Character Definition in Hagoromo

The pine tree at Mio.

Recently, I’ve begun writing a paper about Hagoromo, which I will be submitting for my application to the master’s program at the University of Tokyo. A lot of what I’ve written will be revised multiple times, especially when I translate it in Japanese, before I hand it in.  Following is just one section of my paper.  I would love everyone’s feedback on my ideas.

In this section, I’m writing about standard plot and character development patterns.  I have never written about this before, so please correct me if any of my statements are oversimplified or plainly wrong.

Character development in Hagoromo

First, a quick run through of the story line: The supporting actor, a fisherman, comes onstage and presents himself.  He finds a feather cloak hanging from a pine branch on Mio beach and takes it with him.  Thereupon, the owner of the cloak appears.  She is an angel from the moon and wants the cloak back to return to her home in the sky.  The fisherman refuses.  Here is the first and most obvious conflict of the play.  Eventually, the fisherman feels compassion for the angel and returns her cloak in exchange for a dance.  This dance takes up the majority of the play and might be said to represent a more psychological conflict between the two characters leading up to their parting ways again.

Please note that the focal character, the angel, is not a dynamic character.  She gets her own way in the conflict, therefore, does not undergo a change, and returns to her previous state of existence.  It is the lesser, supporting character, who undergoes development, but this development is understated.  Instead, the effect of the resolution on the main character is emphasized in the protracted dance at the end of the play.  Why might this be so?

International Exchange: Ylva and Kajsa I (revised)

Ylva, me, and Kajsa (in that order) on the Togetsukyo bridge in Arashiyama.  (Photo courtesy of Ylva Henrikson)

In the beginning of August, I got a surprise E-mail from two young women from Sweden, who were coming to Japan and wanting a guide into the world of noh.

I met them at the end of the month in Asakusa over a sushi meal.  Ylva and Kajsa are contemporary dance artists and were researching for a performance inspired by Mishima Yukio’s modernized version of the noh play Hanjo.  The story centers around a young woman, who has been left by her lover, who promised to come back after he finished some pressing business.  Waiting for him to return, she becomes distracted to the point of madness and wanders Japan looking for him.  In the noh play, she eventually meets him at a shrine in Kyoto.  In Mishima’s play, after spending every day in a train station in Tokyo, waiting for him to come, he comes to her home, but runs away when she doesn’t recognize him.

It seems to me in Mishima’s case that the young man doesn’t seem to understand the woman’s madness.  Is this perhaps indicative of something larger in our society?  Do we emphasize conformity so much that we cannot understand individual pain?