1124227

Inugami: A Play for Masks in One Act, by Shuji Terayama
Author(s): Carol Fisher Sorgenfrei and Shuji Terayama

Source: Asian Theatre Journal, Vol. 11, No. 2 (Autumn, 1994), pp. 163-189
Published by: University of Hawai'i Press
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Inugami: A Play for Masks in One Act,
by Shuji Terayama
Translated and introduced by Carol Fisher Sorgenfrei
Dead poets never die, they just metamorphose. Their lives become
legends. Poet-playwright-filmmaker-essayist-director-photographer and
enfant maudit Shuji Terayama (1935-1983) continues to exert a cult fasci-
nation on Japanese youth. The tenth anniversary of his death from peri-
tonitis occasioned a flurry of exhibits, stage productions, books, docu-
mentaries, and retrospective film showings. Sanctified and demonized,
more popular in death than in life-and certainly more accepted by
the Japanese arts establishment-Terayama remains the quintessential
avant-garde playwright of the late 1960s and 1970s.
Born in the remote northeastern prefecture of Aomori, Terayama
identified with outsiders and outcasts. He maintained that bumping his
head during a fall down the stairs at age three had transformed his think-
ing process. He referred to himself as fat (he was hefty, but hardly a sumo
wrestler) and emphasized his origins in the superstition-laden Tohoku
region. Like Federico Fellini (whose 8 1/2 and Amarcordclearly inspired
Terayama's finest film Denen ni shisu), he was entranced by the liminal
world of traveling circus performers and cheap carnivals. Criminals,
prostitutes, dwarfs, hunchbacks, rebellious students, magicians, medi-
ums, superstitious old women, transvestites, itinerant actors-all were
characters in his plays and in his life. Although he studied the history and
literature of kabukiwhile a student at Waseda University and at the age of
eighteen won a distinguished literary prize for his book of classical-style
tankapoetry, Terayama claimed to be ignorant of the cultural traditions of
Carol Fisher Sorgenfrei teaches theatre at the University of California, Los Angeles. A playwright
and scholar, she is well known for her drama Medea:A No CycleBasedontheGreekMyth. Research assis-
tance for this projectwas partially funded by a grant from the UCLA Academic Senate Committee on
Research. All rights reserved.

164 Terayama
Japan. Yet influences from no, kabuki, bunraku, naniwabushi, and tradi-
tional folk entertainment embellish his work. His plays and films were
presented at international festivals, where he was both placed on the ped-
estal of cultural "demigods like Brook, Grotowski, Stockhausen, Wilson
and Cage" (Ryan 1973, 46) and damned as the "unwelcome" and "mis-
ogynist" purveyor of "pornography decorated with pretensions" (Blu-
menthal 1980, 77). Productions in Japan were notorious. A Terayama
opening usually attracted hordes of television reporters waiting to see if
the police would shut down the performance for violation of Japanese
obscenity laws.
Terayama was the author (and often director) of over fifty plays,
sixteen films, four volumes of poetry, three major books of dramatic the-
ory and criticism, several novels, essays on politics and sports, and travel
diaries; he was also a renowned photographer. In 1967 he joined forces
with pop artist Tadanori Yoko, director Yutaka Higashi, and producer
Eiko Kujo to found an experimental theatre company called Tenj6 Sajiki.
(The name refers to the highest gallery and cheapest seats in a theatre.)
The troupe dedicated itself to "the resurrection of the flesh" and deter-
mined to be a communal opportunity for group fantasy and the expansion
of "the limits of the theatrical experience." The early plays sought libera-
tion from social conventions and "denied the theatre of realism." Align-
ing itself with the international youth movements of the 1960s, Tenjo
Sajiki sought to return Japanese theatre to its roots in early kabuki, when
outcast actors were termed "beggars of the riverbed" (Tenj6 Sajiki,
1975).
Inugami (The Dog God, 1969) is the culmination of the first phase
of Tenj6 Sajiki's existence. The works of this period are intensely theatri-
cal, poetic, and ambiguous, filled with folk legends, surreal imagery,
music, chant, and choral work. Unlike earlier plays such as Aomori-kenno
semushiotoko(The Hunchback of Aomori), written in 1967 as the troupe's
initial offering, Inugami lacks the shock value of vulgarity and parody. It
is, rather, a hauntingly beautiful, lyrical, and subtly disturbing folk leg-
end combining elements of no, bunraku,and naniwabushi. Beneath its deli-
cate facade, however, lies a powerful tale of supernatural forces and
uncontrollable passions. In poetic skill, imagery, and ambiance, Inugami
brings to mind Lorca's Blood Wedding.In its search for an authentic, pre-
civilized Japanese soul, it conjures the power and terror of the rawest
buto. Is it mere coincidence that Tatsumi Hijikata, one of buto's founders
and an early collaborator with Terayama, was also born in Aomori
prefecture?
The cold, remote, weird mountains of Aomori harbor Osore-san,
whose volcanic summit local inhabitants believe shelters a terrestrial par-
adise in its serene blue lake-and the land of the damned in its sulfur-

INUGAMI 165
fuming rocks. Saint Jizo wanders eternally through this world of the
dead, protecting the souls of children terrorized by demons. Blind female
shamans go into trance at the Obon festival, communing for a fee with the
ancestors of pilgrims. Autobiography (real or imagined) is never distant
from Terayama's work. Deformed, possessed, or monstrous male infants
are born to traumatized or raped women; the mothers become vindictive,
suicidal, possessive, or manipulative; weak, alcoholic fathers die or aban-
don families. Neighbors gossip, witch-animals haunt the woods, and
magic incantations are performed as frequently as Buddhist rites.
Like many of Terayama's best works, Inugami concerns a young
man's Oedipal conflicts, parental abandonment, ritual defilement, the
search for self, terror of female sexuality, superstition, and the power of
the past to control the present. As in no, an observing character of the
present evokes the ghost of one long dead, drawing the restless spirit into
the world of the living. In a no play, her tale would serve as an exorcism;
in buto, it would expose and celebrate defilements long kept hidden. Here
the poetic use of ambiguity and indirection creates an aura of heightened
awareness without offering a solution. Visually innovative as well as ver-
bally challenging, the play as directed by Terayama featured huge, white,
childlike masks created by Kiyoshi Awazu, stunning light and shadow
effects, a cardboard paper puppet to represent the spirit-dog, and black-
robed kurogobreaking out of their traditional roles to become choral per-
formers, puppeteers, and representatives of inescapable destiny.
Tsukio was born as the result of an unspeakable act. His mother's
rape by a wild dog led to defilement for both of them. The mother's insan-
ity and eventual suicide may be the consequence of her inability to live
with the shame of having committed bestiality, a traditional tsumi (trans-
gression) which places one outside society and in need of ritual purifica-
tion. The boy himself is contaminated by multiple tsumi: he is said to be
possessed by a witch-animal, he practices minor acts of sorcery, he (or the
spirit-dog) kills animals and the bride, and he harbors secret sexual yearn-
ings for his dead mother. Purification seems possible only in his dreams.
His father, the villagers, everyone except his grandmother aban-
dons him. He is always It in hide-and-seek, the eternal outsider. He and
the spirit-dog become scapegoats for every village ill; therefore, the village
must banish them. His impending marriage to a young woman from the
other side of the mountain is clouded in illusion and mystery. His sexual
consummation becomes an impossible Oedipal dilemma in which the
bride is explicitly and simultaneously an incarnation of the dead mother,
the faithful pet dog, and the tantalizing but unattainable sexual Other.
The play can be seen as a metaphorical commentary on the Japa-
nese national psyche. The omniscient Woman Poet refuses to confront the
unpleasant implications of her tale, preferring instead the tone of uncriti-

166 Terayama
cal storyteller. Myths and legends cloak shocking facts, the absence of
authoritative proof clouds disturbing truths, and alternative versions of
reality are equally acceptable. Social harmony, consensus, and avoidance
of discord must be maintained at all costs. The sins of the parents are
passed to the child. Japan's actions prior to and during World War II
transform even an infant into a monster.
Deep suspicions of racial inferiority war with equally powerful
convictions of divinely ordained superiority. A sense of isolation, of being
misunderstood, results from the insoluble conflict of taboo desires. The
wish to merge with the unattainable Other (mother, bride, dog) can never
be fulfilled because Tsukio is eternally polluted. By analogy, Japan can
never fully join the world community because it too is polluted: contami-
nated by nuclear impurities. It is defiled not because of its own sins, how-
ever great they may be, but because of the sins of the Other: nuclear holo-
caust as unforgivable act. The paradoxical impossibility of love and
loathing torments Tsukio-Japan. Hating yet desiring the mother-bride-
dog-West, craving the unattainable Other which both nourishes and
destroys, Tsukio-Japan gazes in confusion at the source of defilement and
the source of life. Salvation can be attained only by the sacrifice of the
scapegoat, the mythic animal chosen to suffer, die, and thus redeem soci-
ety. Does Terayama imply that Japan's role is to be the scapegoat of the
West, to take upon itself all the sins of the Other so that the West may feel
clean? The cruel irony of the Woman Poet's final words offers bitter
solace.
Romantic longings, fear of isolation, and a preference for paradox
typify Terayama's poetic plays and set him squarely in the Japanese tradi-
tion. Terayama invokes the invisible world of superstition, lies, and dark-
ness by the use of technical devices: spotlights on empty chairs, voices
from behind black curtains, masked actors whose true selves are con-
cealed from view. Black-robed kurogosilently move the props of our lives,
silently manipulate our environments, crafting an effect of forces outside
ourselves, beyond our knowledge and control. These techniques invoke
archetypal fears and primitive awareness of supernatural or subconscious
powers.
Terayama's plays exist in the slender margin between truth and
falsehood, reality and unreality, which Chikamatsu identified as the realm
of art. Terayama questions the very fabric of perceived reality. Theatrical
"lies" pass as truth; rumors and gossip embellish fact until fantasy
merges with reality. Like many of Terayama's other plays, Inugami leaves
the audience with an unanswered riddle, a suggestion of fact or imagina-
tion, a question which can be endlessly debated. How can we believe what
we see on stage, narrated by an ancient hag reading from a book full of
lies? Are her words simply imaginative concoctions based on ancient leg-

INUGAMI 167
ends, superstitious fears, and mythic taboos? Or are they paths to a

deeper reality?
INUGAMI
CAST
WOMAN POET
TSUKIO
OLD MIDWIFE
MOTHER-IN-LAW
HUSBAND
LOCAL MAN
LOCAL WOMAN
TEACHER
JUDGE
BRIDE
BRIDE'S MOTHER
KUROGO I
KUROGO 2
KUROGO 3
KUROGO 4
CHORUS
(Darkness.A darklullabyas thestagegraduallybecomeslighter.At center,a rus-

tic cradleand an old chair of the Taishoperiod.1 Sitting in the chair, the old
WOMAN POET, a shadowyfigurefrom the realmof nightmares.She is illumina-
ted by a pool of light, which is like themoon.)
WOMAN POET: (As thoughreadingfrom a massive, openbookin her hands.) In the

second month of the third year of Taish6, KubiJinosuku's son Ganz6
died of cholera. In the ninth month of the next or fourth year, Ganzo's
brother Sakusuke also died, of sunstroke. In Taisho seven, Sakusuke's
married sister Moyo committed suicide on the railway tracks near her
bridal house. The crimson flower of her neck lay blooming on the rail-
way tracks. In the seventh month of the second year of Showa,
Moyo's daughter Tome was swept away in the river's current and
drowned. Three years later, Grandfather Iwamatsu died of the palsy.
And Moyo's brother Tsukekichi, in the fifth year of Showa, died of
uremia developed as a complication of Bright's disease. And his wife
Kie, in the ninth year of Showa, died of unknown causes. The
Department of Medical Jurisprudence at the university performed an

168 Terayama
autopsy. Both elder cousins Kur6 and Taichi died in the Russo-Japa-
nese War. Only the old people of that clan remained.
She polished the Buddhist altar-
The only dowry
Brought to her marriage-
Until it reflected
A glass eye.
Heedless of the fragrant blossoms,
He cut the cherry tree-
To make from scented wood
A wooden leg for his brother.
(She closesthe bookand raisesherface.)
Well, that's the origin and descent of the family. This tale begins with
Kie's daughter Mitsu. Mitsu had been married off to a family in
Inuda. One night, while crossing the mountains to fetch pickling
plums, she was attacked by a wild dog.
-For one day and one night, Mitsu was missing in the mountains.
When she finally made her way home, she had turned funny in the
head.
-Then, nine months later, Mitsu gave birth....
II
(The OLD MIDWIFE, the LOCAL MAN, and the HUS-

the MOTHER-IN-LAW,
BAND. Thefour are maskedas humancharacters.Theystand, thensit in a circle,
exchangingdialoguewithfacial expressions.)
MIDWIFE: Listen.
MOTHER-IN-LAW: What is it?
MIDWIFE: You'll need to bring some rope.
MOTHER-IN-LAW: Rope?
MIDWIFE: We must have strong, thick rope.
MOTHER-IN-LAW: What for?
MIDWIFE: To hang from the rafters in the shed.
MOTHER-IN-LAW: (Low.) Who's going to hang?
MIDWIFE: Don't be stupid! It's for Mitsu to hold onto when she's in labor.2
MOTHER-IN-LAW: (Breathinga sigh of relief.) Oh, well. And what about the
rope?
MIDWIFE: We must not put a curse on the rope, because the rope is a sign
of an easy delivery. With this rope, we could even pull down the
moon! Hurry!

INUGAMI 169
MOTHER-IN-LAW: They've gone to fetch it.

MIDWIFE: And the hot water?
MOTHER-IN-LAW: The cauldron is overflowing.
MIDWIFE: And the serving tray, did you polish it?
MOTHER-IN-LAW: Indeed I did. It's shiny enough to reflect the sparkle in a
glass eye. (Droppinghervoice.) Now then, Midwife. Tell me . . .
MIDWIFE: Yes.
MOTHER-IN-LAW: Does she still hate the idea so much? Giving birth.
MIDWIFE: Yes, she cries and cries-and, of course, she's been having
nightmares.
(While theothertwo peopleare not carryingon a conversation,theystandstill like

imagesof thedead. . . . )
HUSBAND: What's all this about Mitsu saying she doesn't want to have a
baby? It's my child, you know.
LOCAL MAN: She says it's not a baby at all. She says it's the child of a dog.
HUSBAND: A dog? (Laughs.) Mitsu still hasn't recovered from the incident
that night. What does it mean, "the child of a dog will be born?"
. . . This crazy thing. (He laughs. The mask remains expressionless,yet
aware.)
LOCAL MAN: It was Mitsu who said it.
HUSBAND: She has no self-confidence. To imagine she could give birth to a
dog-child! But I know for a fact that she's just a woman. And she's
frightened. Listen, don't people say crazy things like "a child that's
born on a moonlit night is a demon-child?"
LOCAL MAN: Well, yes, but . . .
HUSBAND: It'll be an easy delivery, and all because of my prayers. Why, I
even took the vomit from her morning sickness and purified it in river
water. And this morning, I hollowed out the core of an exceptionally
large, dark red apple. I stuffed it with a piece of rice paper on which
"an easy delivery" was written. And then I threw it into the blazing
kitchen hearth as a magic spell.
LOCAL MAN: Ah, yes, but you . . .
HUSBAND: I've done everything I could do. Everything.
LOCAL MAN: Of course you know they're all gossiping about your family,
don't you?
(Two KUROGO appearfrom the wings, theirhandspressedagainst theirmouths,

mimickingthe "hoo-hoo" cryof an owl.)
HUSBAND: I didn't know. Tell me.

LOCAL MAN: Mitsu's family in the valley. . . . They're saying it's a case of

170 Terayama
dog possession-possession by Inugami the dog god. The newborn

child will surely be a "dog." . . . That's what they say.
HUSBAND: (Shrinkingback.) That's not possible.
LOCAL MAN: I'm not the one who said it. It was the village headman's
widow and the chief priest at the temple. And the widower Ichiriki.
HUSBAND: (In orderto coverhisfeelings.) The owl is crying out . . .
LOCAL MAN: It's a bird of ill omen.
HUSBAND: A bird of ill omen?
LOCAL MAN: A bird of ill omen.
CHORUS OF KUROGO: (Like a chorus.)A bird of ill omen.
(Then a long silence. From the shadows of the black curtain, the shriek of a
woman in ecstasyis heardfora moment.)
LOCAL MAN: Listen! It's about to be born. You'd better go in.

HUSBAND: (Flustered.)I'm going, yes, it seems to be . . . (Thinking honestly.)
But . . . before I do, I'd better chant the Nembutsu one more time,
just to be safe.3
(Two KUROGO emit the owl cry, competingwith the Nembutsu. It gradually
becomeslouderand louder,thenstops.)
HUSBAND: Nembutsu! Nembutsu!
(The musicof a Nembutsu-likelullabyflows softly in, graduallytakingover.)
MOTHER-IN-LAW: (Irritably.) Come on, now! Instead of making all that

noise, why not make yourself useful? This isn't a funeral, you know.
Isn't my grandchild about to be born? . . . Oh, it really is irritating.
Why can't things be in order? Inside, the house is sultry with vomit-
breath. No fire burns at the ancestral altar. Nor are there any flowers.
(She drops her voice.) I should have cut the sacred flower, the cluster-
amaryllis I saw by the river yesterday. And I still haven't cooked the
rice and red beans, or split open the belly of the river fish, either. . . .
Where's that kitchen knife, anyway? The kitchen knife which splits
open the belly of the salmon trout. . . . (She takesit in herhand.) Ah, it's
clouded over. I wipe and wipe, and still the kitchen knife seems
clouded. I wonder, could it be an ill omen?
(Suddenly,from the shadows of the black curtain, the voice of a newbornchild

seemsto gushforth! Both theNembutsuand the lullabycease.)
MOTHER-IN-LAW: It's born! (Stunned.) It's a boy!

INUGAMI 171
(The birthcryof the newbornboygraduallychangesto music. Then thereis a time

of stillness, and then a longfade to black onstage. A spotlightcomes up on the
WOMAN POET.)
WOMAN POET: And so Tsukio was born.4 With eyes half-open, half-closed,
Tsukio faced the world. And what did he see peeking at him but the
inquisitive eyes of old women. Then Tsukio himself perceived that
they were waiting anxiously, waiting for him, waiting with worry in
their eyes.
When Tsukio was five years old, Mitsu committed suicide with the grass-
cutting sickle.
When Tsukio was seven, his father ran off with the woman from the hard-
ware store.
Tsukio lived with his grandmother, who had been Mitsu's mother-in-law.
The local people whispered that Mitsu's family traced its lineage
through blood relationship to the house of the dog god. No one came
to see them anymore. The villagers said that those who play with the
dog-possessed would themselves become possessed. ... It was an old
superstition.
-So Tsukio was always alone.
CHORUS OF KUROGO: (Sings theFlour GrindingSong. )5
Covered with flour, like dust,
But why? It's not time.
Bursting into tears,
A woman's youth fades.
How quickly replaced
By an old grandmother.
How old is she who grinds the flour,
That old grandmother?
Me and the grindstone handle,
Old women together.
III
MOTHER-IN-LAW: (Incantatorypoem, slowly, as thoughchantinga passagefrom a

Buddhist hymn.) Year upon year, effortlessly, mothers die. Year upon
year, effortlessly, winds blow. In the evening, when the flesh-colored
moon appears-somewhere, someone casts a spell. Even the baskets
in your house are dog-possessed; "bow-wow!" cry the dog-possessed

172 Terayama
things in your house. Even the straw sandals in your house have four
legs, like a dog. The bloodline-cursed in ancestral times by a
sparrow.
In the dead of night, someone awakens; arising, this someone cries like a
rooster-and somewhere in the village, a fire breaks out. And on the
morning of a child's birth, if a white colt is suddenly let free, the child
will be born an albino. Therefore, you must not go out in the day-
time, nor in the evening. Year upon year, effortlessly, you must keep
the door to your house shut. The cursed bloodline brings ruin to the
village. It's those two-the grandmother and child-it's they who do
it. How long, how long?
When the evening breeze is in the mountains, go ahead and cry, just cry,
and don't dream of the crimson flower. Year upon year, effortlessly,
mothers die. Year upon year, effortlessly, only the two remain.
(AnotherKUROGOenters,howling like a wild mountaindog. He drapesa black

clothoverhalf thepaper moon, which is on top of a ladder,creatinga half moon.
Then anotherKUROGOcomes to stage centerand stands holding a large wall
clock. The KUROGO becomesa pillar and doesnotstir.)
MOTHER-IN-LAW: Are you awake?

TSUKIO: Um.
MOTHER-IN-LAW: You just had another bad dream, didn't you? You cried
out in your sleep.
TSUKIO: . . .
MOTHER-IN-LAW: Why did you sharpen the scissors?
TSUKIO:I'm going to cut a flower.
MOTHER-IN-LAW: A flower?
TSUKIO:To offer at my mother's memorial altar.
MOTHER-IN-LAW:That's fine, but . . . (She has begun to feel reassured,but
then.-) You mustn't give in to those crazy ideas so much.
TSUKIO:It's all right, Grandmother.
MOTHER-IN-LAW:You know it's not safe to sharpen knife blades and scis-
sors and things-especially those which have been soaked in moon-
light. Such things are not pleasing to the dead.
TSUKIO:I know.
MOTHER-IN-LAW:(Severely.) Well, if you know, then don't do it! We'll live
for the moment and please ourselves. From now on, it's just "you and
me," not "you and the dead." . . .
TSUKIO: . .

INUGAMI 173
MOTHER-IN-LAW:Whatever that stranger said, this house and the peach

orchard in back are yours. Don't let anybody tell you otherwise. And
there's no need to be modest about it.
TSUKIO:I know that. Now stop bothering me.
MOTHER-IN-LAW:(At this she raises her voice.) I can't help it if I'm a chatter-
box. It's because my tongue is stronger than the average person's.
You see, I practiced eating wild grapes when I was a child. So I have
permission to speak a little bit extra, on the whole. And even though
you say to stop bothering you, I can't stop bothering about you.
You're just like a pale little peach on the tree, grown in the shade
instead of the sun, so that you grow up lacking juice or freshness. All
you do is think. And whenever you open your mouth to speak, all that
comes out is "I'm so lonely" or "I'm so sad." But you're a child, and
it's not right for a child to worry about things like loneliness or spiritu-
ality. Isn't there an old no chant that says, "Even if your heart had its
every desire, still the thinnest coin would be of value." What is your
heart, anyway? It isn't worth a thing compared to a peach tree in the
garden or a poor old packhorse in the shed. When you're playing with
the other children, trying to decide who's It, you leave this heart of
yours somewhere else, across the river, somewhere over by the flour
mill, in the fields or the rice paddies.
TSUKIO:But when night falls, it comes back to me.
MOTHER-IN-LAW:That's why I always tell you to go to bed early. (From the
wings, a KUROGOemits the owl cry. The KUROGOholding the wall clock also
criesout-the old soundsofyesteryear. ) Why don't you play with the village
children?
TSUKIO:I do play with them.
MOTHER-IN-LAW:You're lying! Every day I watch you, spying from a
crevice in the storehouse door. You leave here and-you head towards
the place where they all gather. Everything is sociable, then all the
others yell "Wa!" and run away, as though shooing off a spider. You
just stand there, silently watching. And then you turn away, alone and
dejected. Day after day, it's always the same.
TSUKIO:You just don't understand, Grandmother.
MOTHER-IN-LAW: Don't be impertinent! I know all about it. In the shade
of the sunlit storehouse, the local children point at you and murmur
weirdly, "The dog-possessed boy has come," or they say, "Tsukio,
descendant of the dog god, has come."
TSUKIO: . ..
MOTHER-IN-LAW: What I think is that all you need is a little gentleness. It's
not so hard to learn how to win the hearts of those children. They all
seem to be terribly greedy. Why don't you give them some peaches

174 Terayama
from our orchard? That'll change their minds in a hurry. You can win
over the hearts of those children-there's nothing to it! It's as easy as
plucking every last camellia from the graveyard.
TSUKIO: . . .
MOTHER-IN-LAW: So why don't you play with them?
TSUKIO:I do play.
MOTHER-IN-LAW: All right. Then tell me all the games you play.
TSUKIO:Hide-and-seek.
MOTHER-IN-LAW: Eh?
TSUKIO: Hide-and-seek, I said.
MOTHER-IN-LAW: . . .
TSUKIO:I'm the one who's It. When I go, everyone hides. I search, but I
can't find anyone. After everyone has gone away, I take a single peach
and warm it in both hands. Evening engulfs the town. I search for
them in secret places, calling from the depths of my soul, "Ready or
not, here I come!"
MOTHER-IN-LAW: But you can't find anyone.
TSUKIO: (Softly.) It's all right. I'm really growing up fast. In ten more
years, in twenty years, some day I'll find them all. The longer the
game lasts, the more fun it is. Its really good, you know, Grand-
mother, and I want it to last a long time.
(The two fade out. When the stage is more or less in twilight, threefemale
KUROGOentercarryingchairs.)
KUROGO I: Strange child.

KUROGO 2: Indeed he is.
KUROGO 3: Always so lonely.
KUROGO i: He takes his most precious possessions
KUROGO 2: And buries them all in the field
KUROGO 3: The snapshot of his dead mother
KUROGO 2: Buried in the field.
KUROGO I: And the loquat sapling she had planted
KUROGO 3: And the black crested kimono
KUROGOI: And his mother's crimson comb
KUROGO 3: And the clippings from his own fingernails, cut on a moonlit
night
KUROGO i: Then in the dead of night
KUROGO 3: When no one can be seen, it is said
KUROGOi: He goes alone to the field.

INUGAMI 175
KUROGO 2: Quietly
KUROGO 3: He seems to sniff the scent
KUROGOI: Like a dog.
KUROGO 2: Yes, like a dog.
KUROGO 3: Exactly like a dog!
(A seeminglystartledsilence. The KUROGO exit. Only theirvoicesremain.)
KUROGOi: And so says the schoolteacher-

KUROGO2: What a strange child he is!
KUROGO3: And so says the judge-
KUROGOI: And so says the doctor-
KUROGO3: And so says everyone-
KUROGO2: What a strange child he is!
(The maskedTEACHER, holdinghis shoes, sits in thespotlightedchair.A JUDGE

from the closingyears of the Taishoera sits in anotherchair. He holds a family
recordbook. First the spotlight shines on the TEACHER.)
TEACHER: Of course, you know that Tsukio is a strange child. He comes to

school but seldom speaks. He recently injured his finger on a nail
sticking out of the corner of his desk. When I went to look at it, he was
sucking the finger. When I asked him what he was doing, he
answered, "The blood is sweet." He sucked so much blood that the
index finger turned as pale as the new moon. He was also strange
when it was time to do our lessons. One lesson I assigned was to make
a drawing of flowers, but in Tsukio's picture there were many hairs
growing among the flowers. On closer inspection, I could see that
they looked just like dogs' tails. I quickly went to his house to consult
with his people. After all, it was imperative that a medical diagnosis
be obtained as soon as possible.
(The spot on theTEACHER goes out. The nextspotlight comesup on theJUDGE.)
JUDGE:I was consulted, but I was at a loss, not knowing what to do. Have
you taken a look under Tsukio's desk? Wasn't there anything odd hid-
den in his locker, or in his closet, perhaps? Such as, for example, a
puppy trapped inside a large ceramic jar. .... I remember an earlier
incident which was rather similar. When I investigated, I found a
young child sitting on a box of mandarin oranges. When I opened the
box, out came a puppy. The puppy's eyes had been sewn together
with thread, but he was still alive. So I ran to the forest with the

176 Terayama
puppy, and set it free, and released the poor puppy from the evil
spirit. And the child regained his health. If you look hard enough,
maybe you'll find something like that.
(Music. A BOY SOPRANO calls out things like "Let's play hide-and-seek!"
"Ready or not, hereI come!" "Not yet!" Now an uneasymelodyplays in the
background,as the sounds of hide-and-seeklingeron. Both chairsfade out. The
two exit. Then the spot comes up on the emptychairs. The voice of TSUKIOis
heard.)
TSUKIO: No one understands. No one understands anything about the

soul inside me. I'm playing hide-and-seek. I'll probably be It my
whole life long. Still, there is a kind of pleasure in being It. Maybe in
twenty years, after I and all the village children have grown up, we'll
suddenly find ourselves dressed in fine crested kimono, meeting by
chance in front of the sunlit blacksmith's shop or, perhaps, in the mid-
dle of a festival procession. And in that moment a long-lasting plea-
sure will come to an end. (As thoughmutteringto himself.) My whole life
long, they've always pitied me for being It in hide-and-seek, but there
was never any reason for pity.
(The voiceof a KUROGOhowling like a dog in thedistance!As in thefilm "M",

the cries increase,graduallyswelling to a greatchoruswhich gives the impression
'
of dirtyfeet stepping into the bog of TSUKIO consciousness.6Presentlythe dog
voicesare completelydispelled, like a dust storm blown away by the wind. As a
low, lyricalmusicalthemeflows in, thestagebecomesdark.)
WOMAN POET: Ten years passed. Tsukio grew up, and the mother-in-law
grew old. Tsukio was both courteous and intelligent, and developed
into quite a charming young man. Still, there was something strange
about him. From time to time he shunned the company of others. He
had fits and would lock himself in his room, or else he would climb
trees with a passion. It was said more and more often that he was des-
cended from the dog god. And so the villagers who said this kept their
distance from the mother-in-law and her grandson. Then, on a cer-
tain day when the rain fell, an old stray dog wandered into Tsukio's
shed. He was terribly hungry, so Tsukio fed him. After that, the dog
began to live there permanently.
(His backto theaudience, TSUKIO appearsto be washing thedog. The MOTHER-

IN-LAW walks aroundthemin a circle,carryingflowers.)

INUGAMI 177
MOTHER-IN-LAW:Get rid of him, I say. What in the world do you want to

keep him for? That dog.
TSUKIO:Aah.
MOTHER-IN-LAW: Tsukio, listen. People don't understand, and this just
makes it worse. Have you ever thought what people will say if they
know you're raising a dog?
TSUKIO: . . .
MOTHER-IN-LAW: They'll say, "Look at that! It's a dog! Well, after all, it is
the house of the dog god's descendant."
TSUKIO:I don't care what they say!
MOTHER-IN-LAW:You don't care? If that's so, then why did we have to
burn those smoky pine needles and red peppers? Magic rituals-kage-
baritateand yukaji,7 voodoo needles and cauldrons of boiling water. All
to end the spell of possession. Don't you realize they've forbidden
your participation in the festival? Don't you feel like an outcast when
you can't even wash your clothes in the river? And you're raising a
dog! That just makes them more suspicious.
(TSUKIOdoesnot answer.)
MOTHER-IN-LAW:(Suddenly.) Or do you have a grudge against me?

TSUKIO:Of course not.
MOTHER-IN-LAW: Do you think that keeping that dog is a way to show your
affection for me?
TSUKIO:That's got nothing to do with it.
MOTHER-IN-LAW:(Immediately,withoutpausing.) Nothing to do with it? The
two of us are quite enough for this house. We're two companions, just
you and me, alone in the village. Even grandmothers and their grand-
children envy our closeness. And now, you're trying to split us apart!
All because of a filthy dog!
TSUKIO:(Reproving.)Grandmother!
MOTHER-IN-LAW: You're a harsh young man, that's what you are.
Ungrateful.
TSUKIO:I don't mean to be. But I'm . . .
MOTHER-IN-LAW: What?
TSUKIO:I just wanted someone to talk to.
MOTHER-IN-LAW:If you want to talk to someone, talk to me!
TSUKIO: . ..
MOTHER-IN-LAW:Your mother abandoned you by killing herself. Your
father abandoned you by running off with another woman. But I am
different. I have not abandoned you. I have sacrificed my entire life
for you, and I've protected you.

178 Terayama
TSUKIO: I know.
MOTHER-IN-LAW: Well, then, it's time you got rid of that dog. Abandon
him and be done with it!
TSUKIO: But he is very dear to me.
MOTHER-IN-LAW: You have no intention of getting rid of him, I see. Just
tell me one thing. Do you love that dog more than me?
TSUKIO: Ah .... This dog has no home.
(Female KUROGOsets the stage in orderas nightgives way to day, settingall in

order.)
KUROGO i: Forgotten in the bathroom

KUROGO 2: Are the grandmother's false teeth.
KUROGO 3: When night falls
KUROGO 2: They sing a lullaby.
KUROGO i: My darling, darling grandson!
KUROGO 2: I can't bear to see him enslaved by that dog!
KUROGO 3: I can't bear to see him enslaved by that dog!
KUROGO 2: I can't bear it!
KUROGO 3: But I must bear it.
KUROGO I: It's what he wants.
KUROGO 2: Tsukio wants it?
KUROGO 3: Yes, that's what Tsukio wants.
(Music. An ill omen.)
KUROGO i: As for Tsukio

KUROGO 2: He went with that dog again today
KUROGO 3: Searching for bones
KUROGO 2: Searching far and wide.
KUROGO i: As for Tsukio
KUROGO 2: In the darkness of night, while at the river,
KUROGO 3: While giving the dog a bath
KUROGO i: He saw his mother in a dream.
KUROGO 2: A waking dream.
KUROGO 3: A sleeping dream.
KUROGO I: Come to think of it, the dog
KUROGO 2: Looks something like Mitsu.
KUROGO 3: It looks like the dead Mitsu.
KUROGO I: It looks like her!
(One KUROGO appearsat centerstage holdingthe dog. The dog is madeof white
paper. Behind the black curtain, an interludeconsisting of the voices of the

INUGAMI 179
MOTHER-IN-LAW and a HOUSEWIFE can be heardas the light continuesto shine

on thewhite dog.)
HOUSEWIFE: Hey, there! You!

MOTHER-IN-LAW: Well, what is it?
HOUSEWIFE: Just take a look at this! Go on, take a good look! How could
you have done such a terrible thing to me?
MOTHER-IN-LAW: My, what a puny cabbage that is! What's wrong with it?
I'll bet you didn't put enough manure in the compost.
HOUSEWIFE: (Angry.) Don't you tell me how to grow vegetables! Stop pre-
tending to be so stupid and take a good look at this cabbage.
MOTHER-IN-LAW: What about it?
HOUSEWIFE: Who do you suppose has been biting off the crisp upper
leaves of these cabbages, huh? It's that dog! That dog of yours! He
came over here and ate them all up!
MOTHER-IN-LAW: And you have absolute proof, I suppose?
HOUSEWIFE: Yes. I found four paw prints in the field. Around here, only
one family is keeping a dog. That's your family.
MOTHER-IN-LAW: Well, I'm not so sure.
HOUSEWIFE: So, are you planning to reimburse me or not?
MOTHER-IN-LAW: Tsukio's dog would never eat cabbage, because in our
house he lives in the lap of luxury.
HOUSEWIFE: (Offended.) Your dog may not eat cabbage, but I'll bet you
and your family do. .... Anyway, you're all like some pack of ani-
mals living in the same hole. My husband thinks that it wasn't the dog
who stole the food, but that mongrel grandson of yours.
MOTHER-IN-LAW: I'll never forgive you for bad-mouthing Tsukio!
HOUSEWIFE: He's the son of a dog, isn't he?
MOTHER-IN-LAW: (Shouting.) Get out! Get out! I'll never reimburse
you now!
HOUSEWIFE: (Undefeated.) Acting big, aren't you? That just proves your
guilt-what's that old saying about the thief who proclaims his inno-
cence too loudly? You ruined my cabbage and now you act as though
nothing happened. And you tell me to get out! Never!
MOTHER-IN-LAW: Get out! Get out!
HOUSEWIFE: Are you going to bring me another cabbage? I won't budge a
step until you bring me another cabbage, or until you bring me
that dog.
(TSUKIO is seatedon thefar chair, speakingto the white dog.)
MOTHER-IN-LAW: Get out! Get out!

TSUKIO: Whitey! Whitey!

180 Terayama
(All theKUROGO makethe white dog reactas theywish, so that theresultis like a
puppetin style.)
TSUKIO: Hey, Whitey. Early to bed, early to rise-because if you get up

late, you never know what misfortune will occur.
(The white dog squatson his haunches.)
TSUKIO: (Atfirst speakingsoftly, thenlike a poem.)

Whitey, look. Outside, the doctor goes on his way.
It's dusk; he carries his black bag through town,
Seeking misfortune.
The sun sinks.
At the foot of the mountain, men drinking sake
Loudly gossip about my bad blood:
The descendants of murderers sit cross-legged,
Draining cups that drip moon-drops.
All of them-their heads hanging-will come across
The ancient photographs
Of inescapable heredity.
Whitey.
Sleep well, quietly at my feet.
Dreamlessly.
Until morning,
When, from within the forest of thick trees,
Water gushes forth.
At night,
The woodcutters polish the axes
Which chop the limbs from trees.
Until morning comes,
Sleep well, sleep well.
(The MOTHER-IN-LAWcomesforward carryinga comb with a handful of hair

twistedaroundit. The moongraduallydarkens.)
MOTHER-IN-LAW: Is he asleep? Whitey?

TSUKIO: Whitey's asleep. And the moon is hidden by clouds.
MOTHER-IN-LAW: The cradle rocks in the evening breeze.
TSUKIO: Grandmother.
MOTHER-IN-LAW: What is it?
TSUKIO: The man who came today . . . did he want to complain about
Whitey, too?
MOTHER-IN-LAW: Oh, yes, you must mean the master of the poultry farm.

INUGAMI 181
TSUKIO: What did he want?

MOTHER-IN-LAW: He says our Whitey killed and ate seven chickens. One
or two were listed in his savings account book as assets, so he insists
we must compensate him for the full amount. (Analyzing his thoughts.)
You won't let the law push you around, will you?
TSUKIO: Never. I'll never give in. (Pause.) Grandmother. . . did you
know that everything a dog sees looks ash-gray? They can't see colors.
I read it in a book.
MOTHER-IN-LAW: It's the result of his past life. This was all caused by some
terrible misfortune in a previous incarnation, before he became a dog.
TSUKIO: That's not true. But I'll tell you something about the dog: he's
dreaming.
(During this speech, the MOTHER-IN-LAW moves outsidethe light.)
The dog has been dreaming ever since he was born.

Dreams have no color.
All dreams, even happy dreams, are always the color of ash,
aren't they?
Which means that dogs are living even as they dream.
When the dog awakens, the dream will not end.
So what can be the purpose of sleeping for a dog?
When I go to sleep, I want to have a dream.
When Whitey goes to sleep,
Can it be, perhaps, that he wants to have reality?
Whitey! Look, he's stopped sleeping.
Look! Look!
Outside, the doctor goes on his way.
It's dusk; he carries his black bag through town,
Seeking misfortune.
The sun sinks.
At the foot of the mountain, men drinking sake
Loudly gossip about my bad blood:
The descendants of murderers sit cross-legged,
Draining cups that drip moon-drops.
All of them-their heads hanging-will come across
The ancient photographs
Of inescapable heredity.
Whitey, sleep well, quietly at my feet.
Dreamlessly.
Until morning.
When, from within the forest of thick trees,
Water gushes forth.

182 Terayama
At night, the woodcutters polish axes

Which chop the limbs from trees.
Until morning comes,
Sleep well, sleep well.
(Blackout. Everyoneexits. Music, changinginto a typical aboriginalfolk song,

with a Dixie-like rhythm,seemsto pour out in confusion.8 It's morning.Down-
stage, threesweetyoung female KUROGOmurmurin rhythmicexchanges,like
mysticsrevealingpreviousincarnations.)
KUROGO I: Have you heard?

KUROGO 2: Indeed I have.
KUROGO 3: What a strange tale.
KUROGO I: There is no dog-
KUROGO 2: And yet, there is damage done by a dog.
KUROGO 3: They say the dog in the valley house was shot.
KUROGO I: That's so. And I even heard the shotgun fire.
KUROGO 2: And I heard it, too.
KUROGO 3: And yet the dog bit to death the poultry farmer's chickens.
KUROGO I: Moreover, on a moonlit night
KUROGO 2: Someone heard a dog howl . . .
KUROGO 3: And there were four paw prints in the cabbage patch.
KUROGO I: It seems unthinkable.
KUROGO 2: A strange tale!
KUROGO 3: Was the dog really dead?
KUROGO 2: Dead, but running around the village?
KUROGO I: A shadow dog-
KUROGO 2: Ghostly blood-
KUROGO 3: A demon's curse-
KUROGO I: Or is it still alive?
KUROGO 2: Alive, and running through the village?
KUROGO I: A false burial-
KUROGO 2: Empty tears-
KUROGO 3: The smoke of atonement-
KUROGO I: That's what I think:
KUROGO 2: Somewhere in the village,
KUROGO 3: That dog is still hidden.
KUROGO I: While licking up blood with his tongue
KUROGO 2: He sees with hungry eyes
KUROGO 3: The sunlit places in the village.
KUROGO i: If he does exist,
KUROGO 2: He is over there-
KUROGO 3: Over there-

INUGAMI 183
FIGURE 1. Randy Nakano as Tsukio, posing with the dog's mask, in Yuriko Doi's
1991 production of Inugami(The Dog God)for San Francisco'sTheatre of Yugen.
(Photo: Kirk Schroeder)
KUROGO I: Over there!

KUROGO 2: In the house of the dog god.
(Theypoint to theblackcurtain,which slowly opensto revealTSUKIO.)
TSUKIO:After shutting the rain door, I quietly lifted the edge of the tatami
mat and tore up the floorboards. Grandmother never feeds Whitey, so

184 Terayama
he's always hungry. I'm always the one who satisfies his hunger. I
crawl under the edge of the floor, searching for Whitey, who waits
patiently in our secret hiding place-loving, dependent. Suddenly, I
think about happiness. Happiness always terrifies me. Should I savor
this secret happiness, always living in fear? I think everyone feels
that way.
(Music.)
I stroke Whitey's head. Is Whitey my happiness? Or is this a substitute

for happiness? I've been having nightmares recently. In my dream, I
was a dog.
(Gradually,a distantilluminationgrows brighter.)
In this dream, other people were afraid of me for no reason. When I

walked through the sunlit wheat field, all the local people would disap-
pear in the middle of the wheat. One day, in the middle of the wheat, I
found a left-handed glove. I don't know whose old glove it was. When
I smelled it, there was a faint odor of honey. I licked the glove.
Mingled with the odor of honey was the scent of my mother. I chewed
it to make the flavor last. There was no evil spell or curse involved.
But I cried out with all my strength in a high, nasal voice like a spoiled
child. At the same time, in a distant village, the hunter who had lost
the glove experienced a sharp pain in his left hand. "Ah! It feels like
I've been bitten! It feels like I've been bitten." Could I have been the
cause of his pain? What a strange and difficult thing love is. In my
dream, I was holding onto my own knees as I slept. The tears one
sheds while dreaming are more bitter than those of reality. To tell the
truth, I recently fell in love with a young woman. In my dream, the
young woman came and stroked my head. In a pure white room, on a
pure white bed, the young woman was sleeping. I was going around
and around her bed. In her sleep, the young woman spread her arms
wide, like the wounded wings of a huge bird which has been shot. And
I approached, like a hunting dog running towards her. I ran and I
ran, but I couldn't reach the feather mattress of her bed. It was such a
narrow room and yet it was so far!
In my dream, to reach the young woman's bed, which was less than a
hair's breadth away, I had to run for a thousand miles! Then at long
last when I made my way to her, I saw the sleeping young woman
hugging a grass-cutting sickle to her naked breast. Well, it was for
self-defense. My beloved. When she noticed me, she awoke with a

INUGAMI 185
start. She turned to face me, the grass-cutting sickle held taut in front
of her body. "Out! Out! Over there! This is no place for a dog to
come!"
(Music quietlyfades away. An OLD WOMAN enters, singing in a thick, soft

sopranovoice.)
OLDWOMAN:(Sings theFlour GrindingSong.)

But why? It's not time.
Bursting into tears,
A woman's youth fades.
How quickly replaced
By an old grandmother.
How old is she who grinds the flour,
That old grandmother?
Me and the grindstone handle,
Old women together.
(The MOTHER-IN-LAW is standingbehindTSUKIO duringthis, combinghis hair

with an old comb.)
MOTHER-IN-LAW: Tsukio seems to be more and more distant. I know that

he needs someone to confide in. . . . I'm just not someone he can feel
intimate with. But Tsukio hasn't yet realized just how terrifying hap-
piness can be. If he hasn't realized it yet, then something must be
done-I have to let him know. Whatever happens, I will never aban-
don Tsukio. (Slow exit.)
WOMAN POET: One year later, Tsukio became engaged to the daughter of a
woodcutter who lived in a village far away from the valley. Since the
village was so far from the valley, no one there had heard the rumors
about the possessed family. The matchmaker, a tenant farmer, was
said to have been enchanted by Tsukio's timidity and good looks.
At first, Tsukio could not believe his ears. Later, he almost came to
believe the story. Finally, he began to think that it might really be pos-
sible to start a new life, to have just one more chance. He even imag-
ined that the long, long game of hide-and-seek might be coming to a
close. . . . That was his only thought, and his heart danced. But it
was necessary to suppress his dancing heart. Tsukio polished the Bud-
dhist altar to a high sheen, until it reflected a red cluster-amaryllis he

186 Terayama
held up. He tried to look sad, but his face betrayed what was in his
heart. When the mother-in-law saw through to his heart, for days on
end she refused to speak to him. And the bride? The bride-to-be had
just turned seventeen. She was drunk on her own happiness.
(The stage becomesrose-coloredall over.A beautifulBRIDE holds a hand mirror

which reflectsherownface. Shespeaksas thoughsinging.)
CHORUS OF KUROGO:
Morning has come.

From within the tree-filled forest,
Water spouts forth, spraying drops of mist,
And sunbeams knock at the door.
The dazzling brightness of the blue sky
Calls out to the bride-
Congratulations on your wedding.
MOTHER: When I sprinkled the daffodils in the garden with water that
dripped from your hair, they all shivered.
BRIDE: Thank you, Mother.
MOTHER: The sky is clear and the weather fine, but I can see some clouds.
It's a sign that it will be a lucky day.
BRIDE: Am I pretty?
MOTHER: So pretty you almost make me cry.
BRIDE: Do I seem happy?
MOTHER: Like a sparrow heading for its home in the mountains. You're
brimming with life and vitality.

BRIDE: I wonder if I will really be happy.
MOTHER: All over the village, they have assured you of it.
BRIDE: Mother.
MOTHER: What is it?
BRIDE: I'm frightened.
MOTHER: Frightened?
BRIDE: The sky is blue and the birds are singing. ....
MOTHER: So don't you see, there's nothing to be frightened of.
BRIDE: On the contrary. All these things are about to become mine-this
lovely kimono and this obi, even the peach trees in the orchard-
wouldn't anyone be afraid if they were in my situation? Yes, a won-
derful morning is a frightening thing. I wonder what my betrothed is
feeling now, as he waits for me?
(The blackcurtainis lowered.In front of it appearTSUKIOand the MOTHER-IN-

LAW. The white dog is held in the arms of a KUROGO. Then music sinking like
lead into thedepthsof consciousness.)

INUGAMI 187
TSUKIO: Grandmother! You're still upset. (He says this as thoughhumoring

her.) But you'll soon get used to her. And the bride will soon get used
to us. I know you'll become friends, Grandmother.
MOTHER-IN-LAW: (Moves.)I don't need any friends.
TSUKIO: But it certainly will be convenient to have her. In the morning,
when the water is so cold it feels like it cuts into your hands, won't it
be nice to have her wash the rice instead of you? And won't it be nice
not having to do the laundry anymore? Those things will all be done
by the bride, you know.
MOTHER-IN-LAW: No, not me! (She repudiateshis words.) I'll never hand over
my job to some outsider!
(The KUROGOcries with the voice of the white dog. The crying voice and the
music blendlike a nightmare.)
MOTHER-IN-LAW:Take Whitey and go along.

TSUKIO: You're jealous.
MOTHER-IN-LAW:I feel uneasy.
TSUKIO: Whitey! Whitey!
(TSUKIOstretchesout his arms to WHITEY. The MOTHER-IN-LAW exits. Only

TSUKIOand WHITEY remain.)
TSUKIO: At last I'm getting married! And hide-and-seek will finally end.
The casks are groaning with home-brewed sake, and the table is pol-
ished like bone. And the sun shines even into the depths of the shed to
welcome my new family. But Whitey. To tell the truth: I'm frightened.
(Deceivinghimselfwith laughter.)And it's not unreasonable, either. Any-
way, I'm not very used to happiness yet. And soon this fear will be
nothing but a memory. Marriage seems just too noisy to be called hap-
piness. I thought marriage would be something like a small red poppy
that you secretly and timidly brush your hand against in a grassy
marsh. Just like that. But since morning, it's been nothing but loud
announcements and-
Look! I'm seeing everything in color!
The sky-Blue
The Buddhist altar-Black
The sacred amaryllis-Red
Your fur-White.
Since everything comes in color, this may not be a dream after all. Ahhh
-I'm frightened.

188 Terayama
(Distant musicgets closer. The KUROGO play the weddingtheme,verytranquilly.

Thenan uneasy,harshmusicalthemeblendsin.)
I want to hide!
(TSUKIO is reachingout andfolding up WHITEY.)
I want to hide. But if I hide, then who will be It? What if there's no one to
search for me?
(Music. Graduallythe weddingthemeseemsto overflowin climax! The uneasy

themeseemstopierceit like a needle.)
LOCAL MAN: (From the shadows of the black curtain.) Tsukio! Tsukio! The
bride has arrived! The bride has arrived! (He sighs.) How lovely she is.
Just like the dead Mitsu. Her face is exactly the same. Tsukio! Come
out! Your splendid bride is here!
(Graduallya CHORUS OF MALE KUROGOvoicesswells, flowing overthe entire

stage, becominga metallic sound. TSUKIOcovershis ears, as thoughunable to
endureit. . . . Thenhe boltsbehindtheshadowof the blackcurtain,and a sweet
musicflows in, graduallyengulfingthe other.A ratherlong musicalpiece. The
spotlight comes up on the empty stage. A ratherlong pause. The face of the
WOMAN POETappears from thewings.)
WOMAN POET: Well, everyone. That about ends my tale. But there is a bit
of an epilogue to what you've seen. On the morning after the wed-
ding, they say that Tsukio went away, disappearing before dawn.
They say that later, in the bridal bed, looking exactly like a small red
flower, blood was discovered trickling from the dead bride's cut
throat. Did Whitey, the dog, cut the bride's throat? Or was it Tsukio?
Or was it due to that monster called happiness? Let's not speak any-
more about where they ended up and how it all happened. Because
speaking of happiness is always a painful business. Let's just remem-
ber the sunlight pouring down like gushing water on the beautiful
bride's closed eyes, the freshness, and the blue, blue, clear sky beyond
the eaves of the room. The sacred amaryllis at the Buddhist altar
opens wide its eyes as though in song. Somewhere, a little bird is
chirping. What a wonderful morning to awaken together. Truly. It
seems fitting that this tragedy occurred on a bright, clear morning in
Japan.
(The old WOMAN POETslowly closesherbook.She bows onceto theaudienceand

exits. The stagedims.)

INUGAMI 189
NOTES
Makiko Fujiwara Skrobak-Kaczynski continues to be an invaluable

translation assistant. In addition to checking my translation and making sugges-
tions for often subtle changes, she provided research assistance on folk practices
of Aomori prefecture. This translation was broadcast by BBC Radio (London) in
1993. It was produced on stage by Theater of Yugen (San Francisco) in 1991, and
staged readings were held in Los Angeles at Stages Trilingual Foundation and
First Stage in 1992, and again at Stages Trilingual Foundation for a series of con-
cert readings in 1994.
1. The Taish6 era was 1912-1926; the Sh6wa era was 1926-1989.
2. Traditionally the woman would hold onto a rope tied to the rafters of
the birthing shed as she squatted to deliver the baby.
3. Nembutsu is the chanting of the Buddhist invocation "Namu Amida
Butsu" (I believe in the Lord Amida Buddha) and is central to the Jodo sect of
Amida Buddhism. If chanted at the moment of death, worshippers believe they
will be reborn in the Western paradise.
4. Tsukio's name could be translated as "Moon Child." Note the many
poetic references to the moon throughout the play-often involving danger or
demonic possession.
5. The Flour Grinding Song is written in a combination of Aomori dia-
lect and nonsense syllables (or perhaps old words corrupted with misuse). The
translation is only a vague approximation of what is essentially untranslatable
and virtually incomprehensible.
6. Fritz Lang's Film M starred Peter Lorre as a serial child murderer.
Scholars praise Lang's innovative use of sound to create a sense of foreboding
and dread. See Kracaver 1947.
7. Kagebaritateandyukaji are forms of folk superstition and magic.
8. Terayama was fascinated by jazz and specified "an aboriginal folk
song with a Dixie-like rhythm" to invoke music which combined native Japanese
folk traditions with the exotic Otherness of African-American music, a tradition
he perceived as being part of the outsider status he admired.
REFERENCES
Blumenthal, Eileen. 1980.

"Sade But Not Wise." Village Voice,June 25, 1980, p. 77.
Kracaver, Siegfried. 1947.
From Caligari to Hitler: A PsychologicalHistory of the GermanFilm. Princeton,
NJ: Princeton University Press.
Ryan, Paul Ryder. 1973.
"Shiraz-Persepolis and the Third World." The Drama Review 17 (4):
46-50.
Tenj6 Sajiki. 1975.
"Program/Brochure for A Journal of the Plague Yearby Shuji Terayama."
Tokyo: Tenj6 Sajiki.


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Inugami: A Play for Masks in One Act, by Shuji Terayama

Author(s): Carol Fisher Sorgenfrei and Shuji Terayama

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ends, superstitious fears, and mythic taboos? Or are they paths to a

(Darkness.A darklullabyas thestagegraduallybecomeslighter.At center,a rus-

WOMAN POET: (As thoughreadingfrom a massive, openbookin her hands.) In the

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(She closesthe bookand raisesherface.)

(The OLD MIDWIFE, the LOCAL MAN, and the HUS-

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MOTHER-IN-LAW: They've gone to fetch it.

(While theothertwo peopleare not carryingon a conversation,theystandstill like

(Two KUROGO appearfrom the wings, theirhandspressedagainst theirmouths,

HUSBAND: I didn't know. Tell me.

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dog possession-possession by Inugami the dog god. The newborn

LOCAL MAN: Listen! It's about to be born. You'd better go in.

HUSBAND: Nembutsu! Nembutsu!

(The musicof a Nembutsu-likelullabyflows softly in, graduallytakingover.)

MOTHER-IN-LAW: (Irritably.) Come on, now! Instead of making all that

(Suddenly,from the shadows of the black curtain, the voice of a newbornchild

MOTHER-IN-LAW: It's born! (Stunned.) It's a boy!

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(The birthcryof the newbornboygraduallychangesto music. Then thereis a time

MOTHER-IN-LAW: (Incantatorypoem, slowly, as thoughchantinga passagefrom a

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(AnotherKUROGOenters,howling like a wild mountaindog. He drapesa black

MOTHER-IN-LAW: Are you awake?

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MOTHER-IN-LAW:Whatever that stranger said, this house and the peach

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KUROGO I: Strange child.

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(A seeminglystartledsilence. The KUROGO exit. Only theirvoicesremain.)

KUROGOi: And so says the schoolteacher-

(The maskedTEACHER, holdinghis shoes, sits in thespotlightedchair.A JUDGE

TEACHER: Of course, you know that Tsukio is a strange child. He comes to

(The spot on theTEACHER goes out. The nextspotlight comesup on theJUDGE.)

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TSUKIO: No one understands. No one understands anything about the

(The voiceof a KUROGOhowling like a dog in thedistance!As in thefilm "M",

(His backto theaudience, TSUKIO appearsto be washing thedog. The MOTHER-

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MOTHER-IN-LAW:Get rid of him, I say. What in the world do you want to

MOTHER-IN-LAW:(Suddenly.) Or do you have a grudge against me?

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(Female KUROGOsets the stage in orderas nightgives way to day, settingall in

KUROGO i: Forgotten in the bathroom

(Music. An ill omen.)

KUROGO i: As for Tsukio

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MOTHER-IN-LAW and a HOUSEWIFE can be heardas the light continuesto shine

HOUSEWIFE: Hey, there! You!

(TSUKIO is seatedon thefar chair, speakingto the white dog.)

MOTHER-IN-LAW: Get out! Get out!

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TSUKIO: Hey, Whitey. Early to bed, early to rise-because if you get up

(The white dog squatson his haunches.)

TSUKIO: (Atfirst speakingsoftly, thenlike a poem.)

(The MOTHER-IN-LAWcomesforward carryinga comb with a handful of hair