**Who Gets the Name, Who Gets the Power** TOKYO (AP) — In Kabuki, the prestige does not just sit in the costumes, the makeup or the stage lights. It is handed down through generations, with a name serving as the badge of lineage, authority and expectation. That ceremony is now unfolding for the eighth Kikugoro, with the honor passed down from his 83-year-old father, the seventh Kikugoro, who in turn got that name from his father. The younger Kikugoro, Kazuyasu Terajima, told reporters recently, “Taking on the name is about taking on the spirit and responsibility that’s created and getting passed down over generations by those who came before us.” He also said, “The job of the Kabuki actor is to carry on and develop in the present what we have inherited from our predecessors and make sure it gets passed on to those who come after us.” That is the hierarchy in plain sight: a lineage system where the past authorizes the present, and the present is expected to preserve the script for the next generation. Another famous family name in Kabuki is Danjuro, whose name succession for the 13th Danjuro happened in 2022. **The Ritual of Succession** Handing down a name over generations is a central part of the Japanese traditional theater art of Kabuki, and that ceremony gets celebrated at theaters and special events every few years. The ritual has a formal name, “shumei,” and it began for the father and son last year in various performances throughout Japan, continuing through this year. For the new Kikugoro, the 48-year-old Terajima, it is a role he was born into like his predecessors. He has trained from childhood, but said he has no qualms or hesitation about having been destined from birth to be Kikugoro. “I totally adored and admired my predecessors,” he said at the Foreign Correspondents’ Club in Tokyo last month. “First of all, I am filled with gratitude to our predecessors who created great works that continue to be loved by generations that came after. So I am grateful to be born into the family of such ancestors.” The language of gratitude and inheritance sits at the center of the ceremony, but so does the machinery of prestige. The name is not just a label; it is a public transfer of standing, carried out in front of audiences and reporters, with the theater world itself helping to sanctify the handoff. **What the Audience Sees** Kabuki, dating to the 1600s, is still very much alive in modern-day Japan. The hit film “Kokuho,” nominated for this year’s Oscars in makeup and hairstyling, is one proof of Kabuki’s continuing popularity, becoming the biggest grossing live-action movie for the home market in Japanese filmmaking history. Kabuki showcases gut-wrenching stories about brave samurai who assume a hidden identity to avenge an injustice, or a beautiful maiden who turns into a serpent, combining live music, dance and song with stylized acting — with all the roles played by men, wearing colorful costumes and plastered makeup. The actors specializing in women roles are called “onnagata,” while others like Kikugoro play both men and women. What often strikes Westerners about Kabuki is the utter abandonment of any attempt to portray reality, as things might appear on the surface, or how people might behave naturally. The actors strike dramatic poses called “mie” in the middle of their lines to drive home the idea of courage or flight from pursuit. Experts refer that moment to conveying a picture, a moment often accentuated by the rhythmical clatter of two pieces of wood, which are like claves. The actors’ lines are often delivered in singsong poetry. The live music is an integral part of the play in setting the scene, with thunderous giant drums evoking thunder or, when played more softly, gently falling snow. Tinkling bells might portray floating butterflies. The backdrop is a revolving spectacular set, such as cherry trees showering pink paper petals. Pieces may have elements of acrobatics, such as an actor playing a fox, dancing with joy, suspended by wires from the ceiling. One of the fun aspects of Kabuki is the costume and character changes that happen right on stage before the audience, transforming a human character into a demon, for instance, sometimes with the help of stagehands cloaked in anonymous black costuming called “kurogo.” **Lineage, Discipline, and the Future** Terajima was sitting next to his 12-year-old son Kazufumi, who in turn will take on the name he had before, Kikunosuke. It’s the name for the younger actor in that family, handed down over generations like the Kikugoro name. Kikunosuke said he loves being a Kabuki actor, although like a normal kid, he also likes video games and the Japanese rock band Mrs. Green Apple. It’s hard work, he said, which involves running every morning, watching his diet and going to bed early. “It’s not only hard physically. It’s also pretty hard mentally, and I sometime took it out on my parents,” he said with a smile, carrying himself with a controlled professional pose way beyond his age. The name-succession ritual, called “shumei,” is not just a celebration; it is a system that organizes who inherits prestige, who is expected to perform, and who is trained to carry the family line forward. James R. Brandon, an American who devoted his scholarship to Kabuki, describes it as centered on a type of code, “a theater in which the art of acting is central, and in which playwright and actor cooperate to achieve the unique style of performance found only in Kabuki.” In Japanese tradition, there is always the right way to do something, known as “kata,” which turns into the model for the future generation who choose to pursue the art, according to Brandon. Although some worry about the survival of Kabuki, the new Kikugoro said he believed in Kabuki’s “kata,” and that nothing needed to change, as the core spirit of the art form remains as relevant as ever. “By using kata, what we want to truly communicate the most in the tradition of Kabuki is human compassion, that spirit of caring for others,” he said. The ceremony, the praise, the media attention and the inherited names all point to a culture built on continuity and discipline, where the authority of the past is not questioned so much as performed again, beautifully, under the lights.
