Early in the evening on a late summer day, the bridge over Shibaura Canal was swaying in the wind. On either side of the canal, old buildings rubbed shoulders with new ones in a higgledy-piggledy array, and strong gusts of wind blew in through the spaces between them. Looking south from mid-bridge, the third building was stained black with what looked like streaks of soot on its rear and side walls. Whether the black streaks were grime accumulated over many long years or an artificial design was hard to say.
Until two summers ago, the building housed a discotheque called Mephisto on its third, fourth, and fifth floors. Each floor had a separate entrance, and customers could enter the disco through their entrance of choice, depending on how the spirit moved them at the time. The higher the floor, the more extreme the music, fashion, and interior design. Dancers on the fifth floor were mostly half-naked women clad in black bondage gear. Unable to join their ecstatic coterie, most men contented themselves with viewing them from the side.
In those days, you didn't have to go far in this neighbourhood before you caught sight of women trussed up in bondage fashion. They used to walk the streets outside in the garb they danced in. When they had to take the train, they draped a coat or cape over themselves to conceal their exposed flesh.
Women clad in what amounted to nothing more than underwear vanished with the bursting of Japan's 'bubble economy'. Just where did they all go? The whereabouts of at least one of these women is known. Her name is Noriko Kikuchi and she has drifted back to this neighbourhood. Her frenetic dancing experience at Mephisto had taught her the joys of self-expression. She thus became an actress with a small theatrical troupe, and it was in such a guise that she returned to the same building that once dominated the times.
Tokyo is home to countless small theatrical troupes. Although it is estimated there are three thousand, the fact is that it is virtually impossible to ascertain the exact figure. Many groups will assemble and disperse for a single production, resulting in a different total emerging with every reckoning.
Many of these small troupes are nothing more than groups of like-minded individuals who get together now and then to offer performances to small audiences of less than three hundred per run. Yet some will on occasion make it to such venerable venues as Kinokuniya Hall and the Honda Theatre. The provisional goal of people involved in these groups is to perform at such noted playhouses.
The theatrical company that Noriko belonged to appeared set to attain that goal. Called Kairin Maru, which made it sound like a fishing boat, the troupe was on its way up, having attracted an audience of more than fifteen hundred to its last production. Mustering an audience of over two thousand on their next run, they believed, was their ticket to Kinokuniya Hall. Members of the troupe had all pinned their hopes on Manager-Director Kenzo Kiyohara, a man of superhuman energy. If the troupe managed to get bigger, it would catch the eye of the mass media, making it more likely that the actors would get the kind of break they sought. The future of the troupe members thus lay in the capable hands of Kiyohara.
The playhouse that Kiyohara had chosen for the performance of their next play was that building wedged between the Shibaura Canal and the First Metropolitan Expressway - the building that had been the home of Mephisto until the year before last. The lighting, acoustic, and other equipment had all been left behind, making it not an altogether incongruous setting for a playhouse. After the disco had gone out of business, the owner of the building had been hard-pressed even to rent the premises out as a venue for local community events. It had never hosted anything like a full-scale drama production. The decision to stage that particular play must have involved a fair amount of risk; some leading members of the troupe had vigorously opposed the choice. Yet their misgivings transformed into fervent enthusiasm upon seeing the script. They appreciated the multi-layered composition of the play, the way the stage settings would use the building's structure to impressive effect. As every member of the troupe agreed, difficult though it would be to pull off, it was a challenge well worth taking on.
Kiyohara was constantly striking out in new and original directions. He believed that the scenario for a play should change according to the contours of a playhouse, and with it the performances. Any troupe's rendering was likely to become somewhat stereotypical after a dozen or so performances. What set performances by Kairin Maru apart was that the troupe managed to avoid this pitfall. This was mainly due to Kiyohara's constant pursuit of freshness. Yet the theatre is always a chancy business; it is impossible to gauge how something will go until the night of the performance. Kiyohara and the members of his troupe were brimming with both anxiety and expectation as the opening performance drew near. If all went according to plan, the path to Kinokuniya Hall would be theirs to walk. Conversely, if the performance went off badly, their collective goal was likely to remain tantalizingly beyond reach for some time to come.