Kabuki
It’s the early 1600’s and the city of Kyoto, the Imperial seat of the Japanese Empire, is all agog over a new dance drama that portrayed the comedy of private life. This was all too entertaining for the cultured members of the audience who needed to maintain their regal composure. Unfortunately, they were watching the performances in the red-light district with a diverse crowd of Imperial members, shogunate disciples and even lowly merchants. The early Kabuki was all about female dancers and only later evolved to male performers. It became so popular that it bread a complete Kabuki ecosystem of theaters, eateries, shops and coffee houses. Some say it was the start of pop culture in Japan and as such owns everything from karaoke to Pokémon.
This was all started when shogun ruled the island of Japan and grew during the Tokugawa Shogunate. This ultimately powerful family that reigned for a quarter of a millennium descended from a humble Buddhist monk and hence led the Shinto religion. They shared the control of Japan with the Edo Period Emperors who lived in the palace in Kyoto and then moved to the castle in Edo (what is now Tokyo). These were the years of the samurai that most of us first learned about from the James Clavell mini-series, Shogun in the early 1980’s. It was a romantic time of Japanese history, at least to those of us foreigners who didn’t have to live under the harsh conditions that most likely existed for most of the subjects of the samurai. These samurai were feudal lords or knights that followed the bushido code (the way of the warrior). They followed martial virtues, were indifferent to pain, and believed in absolute loyalty. Basically, these guys were always up for a good fight.
As Kabuki theater evolved, the shogunate began not to like the excess of commercial and plebeian mingling that came with Kabuki, so they did what all flailing regulators do, they banned the popular art form and in so doing, may have inadvertently helped it by driving it underground. Want to drive something viral? Forbid it.
In the attractions business, one of the key metrics is dwell time, the amount of time people will dedicate to watching the entertainment. Kabuki theater was considered an all-day event whether it was structured as one play or a sequence of related plays. Either way, it would be driven by the concept of jo-ha-kyū, which dictates that the dramatic pacing starts slowly, builds up speed, and then ends quickly and with great dramatic affect. This is what all leads to the great stomping around that we all know to be the main notable aspect of Kabuki to us novices of the art. The more well-known Edo traditions call for elaborate makeup, fancy poses and great showmanship. It seems you can follow the storyline without understanding the language simply by watching the actors move around in their less-than-subtle ways.
All of this convention and pageantry is what gives rise to my thoughts on Kabuki, less as a medium of entertainment and more as a business practice. While it is a highly debatable practice in the normal course, once in a while I feel that one needs to stomp around to make a point. Think of it as a means of accentuating an important point. It’s particularly appropriate when the business point is one of clear ethical standards. One might call it getting on one’s high horse, but more likely getting on that high horse and riding it around the ring a few times to be sure everyone sees you.
There will always be those that feel that such drama is counter-productive because it galvanizes combatants. I would equally argue that it is meant to shame people into recognizing that they have crossed an important line in the sand and you want to call attention for everyone within earshot to see the transgression. I also feel it serves the same function of a gorilla beating it’s chest or a male lion roaring at the top of its lungs. It establishes dominance and while it may or may not scare off your opponent, it certainly passes a strong message that you will not stand down.
I happen to be engaged in a Battle Royale at the moment. Without getting into the sordid details, let’s just say that I am philosophically opposed to any effort by anyone in power to use their position to “bully” others into a subordinate position. Strangely enough, while I always prefer to talk people out of bad positions, when that fails, I respond to bullying with my own version of counter-bullying. I never think I started it, but I’m simply not an objective observer. I’m the guy who pushes back loudly and use a business version of over-expressive Kabuki theater to make sure no one can mistake my stand and the strength of my conviction. I did that very thing today. I feel I stood for righteousness, but am certain my antagonist didn’t change his fundamental point of view. Nevertheless, it was a show-stopper that sent the two non-combatants (the ones whose interests I was most defending) out of the room to talk and return with a compromise proposal for fear that things might come to blows. That would never happen in Kabuki. It took a few iterations, but the proposal broke the logjam and led to a settlement. Mission accomplished.
An astute observer of the play noted to me that she knew what I was doing based on my dramatic change of facial expression when the two non-combatants left the room (the antagonist had remained). The implication was that she then knew it was not real emotion at play, but rather good Kabuki, put on for effect. I often tell my wife when she overhears a heated phone exchange that she should not worry since it was just Kabuki. The older I get, the more I seem to use the technique in business. That’s probably not good since impact is a function of the surprise factor of the outburst. What do Kabuki actors do to chill out?