The Art of Sakata Tojuro

There was another Kabuki actor I could never forget.
Sakata Tojuro—when I first knew him, he was Nakamura Senjaku. He was truly incredible back then (I will refer to him as Sakata Tojuro from here on, as it gets complicated otherwise).

When speaking of the name Sakata Tojuro, one must start with his art as an onnagata (female role actor). In particular, his performance of female roles in the works of Chikamatsu Monzaemon was a realm where the essence and passion of Tojuro's art were condensed. The characters of 'Ohatsu' and 'Umegawa,' which he performed repeatedly throughout his life, were not merely female roles but crystallized symbols of 'human beings who live for love and die for love.'

In his onnagata performances, what Tojuro valued most was not 'playing a woman,' but 'reflecting the passion that lives within a woman.' For instance, his posture, the angle of his fingertips, and the way he handled his kimono hem all contained subtle emotions. Even a single glance had a completely different nuance when begging for love versus the moment of accepting death. Tojuro expressed this without a hint of artifice, as if it were 'simply meant to be that way.'

Furthermore, Tojuro's onnagata roles possessed not only 'loveliness' or 'grace' but also deep shadows and resilience. Take Umegawa in 'The Courier for Hell,' for example. While she lives for her love with Chubei, she also possesses the pride of a 'geisha' and the strength to face reality. Tojuro depicted this duality through the severity seeping beneath a soft voice and the resolve hidden in a downcast expression. His performance was as beautiful as a picture scroll, yet it held a raw, truthful quality, as if one could see blood seeping through the back of the paper.

Tojuro also had a unique approach to the use of his voice. There were moments when he would plead in a high, clear tone, and others when he would suppress his passion with a low, muffled voice. His use of tempo and shading was like music, stirring the hearts of the audience. The question for an onnagata is not merely whether the voice sounds feminine, but 'how much emotion is contained within that voice.' In that regard, Tojuro was always the master.

The significance of him continuing to perform female roles even in his old age is also profound. In a field where youth and beauty are often prerequisites, Tojuro proved that 'aging is also beauty.' His wrinkled hands and slightly heavier movements gave Ohatsu and Umegawa the weight of 'a woman who has lived a life.' It was not the transparent passion of youth, but a deep affection polished by the passage of time. Tojuro lived out that transformation on stage.

Tojuro's onnagata had the power to make the audience forget that 'a man is playing this person,' and instead believe that 'this person is a human being living in this emotion right now.' His performance transcended gender and time, continuing to deliver the souls of the sorrowful people depicted by Chikamatsu to the modern day. While the art of the onnagata is a world of 'kata' (forms), Tojuro imbued those forms with the entirety of human 'life.'

In the world of Chikamatsu, women are never weak beings. Rather, they are often the ones who bear stronger, deeper, and more grueling decisions than men. Tojuro brilliantly revived those 'women' of Chikamatsu for the modern age. By infusing passion into every corner of his body, he left a deep impression on the memories of his audience. That figure was the true meaning of 'onnagata performance' and a pinnacle reached by Sakata Tojuro.