oneself in the values of the past. Rather, it might be about facing stories that have survived for a long time, including the parts that catch on our modern sensibilities.

The lingering resonance of the sorrowful "Sagi Musume"

What followed that was Shingo Bando's "Sagi Musume".

Because I had just seen the laughter, cruelty, and the woman's sorrow in "Mikasayama Goten," the sight of the white heron spirit dancing while cloaked in the obsession of love and loneliness struck me even more deeply.

It was beautiful. But it was not just beautiful.

It was gorgeous, delicate, and heartbreaking. Watching "Sagi Musume" in the space of the Kanamaru-za felt somewhat like a dream, and at the same time, it was terribly lonely.

"Ah, I'm glad I came to see it."

That is what I thought. But it didn't end there.

To the Kanamaru-za once more

When I reread the pamphlet after the performance, I realized that the program for the first part had a completely different flavor from the second part.

The first part was "Keisei Hangonko: Tosa Shogen Kankyo no Ba" and "Migawari Zazen." It was a story of human emotion and a comical tale about a philandering husband.

If the world I saw in the second part was dense, heartbreaking, and beautiful, the first part seemed to have more human emotion and laughter.

I was glad I bought the pamphlet. And I realized that it is something you should read properly before watching.

That feeling was similar to the ice show "Hyoten" starring Daisuke Takahashi that I saw last year. It was a work inspired by the Momotaro legend of Okayama and the Uraja episodes, and it was profound.

It is beautiful.
It is also powerful.
However, if you watch it without knowing the background, there is a limit to what you can take in.

I suppose the same is true for Kabuki.

Even just sitting and watching it, there are things that reach you.
But if you read a little about the background and the meaning of the performance beforehand, the depth of the stage increases all at once.

And so, I decided to go see the morning performance on April 25th as well.

For my second time, I parked my car in a parking lot near Kotohira Station and walked up the approach to Konpira to head to Kanamaru-za.

Banners with the actors' names are lined up amidst the fresh greenery. On the way, I also stopped by Kinryo-no-Sato. The green of the large camphor tree was beautiful, and the journey to the theater itself was part of the theater-going experience.

Watching a play at Kanamaru-za is not an experience that is completed only inside the theater. Walking through the town. Seeing the banners. Passing by old sake breweries. Walking under the fresh greenery to head to the playhouse. All of that was included in the time spent watching the play.

The laughter was also Kabuki

My seat for the second time was in the second row from the front.

The passion of the actors reaches you directly. Their expressions, their breathing, their physical movements. Being close to the stage did not just mean that I could see well.

In the first part, "Keisei Hangonko," the warmth of human emotion left an impression on me. And in "Migawari Zazen," laughter erupted in the audience many times.

Is there this kind of laughter in Kabuki, too?

When one thinks of classical performing arts, one inevitably feels that they are profound, difficult, and something that must be understood properly. However, the time when the audience laughed and reacted to the actors' exchanges was very human and warm.

Kabuki is not just beautiful. It is not just sad. There is laughter, desire, craftiness, and pathos. That is refined on stage and takes a form that reaches today's audience. I felt the greatness in that.

The straightforwardness of Otora Ichikawa

Otora Ichikawa, who played Shurinosuke in the first part, "Keisei Hangonko."

Shurinosuke appears as a young, pure, and straightforward man.
That role overlapped with the impression I have of Otora Ichikawa.

I learned later that during the performance period, Otora-san also held special classes at Kotohira Elementary School.
It is said that he taught the children about the history of Kabuki, showed them stage fighting, and even had them experience striking a pose (mie) together.

When I thought back to the stage after learning that, the straightforwardness of Shurinosuke felt even warmer.

A young actor standing on the stage of Kanamaru-za is sharing Kabuki with the town's children during the same period.
Imagining that scene, I felt that Konpira Kabuki is not something that just disappears as a performance for that year, but a culture that is passed down within the town.

Performing classics in an old playhouse.
At the same time, opening up Kabuki to children.

In Otora-san's Shurinosuke, I saw the brightness of that younger generation and a sense of connection to the future overlapping.

The bento box during the intermission was also part of the theater experience.

For the second morning performance, I also bought a bento at Kanamaru-za.

The bento eaten during the intermission is not just lunch. Opening a bento box in a wooden playhouse while the lingering atmosphere of the stage remains—that alone deepens the realization that "I am here to watch Kabuki now."

Watching the stage. Reading the pamphlet. Walking around the town. Eating a bento during the intermission.

I thought that all of these things connected to make a single day of Konpira Kabuki.

A trip where you stay in Takamatsu and head out to Kotohira is also nice.

Through this experience, I felt that a trip to Kagawa is not just about "visiting famous tourist spots."

Walking through the town of Kotohira, watching a play at Kanamaru-za, and eating a bento during the intermission. Such a day remains deeply in one's travel memories.

If you are staying in Kagawa for a while, I also recommend using the Takamatsu City guesthouse FD+room as your base. FD+room is a lodging located in a place where you can feel the charm close to the daily life of Sanuki, not just the art, Sanuki udon, and peaceful nature. With white-based private rooms, clean shower rooms, and a shared living room, it can be used comfortably both as a base for sightseeing and as a place to stay quietly.

Staying in the Takamatsu area and heading to Kotohira during the day. Returning to the lodging at night to slowly savor the lingering memories of the performance. I think that kind of Kagawa trip is also very rich.

Until I watched Konpira Kabuki, Kabuki felt like something distant.

But after watching it twice at Kanamaru-za, my thinking changed a little. Even if you don't understand everything, there are things that reach you. The actor's voice, body, and timing. The laughter of the audience. The atmosphere of the wooden playhouse. The warmth of the event supported by the townspeople.

Konpira Kabuki was a window that opened up a new world for me.

Rather than feeling like I understood everything after a single performance, I want to encounter it again and again, little by little, from here on out.

I want to go to the Kanamaru-za again next year.
And before that, in August, I would like to try going to the Noryo Kabuki at the Kabuki-za.