A Dance that Tickles the Ear of Philosophy
Written February 18th, 2024
I will need to stretch way back on this one, all the way to 1998, to the original journal entry I wrote regarding this forgotten gem, which centered on a PBS documentary that I stumbled across one evening focusing on the famous Chelloist, Yo Yo Ma, or more specifically, the six-part series of collaborations he initiated with various artists to flesh out, both sonically and visually, a unified interpretation of Sebastian Bach’s “The Suite.” Each of the artists he chose were outside his own genre of classical music and he did so with clear intent. He simply wanted to capture how a visual artists would respond and interpret Bach’s music.
I immediately connected with the concept, particularly because it exposed Ma’s aesthetic ambitions, as well as his artistic curiosities. The specific episode that I wrote about all those years ago, and will shortly dive into here, was his collaboration with Bando Tamasaburo, a master Japanese Kabuki dancer. Their collaboration blew my mind. The episode documented a stunning example of two disparate artists, speaking different languages, masters of two different disciplines, yet forging a shared connection through Bach’s music. Watching it created one of those rare experiences in life where a moment once witnessed is never, ever forgotten.
Well, this morning, while attempting to organize some of my old journal entries, I came across that original entry and reread it, and after finishing, immediately understood why the original episode moved me in the first place. The grace that I witnessed never left me. All the elements were there, Ma’s playing, Tamasaburo’s sublimely thoughtful choreography, and a film crew that incorporated a lighting scheme that worked as a narrative element in and of itself.
But after reading my account of it, I was quite dissatisfied. In fact, I got it all wrong. My initial impression twenty-two years ago was threadbare, and expressed with a vocabulary full of adolescent profundities. Not only did I fail to dive deeply enough into their discussions as artists, but also to decipher the proper meaning of Tamasaburo’s choreography. To my defense though, I should remember that I watched it only once on PBS, and not a “pause and rewind” DVD, and certainly without YouTube to consult. It was simply an on-the-spot reaction, but once I found the proper video and watched it again…..and again, a theme began taking shape. The more I focused on Bando’s movements, the more I could sense (I believe) his true intentions emerging, and that inspiration has been enough to alter the course of my day, because I stopped what I had planned and began writing.
It could also be suggested that obsessing over a three-minute video of a Japanese Kabuki dancer may seem a odd way to spend a Saturday morning, but that applies only if you fail to consider who we’re dealing with here. Hell, most of my adult life has been consumed with just this sort of thing, to have my passion ignited, with its fuse lit, and then attempting to express it as well as I’m able. Writing for me has always been the attempt to refine my experience of the thing, to find the right words that will capture what feels beyond those initial impressions, to identify and explain why my billions of neurons in my brain began jumping up and down with excitement. In other words, the more accurate and penetrating the vocabulary, the more nuanced the experience becomes. It was Nietzsche who first taught me the importance of words in this regard, after reading him describe that a “poverty in our language can only produce a poverty in our experience.“
Now before I begin, it should be noted that this form of theatre dance, which is called Kabuki, is highly choregraphed and expressive. Every movement is made with specific intent as to tell a story through the dance. In my original note of this piece, I described it as being about hope while trapped in despair, or something along that line, but after a proper viewing, with time to circle back and capture the nuances, I believe I got it all wrong…. painfully wrong. I see it now as a narrative about life itself, from birth to death and all the key thresholds we pass through along the journey. So, with that said, I want to describe my new insights into Tamasaburo’s dance. Also notice the lighting, which sublimely enhances the performance.
The performance begins with Yo Yo Ma playing his rendition of Bach as we see Bando lit by an ethereal blue light, as he slowly comes to life, as if emerging from the womb, patiently rising from nothingness into fullness, as we see in the next shot standing on his own….but without identity.
I believe this was a planned transition, with clear intent by Bando and the film crew, because it clearly presents our early years spent in a dream-like world beneath the control of those caring for us.
Then as we mature, the warm glow of self awareness shines as we take our first initial steps toward independence, sublimely symbolized by the sheet that once protected us is dropped, first by the right hand, then the left. Bando’s casual indifference is beautifully captured here, deliberately showing our growing self assurance.
Bando then gracefully walks over to a collection of candles and seems to consider them with an acknowledged reverence. This could be interrupted in a variety of ways, but to my eye it defines the embrace of our coming of age, perhaps our adolescence and the love and respect for friends and family.
Bando then moves away, only to circle back and approaches a different collection of candles, with this one appearing to represent the next threshold in our lives, our careers and social independence.
Then he moves to the back of the room to collect a sheet lying on the floor and carefully wraps it around himself, which I take to represent starting a family. Not only would this be the next natural phase, but also in the way he wraps it gently around his shoulders and holds it with understated intent.
To support my inference there, Bando then takes the sheet (his children) and gracefully holds them up with an outstretched arm and looking up with hope and pride…… releases them. It is a magical sequence as we witness a master visual artist symbolizing the raising of a family, then allowing them to follow their own paths.
Immediately after that sequence, Bando moves behind a darkened screen where we can barely see him. To my eye, this unmistakably represents our most disorienting threshold of all, that of sending our children out on their own, and the loss of our identity as their daily stewards.
Then Bando cautiously emerges from behind the screen and back into the light, and seems to randomly wonder a bit before dropping to one knee, then with arms outstretched, he finds his balance. Once again, the visuals are undeniable as Bando is expressing our struggle to find a new identity for the last phase of our lives.
Once our new purpose has been discovered, we see Bando dancing freely with arms gracefully moving with beautifully fluid movements, as if wings soaring into a new freedom. It is a stunning visual transition that captures precisely how I felt during my own transformation a few years ago.
Then we see the culmination of Bando’s brilliantly choregraphed dance as it comes to its prophetic close. He begins by simply moving back to where the story first began, then casually picks up that original sheet, the one representing the nothingness from which we came, but now signifies the nothingness for which we must return.
The lighting in this sequence also works itself noticeably into the narrative as the same ethereal blue light that began our story reemerges, just as the warm light of life begins to fade.
Bando graciously accepts the call that each and every one of use will enviably face.
Perhaps I’ve read too many Joseph Campbell books to escape the idea, but to these eyes, Bando’s performance undeniably works as mythic storytelling, as described by Campbell from countless other cultures. For Campbell, those ancient myths worked, as they were likely intended, to help the individual members of a community recognize the thresholds they will face and provide a proper roadmap to navigate themselves through the transformations. And by framing them so poetically through his dance, Bando has giving modern audiences what has largely been lost….a reminder how to gracefully accept the script we all face.
I believe the true beauty of Bando’s dance is that it provides an encouragement to accept each of our transitions with grace; thresholds that we often resist, sometimes mightily, but in our acceptance, as difficult as they may feel, there is a life affirming freedom to meet us there.
But don’t take me word for it, watch the clip and study the transitional phases and simply appreciate the extraordinary gift that a world-class artist has to offer us.