article

Urban Style, Sexuality, Resistance,

and Refinement in the Japanese
Dance Sukeroku
Jay Keister

The entrance dance by the character Sukeroku is a highlight of Sukeroku Yukari no

Edo Zakura, a kabuki play that has been a mainstay on the Japanese stage since the
early eighteenth century. Analysis of this dance that features one of Japan’s most iconic
stage persona demonstrates the power of the presentational aspects of kabuki—dance,
music, and costume—to symbolically express iki (“chic refinement”), the predominant
aesthetic style of Edo era popular culture. As the foremost example of iki in a male char-
acter, Sukeroku displays in this dance the complexity of this aesthetic as both an expres-
sion of fashionable style on the surface and, at a more hidden level, a symbolic expression
of resistance by commoners who sought to oppose the samurai ruling class.
Jay Keister (PhD, University of California, Los Angeles) is an associate professor of
ethnomusicology in the College of Music at the University of Colorado, Boulder. He is the
author of Shaped by Japanese Music: Kikuoka Hiroaki and Nagauta Shamisen
in Tokyo (Routledge 2004) and has published articles on Japanese music in Ethno-
musicology, Asian Music, and The World of Music.

Understanding a Japanese kabuki play involves much more than

analyzing its written text. Essential to the meaning of a kabuki play are
its presentational elements—highly stylized movement, speech, dance,
and song—which are reflected in the three Chinese characters used to
write the word—ka (song), bu (dance), and ki (skill).1 Kabuki’s focus
on presentation has greatly contributed to the common description of
kabuki as an “actor’s theatre,” which itself has been viewed as problem-
atic to the point of even threatening to eclipse the power of the nar-

Asian Theatre Journal, vol. 26, no. 2 (Fall 2009). © 2009 by University of Hawai‘i Press. All rights reserved.
216 Keister

rative texts of plays. While some critics have despaired that the show-
manship that drives such “actor-centeredness” has hollowed kabuki
and sacrificed any claims for it as a “classical” form of theatre (Takechi
2003), others have shown how the open-ended nature of kabuki play
texts allows the presentational styles of individual actors to reinforce
the power of the narrative (Brandon 2001). Thus, studying a “classic”
kabuki play, such as the canonic eighteenth century play Sukeroku: Yukari
no Edo Zakura (Sukeroku: Flower of Edo), requires an analysis that goes
beyond its dialogue and narrative in order to understand the efficacy
of its presentational elements.
This article focuses on the element of dance in Sukeroku—spe-
cifically, the celebrated entrance dance of the main character—to show
how dance not only supports the dramatic narrative, but also expresses
aspects of character and style with more symbolic nuance than does
spoken dialogue. Typical of Japanese traditional dance in its combina-
tion of mimetic actions, abstract or symbolic movements, momentary
poses, and costume displays, the dance of Sukeroku is thoroughly a
product of the Edo (or Tokugawa) period (1603–1868), a time when
popular culture focused on the presentation of the self through dis-
plays of fashion and expressions of attitude. The entrance dance of
the dynamic and fashionable Sukeroku not only sets the tone for the
play that follows, it is arguably the high point of the entire play in its
symbolic presentation of one of the most iconic figures in Japanese
culture.
The guiding aesthetic of this play and its famous leading man is
best described by the term iki, the sense of urban style and attitude that
became a central cultural value of the Edo era. Roughly translated as
“chic refinement,” iki was a term used to describe those individuals who
displayed the fashion sense and cultured taste appropriate to spend-
ing time in the “floating world” (ukiyö) of the pleasure quarters that
became the locus of popular culture during this era. More than a mere
fashion statement however, iki style and behavior became an important
sign of social distinction for the lower classes. For commoners to dis-
tinguish themselves in an iki manner at a time when the military gov-
ernment strictly enforced all manner of public behavior was an open
act of defiance against the ruling class. Thus, iki was often displayed in
very subtle and subversive ways. These two sides of iki—refinement and
resistance—merge in the fashionable rebel Sukeroku, a character who
embodied aesthetic refinement and symbolized the social resistance of
the era. Studying this particular character’s dance helps us understand
how kabuki functioned both as a focal point for style in popular culture
and as a politically charged form of social critique.
Urban Style Refinement in the Japanese Dance SUKEROKU 217

The Character Sukeroku: Double Persona and the

Power of Vengeance
The play Sukeroku: Flower of Edo (hereafter referred to simply as
Sukeroku) is famous for its protagonist Sukeroku, the heroic, swaggering
dandy who has been one of the most popular heroes of the Japanese
stage and has become a familiar icon of the Edo era. Sukeroku first
emerged as a character in kabuki plays of the late seventeenth century.
The invention of the Sukeroku character as we know it today began
with a performance by Ichikawa Danjürö II in 1713 (Taguchi 2005: 37).
After undergoing various revisions throughout the eighteenth century,
Sukeroku 2 became one of the distinguished “Eighteen Favorite Plays”
officially designated by the Danjürö family and has been performed
annually on kabuki stages in Tokyo by successive generations of the
Danjürö acting throne.3 Sukeroku’s longevity on the Japanese stage
owes a great deal to the dynamism and complexity of this character.

Figure 1. Ichikawa Danjürö as Sukeroku. Following the dance section,

Sukeroku displays a handful of pipes as tokens of affection from the women
of the pleasure quarters. (Photo: Research Department National Theatre of
Japan)
218 Keister

If we look at the stage play in the context of its time, it is easy to

understand why Sukeroku became so popular with Edo audiences. Dur-
ing a time when social stratification was rigidly enforced by a military
government, the play presented Sukeroku as a commoner who roams
the pleasure quarters, boldly challenging samurai elites to engage in
fights. The various kinds of insults Sukeroku employs during the play
to humiliate high-class samurai—such as using his bare feet to offer
a tobacco pipe to one character, dumping a bowl of noodles on the
head of another, and forcing his enemies to crawl between his legs—
delighted audiences of townsmen who loved to see the upper class get
knocked down a peg. As entertaining as all these staged insults were for
repressed commoners of the day, one of the high points of the entire
play is the eagerly awaited entrance of the actor as Sukeroku. As per-
formed by Edo-era star Ichikawa Danjürö, this was a dancing entrance
that in its day stimulated the same kind of audience excitement as an
entrance by a rock star as charismatic as Elvis Presley or Mick Jagger.
From the beginning of the play, a sense of anticipation of the
star performer is built up by the principal supporting actors who appear
first on the main stage and engage in dialogue about Sukeroku. The
setting is the pleasure quarters of Yoshiwara, and on stage is a tableau
of courtesans—prostitutes of high rank—dressed in the most lavish
and ornate kimono, headed by Yoshiwara’s most desirable courtesan,
Agemaki, who is Sukeroku’s true love. Appearing with them on stage
is Sukeroku’s archrival, the samurai Ikyü, who argues with Agemaki,
expressing his jealousy of her affections for Sukeroku. Agemaki then
delivers a speech comparing Ikyü to Sukeroku, praising Sukeroku for
his physical attractiveness and admirable character while insulting Ikyü
for his ugliness and shallow personality. Agemaki then rebuffs Ikyü,
saying she never wants to see him again, and exits. The stage is then set
for Sukeroku, who is greeted with excitement by all the ladies of the
pleasure quarters as he makes his grand entrance (see Fig. 1 and 2).
The dance that commences lasts about ten minutes and takes
place entirely on the hanamichi, the long bridge that juts out from the
main stage, making effective use of this device by exclusively highlight-
ing the star actor.4 Sukeroku’s dance is made up of a series of poses and
movements, many of which are aggressive and meant to intimidate his
enemies by expressing his strength and his tough reputation. He also
exudes an atmosphere of great honor and dignity as he bows deeply
to honor the audience in attendance. This dance within the play is
critical, for it provides a wealth of information about this character and
what this play is about. In addition to setting the tone for the play that
follows, all of these moves of aggression, stealth, and honor serve as
Urban Style Refinement in the Japanese Dance SUKEROKU 219

clues to what is really going on. There is much more to Sukeroku than
meets the eye.
The intriguing twist to Sukeroku is that this character has a
double identity and is actually two characters combined into one. This
champion of the common folk is actually a disguise for a secret identity:
the famous samurai Soga Gorö, familiar to Japanese audiences from
the well-known twelfth-century tale of two brothers who seek to avenge
their father’s death. In fact, this double-identity character is on a secret
mission in which his quarreling has a purpose. As Gorö this character
is seeking the samurai who murdered his father, but he does not know
the identity of the killer, only that the man possesses his father’s famous
sword. In order to find the killer Sukeroku/Gorö employs a clever, but
risky, strategy of heaping insults upon all samurai he meets to the point
that they draw their swords in anger. Since this is the only way he can
find and kill his enemy, he must have stiff resolve and an iron will.
That Sukeroku is “in fact” ( jitsu wa) Gorö has long been a popu-
lar theatrical trick in kabuki called yatsushi (literally “disuise”) and was
easily understood by audiences of the Edo era familiar with the conven-
tion of representing historically renowned characters in present-day
guises (Brandon 1975: 5).5 Like many characters portrayed in Japanese
dance, Sukeroku’s dual identity represents a transformation typical of
kabuki in which “the old was transformed into the new and the new in
turn became old” (Thornbury 1982: 21).6 This dual identity spanning
different historical eras allows Sukeroku/Gorö to be both commoner
and samurai at the same time, effectively elevating and dignifying a
commoner with the elite status of a samurai. In retrospect, Sukeroku
symbolizes the gradual social transformation of the middle class as it
gained economic power during the Edo era—a cultural shift reflected in
an onstage fantasy world in which a commoner could become a person
who wielded great power.7 Sukeroku not only challenges the authority
of the samurai, he “becomes” a samurai by virtue of this fusion with the
character of Gorö and in this way symbolically achieves conquest.
This invocation of the revenge story of the Soga brothers
endowed Sukeroku with ritual power on the Edo stage. The tale of how
the two Soga Brothers, Gorö and Jürö, pursued the killer of their father
was the basis of numerous plays that were typically performed annually
as part of the New Year’s celebration and became an important part of
the calendar of plays. The ritual purpose behind such plays is rooted in
Japanese religious beliefs about the fate of souls in the afterlife. Accord-
ing to traditional belief, when a person is murdered the soul remains
restless until family members avenge his or her death. This vengeance
upon one’s enemy (katakiuchi) was necessary not only to save face in
Figure 2. Ichikawa Danjürö as Sukeroku in the entrance dance on the
hanamichi. (Photo: Research Department National Theatre of Japan)
Urban Style Refinement in the Japanese Dance SUKEROKU 221

the community, but also to calm the soul of the deceased (chinkon) so
the spirit could be free to go on to heaven or “the pure land” ( jödo)
(Hasumi 2000: 343).
Vengeance was so important during the Edo period that the
Tokugawa government legalized the practice of family vengeance and
assisted in helping family members properly conduct the retribution.
Such retribution, however, was not easy as foes sometimes evaded their
avengers for years and the success rate of katakiuchi was extremely low
(Hasumi 2000: 343–344). Thus, Soga plays focusing on the long wait-
ing and suffering of the avenger came to be used on the kabuki stage
for more than just entertainment. These plays of violent revenge func-
tioned as a mass catharsis for Edo audiences and it was believed that
annual performances of these plays and their heroic, godlike characters
could calm the souls of the yet to be avenged dead (Misumi 1968: 101).
More than just an actor playing a role, Danjürö as Sukeroku became
what Kominz calls an “avatar of vengeance” (Kominz 1995): a living
god endowed with the power of ritual violence.

The Aesthetic of Iki: Sophistication, Style, and

Sexuality in the Edo Era
While the hidden identity of Soga Gorö suffuses this character
with the dramatic power of an earlier era, Sukeroku is very clearly a
product of the Edo era in that he embodies iki. Often cited as the dom-
inant aesthetic of Edo (Nishiyama 1997: 53), iki refers to a “refined
erotic and graceful style of expression that manifested itself in speak-
ing, walking, sitting, and other movements and gestures” (Öhashi 1998:
554). This aesthetic ideal became highly influential on the attitudes,
style, and behavior of those who frequented the “floating world” (ukiyö)
of brothels, public baths, teahouses, and theatres that were glamorized
in graphic arts, novelettes, and plays.8 So important was iki style that
handbooks were printed that described with detailed illustrations how
to look, dress, and act for both men and women who desired to be
sophisticated urbanites (Tanaka 2002: 29).
A person who aspired to be iki should be fastidious about fash-
ion, witty in conversation, educated and knowledgeable about the
world, able to practice one or more kinds of art, and, most importantly,
knowledgeable in the ways of love and sex. The ideal model of iki was
the courtesan prostitute (tayü) portrayed in novels, paintings, and plays
as an elegant woman of high fashion and refinement who expressed a
cultivated worldliness that was sensual, artistic, and erotic. Although
the term iki was most often applied to tayü women of the pleasure quar-
ters, it was also applied to Sukeroku (Nishiyama 1997: 60), the model
222 Keister

of the otokodate, a “chivalrous commoner” who engaged in fights with

other men over lovers (Nishiyama 1997: 39).
Just as Sukeroku is a fairly complex character, the aesthetic of
iki is also complex and difficult to define despite scholars’ attempts
to develop theories of this concept (Nishiyama 1997: 53). Nishiyama’s
outline of iki includes three elements: hari (strength of character),
bitai (coquetry or allure), and akanuke (subtle urbanity). The spirit of
resistance of the time represented by Sukeroku is illustrated by hari,
a “sharp, straightforward, coolly gallant manner that resisted all com-
promise, conciliation, and undue social adroitness” (Nishiyama 1997:
54). Sukeroku also exhibits the second quality of bitai (coquetry) that,
although typically applied to women, is evident in his reputation as a
sex symbol in the pleasure district, demonstrated in the play by his dis-
play of a large collection of tobacco pipes received from many admir-
ing women.
The attribution of iki to Sukeroku becomes problematic when
one considers the character’s behavior in relation to the third term,
akanuke, described as “an unpretentious air, a thorough familiarity with
all aspects of life, and an unconcerned, unassuming character” (Nishi-
yama 1997: 54). Other terms closely associated with iki that are equally
problematic are sui, a tasteful elegance associated with the Kansai area
(Teruoka 1989: 3), and tsü, often translated as “connoisseurship” and
explained by Nishiyama as “behavior brought forth by iki ” (Nishiyama
1997: 58). What unites all of these terms is an underlying sense of self-
confidence that is subtle and understated. Perhaps the single English
word that best sums up all of this—albeit imprecisely—is “cool.”
Sukeroku certainly epitomizes “cool” for the Edo era, but the
tasteful attitude toward self-expression that exemplifies iki reveals a cer-
tain tension in the character of Sukeroku who is, in many ways, far from
subtle. In Sukeroku one sees less of tsü and more of its opposite, yabo,
a kind of boorishness. A person who exemplified tsü was “required to
have discretion . . . was not arrogant . . . cynical or vulgar,” while a
person who was yabo (boorish) behaved in a “blatantly barbarian way”
(Nishiyama 1997: 59). In spite of the attribution of iki to Sukeroku, he
actually displays an almost barbaric attitude that is quite yabo during his
venture into the pleasure quarters. However, it is yabo used as a ruse in
order to call out samurai and find his enemy.
Sukeroku’s two identities reveal two conflicting attitudes that
beg to be reconciled, and it is in this reconciliation that we can under-
stand the value of iki for the people of Edo. Iki was at once an imitation
of high-class behavior, an affectation taken on to show sophistication,
and an ideal that was egalitarian in that it is was ultimately attainable
for anyone smart and clever enough to succeed. Symbolic of this egali-
Urban Style Refinement in the Japanese Dance SUKEROKU 223

tarian ideal during a period of hierarchical regimentation, Sukeroku’s

double identity endows him with a samurai’s refinement while empow-
ering him with a commoner’s vulgarity, a double-edged blade to be
used symbolically in class struggle. Sukeroku showed Edo commoners
how to use iki as something more than mere fashion. For Sukeroku, iki
was both a tool of class advancement and social protest.

How to Look at the Dance of Sukeroku

Looking at the dance of Sukeroku today one might claim, as did
Edo scholar Nishiyama about traditional Japanese dance, that it is but
a mere shadow of the vital performance it once was (Nishiyama 1997:
19). Even the current reigning “king” of Sukeroku on the kabuki stage
today, Danjürö XII, has said that the “magic” is gone from this work
(Gerstle 1989: 38). However, we can still find traces of its significance
for Edo audiences in the basic movements and poses that have survived
since the eigthteenth century. Considering that kabuki was once just as
much about instructing audiences in the codes of urban style and social
behavior as it was about entertainment,9 Sukeroku may be one of the
best surviving examples providing insight into how informed Edo audi-
ences looked at kabuki dance during this era and still today continues
to offer its rich imagery for audiences to bring their own perspectives to
this classic work. The key to its longevity is precisely its stylishness and
complex symbolism that speaks to modern audiences as powerfully as
it did to those in the Edo era.
How does one “read” a classic Japanese dance like Sukeroku?
A helpful starting point is the approach of theatre scholar Leonard
Pronko, who makes a distinction between signs and symbols (Pronko
2002). Following Carl Jung’s terminology, Pronko describes how
kabuki acting and dance employ precise signs—conventional indica-
tions or abbreviations for something specific—and abstract symbols—
indefinite expressions with multiple meanings (Pronko 2002: 238).
Japanese dance consists of a combination of movements and poses,
some of which have specific, denotative meanings while others have
broader, more connotative meanings. Accordingly, one should not
only consider the specific coding of signs inscribed into a dance, but
also be open to interpreting its symbols.
On one level, signs with fixed meanings are abundant in dance
as they function to provide vital information to an attentive audience,
just as they do in most any theatrical tradition. These precise poses and
movements, as well as costume and makeup, signal to the audience
important information such as a person’s rank, social class, or occupa-
tion. Obviously a working knowledge of these specific theatrical signals
deepens an audience member’s appreciation of Japanese dance, but
224 Keister

the aesthetic power of Japanese dance is more than just a simple cor-
respondence between signs and their referents.
At a deeper level, symbols are equally important in Japanese
dance, as many movements and poses may have multiple meanings
or are open to multiple interpretations. One of Pronko’s examples
of multivalent symbolism is a pose performed by the kabuki character
Kumagai; the character’s clenched fist held squarely in front of his
chest could mean frustration, anger, or the withholding of emotions,
and holding his fan with the pivot end up could be seen as merely deco-
rative or as the image of a mountain peak (Pronko 2002: 244–245). In
such a complex pose, of which there are many in Japanese dance, the
dancer attains a kind of iconographic symbolism that resembles a god,
a figure that E. T. Kirby refers to as a “hieroglyph . . . the intersection
of more than one mode of knowing or more than one medium of com-
munication” (Pronko 2002: 241).
Furthermore, a single pose or movement can simultaneously
function as both a sign and a symbol, depending on one’s point of
view or familiarity with the tradition. Any given dance pose may sig-
nal an obscure historical reference to the most seasoned dance aficio-
nado while appearing more symbolic—such as suggesting masculine
strength or feminine beauty—to less experienced audience members,
and either of these interpretations would be accurate. The importance
of symbolism in dance is that individualized interpretations are not
“misinterpretations” at all. On the contrary, it is multiple meanings
that give Japanese dance—like Japanese poetry, a highly ambiguous art
form—its richness and power.
This analysis of the dance of Sukeroku will examine the specific
meanings conveyed by the “signs” of the dance as well as the more
ambiguous symbolism that gives the dance its aesthetic power. One
challenge of analyzing Sukeroku is that there are multiple versions of
the dance. Part of the actor-centered nature of kabuki is that perfor-
mances differ according to the actor, each one having his own unique
style learned through a lifetime of training. Furthermore, the dance of
Sukeroku also exists as a nihon buyö ( Japanese classical dance) that is
performed separately from the kabuki play, and there are innumerable
versions of these dances practiced by many schools, each with its own
choreography (Nishigata 2002: 69). There are also musical differences
in that kabuki uses either the older katöbushi musical accompaniment or
a newer nagauta version that is based on the katöbushi version, which is
also used in performances of nihon buyö.
For this article I have chosen to focus my analysis on the version
performed by the current Ichikawa Danjürö XII, not only because it
could arguably be called the authoritative version dating back to the
Urban Style Refinement in the Japanese Dance SUKEROKU 225

eighteenth century, but because it best demonstrates the function of

dance within a kabuki play. It is also particularly useful in that this ver-
sion is commercially available on a DVD produced by NHK (Sukeroku
Yukari no Edo Zakura 2006) from a 2005 performance at Tokyo’s Kabuki
Za theatre that interested readers can consult as a visual supplement
to my analysis. Although I analyze this entire dance performance in
the pages that follow, viewers should be advised that I have avoided a
strictly sequential, step-by-step analysis, organizing it instead around
particular themes that emerge as one watches the dance and the spe-
cific techniques used to enhance those themes.
My understanding of the dance movements and the music stud-
ied here is based on more than just observation. My own lessons in
Japanese dance and music have provided me with what dance scholar
Tomie Hahn would call an “embodied” or “sensational” knowledge of
my subject (Hahn 2007). I learned a version of the dance of Sukeroku—
the nihon buyö dance of Japan’s Bando school—in private, one-on-one
lessons from dance master Miyoka Bando in Denver, Colorado, during
2005–2006. I also studied the shamisen and vocal parts of the nagauta
accompaniment to Sukeroku from my teacher Kikuoka Hiroaki in
Tokyo from 1997 to 1998.10 While there are structural differences
between the version I have learned with nagauta accompaniment and
the Danjürö version with katöbushi accompaniment, both share most of
the basic dance movements and significant portions of the music. To
represent dance poses I have used Ms. Bando’s notational style, based
on a “stick-figure” notation model that is widely used in Japan today.

The Walk of Sukeroku and the Basic Movements

of Male Dance
The entrance dance of Sukeroku not only introduces the audi-
ence to one of the most fascinating characters in Japanese theatre, it also
demonstrates the importance placed on the fundamental movement of
walking in Japanese theatre and the way it conveys information about
character. According to some dance professionals, the most important
part of performing the dance of Sukeroku is mastering the walking
style (Nishigata 1988: 72). My own dance teacher, Bando Miyoka, even
claims that the reason Sukeroku is not performed as often as other
nihon buyö dances today is because of the difficulty of this walking style.
Indeed, most of Sukeroku’s dance appears to be nothing more than a
stylized walk that connects the many poses that make up the dance.
The difficulty lies in the subtlety of the distinctive walk of this
particular character, which originated in the combination of two major
kabuki acting styles: aragoto and wagoto. Danjürö I is credited with cre-
ating the style of male character known as aragoto —literally “rough
226 Keister

style”—which is characterized by movements of masculine power and

vigor executed in a highly exaggerated manner (Brandon, Malm, and
Shively 1978: 68–69). After his father’s death in 1704, Danjürö II, who
had a smaller body and voice than his father, was faced with the chal-
lenge of assuming his father’s position as the most exalted kabuki actor
in Edo. Danjürö II’s creation of the Sukeroku character, in which he
softened his father’s rough aragoto style by borrowing from the softer
wagoto style of comic males, helped solve this problem. This “refined”
aragoto style of Sukeroku became immensely popular and marked a
turning point in Danjürö II’s succession of his family’s acting throne
(Taguchi 2005). To capture this unique style, the dancer must walk
with the bold, aggressive swagger of a fearless avenger, while maintain-
ing the cool refinement of a confident, erudite man who knows his way
around the pleasure district.
Sukeroku’s dance is based on four basic elements common in
male dance: hako, kakeashi, kedashi, and warimi. These four elements
refer only to the positioning of the lower body and may be combined
with any type of movement in the upper body. The basic male stance
is called hako (see Fig. 3). A “sumo wrestler pose” with legs spread wide
and knees deeply bent, hako shows a great contrast to the basic female
pose, in which knees are pressed together. Kakeashi is essentially the
same pose as hako, except one leg is extended out to the side (see
Fig. 4).
From this deep stance the movement kedashi —literally “kick
out”—can be executed by raising one leg, extending it out with a kick-
ing motion and stamping the foot to the floor (see Fig. 5). Warimi is the

Figure 3. Hako (drawing Figure 4. Kakeashi (drawing

by Miyoka Bando) by Miyoka Bando)
Urban Style Refinement in the Japanese Dance SUKEROKU 227

Figure 5. Kedashi (drawing Figure 6. Warimi (drawing

by Miyoka Bando) by Miyoka Bando)

pose that results after kedashi in which both knees are deeply bent and
the body is turned in the direction of the forward leading foot, with the
heel of the back foot slightly raised (see Fig. 6).
All of these movements mark a dance as a male character dance
in that the legs are typically spread much wider than in a female charac-
ter dance. Male dance features a low center of gravity, connecting the
dancer firmly to the floor and providing a sense of steadfast power to
strong, heroic male characters such as Sukeroku.

An Outline of the Dance

The overview of the dance in Figure 7 demonstrates how Dan-
jürö’s dance progresses alongside the chorus sung in the katöbushi style.
The dance divides into three main sections separated by brief spoken
interludes during which the dance and music pause momentarily.
While the lyrics are intended to work together with the dance, their
actual function is not to tell a story directly, but instead to paint a lyri-
cal image of a story already known—ideally, at least—by the audience.
Entrance section A serves to introduce the character to the audience
and is dominated by relatively simple poses with the character standing
upright. After a brief spoken interlude the dance resumes in the much
longer development section B that functions to develop the charac-
ter and can be subdivided into smaller sections. Subsection B1 is the
longest of the dance and focuses on displaying the stylish costume of
Sukeroku. This is followed by subsection B2, featuring a noticeable shift
in lyrics and music derived from a popular song from the Edo era that
the dancer illustrates with his umbrella, the main prop held through-
Figure 7. An Outline of Danjürö’s Dance of Sukeroku.
Urban Style Refinement in the Japanese Dance SUKEROKU 229

out the dance. The development section concludes with subsection B3,
employing music similar in style to B1. After the dance stops again for
a second spoken interlude, the dance resumes with conclusion C, in
which the dancer makes his way to the center of the main stage so that
the dialogue and action of the play can resume.
Rather than telling a particular story, the dance serves as a kind
of overture, hinting at events to come in the stage play while simultane-
ously creating a character portrait of a hero who displays the iki ideal
of the Edo period. Three themes emerge out of the dance that I will
develop in the remainder of this article. First, the dance exhibits a ten-
sion between surface imagery and hidden meanings that is characteris-
tic of iki while also corresponding to the surface identity of Sukeroku
and the hidden identity of Soga Gorö. Second, I will address the theme
of the passage of time, a central metaphor found throughout Japanese
arts and used here to express the more noble aspects of iki. The third
theme concerns the tension between vulgarity and refinement that is
crucial to establishing the iki attitude of Sukeroku and developed in the
dance by invoking images of erotic love and violent revenge. In each of
the following sections, I address some of the ways in which dance move-
ments, lyrics, and music interact to develop these themes.

Dancing Iki as Surface and Depth:

Outer Style and Hidden Meaning
What makes the dance of Sukeroku such a powerful expression
of the iki aesthetic is the tension between the surface image of the char-
acter and the deeper meanings that lie hidden underneath. On a sur-
face level, the dance appears to be little more than the fashion show
of an Edo dandy, but this display provides insights into Sukeroku’s
personality, strengths, and dramatic motivation. In fact, from an iki
perspective, the surface image is just as important as the depth of the
character underneath. Maintaining an elegant and unostentatious
exterior was a virtue in the pleasure quarters, and the double-edged
character of Sukeroku made a perfect vehicle for demonstrating the
tension between a cool exterior and an inner rage for vengeance. For
Gorö hiding within this disguise, the success of his mission depends on
covert action and keeping his true intentions hidden.
Hiding is a key theme in the dance of Sukeroku and is evident
from the start, in which Sukeroku appears in the pleasure quarters
lurking underneath a large umbrella. Although the chorus informs the
audience that it is a rainy night, the real significance of the umbrella is
that he is using it to conceal his identity (see Figs. 8 and 9).
The hidden side of Sukeroku is also signaled to the audience
through the use of another prop, the shakuhachi flute that he wears on
230 Keister

Figure 8. Sukeroku Figure 9. Sukeroku

enters hiding. (Drawing appears. (Drawing by
by Miyoka Bando) Miyoka Bando)

his back. The presence of this flute not only clues the audience that
he is actually a samurai, it also suggests the stealth of his mission. Dur-
ing the Edo period the shakuhachi was associated primarily with komusö
priests, many of who were actually samurai in disguise, acting as spies
for the Tokugawa government.11
While these signs of covert behavior serve the narrative function
of signaling the hidden identity of Gorö to the audience, many in the
Edo era audience could personally identify with such cunning, covert
behavior. Negotiating between surface image and depth became an
everyday strategy for many commoners of Edo. As middle-class towns-
men began to acquire wealth and show off their own fashion sense,
the Tokugawa military government imposed various regulations pro-
hibiting certain ostentatious fashion items as a means of keeping the
symbolic capital of commoners in check. Commoners who wished to
display their wealth employed clever ways of hiding it in order to avoid
government prosecution. For example, after the government prohib-
ited the wearing of silk, many commoners sewed silk into the inner lin-
ings of their kimono. In this way, the understated subtlety of iki fashion
becomes a symbolic resistance, and Sukeroku models this throughout
the dance.
In this world in which fashion equaled power, Sukeroku as
played by Danjürö became a fashion leader, eventually inspiring a fash-
ion trend known as Sukeroku-fu (“Sukeroku style”) among young men
of Edo in the mid eighteenth century (Taguchi 2005: 52). Accordingly,
much of Danjürö’s entrance dance consists of the character display-
Urban Style Refinement in the Japanese Dance SUKEROKU 231

ing his impeccable fashion sense to the extent that it seems as if dance
movement is entirely subservient to costume display, as has been noted
by dance scholars. Misumi argues that the very purpose of Sukeroku’s
dance is precisely to show off the character’s fashion (Misumi 1968:
204), while Nishigata attributes the mass popularity of Sukeroku
in Edo to the sheer attractiveness of the character’s look (Nishigata
2002: 70).
As iki fashion must be muted and subtle, revealing the hidden
details of Sukeroku requires that the dance aid the audience in iden-
tifying Sukeroku’s accoutrements. Thus, the dance movements are
designed to draw attention to many aspects of the costume that are not
so easily visible. This is used to great extent during character descrip-
tion section B1. Stamping one foot and projecting it out toward the
audience shows off his fine lacquer sandals (see Fig. 10). Using the
hand to draw attention to the waist, the dancer indicates his expensive
tobacco pouch (see Fig. 11) and then grabs the hem of his kimono
to show the unique way in which he wears his kimono and underwear
wrapped together (see Fig. 12). Such movements suggest that this sort
of demonstrative display aided young townsmen in their studied emu-
lation of Sukeroku’s elegant style.
It is also the case that in the many surface details of Sukeroku’s
visual appearance we find multiple layers of hidden meaning, and even
stories behind them, that increase the depth of this character. The one
item most laden with historical and symbolic meaning is Sukeroku’s
purple headband (murasaki hachimaki) making him so identifiable even
to Japanese people today. The historical development of the use of
this headband provides a good example of how kabuki actors are inter-

Figure 10. (Left) Displaying sandals. (Drawing by Miyoka Bando)

Figure 11. (Center) Displaying pouch. (Drawing by Miyoka Bando)
Figure 12. (Right) Showing hem. (Drawing by Miyoka Bando)
232 Keister

twined with their characters, specifically how the character of Sukeroku

and the actor Danjürö have long been interchangeable.12
According to legend, a purple headband was given to Danjürö II
by Ejima no Tsubone (1681–1741), a high-ranking lady official in ser-
vice of the shogun’s mother who was a staunch supporter of kabuki in
spite of prohibitions against fraternizing with actors. After her scandal-
ous love affair with a kabuki actor, Lady Ejima was exiled, but those in
the kabuki world never forgot her loyal support of the theatre. As a trib-
ute, Danjürö II drew special attention to this headband and executed a
deep, humble bow to Lady Ejima, who was often seated in the audience
before her eventual exile (Sukeroku Yukari no Edo Zakura 2006). The
purple headband used in this dance became a highly fetishized object
as other Edo-era sponsors of kabuki, such as business associations of
fish and rice dealers, prided themselves on having the honor of sup-
plying this headband for performances (Brandon, Malm, and Shively
1978: 21).
Aside from its historical significance, the headband is also
important for its hidden symbolic meanings that signal to the audience
a great deal about Sukeroku’s fighting strategy. Headbands have long
been associated with samurai warfare as a way of concentrating one’s
mental and physical powers before going into battle. While traditional
samurai headbands are typically white, nobles began to use headbands
for healing purposes by soaking them with the medicinal root of mura-
sakigusa grass, which gives them a purple color, and ritually tying the
headband with a knot on the left side of the head. Sukeroku’s purple
headband suggests nobility, but by tying it on the right side instead,

Figure 13. Pointing to the head- Figure 14. Bowing deeply.

band. (Drawing by Miyoka Bando) (Drawing by Miyoka Bando)
Urban Style Refinement in the Japanese Dance SUKEROKU 233

he shows his blatant opposition to the ruling class and intimidates his
enemies by implying that they are “sick.” Unlike the extremely exagger-
ated makeup of aragoto characters like the hero of the play Shibaraku
(Wait a Moment!), Sukeroku’s costume choice reveals a much more
subtle way of intimidating his foes.
The importance of the purple headband is made clear by the
attention drawn to it by the first spoken interlude, at which point the
dance comes to a stop and the courtesans ask Sukeroku specifically
about his headband. Danjürö then resumes the dance, beginning the
long character description section B1, slowly bringing his index finger
up to point directly at the headband as the vocalists sing of its purple
color (see Fig. 13). Sukeroku then slowly executes a deep bow, origi-
nally done for Lady Ejima and other patrons of honor, now directed
more generally at the audience (see Fig. 14).
The deep sense of gratitude and honor expressed toward the
audience in this passage is emphasized by a second slowly executed bow
before Danjürö resumes with more active dance movements. Danjürö
emphasizes these two simple gestures by moving at an extremely slow
pace, taking about ninety seconds to complete them both. The first
bow, in fact, begins so slowly that the dancer at first appears to be not
moving at all, creating a powerful sense of stillness that highlights this
section. The radical change in tempo and the use of stillness that dis-
tinguishes this section from the rest of the dance reveals the rhythmic
power of Japanese dance, which will be examined in the next section.

Creating the Feeling of Time Passing

in Music and Dance
The passing of time is a predominant theme in traditional Japa-
nese art and has a special significance in the dance of Sukeroku. While
representations of time passing such as seasons, flowers, and phases
of the moon are intended to communicate bittersweet feelings of the
impermanence of life, in revenge stories the passing of time takes on
an even weightier meaning. Time is not only the enemy of life, but it
can also ultimately foil the noble purpose of revenge so highly valued
by people during the Tokugawa era. Thus, the tolling of a Buddhist
temple bell that accompanies Sukeroku’s entrance and occurs at cer-
tain points in section A not only implies death but also suggests Gorö’s
virtuous eigthteen-year quest. While sounds of temple bells easily sug-
gest the passing of time, the actual feeling of time can be communicated
directly through the temporal qualities of dance and music that are
used to great effect in the dance of Sukeroku.
Rhythm is one of the most important elements that can be used
to create mood, illuminate character, and even tell a story in Japanese
234 Keister

dance. Japanese rhythm is founded on the aesthetic concept of ma, a

word best translated as “space,” “interval,” or “opening,” which repre-
sents the open space so characteristic of Japanese art. In dance, music,
and theatre ma is manifested temporally as a moment of powerful
silence or profound stillness, but it is important to understand that ma
is much more about relationships between events than about negative
space. In music ma can be thought of as a two-part unit that encom-
passes both sound and its aftereffects, leading to the next sound (Shi-
mosako 2002: 553). For example, when one strikes a bell, the sound
is only a temporary break in the silence or ma that preceded the bell
sound. As the bell sound decays the silence gradually returns, envelop-
ing the sound with silence that lasts until the next strike of the bell. Ma
is central to creating affect in that it infuses the performing arts with a
Buddhist sense of the impermanence of things and the sadness caused
by the temporality of existence. Thus, affect can be generated when
audience members are sensitive enough to hear not just the sound of
the temple bell that strikes during the opening of Sukeroku’s dance,
but also the spaces between the bell’s tolling.
Ma in Japanese dance is also about relationships between events
and is most evident in the stopped pose, a brief pause in which the
dancer freezes momentarily, achieving a kind of power in the stillness
of a highly energized pose. Not only are these dance poses the climac-
tic moments of each dance phrase, but they also provide the temporal
structure of Japanese dance. A typical Japanese dance piece essentially
consists of a series of these poses strung together by fluid, transitional
movements between poses. This creates a rhythmic flow in which
movement—generally called furi —leads eventually to the stillness of
a pose—generally called kimari. The stopped dance pose becomes an
energized moment of stillness that links dance movements in the same
way the “cut syllable” (kireji) in haikai poetry stops time momentarily
to generate a heightened awareness of both the present image and
the next image to come (Öhashi 1998: 553). The stopped dance pose
is so standardized in nihon buyö that it has become the “photographic
moment” in dance, typically accompanied by camera flashes—whenever
allowed—from audience members seeking to capture these moments
of temporary beauty before the dancer resumes movement again. In
kabuki performance, these poses intended to resemble the still images
captured in paintings are the moments that elicit shouts of praise (kake-
goe) from audience members.
Although this stop-and-go pattern of Japanese dance suggests
a binary form, the overall rhythmic structure of Japanese dance and
music follows a ternary form known as jo-ha-kyü. Originating in gagaku
court performance and developed further in nö drama,13 this three-
Urban Style Refinement in the Japanese Dance SUKEROKU 235

part cycle is a rhythmic form in that it is essentially a gradual intensi-

fication of action in which movements and sounds increase in density
and complexity until the cycle begins again or the performance ends.
For example, at the macro level of a Japanese dance performance jo
(“beginning”) represents an introduction that sets the mood of the
piece, ha (“break”) corresponds to the main body of the dance, and kyü
(“rush”) features the most intense movement that brings the dance to
a climactic finish (Hahn 2007: 53). Sections A, B, and C in Sukeroku’s
dance correspond to this structure, and in glancing at the overview
in Figure 7, the asymmetry of this structure is evident in the varying
lengths of each section, with B the longest and C the shortest of the
three sections.
Within a single dance there are shorter cycles of jo-ha-kyü that
may structure subsections of the piece all the way down to the micro
level of individual dance phrases. Within a single phrase the cycle can be
seen in a gradual acceleration: jo begins from the stillness of a stopped
pose and the initial slow movement, ha corresponds to the even tempo
of the main movement, and kyü is a rapid acceleration leading to a
climax that ends in another stopped pose. As individual phrases strung
together repeat this accelerating pattern it gives the dance a flowing
kind of rhythm often described as flexible, elastic, or not strict (Valen-
tine 1998: 266). The simplest musical representation of jo-ha-kyü as an
accelerating pattern can be seen in Figure 15, familiar to kabuki the-
atre-goers in the series of loud clacks played by small wooden clappers
(tsukegi) to the side of the stage.
In the dance of Sukeroku this accelerating pattern is most obvi-
ous in accelerated walking movements, made even more prominent by
the loud clatter of the dancer’s wooden sandals (geta). At several points
in Danjürö’s dance he moves across the hanamichi ramp according to
this rhythm, first taking a single step with a loud clack, followed by
another loud step, then beginning to accelerate into a brisk walk and
stopping as he reaches the opposite side. Danjürö’s phrasing through-
out the dance employs this rhythmic elasticity by accelerating and slow-
ing down tempo in ways that may be less obvious to novice viewers, but
give a fluid sense of forward motion to the work. At times, Danjürö
slows the tempo to a complete standstill, as he does in the bowing in

Figure 15. Jo-ha-kyü as an accelerating pattern.

236 Keister

the headband section of B1, bringing the dance to a point of complete

stillness, as if the dance has been paused in a frozen state of ma.
The elasticity of time generated by music and dance is used to
greatest effect in interlude song B2, a section that deals explicitly with
the theme of time passing during Sukeroku’s eighteen-year quest for
vengeance. At roughly the halfway point of the dance, the chorus sings
a short fragment of a song about life in the “floating world” of the plea-
sure quarters that offers a kind of philosophy about life in general as if
giving advice to the hero:

Sekuna sekyaru na sayoe Do not hurry, do not be hasty,

ukiyo wa na kuruma sayoe The floating world is an ever-turning
wheel

The metaphor of a slowly spinning wheel of fortune reassures Suke-

roku that he will eventually find his enemy. While the dancer uses
the umbrella to illustrate this metaphor of a turning wheel, the musi-
cians support this metaphor with a circuitous melody and repetition of
melodic phrases.
Danjürö begins interlude B2 by holding his folded umbrella by
the top end and rotating it in a circle, miming the shaking off of drip-
ping rainwater. He then does a dance move called jimawari, in which
the dancer turns around while extending the legs and then returns to
face front again, suggesting a sense of traveling and having the effect
of condensing a much longer journey into a very short time frame.
As if following the advice given in the lyrics, Sukeroku’s movements
seem relaxed and unhurried as the chorus sings the line “sekuna sekyaru

Figure 16. A jimawari turn. (Drawing by Miyoka Bando)

Urban Style Refinement in the Japanese Dance SUKEROKU 237

na” (“do not hurry, do not be hasty”), which is musically not hurried
and stretched into a circuitous, highly melismatic vocal melody (see
Fig. 16).
After completing this travel movement, Danjürö walks toward
the main stage again in the accelerated jo-ha-kyü movement as the sing-
ers sing the vocable “sayoe,” which in this context is not meaningless,
but is an exclamation of a carefree attitude towards time, similar to
singing “fa-la-la.”
The next line of song is another long, meandering melodic
phrase describing the condition of life that encourages Sukeroku to
maintain a carefree attitude: “ukiyö wa na kuruma” (“the floating world
is an ever-turning wheel”). The dancer opens the umbrella and dem-
onstrates the turning of a wheel on ukiyö (“floating world”) by spinning
the umbrella while walking slowly across the hanamichi (see Fig. 17).
After the vocalist sings the word kuruma (wheel), the dancer
transforms the umbrella into a wheel. Placing it on its edge down on
the stage, he begins rocking it side to side and then rolls it around 360
degrees (see Fig. 18).
Life in the floating world of the pleasure quarters is a wheel of
fortune that spins, ensuring that everything eventually returns, which is
emphasized by the return of the vocable phrase sayoe at the end of this
second extended phrase. Thus while the chorus reassures Sukeroku
that if he is patient he will eventually fulfill his destiny,14 the dance
tells us that he must hide and walk a long arduous path in order to
achieve it.

Figure 17. Umbrella suggests a wheel. Figure 18. Rolling the “wheel.”
(Drawing by Miyoka Bando) (Drawing by Miyoka Bando)
238 Keister

The Ambiguity of Eroticism, Violence, and

Refinement in the Dance of Sukeroku
The dance of Sukeroku paints a vivid portrait of a character that
became a model of masculinity in the arts of the floating world because
of his sexual charisma and his violent behavior. No other theatrical
character from the Edo era matches Sukeroku’s sexual prowess in love
affairs and violent resistance toward samurai, the combination of which
exemplifies both the pleasurable and the sociopolitical aspects of the
iki attitude. The shakuhachi flute that he wears on his back, for example,
not only clues the audience to the secrecy and stealth of his mission, it
functions as a masculine symbol of aggression—in that it was used as
a clublike weapon by male komusö priests—while also suggesting some-
thing distinctly phallic when visibly displayed across the back of such
a virile man. Just as sex and violence are important in the kabuki play,
they are cleverly interwoven in Sukeroku’s dance in ways that employ
the ambiguity of multiple meanings so prevalent in Japanese art.
Essential to the iki aesthetic, eroticism is communicated in kabuki
through commonly understood codes as well as through more subtle
symbolism. It is significant that Sukeroku’s dance takes place in the
rain, an important poetic symbol connecting nature to emotional and
erotic states. During entrance section A, the lyrics enhance the erotic
overtones of the rain as the chorus sings of “wetness” (nure), a com-
mon metaphor in Japanese poetry to suggest sexual love. Also typical
of Japanese poetry are numerous puns based on the multiple meanings
of homonyms used here to help thicken the texture of sexual sugges-
tiveness. For example, the words mino wa refer to the straw coats (mino)
worn to shield people from the rain and also to the pleasure quarters
of Minowa located near Yoshiwara.
This ambiguity of language not only allows for multiple refer-
ences to eroticism, but also makes room for the violent imagery that
is an essential part of the story. Danjürö develops this tension between
eroticism and violence by contrasting the erotic lyrics of the song with
increasingly violent movement. Throughout the dance, the lyrics of the
song seem to refer to the adventures of a dandy engaging in love affairs
in the pleasure quarters, but the movements and poses of the dancer
suggest the violence lurking just beneath the surface and give the lyr-
ics another shade of meaning. At the beginning of entrance section A
when Sukeroku first enters, the chorus sings:

Kimono crest of five places symbolizes

Years waiting, steeped in love.
Urban Style Refinement in the Japanese Dance SUKEROKU 239

As Danjürö flips his kimono sleeve to proudly display the fam-

ily crest, the audience hears of years waiting and love, suggesting the
anticipation of meeting a lover, but understanding this is really Gorö
seeking revenge, and the audience knows there is more going on here
than love affairs. The chorus then sings:

A child attendant brings news of a meeting

consumated in the teahouses of the backstreets.

Danjürö crouches down low with his hand held to the side of his face
and his eyes cautiously darting from side to side as if he is slyly watch-
ing and listening for his enemy. Thus, the dance suggests two meet-
ings: Sukeroku’s rendezvous with his lover and Gorö’s meeting with his
enemy.
As the dance progresses, the lyrics continue with a playful eroti-
cism, yet the movements become more aggressive and Danjürö’s seri-
ous tone is far from playful. When the chorus sings of rain at the end
of section A, Danjürö opens his umbrella and checks for rain, but he
also appears to be vigilantly watching out for his enemy. In the middle
of development section B1, he strikes a mie, the powerful staring pose
typical of strong kabuki characters that is meant to intimidate foes. Dan-
jürö’s first mie pose is a particularly aggressive expression with facial
muscles tightly stretched, yet the chorus accompanies with the gentle
image of a pleasant stroll:

The breeze entices us along the embankment

On our way to Yoshiwara.

As the dance progresses, Danjürö’s macho posturing intensi-

fies as he strikes Sukeroku’s most distinctive pose: the one that bears
his name, sukerokugasa—literally “Sukeroku umbrella” (see Fig. 19).
Immediately following a dramatic kedashi kick with the dancer’s foot
stamping down on the stage, the dancer holds the umbrella up in the
air with one hand on the handle and the other grasping the rim, and
slides one foot back into kakeashi position, looking off into the distance
for a brief frozen moment. This pose actually frames Sukeroku’s head
in the middle of a triangle formed by the umbrella and the arms as
if—as my own dance teacher says—to show off his hairstyle.
While this striking pose is clearly a crowd-pleaser and typically
draws tremendous applause, there are layers of much subtler mean-
ing suggested when combined with the lyrics sung by the chorus. The
word sukibitai (literally “see through” and “forehead”) refers to the thin
mesh crown on the distinctive hats (eboshi) worn by Heian era nobles
240 Keister

Figure 19. Sukerokugasa pose with

dancer’s back to the audience.
(Drawing by Miyoka Bando)

that were the appropriate attire for rituals. Although Sukeroku is not
actually wearing such a hat in this dance, the mention of it is a refer-
ence to his true identity as the Heian avenger Gorö, who would have
worn such a ceremonial hat in his coming-of-age ceremony when he
was adopted into a samurai family for the purpose of avenging his
father’s death (Kominz 1995: 17). Furthermore, as a pun, sukibitai can
be taken literally, with the words telling us to “see through” the “fore-
head” of Sukeroku in order to see his hidden identity, his true mind,
and his noble purpose. Most importantly, the word bitai also means
“coquetry,” the sexual element so important to the iki aesthetic embod-
ied by Sukeroku.
Visually the sukerokugasa pose displays Sukeroku’s symbolic
power in its resemblance to a mountain peak. In fact, when the dancer
strikes this pose a second time during section B1 the chorus sings of
two mountains:

Yoshiwara lies between the peaks of Fuji and Mt. Tsukuba

Sukeroku is not only standing between the mountains of Fuji and Tsu-
kuba that frame the pleasure quarters, but he seems to represent a
mountain himself in a god-like pose that unifies his own image with the
landscape.
From this pose Danjürö then moves gradually from a crouch-
ing position to a standing pose by rocking each foot from side to side
Urban Style Refinement in the Japanese Dance SUKEROKU 241

Figure 20. Rocking the feet inward to standing

position. (Drawing by Miyoka Bando)

in a heel-to-toe crawl that ends with the dancer standing up straight

(see Fig. 20). This movement represents Sukeroku walking stealthily
through the grass on his way to the pleasure quarters, suggesting gen-
erally the discreet behavior of customers not wanting to be seen going
to the pleasure quarters and specifically the stealth needed by Gorö to
hide from his enemy. Furthermore, this movement also foreshadows
things to come in the kabuki play. In one of the most celebrated scenes
of the play, Sukeroku humiliates his enemies by forcing them to crawl
between his legs, suggesting in this vulgar crouching pose not only his
fighting strategy but also the gates of Yoshiwara with Sukeroku’s body
encompassing the territory.
After these more aggressive poses, it becomes obvious that
Sukeroku’s dance is hardly a calm, leisurely stroll through the pleasure
quarters in search of love affairs. In development section B3, when the
chorus sings again of the “meeting” it is clear that this meeting is some-
thing more sinister than a love affair:

Days pass until their promised meeting

before the fence in front of the teahouse

Sukeroku walks slowly across the stage, counting on the five fin-
gers of one hand, pulling in each finger one at a time, starting with
the thumb and ending with the fifth finger. But after he counts off
his fifth finger, he pauses and bends forward, looking at the audience.
242 Keister

Sukeroku pops up his fifth finger again, and gives a menacing stare
toward the stage where his enemy in the play, the samurai Ikyü, is wait-
ing for him. This is more than a lover’s quarrel. Sukeroku has now
found his enemy and the time has come for his fateful meeting, which
is about to take place in the play.
The violent Sukeroku clearly embodies the iki spirit of resistance
against the samurai, but the ideal of iki is supposed to be a kind of refined
elegance that shuns the sort of vulgarity that Sukeroku employs in his
battle tactics. Shouting out insults and forcing men to crawl between
his legs, as well as bragging about his sexual prowess, could easily be
seen as crass or yabo —behavior that is precisely the opposite of the
elegance of iki—and is a source of tension that emerges and is resolved
in the stage play. During the play, when Sukeroku meets and insults
his rival, Ikyü, the samurai remonstrates Sukeroku for behaving like
a lowly brigand. Later, Sukeroku meets his mother, who admonishes
him for his brawling behavior and makes him promise to stop fighting.
Sukeroku fulfills his promise by wearing a paper kimono given to him
by his mother, preventing him from fighting lest it be damaged. This
allows Ikyü to humiliate and beat Sukeroku with his fan to the point
that Ikyü realizes and grudgingly acknowledges the nobility of this man
who so dutifully honors his mother with such a promise. After Ikyü
tears the paper kimono however, Sukeroku feels no longer bound to
his promise and he resumes his fight for vengeance.
While the kabuki play solves this contradiction between vulgar-
ity and nobility through dramatic action, the dance resolves this ten-
sion through movement and music. During development section B3
as the dance nears its end, the meeting the chorus is singing about
has become a lovers’ spat, foreshadowing the battle with Ikyü soon to
come: “They meet and soon quarrel.”
But here Danjürö tempers the violence of his movements. He
strikes a pose similar to his earlier mie, but instead of a tense body and
an aggressive stare, his body is relaxed as he delicately places his sleeve
in front of his mouth, a common gesture of female characters. This
effeminate pose suggests that Sukeroku is indeed in a lover’s quarrel
and feels hurt or apologetic. The chorus then sings:

But harsh words lead to words of love:

You are charming! You are marvelous!

In the context of a lovers’ spat, it is not clear exactly who is being

referred to, but these words accompanying Danjürö’s movements
appear to be in praise of Sukeroku for his devotion to the elegant cour-
Urban Style Refinement in the Japanese Dance SUKEROKU 243

tesan Agemaki. The dance then comes to a halt again with the second
spoken interlude and Danjürö speaks one line of dialogue in a loud,
declamatory manner toward the main stage, where he will soon meet
Agemaki: “It is for you! It is for you!”
There is still ambiguity here as to the precise meaning of this
line. Sukeroku could be referring to either of the characters that await
him: his lover Agemaki or his enemy Ikyü. Having made this declaration
and ready to take to the main stage, Sukeroku begins conclusion C with
a swaggering walk called tanzen roppo that is associated with fashionable
otokodate of Edo (see Fig. 21). Walking in this manner, Sukeroku finally
leaves the hanamichi ramp and makes his way to the center of the main
stage, where he strikes a final mie pose with a menacing stare, marking
the end of the dance and the beginning of the main body of the play.
This stylized walk that concludes the dance is accompanied by
the final words of the chorus, which are suddenly direct and unequivo-
cal for the first time. In the final verse the chorus sings the name of
Sukeroku for the first time and the name of his lover, Agemaki:

Devoting his life to Agemaki

Sukeroku passes by with a dashing air.

In contrast to the ambiguity that preceded it, the final verse

leaves us with an image of Sukeroku as a noble character who acts solely
out of love. Sukeroku’s nobility derives not only from his defense of
family honor, but also from his devotion to a woman that he vows to
protect from the clutches of a samurai villain. Beneath all of the brash
violence, crude insults, and dandy behavior of this most colorful man
of the pleasure quarters is a pure and noble hero who is ultimately
redeemed by love.

Figure 21. Tanzen roppo walking style. (Drawing by Miyoka Bando)

244 Keister

Conclusion: Resolving the Ambiguities of

Sukeroku in Dance
Sukeroku is one of the most fascinating characters of the Japa-
nese stage, in large part because of the tension created by the ambigu-
ity of this complex persona and the way in which kabuki—especially
the elements of dance and music—exploits this ambiguity. The basic
premise of his double identity as both the commoner Sukeroku and
the samurai Gorö is the fundamental ambiguity of this work. Although
savvy Edo audiences had little trouble accepting a raconteur townsman
and an avenging samurai rolled into one character, successfully merg-
ing the two is nonetheless a significant theatrical accomplishment. Add
to this a third identity—that of the actor Danjürö, whose acting legacy
and stage presence is in many ways identical with Sukeroku—and the
resulting persona resembles one of Empson’s seven types of ambiguity
in which two or more contradictory images are brought together into
one unified whole (Empson 1947: 48).
Enabling the reconciliation of these identities is the aesthetic
complex of iki, a term that has often been used to define popular cul-
ture of the Edo era, yet ambiguous in its own way because of its diverse
connotations. Encompassing a wide range of meanings, from urbane
refinement to erotic coquetry to commoners’ resistance against the
samurai, the multiplicity of iki confounds simple translation into a single
term, but it is precisely the character of Sukeroku that can help clarify
this problematic concept. For a scholar such as Nakano, who eschews
iki for a theory of ga/zoku (elegance/vulgarity) in which vulgarity can
be elevated to a refined elegance (Nakano 1989), there is perhaps no
better example than Sukeroku, who employs vulgar means for noble
ends and becomes an elegant character in the process. Ultimately iki is
best understood, as suggested by Japanese philosopher Kuki, by its out-
ward expressions of speech, posture, gesture, look, hairdo, and attire—
all elements that are best exhibited in the dance of Sukeroku—so it is
not surprising that Sukeroku is often cited as a personification of iki
(Tanaka 2002; Kuki 1979). Sukeroku’s dancing display helps audiences
understand the totality of the flashy stylishness, noble resistance, and
elegant refinement that make up iki and convey its power.
As this analysis has shown, the values of iki coalesce in the dance
of Sukeroku and reveal the virtues of the commoners of Edo. While
Danjürö clearly modeled a specific vocabulary of fashion, gesture,
and attitude for Edo commoners to emulate, he united this fashion-
minded surface display of Sukeroku with the noble purpose of the
hidden avenger Gorö. Hiding, watching, and waiting for the eventual
Urban Style Refinement in the Japanese Dance SUKEROKU 245

fulfillment of this character’s destiny—symbolic of the ascendance of

the middle class by the end of the Edo era—is effectively expressed in
the idiosyncratic movements, rhythms, and melodies of Japanese dance
and music, producing dramatic effects. Working together with the dia-
logue of the play text and acting techniques, the multidimensional-
ity of dance functions here to resolve the tensions between pairs of
opposites that underpin this play—commoner versus samurai, violence
versus love, vulgarity versus refinement. The dance of Sukeroku dem-
onstrates how dance can crystallize cultural values into an enduring
icon that embodies the dreams and aspirations of the people of an
earlier era.

NOTES

I would like to express my thanks to two individuals for their invalu-

able contributions to this article: Mami Itasaka, for her research assistance and
insightful commentary, and Miyoka Bando, my dance teacher, for her incom-
parable instruction in Japanese dance and her detailed notation system.
1. Although the characters “song,” “dance,” and “acting” perfectly
describe modern kabuki, the origin of the word comes from the verb kabuku,
which means “to rebel.” See Shively 1957.
2. See Brandon 1975 for a complete English translation of the play and
its history. The first version of this play was written in 1713 and attributed to
the collaborative work of two men, Tsuuchi Jihei II and Tsuuchi Hanemon.
The play underwent a major revision of its plot three years later and further
minor revisions during the eighteenth century (Brandon 1975: 51).
3. The character of Sukeroku has come to be identified primarily with
the Danjürö family, although it is performed by other acting families as well.
During the eighteenth century Danjürö II had even become virtually identical
with the Sukeroku character, a phenomenon similar to a movie actor becom-
ing identical with a strong heroic character (e.g., Sylvester Stallone as Rocky
or Rambo) and achieving a heroic identity similar to that of modern day rock
musicians (Gerstle 1989:37).
4. One of the oldest elements in the play, Sukeroku’s dance was most
likely created to take advantage of the newly created hanamichi bridge (Bran-
don 1975: 52).
5. Yatsushi “disguise” in kabuki is part of the more general conven-
tion of mitate in Japanese arts in which “familiar concepts, customs, persons
or things were cleverly alluded to in art, literature and kabuki” (Leiter 2006:
239). In kabuki this operates according to two principles, sekai and shukö, inter-
preted as “tradition” and “innovation” (Thornbury 1982: 20–21) in which the
tradition of the Soga brothers tale is told through the innovative guise of the
contemporary character Sukeroku.
246 Keister

6. Although the play Sukeroku that survives today is best known as a

Soga brothers story, the early kabuki plays featuring Sukeroku did not initially
have this plot. The legendary story of a double suicide in the pleasure quarters
between a man named Sukeroku and his lover Agemaki became popular in
various plays performed on kabuki stages in Kyoto and Osaka during the late
seventeenth century (Brandon 1975: 51). The 1713 kabuki production in Edo
written especially for Ichikawa Danjürö II replaced the suicide plot with one in
which Sukeroku has the double identity of the samurai Daidöji Tahatanosuke
who kills Ikyü, a samurai rival. Three years later this play was revised to incor-
porate the Soga story that—after another revision in the mid eigtheenth cen-
tury—has become the most commonly performed Sukeroku play since then
(Kominz 1995: 218–221).
7. Beyond the confines of the theatre, yatsushi became a popular prac-
tice in Edo daily life as townsmen indulged in fantasy role play, assuming fan-
tasy identities such as powerful samurai warriors (Nishiyama 1980: 150).
8. Although Nishiyama argues most convincingly that the cluster of con-
cepts related to the term iki constitutes the dominant aesthetic of the Edo era
(Nishiyama 1997), Japanese scholars have expressed differing opinions about
the applicability of the term. While Nakano Mitsutoshi replaces the word with
other terms for elegance (ga) and vulgarity (zoku), which he argues are specific
to the Edo era (Nakano 1989), the philosopher Kuki (1979) argues that the
word iki best describes the distinctive Japanese approach to life in any era.
9. As some have argued, kabuki served to instruct Edo audiences on
matters pertaining to everyday life: “What is certain is that kabuki had to some
extent a didactic purpose. Part of the search for reality was linked with the
desire to instruct the audience in good manners and good conduct, be it how
to visit a brothel in elegant style, or how a warrior’s wife should crush inso-
lence or defend her young mistress from villainy, or the proper way of exact-
ing revenge.” (Dunn and Torigoe 1969: 23).
10. See Keister 2004 for an analysis of the nagauta composition
Sukeroku.
11. The colorful history of the masterless samurai and their covert
activities with the shakuhachi can be found in Sanford 1977. It is also interest-
ing to note that during the time of Sukeroku’s popularity, studying shakuhachi
and obtaining “stage name” licenses (natori) from komusö became very popular
among men in Edo (Nishiyama 1980: 150).
12. For a study on the multiple interrelationships between kabuki
actors, their roles and the characters they portray, see Thornbury 2002.
13. Whether theoretically explicit as in gagaku court music or nö drama
(Komparu 1983: 24–29) or implicit as in nihon buyö dance, jo-ha-kyü can be
identified as structuring every moment in dance, music, and theatre, from
single phrases to sectional movements to entire performances.
14. This version of the dance abbreviates this song, stopping just before
the next line, which explains, “In time destiny will be fulfilled” (meguru tsuki
hi ga en tonaru). Although the line does not appear here, the suggestion that
Sukeroku will fulfill his destiny is implied in the first two lines.
Urban Style Refinement in the Japanese Dance SUKEROKU 247

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