The Reverberations of Nankyoku and the Light of Television: The Quiet Pride Embraced by Peripheral Performing Arts (circa 1970)

The Reverberations of Nankyoku and the Light of Television: The Quiet Pride Embraced by Peripheral Performing Arts (circa 1970)

Around 1970, the center of Japanese popular culture was already shifting to television. The rapid economic growth of Japan had brought about an era in which cathode-ray tubes were being used in every household, and television was dominating both entertainment and information. However, outside of the dazzling light, the world of traditional performing arts, such as nankyoku, yose, and geisha, existed quietly but surely. The more rapidly television spread, the more clearly the voices of the performing arts, which had been relegated to the periphery, emerged.

A former nankyoku performer in Asakusa does not have much to say about television. It is not that he cannot talk about it, but rather that he does not feel the need to talk about it. In a world where people stand on stage, squeeze their voices, and continue to hone the verses of their stories, the dizzying images and fast-paced trends of television are foreign to them, and they cannot place them at the center of their lives. The practice of ronikyoku is a time-consuming, physical activity supported by the air and the breathing of the audience, and an aesthetic of stillness that is different from the tempo of television is alive and well.

The narration by Ayame, a former geisha, was also impressive. There is almost no room for television in her daily life. Shamisen, dancing, gestures, and interacting with the audience. The art was something she put into her body and imbued into her daily life. Unlike the simple entertainment that television projects, the world of geisha values the invisible, such as ambiguity, timing, and the subtleties of the scene. There is a beauty that cannot be captured on film.

Television has not always been a compatible medium for yose entertainment. Rakugo and other colorful arts are live performances that are completed by the audience's breathing and the temperature of the place, and the "cut-outs" for television appear as shadows with their essence removed. The life of a yose is in the fact that the art changes its expression from day to day, which is different from the stability demanded by television.

These testimonies are not simply a rejection of television, but indicate a "different value system" that traditional performing arts have preserved. Not entertainment to be consumed, but a skill to be handed down. Not a craft to be shown, but a craft to be lived. Even in the heyday of television culture, the world of performing arts on the periphery continued to maintain its own unique sense of time and beauty. This quiet pride is etched in the testimonies of this era.