We felt a bit of a culture shock watching Miyako Odori. The mimed story (with chorus narration) was universal. (Fisherman nets a ghostly spirit who leaves him with a child he presents to an emperor. The child grows to fight an enemy and both die. Behind this tale the stage design goes from spring to spring.) But the twanging whine of the stringed instruments accompanied by the high-pitched snarling screech of the female narrators, although adding a mournfulness to the tale, was like listening to the string section of an orchestra tuning up while a couple of weary nursery school teachers lament their situation. We could feel the emotion, but we weren’t going to leave the theater singing the tune.
It was interesting to watch the entire performance enacted by women in their geisha outfits. I couldn’t help but be reminded of Elizabethan theatre where all the roles were performed by men.
The movement of the thirty colorful geishas was slow, but fascinating. They slide-stepped from the wings in single-file making geometric hand-gestures with their fans. I could imagine a director calling out from the seats, “Okay, fans up! Caterpillar left! Stop! Fans down! Pivot! Caterpillar right!” And later in the rehearsal, “No no no! Not cherry blossoms—you’ve got it backwards! Snow, give me lots of SNOW!”