The lights dim, leaving a single spotlight illuminating the man standing just to the side of the screen. It is your first time ever seeing a "moving picture," and you wonder what is about to unfold. The man welcomes you to enjoy the show and gestures grandly at the screen, and black-and-white images shake into focus as the film reel begins to turn. The man bursts into life with an energetic narration of the film. The whole experience is new and foreign, but the narrator’s rhythm and cadence echo with the same spoken rhythm of your beloved kabuki, rakugo, and noh theatre. This familiarity bridges you into the new, modern era of film, and you leave the cinema eager for more.
This is the audience experience of a Japanese katsuben (活弁), the audacious, celebritized silent film narrators of early 20th century Japan. Katsuben, also known as benshi (弁士) or katsudou benshi (活動弁士), practiced a rapid, exhilarating style of narration accompanying silent films, creating a uniquely Japanese art form which developed partially thanks to the rich history of narrative performance already present in the island nation. At the time, an expert katsuben, even more than the film itself, could pack theaters with crowds of eager fans. Cinema, as opposed to the more “intellectual,” traditional theatrical styles, entered Japan as a pastime of the masses, and katsuben were celebrated facilitators of this cultural shift.
As silent films fell out of favor and many of the fragile film rolls were lost to time, the art of katsuben also faded. Few masters remained to pass on their craft, and fewer willing apprentices appeared to ensure the continuation of this uniquely Japanese art form.
But all was not lost. Yata Aso, an apprentice of the youngest remaining Japanese benshi in the post-war period, carried on the tradition as his fellow performers dwindled. Suddenly, an apprentice materialized in the form of his ten-year-old daughter Koyata, who adamantly insisted that she too could take on the mantle born by her father.
Twenty-eight years later, the father-daughter duo of Yata and Koyata are still sharing the beauty of silent films and the art of katsuben narration with performances in Asakusa, across Japan, and indeed across the world. The father's booming voice commands respect, and the audience can feel decades of experience through his effortless yet powerful narration. The daughter is dynamic and expressive. As she becomes one with the screen, the monochromatic film becomes vibrant. The pair's performances are compelling, energetic, and unforgettable.
I spoke to Koyata about her childhood dream of becoming a Japanese benshi, the work required to preserve and further develop this storied art, and her own personal mission of spreading the joy of katsuben across the world.
Japanese Benshi (Katsuben) Introduction Video
Enjoy this introduction of the art of katsuben with performances from Yata Aso and Koyata Aso. There is a brief clip of Koyata exhibiting her English katsuben performance at 3:20.
Interview
Your first katsuben performance was at 10 years old. What made you interested in becoming a benshi from such a young age?
When I was very young, the word “katsuben” was as common as the words for “coffee” or “table.” I had no concept that these black-and-white movies were not very well-known to most people. I spent my formative years seeing my fathers performances regularly, so I thought katsuben was a major field of entertainment just like anything else.
I was a very quiet, reserved child by nature, but I grew up intrigued by both the films and my father’s work. The time my father spent practicing at home looked so fun, and I started to wonder what made him so absorbed in his work. When my parents were at work, I loved watching Buster Keaton films on repeat while home alone. Then I started studying Japanese at school, and I decided to practice by copying my father’s scripts rather than using grueling handwriting textbooks.
So katsuben was really a part of my life in so many ways, and the feeling that I might want to try it grew over the years. When I was nine, I finally went to my dad and told him for the first time that I wanted to be a katsuben.
How did your relationship with your father change as you started training under him?
Actually, when I first said I wanted to be a katsuben, he refused pretty adamantly. But that made me even more persistent. I’d annoy him by constantly knocking on the bathroom door when he was in the shower and shouting, “I wanna be a benshi!”
When he finally let me start, the practice was really tough. I hadn’t expected the kind, gentle father I knew to become so strict, but because I had overcome his stubbornness, I was able to stick with it. After intense training sessions, he’d take me to get a treat. I think he was really good at wielding the carrot and the stick, not only as a father, but as a master.
How has your relationship changed over the decades that you've been performing together?
We’re family first, and the master and apprentice dynamic is still there. There are also times where we feel more like siblings, or like brothers in arms who’ve been fighting side-by-side for 28 years. There’s even an aspect of competition as performers, where I’m striving to surpass him as a respected rival. There are a lot of different aspects, we get along very well and I think our relationship is very strong.
What were your earliest years of performances like?
After getting over the first few years of training, I had a season of rebellion just like any teenager. Even then, I could rebel at home, but when we went out to perform, my father was the only person I could rely on. When we’d go to perform in a country area outside of Tokyo, he’d teach me about the famous battles and local specialties of the area. It helped me develop an interest in history, take a more active approach to learning, and speak with a lot of people I never would have met in normal school life. I think being able to have all of these varied experiences really helped me through my teenage years, and I learned a lot through it.
Historically, the vast majority of katsuben were male. Are there more female katsuben these days?
Since there were no microphones in the heyday of katsuben , men were usually favored due to the importance of projecting their voice all the way to the back of the audience. In general, higher voices were not as suitable for performing on their own. Most female performers featured in kowairo benshi performances, where multiple katsuben stood on stage and acted separate parts together. Today, thanks to modern technology, there are more female katsuben around.
How would you define your own personal style of katsudou benshi? How do you go about making your scripts?
As for now, it’s quite common for benshi to inherit the style of their master and even follow their script. When I’m making the script for a film I’ve never done before, I start by watching it over and over, just like I used to when I was a kid. I try to get the rhythm of the film and intuit how I would perform it, then start writing it down. The time it takes depends on the length of the film and the style I’m going for, but I would say it takes anywhere from two weeks to a month of practice to really be ready to perform.
How does your style differ from your father’s?
When I was young, I had this vain thought that if I just followed my father and performed in the same way he did, I’d never really be able to overcome him no matter how hard I tried. So I was always thinking of different ways that I could set myself apart, so I started performing in English.
How did you go about starting to perform in English?
Because katsuben were nearly non-existent when I started, I received quite a few interviews. One question that was always asked without fail was, “What kind of benshi do you want to be when you grow up?” I didn’t want to answer with “I don’t know,” so I came up with all kinds of ideas to give an answer that would make people happy, things like, “I want to learn to tap dance like Chaplin did,” or “I want to perform in English.” As I got older and learned how rare and unusual katsuben really were, I decided that I wanted to share katsuben with as many people as possible by performing in English. My first English performance was during a homestay in a suburb of Seattle, where I performed Chaplin’s The Adventurer in English at a local community center as well as at my farewell party.
Outside of the ability to reach global audiences, what are some of the merits of performing in English?
When I came back from America, my father remarked that even my Japanese performances had gotten stronger. Since many films we perform are American, I think that by putting a lot of effort into performing in the original language, so to speak, I was able to translate the English rhythm back into my Japanese performances and match the pace of the film even more closely. So in that way, performing in English didn’t just add another string to my bow, I think it actually helped me grow as a performer overall.
So performing English was initially about separating myself from my dad. But the audience reactions I experienced in America were so compelling that it began to be a more earnest desire to grow in my own craft and share with more people around the world
What were those reactions like?
It was totally different from Japan! Here, the standard audience reaction is a polite, genuine applause at the end of the performance. But when I performed in America, I found that a lot of times audience members would verbally respond to my narration. In escape scenes, audience members would join me in shouting, “Go, go, go!”
Foreign audiences also seem to enjoy the Japanese onomatopoeic words that I leave in to describe the actions on screen. At one performance of Chaplin’s The Adventurer at a high school in Ohio, I was really nervous to see my audience was full of slouching, sleepy teenagers. To my surprise, the kids started mimicking my narration, shouting “sui-sui-sui,” the onomatopoiea I use for Chaplin’s swimming scenes. By the end of the film, I couldn’t get them to stop saying it!
This experience inspired me give the film a new form through titling it “The Legend of Sui-Sui-Sui” and encouraging the audience to chant along with me through the whole film. This style of audience interaction became a new accomplishment, and I think it created really fun experiences for both me and the audience.
Do you still incorporate a lot of audience interaction into your performances?
Even more than the films or art of katsuben itself, I’m the type of performer who is very focused on the audience members. When I practice, more than thinking about the concept of becoming the ideal katsuben, I’m thinking about how I can give the best performance to the guests that are showing up on that particular day. I really look forward to seeing what kind of people may come to see the show and how I can interact with them.
Why have you chosen to continue performing as katsuben over the years?
Even though I considered other speaking jobs like newscasting or teaching, I found that being a katsuben kind of encapsulated everything I wanted to do. I liked history, and learning about history helped me in providing context to the historical films I was narrating. My daily life became more interesting. For example, to narrate the role of a shop owner, I would listen to shop owners hawking their wares on the street, paying attention to the tone and jargon they used. So I felt that everything I did would expand what I could do through katsuben.
What do you see as the future of katsuben?
For me, even if the art was uniquely born in Japan, I don’t believe that katsuben doesn’t fit in other countries. In other words, katsuben just happened to be born in Japan, but its development is not just limited to Japanese culture or language. Like I mentioned with the American audience reactions to my performances, new ways to enjoy katsuben are always appearing before my very eyes by sharing it with the world.
My dream is that the word “katsuben” becomes as universally recognizable as other Japanese words like “kimono” and “teriyaki.” So from now on, I am hoping to continue performing as if katsuben is an art not defined only by its Japaneseness, but as something which can grow more universally through collaboration and creativity.
This interview was conducted on May 6th, 2024, and has been translated to English and edited for length and clarity.
See Traditional Katsuben Performances in Tokyo
Yata and Koyata perform twice a month at the Asakusa View Hotel (reservations and details here). They also perform in collaboration with other traditional Japanese performers, so make sure to stay up to date by following them on Instagram and Youtube!
Thank you for reading, and please make sure to follow Tokyo Alleyways on Instagram for more in-depth coverage of Tokyo life and culture.
