73 “Stage Charm” in Kazuo Ohno’s Butoh Practice and Performance. Daniel Siner This essay responds to a question requiring the application of Stanislavski’s concept to performance practice. Charm, by nature of its etymology, suggests a supernatural or magical force at play that may be inexplicable, stopping practitioners and academics from attempting to define the concept. Konstantin Stanislavsky outlined the actor’s stage charm as “an indefinable, intangible quality”, part of their “whole being”, transforming their “deficiencies into assets” (1989: 245); despite being written with the Russian realist theatre tradition in mind, Stanislavsky’s understanding provides a useful starting point to examine the affective power and charm of Ohno’s butoh. Interestingly, Stanislavsky states that it is the “‘whole being”, not “body”; the use of “being” implies the presence of a spiritual – or otherworldly – force at work which cannot physically be seen.1 Washington Post critic and columnist, Nao Nakanishi, echoes this idea, stating that “Ohno’s charm is the art of distilling pure spirit out of the gross flesh” (Nakanishi, 1997), affirming the presence of spirit and its role in charming the audience. Nakanishi also presents two contradictory images of “spirit” and “flesh”; and this essay will argue that it is contradiction that lies at the heart of Ohno’s ability to charm in his performances: between life and death, and physical and spiritual presence. This essay will examine two solos, My Mother’s Daydream and Dream of Love, taken from the piece My Mother, which premiered in 1981 and featured Ohno, directed by Hijikata. Recordings from the premiere are difficult to find; however, clips of Ohno’s dances have been embedded into films made about his life. These performances will be analysed through a phenomenological lens, which Mark Fortier summarises as the “engagement in lived experience between the individual consciousness and reality” (2016: 32). Specifically, Fortier refers to the ideas of Martin Heidegger, who “argues that the work of art creates a spiritual presence” providing “access…to a privileged relation, of reflection and under- standing…usually concealed in day-to-day human activity” (Fortier 2016: 33). This is the way Ohno wants audiences to watch his performances: The best thing someone can say to me is that while watching my performance they began to cry. It is not important to understand what I am doing; perhaps it is better if they don’t understand, but just respond to the dance. (Ohno 2010) 1. See, however, Colley Roberts’ questioning of this translation elsewhere in this journal.
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