Water World

To children or the young at heart, it’s pure magic. “Mermaid,” the beloved Hans Christian Anderson fairy tale, reworked and dazzling to behold, is a new original production from K-Ballet Tokyo. To dancers, it’s striking for its choreographic wealth, from the fluttering, mesmerizing delicacy of the petite Mermaid to the synchronous whimsy of Clown-Fish; the mischievous spins and jeté scamperings of a light-hearted, thieving Beggar, to the Prince’s grand tours and scissored leaps juxtaposed against the elegant, suspended arabesques and triumphant fouettés of the Princess.

Performance

K-Ballet Tokyo: “Mermaid” with choreography by Tetsuya Kumakawa

Place

Bunkamura Orchard Hall, Tokyo, Japan, September 23, 2024

Words

Kris Kosaka

Nozomi Iijima in K-Ballet Tokyo's “Mermaid” by Tetsuya Kumakawa. Photograph by Yoshitomo Okuda

Visually absorbing, inventive and fresh, whatever your age or knowledge of dance, it’s impossible not to be impressed by the undersea marvel of dolphins, flying fish, a gregarious Lobster and the sinister Shark. On land, the clever dance battles between ladies and courtesans, officers and sailors delight, as does following the Mermaid’s charming fish-out-of-water escapades.The storytelling consistently enthrals in the tradition of a grand ballet, hitting every emotion as it portrays youthful exuberance, romantic hopes and inner conflict, wry humor, and of course, the final tragedy of the young Mermaid’s impossible decision, caught between two worlds and her own dreams. So complete is this fantastical production that when the iridescent tail of a great whale rises up against undulating fabric waves, a splash echoes in your mind and your skin imagines the droplets. Yet for audiences in Japan, long accustomed to the brilliance of K-Ballet Tokyo, it’s simply par for the course, exactly what we’ve come to expect from artistic director, Tetsuya Kumakawa.

“Mermaid” fittingly celebrates the company’s 25th anniversary season. Supported by a talented artistic team—Shusaku Futamura with set design, Serbian artist Angelina Atlagić on costumes, Hisashi Adachi on light design, with the music of Russian great Alexander Glazunov (1865-1936) arranged by Kazuya Yokoyama after Kumakawa’s selections—the production once again raises the bar on a creative master whose accomplishments in his native country continue to rise, much like his gravity-defying leaps when he graced the stage as a dancer.

K-Ballet Tokyo in“Mermaid” by Tetsuya Kumakawa. Photograph by Ayumu Gombi

On the day I attended in Tokyo, after the first strains of Glazunov’s poignant overture from Theater Orchestra Tokyo, the curtain opens to a drop-screen, a watery vision as the stylized title “Mermaid” floats dreamily above the stage. The bittersweet music breaks to a lively cadence as the action starts on land.

As the screen lifts, we’re in a joyful seaside bar. It’s a diversely integrated hub of activity, with sailors and officers drinking side by side, prostitutes and ladies gleefully competing for attention, a bespectacled dandy in a top hat, enjoying the atmosphere while an impish Beggar (Shohei Honda) darts hither and thither, stealing the spotlight—and coin purses and timepieces—whenever he appears. We’re fully into the story before any of the main dancers take the stage. The Prince (Ren Kuriyama) is the first.

Although heralded for his technical prowess and precision, Kumakawa’s artistic sensibilities in storytelling and characterization equally shine, as obviously demonstrated in “Mermaid.” We understand this Prince—fun-loving, kind, adventurous. He’s at home in the free-spirited, diverse environment of the bar. He indulges the Beggar and rescues him from an irate victim of his thievery. The Prince leaps at the chance to accompany the sailors to capture a giant whale. Later, he gifts the young, disheveled beauty he meets on the beach to a real dress, replacing the draping scarves she is given by the sympathetic prostitutes, not realizing she is the Mermaid (Yuka Iwai) who saved him. He follows his responsibilities as his father’s heir to formalize his betrothal to a visiting Princess (Mine Nagao) enthusiastic in his mistaken belief she was the one who helped him from the waves. Nearly all the characters in “Mermaid” feel as fully realized as the Prince, even in Kumakawa’s unfamiliar, original creations, like the Shark (Daichi Tanaka) or the Mermaid’s Aunt (Risako Toda).

K-Ballet Tokyo in“Mermaid” by Tetsuya Kumakawa. Photograph by Ayumu Gombi

Instead of a clear villain in a sea-witch, Kumakawa offers the Shark, cunning and stealthy but a co-existing part of the undersea world until the Prince’s harpoon wounds him in his throw towards the whale. The storm he conjures washes the Prince overboard—entertaining stagecraft on its own—leading to the Mermaid’s fateful meet-cute. Although many of the familiar plot points remain, like the Mermaid trading her voice for legs or the murderous option at the climax, new characters and ideas populate the ballet as part of Kumakawa’s own unique vision.

While there’s plenty to satisfy the classical palate regarding choreography, there’s also a constant, subtle thread of the unexpected in Kumakawa’s choices that thrillingly upend expectations, satisfying for aficionados always eager for something different. Effectively mimicking the aquatic movements of an undersea world is one such achievement, particularly with the fluttering arms of the Mermaids or the enchanting, bobbing flow of the Dolphins and the Flying Fish. The superb setting and lights inform the whole and Atlagić’s costumes are a constant joy to encounter, with clever additions like the swish of hinged, upturned skirts to suggest the mermaid’s tails, the whimsical glee of the hermit crabs or the dark majesty of the Shark.

From start to finish, it’s difficult to find anything to truly critique. Children in the audience may not understand the tragic undertones of the Mermaid’s last, anguished solo, gripping the Prince’s knife with indecision, nor the final, gorgeously wistful pas de deux with the Prince, nor the harsh meaning of the closing scene. It’s a powerfully understated dramatic choice that somehow heightens the overall magic of the production. Breaking his own ceiling once again, Kumakawa spins K-Ballet Tokyo ever upwards, towards that elusive artistic perfection he so openly seeks. We’re looking to the stars in Tokyo, or perhaps a different galaxy, for the next 25 years.

Kris Kosaka

Kris Kosaka is a writer and educator based in Kamakura, Japan. A lifelong ballet fan and studio rat in her youth, she's been contributing to The Japan Times since 2009. She writes across Culture, but especially in dance, opera and literature.

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