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Review: Epiphany (Star 1999, Bow Hall Shakespeare series)
I don't exactly keep a ranking of favourite Takarazuka plays, but I do keep a running tally of the ones I can see myself rewatching over and over again. There are several categories in the tally, and under 'comedy of manners', Epiphany has just shot to the top, possibly even overtaking Ernest in Love. It's got crossdressing, plays-within-plays, Shakespeare, kabuki, and Ayaki Nao/Saeko in a variety of kimono - I had a feeling I would like it even before I got the DVD.
The Shakespearean source provides elements and plot points rather than the complete structure of the play - in particular, of the conflicts, only the crossdressing romantic confusion is kept. Instead, the driving conflict is between Meiji-era traditional kabuki theatre and Western modern plays, with a gender background - women, after all, are banned from the kabuki stage. Since Otaka wins acclaim for playing male roles while being a woman, and desperately wanting to perform despite her gender, the whole story is rife with meta-commentary that can be easily interpreted as concerning the Takarazuka Revue. It gives Saeko's performance in particular a raw, real edge, an intensity that I was unable to look away from.
There are also subplots that keep the pacing rapid - Otaka's brother falls in rather dramatic company (and said company has trouble of his own), and in the meantime Mari (not!Olivia) has a suitor who's plotting his political and romantic coups with the aid of henchpeople, and lacks only a moustache to twirl. This is neither a tragedy, nor a too-long show - if anything, I found myself wishing it were three hours longer to give due to all the wonderful characters. The writing is solid, holding traces of Shakespeare in the way some characters tend to philosophise, and the music is good.
The staging reflects the juxtaposition of kabuki and western theatre. Most sets are realistic, but in the big emotional moments, it's just Saeko on a bleak, empty stage, among dancers who often won't even look at her. The make-up is more Japanese than in most productions, especially so for the "traditional" characters - Saeko's eyebrows are striking and suit her very well.
There isn't much dancing in the show, or songs, but what there is showcases Saeko's strength beautifully. She's the master of conveying emotion, and watching her, I'm really reminded of kabuki. No gesture is unnecessary, and every one, no matter how subtle, matters and comes together to form a whole. Both choreographers are OGs, and one of them was also responsible for Susano-oo and El Halcon, two shows that impressed me with their evocative choreography.
Those are the dramatic moments, but the comedy's just as important, and it's the rare show that had me snorting with laughter. There's a lot of slapstic (the not-villains get we-are-plotting songs!), requisite romantic comedy, and everyone having a lot of sheer fun chewing on the scenery.
And the cast is stellar. Mari and her cohort (Hisato Rie in the main role, aided by Marino Yui and Hiiro Moe as her girlfriends, Natsumi You as the father and Asamiya Mayu as his police superintendent best friend) work very well at mixing their outward Westernized outlook with Japanese elements, personifications of the Meiji era. Nishiki Ai and Oohiro Ayumu are fantastic as kabuki actors - I wonder how many performances they attended in preparation. I already mentioned my adoration for Asazumi Kei's brash and over-the-top not-quite-villain, but his foil - Miya Erika - makes him and herself look adorable. (I counted a total of five happy romantic pairings at the end of this show.)
Matobu Sei's performance as a minor gangster is a gem. I love the way she swaggers, and she's such a bloke. She reminded me a bit of Asaji Saki, the way she can get so much into the male mindset. There's a heart-to-heart scene between her and Saeko's male character that made me want to pinch their cheeks and knock them on the heads.
I was surprised by Tsukasa Yuuki, who gets a large role as the theatre proprietor and equivalent of Orsino in the original play. This was her biggest role in any Takarazuka production (she retired a few years later), and while she didn't get to dance or sing much, she can act in spades. The quiet intensity and earnestness made me believe in the character and the development of the romance between him and Saeko's female character.
And then there was Saeko.
No-one can deny that madame Ayaki "Saeko" Nao is a superb dancer and actress. Her only faults as an otokoyaku were being too pretty, and having a voice more suited to female registers. Epiphany solved it by letting her play a woman pretending to be a man. She plays her own twin brother as well, and the difference in demeanour and body language is striking. She never goes over the top, she has chemistry with every single person onstage, and I have no idea how she managed to create two well-rounded characters like that in a single Bow Hall show. Her monologues about acting and the role of women have passion enough to make you hold your breath.
Another facet of Takarasienne life is in the ending, where a choice must be made between career and love, to some extent. It's bittersweet and so in line with traditional Japanese aesthetic - the fact that there is something you can't have makes what you can have that much more precious. I found it upbeat in the end, and better than the usual happily-ever-after. It's definitely on my top list of shows.
And of course, hats off to the Takarazuka Insanity Project for producing the wonderful subtitles. They add another layer to the appreciation of the show for people as deficient in Japanese as I am, and I remain supremely grateful.
The Shakespearean source provides elements and plot points rather than the complete structure of the play - in particular, of the conflicts, only the crossdressing romantic confusion is kept. Instead, the driving conflict is between Meiji-era traditional kabuki theatre and Western modern plays, with a gender background - women, after all, are banned from the kabuki stage. Since Otaka wins acclaim for playing male roles while being a woman, and desperately wanting to perform despite her gender, the whole story is rife with meta-commentary that can be easily interpreted as concerning the Takarazuka Revue. It gives Saeko's performance in particular a raw, real edge, an intensity that I was unable to look away from.
There are also subplots that keep the pacing rapid - Otaka's brother falls in rather dramatic company (and said company has trouble of his own), and in the meantime Mari (not!Olivia) has a suitor who's plotting his political and romantic coups with the aid of henchpeople, and lacks only a moustache to twirl. This is neither a tragedy, nor a too-long show - if anything, I found myself wishing it were three hours longer to give due to all the wonderful characters. The writing is solid, holding traces of Shakespeare in the way some characters tend to philosophise, and the music is good.
The staging reflects the juxtaposition of kabuki and western theatre. Most sets are realistic, but in the big emotional moments, it's just Saeko on a bleak, empty stage, among dancers who often won't even look at her. The make-up is more Japanese than in most productions, especially so for the "traditional" characters - Saeko's eyebrows are striking and suit her very well.
There isn't much dancing in the show, or songs, but what there is showcases Saeko's strength beautifully. She's the master of conveying emotion, and watching her, I'm really reminded of kabuki. No gesture is unnecessary, and every one, no matter how subtle, matters and comes together to form a whole. Both choreographers are OGs, and one of them was also responsible for Susano-oo and El Halcon, two shows that impressed me with their evocative choreography.
Those are the dramatic moments, but the comedy's just as important, and it's the rare show that had me snorting with laughter. There's a lot of slapstic (the not-villains get we-are-plotting songs!), requisite romantic comedy, and everyone having a lot of sheer fun chewing on the scenery.
And the cast is stellar. Mari and her cohort (Hisato Rie in the main role, aided by Marino Yui and Hiiro Moe as her girlfriends, Natsumi You as the father and Asamiya Mayu as his police superintendent best friend) work very well at mixing their outward Westernized outlook with Japanese elements, personifications of the Meiji era. Nishiki Ai and Oohiro Ayumu are fantastic as kabuki actors - I wonder how many performances they attended in preparation. I already mentioned my adoration for Asazumi Kei's brash and over-the-top not-quite-villain, but his foil - Miya Erika - makes him and herself look adorable. (I counted a total of five happy romantic pairings at the end of this show.)
Matobu Sei's performance as a minor gangster is a gem. I love the way she swaggers, and she's such a bloke. She reminded me a bit of Asaji Saki, the way she can get so much into the male mindset. There's a heart-to-heart scene between her and Saeko's male character that made me want to pinch their cheeks and knock them on the heads.
I was surprised by Tsukasa Yuuki, who gets a large role as the theatre proprietor and equivalent of Orsino in the original play. This was her biggest role in any Takarazuka production (she retired a few years later), and while she didn't get to dance or sing much, she can act in spades. The quiet intensity and earnestness made me believe in the character and the development of the romance between him and Saeko's female character.
And then there was Saeko.
No-one can deny that madame Ayaki "Saeko" Nao is a superb dancer and actress. Her only faults as an otokoyaku were being too pretty, and having a voice more suited to female registers. Epiphany solved it by letting her play a woman pretending to be a man. She plays her own twin brother as well, and the difference in demeanour and body language is striking. She never goes over the top, she has chemistry with every single person onstage, and I have no idea how she managed to create two well-rounded characters like that in a single Bow Hall show. Her monologues about acting and the role of women have passion enough to make you hold your breath.
Another facet of Takarasienne life is in the ending, where a choice must be made between career and love, to some extent. It's bittersweet and so in line with traditional Japanese aesthetic - the fact that there is something you can't have makes what you can have that much more precious. I found it upbeat in the end, and better than the usual happily-ever-after. It's definitely on my top list of shows.
And of course, hats off to the Takarazuka Insanity Project for producing the wonderful subtitles. They add another layer to the appreciation of the show for people as deficient in Japanese as I am, and I remain supremely grateful.