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TAKATO TASUKU is, both as an actor and as a person, impossible to keep up with. Literally.
WE MET outside Mankai Theatre, in the early dawn. Stretching out his legs on the pavement, Takato offers me a wry smile before loping off to start what is apparently his daily 4-mile morning run. He turns around with a beckoning tilt to his head, and before I can ask—I’m sprinting along and thinking, very gratefully, thank god I left the camera back in the car. (Such is the power of the ex-Godza top star. When he beckons, you go.)
“You should exercise more,” Takato informs me bluntly. Easy for him to say, looking like he‘s barely broken a sweat, while my legs had given up before the theatre was even completely out of sight. He had agreed to talk to me for what was meant to be a rare interview since he left GOD-za, on the condition that I joined him on his morning run. “Running together with someone is a good way of getting to know them better. When Guy-san first joined the troupe, that was how we got to understand each other.”
Guy (who doesn’t appear to have a last name) is the newest addition to Winter Troupe, and the co-lead to Takato’s lead in the play they are currently rehearsing for, Die By The Sword. This marks the fifth play for Winter Troupe, and the first in which Takato takes the lead since he joined Mankai Company almost two years ago. This will also be the first time Winter Troupe tackles a historical play: the story follows Musashi Miyamoto (as played by Takato), a wandering samurai on a search for a place to die, and his involvement in a series of events that leads to his final confrontation with a master swordsman/bodyguard named Kojiro Sasaki (Guy). The central conflict of the story lies in the different paths they have chosen to take in pursuit of the perfect swordsmanship, that age-old question of what it means to wield a sword.
“I’m still searching for the place I want to be as an actor. But right now, that place is Mankai Company,” he answers, firmly.
A YEAR ago, ardent fans were shaken when, seemingly without prior announcement or lead-up, Takato unceremoniously quit his top-actor position at GOD-za, where he had been the critical darling, the star for many of their acclaimed productions. Before his fans could process his departure, the theatre community of Veludo Way was thrown into heated discussion when GOD-za’s president, Kamikizaka Reni publicly issued a challenge to the then still-fledging Mankai Company, where it emerged that Takato had joined as part of the newly-formed Winter Troupe. The challenge: a showdown act, where two theatres perform in front of the same audience, with the results determined by audience voting. Being the side who proposed the match, Kamikizaka’s conditions were brutal: if GOD-za lost, all earnings from their next performance would go to Mankai Company. But if GOD-za won, Mankai Company had to close down. Effective immediately. It was a heavy-handed move, with odds that many felt impossibly rigged in favour of GOD-za (as the challenger, they got to call out the theme, and the showdown performance was set in their theatre), even with Kamikizaka’s reputation for being callously ruthless when it came to culling the competition. One thing, however, was for sure: no one truly expected Mankai Company to stand a chance.
Despite the odds stacked against them, Mankai Company accepted the challenge, and presented Sympathy for the Angel, in accordance with the appointed “angels” theme. Set in the heavenly realm, the plot centered around the angel Michael (played by Winter Troupe’s leader Tsukioka Tsumugi) and his unrequited devotion to a human woman, followed by his subsequent descent into the human world to watch over her as he learns that her name is included in the list of soon-to-be-departed souls. Takato played Raphael, Michael’s close friend and the voice of caution that warns Michael of the misfortune that is the price to pay for falling in love with a human. And yet, in the end it is Raphael who has to bear the cost: Michael dies at peace and fulfilled, protecting his loved one from a tragic accident, while Raphael is left alone and bereft, at once deprived of not only his best friend, but also the one he loved. Against GOD-za’s ravishing spectacle of fallen angels, gorgeously staged and performed, Sympathy for the Angel was a master class in exquisite restraint, a slowly unfolding tragedy with impeccable delivery and quietly devastating acting by the entire cast (aside from Tsukioka and Takato, the rest of Winter Troupe were beginners to the stage). In the lead role, Tsukioka held the entire audience in thrall with his delicate, masterful portrayal of Michael, lending depth and humanity to the role of an angel who has chosen to set aside his own feelings even as he supports the engagement of the woman he loves to another man. And as the Raphael to Tsukioka’s Michael, Takato is an utter revelation—rather than his usual brand of bold and powerfully commanding acting, Takato’s Raphael is wrenchingly vulnerable, a study of grief hidden behind a final parting smile, a hand stretched out futilely after a retreating back, a solitary figure held taut, silently wrecked with anguish.
It was, in the most literal sense of the word, breathtaking, cementing not only Mankai Company’s victory over GOD-za but also their reputation as a theatre company to be taken seriously. The performance was so powerful that even the most die-hard of Takato’s GOD-za fans were won over. (Tsukioka informs me, a twinkle in his eye, that after the performance, a staggering number of fan letters and gifts addressed to Takato were delivered to the dorm every day. Takato refuses to confirm nor deny this.)
And now it seems he’s not satisfied to stop just there.
SITTING in a corner of the rehearsal studio, I watch as members of Winter Troupe run through their morning practice, working on their sword choreography by taking turns to spar in pairs.
“This time, we really wanted to show a different side to Winter Troupe. Without realizing it, we’ve come to our twentieth play so far, but there’s still a lot more things that we’d like to challenge,” puts in Tachibana Izumi, the director of Mankai Company. With only a handful of student theatre credentials to her name before taking up the directorial mantle, Tachibana’s revival of Mankai Company from its previously dilapidated state has been nothing short of miraculous; more impressive than that, however, is the obvious respect and affection that her brood of actors hold her in. Looking intently from the sidelines, she points out changes to scene blocking, places where line deliveries could be better, and deftly lightens up the tension when they run into frustration with the difficult sword choreography (though her brand of intervention is occasionally more holding troupe member Arisugawa Homare back from spiraling into yet another poem, or when Mikage Hisoka inadvertently falls asleep mid-way through a line, or, most often, breaking up Tsukioka and Takato from where they stand locked in hot debate over the interpretation of a certain line.) “Now that we have Guy-san in our troupe, and with Tasuku-kun in the lead, Tsuzuru-kun (their resident scriptwriter and member of Spring Troupe) and I both felt that the kinds of stories that we can present on stage has really broadened considerably, so please look forward to it. ”
With less than two weeks left until the play opens, today’s rehearsals have also brought in Autumn Troupe’s Hyodo Juza and Settsu Banri as extra sparring partners for the gruelling sword fight choreography. Despite being infamous for their explosive rivalry to the point of seeming antagonistic, in action the two are incredibly attuned to and in-sync with each other’s movements, and are formidable sparring opponents, their blocks and parries timed with razor-sharp precision and intensity. Such then, is the strength of Autumn Troupe—but the Takato-Guy pair holds their ground against the Hyodo-Settsu assault combo. In particular, Guy seems to be highly skilled at fight scenes, wielding the practice wooden sword in a manner that almost suggests familiarity with physical combat.
“You know, part of why we really wanted to try something new this time was because of Mantou Fist. If Autumn Troupe could challenge a comedy action play, then Winter Troupe has to be able to step up and match that.” Known for their hard-hitting action sequences, Autumn Troupe’s recently concluded play, Fire Up, Mantou Fist!, was a divertingly fresh departure from their more signature gritty storylines, from the bright colour palette of the staging and costumes to the comedic, almost tongue-in-cheek tone of the story. Its success was in no small part due to the youthful synergy between the two leads, Nanao Taichi and Izumida Azami, the youngest members of what is affectionately known as “the delinquent troupe” by both fans and company members alike. Like Takato, Nanao too had been part of the GOD-za ensemble before joining Mankai Company. “(Nanao) has really broken through as an actor…...he’s worked harder than anyone else for it,” Takato says, the corners of mouth curving into the hint of a smile. “That feeling of standing at number zero, that center position—he’s earned the right to stand there proudly.” Here, a hand to his chest. “The view from the center of the stage…..there is nothing like that how that feels.”
It came as a surprise, that Takato had a soft side to him, but it’s a side that the other Winter Troupe members rush to reassure me is very consistently and easily drawn out.
“Even though he looks like this,” Arisugawa says, elegantly gesturing to all of Takato, “Our Tasuku-kun is quite soft-hearted, I assure you!” (“What do you mean, all of this, Arisugawa——No, stop poking me.”)
Folding himself gracefully into a chair, Yukishiro Azuma laughs, a silvery sound. “That is true. Tasuku is very kind after all. His bark is definitely worse than his bite.” (Whenever Yukishiro says anything, I have to resist the temptation to duck my head down and squeak yes sir because that is just how intimidatingly elegant he is.) Playing a female role this time, Yukishiro’s unique aura and air of sensuality lend a keen edge to any role he takes on: previously, as the lead of Winter Troupe’s third play Nocturnality, he had played an enigmatic vampire, with Takato as his then co-lead. “It was thanks to Tasuku that we were able to carry off that performance, you know. Tasuku’s clumsy and bad with words, but he’s also the most honest and kind person I’ve met. All of us here have been saved by his kindness in some way—I know I have.”
Meanwhile, in the opposite corner of the practice room, Takato and Tsukioka are cooling down by way of massaging each other’s shoulders (a routine, apparently, they share after every practice, according to Yukishiro) while at the same time seemingly managing to have yet another full-blown discussion over (what sounded to me) a minute detail in one of their shared scenes. “Don’t worry, the two of them are always like that when it comes to acting,” says Yukishiro wryly, as he noticed my increasingly wild-eyed expression at the fervour in which the two of them are engrossed in tearing apart this morning’s entire rehearsal.
“Theatre nerds,” chimes in Mikage, through a mouthful of marshmallows.
“Once, Tasuku-kun and Tsumugi-kun got so caught up in talking about acting that they walked out of the bar we were in without paying the bill,” declares Arisugawa fondly. “It’s always like they’re in their own world.”
IT IS IMPOSSIBLE to talk about Takato Tasuku, both as an actor and as a person, without mentioning Tsukioka Tsumugi. Literally.
Tsukioka has a story that he likes to tell about Takato. “When we were small, Taa-...Tasuku's dream was to build robots,” said Tsukioka, smiling fondly at the memory. “My dream then was to be a police officer, you see, and we would spend hours coming up with and acting out the most detailed characters and stories, playing the different parts between the two of us. Whatever he did, Tasuku was always so serious in giving his all—that part of him really hasn’t changed at all.”
We were in the courtyard garden inside the Mankai dormitories, where the two of them were watering flowers. I sat on a nearby bench, tape recorder in hand, marveling at the apparent ease in which they picked up on each other’s train of thought, the way they talk totally caught up in each other’s presence. But when you’ve known each other since infancy and grown up with your lives intertwined, it is impossible to underscore the magnitude of such a connection; you’ve seen each other through every stage of your life, different players entering and exiting every chapter. For Tsukioka and Takato, the love for acting was something they discovered together. “In elementary school, we stood on stage together for the first time—it was our school festival, and I played the lead role and Tasuku played the co-lead. Since then, our dream has always been to become actors together.”
The two of them are childhood friends, having shared the same trajectory from kindergarten through university: after that first heady experience of standing on stage, they’ve been involved with acting in some way ever since, actively participating in drama clubs together throughout middle and high school and pursuing student theatre seriously at university. (The only instance when their paths diverged was when Takato joined GOD-za, but neither seemed very inclined to pursue the subject, and the set to Takato’s jaw effectively closed off further questions.) When asked to describe each other’s acting styles and approaches, Takato says, without missing a beat, “Tsumugi’s acting is subtle and delicate, the kind that’s convincing and complete even by standing there without any words. It’s something that I can never imitate. I’ve always admired that.” With his slender and willowy frame, Tsukioka’s acting is naturalistic and expressive, and his force as an actor comes from his ability to sympathise with and imbue his roles with a deep sense of empathy and understanding. In contrast, Takato’s acting is bold and confident, his presence one that can often threaten to overwhelm other actors. While he makes that charisma and stage presence look almost effortless, Takato’s approach to acting and characterisation is downright Stanislavskian, his scripts completely broken down scene-by-scene, beat-by-beat, and almost unreadable from the amount of notes and analysis that he handwrites into any free space he can find and highlighted in a dizzying array of colours.
“Do you know that Tasuku always needs to get new copies of our script whenever we’re doing a play? He runs through them so often that Director just makes a stack of copies at the start now,” says Tsukioka, in amusement. (Okay, so it turns out Tsukioka has multiple stories he keeps on hand to tell about Takato.) “When he throws himself fully into a show, he ends up calling people by their character’s names even when we’re out of practice. His sleep-talk increases whenever we’re doing rehearsals for a new play too…...what he says in his sleep? Let’s just say that it’s lucky that Tasuku has me as a roommate and not anyone else.” I burst out laughing, unable to help myself, as Takato levels a reproaching glare at Tsukioka, who simply beams back in wide-eyed, dimple-cheeked innocence. Back in his GOD-za days, it would have been hard to imagine an off-the-cuffs interview like this with Takato; for one thing, Kamikizaka’s control over his actors extended to every aspect of their public persona, and only scripted interviews, with the question list sent two days in advance before schedule, would have been permitted for GOD-za actors to take part in.
And for the other, I remembered now―the Takato I once interviewed two years ago had been all polished granite, a facade of stoic determination, newly ascended to the top position of GOD-za amidst mutterings of envy and resentment from older, more veteran members clearly not happy to be overtaken by an upstart within less than a year of his joining. It didn’t help that the then only 22-year-old Takato had carried himself with a boldness that seemed almost like arrogance (“But Tasuku was so nervous during his first lead performance that he dropped a prop!”); there had been talk of him being “cheeky”, “the boldest out of all the top actors so far”, even earning him the reputation of being “the prince of GOD-za”. At that time, Takato had a raw intensity to his gaze that was almost searing, and yet at the same time one got the feeling that he was carefully keeping every line of himself in check. The Takato right now, however, has an altogether different feeling to him. When I brought up our last interview during his time at Godza, making special reference to his “prince” title, he winces visibly, even as Tsukioka beside him goes off into gales of laughter. “GOD-za taught me a lot, and I’ll always be grateful for my time there. But,” he hesitates, before going on, “In that kind of environment, when you spend everyday making sure you don’t get toppled out of your position, you don’t have the luxury to care about the people around you. The tension in rehearsals was—it was exhausting. We were all rivals. Not friends, not comrades, and definitely not family: more like pieces for Reni-san to arrange into his perfect stage. To him, that was the definition of theatre.” GOD-za’s selection process is infamously harsh; the training of its actors impossibly more so. Even for those who love the art itself, it can be a harsh and punishing world, especially for those who are deemed as unworthy of making the cut.
Here, Tsukioka opens up with a candour that I found moving. “Actually, we both auditioned for GOD-za, but only Tasuku was accepted. It was a shock—I had done theatre at school, and had received praise, even awards for it. But then I was told that my acting lacked charm, and that I would never be able to make it,” confesses Tsukioka simply. “I left town then, running away from theatre, which I had loved almost all my life.” It takes a lot of courage to admit one’s own weaknesses, laying them bare for the world to see, and even more resilience, in the face of rejection, to return to a dream he had once turned his back on. “But I just couldn’t give it up―couldn’t stop thinking about what it was like to stand on stage. And so I came back. There is a part of me that still hesitates now and then, that wonders if I’m good enough, but I won’t run away again. I know now that this is the only place that I want to be.”
To stand on stage, to feel the spotlights and audience’s eyes zeroed in on you; once you’ve experienced that, it’s something that few can give up. It hasn’t been an easy path for them, and it won’t get easier from now on. No elevated walkway will be waiting for them, no matter how much higher they climb. But having overcome separation and failed regrets, the two of them are once more standing on the same stage, their sights still set on the dream they envisioned together that day long ago. “There’s still so many scenes waiting for us from here on out, so please continue to watch over Winter Troupe.”
THERE HAD BEEN RUMOURS of Takato leaving Mankai Company, that he was dissatisfied with his treatment; one too many instances of being passed up for the lead, to being relegated to an insignificant side-character. With the exception of Sumeragi Tenma, noted child star extraordinaire, most of the theatre troupe had been relative newcomers until recently, in comparison to Takato’s impressive resume of past performances and indisputed position as GOD-za’s top star. And yet he’s only landing a lead role now, twenty performances in. Surely he’s received offers from other places, a renowned presence like him, right? Now that Kamikizaka has loosened his iron grip and there is a lot less fear of incurring his wrath, requests for Takato to guest star in other troupes’ productions have been markedly increasing. But when probed on the issue, Takato simply waved all those concerns away. “The acting I want to do is right here,” he says, without missing a beat. “When I left GOD-za, I didn’t have a place to belong. But MANKAI Company gave me a place where I can act, as well as a role. 1 I still have a long way to go here.”
In Die by the Sword, the central conflict of the play revolves around Musashi (played by Takato) and his search for a place to die. He fights, to find a final resting place—to be judged as somebody worthy of earning death, and to find a worthy opponent that can grant him that dream, to put an end to his endless journey. At the heart of it, it is a story of a man’s search for a raison d'etre, made all the more poignant when you realize that for Musashi, the answer is one that can only be arrived at on the shores of death. “When I got the script for the first time, it took me a long time to fully accept the ending. If you include the time when I was in GOD-za, I don’t know how many times I’ve been the lead, so it’s not like I have strong feelings about it after all this time...But playing the lead in Mankai Company feels strange for some reason. 2 It’s a weird way to put it, but......it feels like coming back to the start.”
Last week, Winter Troupe had been invited to put on an abridged version of Die by the Sword at Takato’s and Tsukioka’s former elementary school, on that same gymnasium stage where they first discovered their shared love of acting. How did it feel, to once again stand on that stage, with the knowledge that it was going to be torn down? “Before that, I had been struggling, trying to find answers.” Answers to what? “I’ve always loved acting, but there was a point where I hesitated: what is the kind of acting I want to pursue? What is my reason for staying at Mankai Company?” He said, looking at me with disarming intensity, his hands held out, balled into fists.
“Back at GOD-za, I took responsibility and pride in being the top star, even when it wasn’t always easy to withstand that pressure. But sometimes, I'd look around me, and see only unfriendly gazes waiting for me to put a foot wrong, or people who’ve only come because they wanted to see GOD-za’s Takato Tasuku. I sometimes thought, “Who is it that they are they looking at? What is it that they want out of my acting?” I think I had been able to give it my all for so long because I wanted to once again act with someone who saw my acting—saw me clearly. I held on to that belief, and trusted that I’d be able to arrive at the place I wanted to be. When (Winter Troupe) stood together on that stage last week, I realized that I had found what I was searching for: a stage where I can stand together with my comrades, to have fun exchanging lines, and create the best stage ever. 3 That is why I want to continue staying in Mankai Company. Even after that first stage has been torn down, there will be newer stages, newer challenges to face from now on.”
Never satisfied, Takato chases after perfection, looking straight ahead as he continues to aim higher as an actor. It is this characteristic that has continued to define him as an actor, and what will continue to drive him to greater heights. When people hear “ark”, they often think of Noah’s ark. But from there, ark can also be taken to mean a place or thing offering shelter or protection—as Mankai Company had been for Takato when he had no place to turn to. The ark that has carried him thus far is even now setting sail for a newer voyages, sights set on beyond the horizon.
“Make sure you’re watching.” Takato grins, almost wolfishly.
They hadn’t called him the prince of GOD-za without good reason.
THE NEXT TIME I meet Takato again, it is before the curtains go up for the first performance. Only opening night, and it was already a full house. The backstage was in a flurry of pre-show preparations, but Takato remained unruffled; standing in front of a dressing room mirror, his gaze sharp and focused, he seemed to have become every inch the stoic samurai. When I asked what he felt about the weight of expectations, he merely shrugged. “That doesn’t matter. Today we will show you the greatest stage.” Here then, at Mankai Company is clearly the answer Takato had been searching for. If his current trajectory is anything to go by, there is no doubt that Takato will be going far. But the ark is made up of many parts—no part by itself is the ark, and yet together they make up something that is bigger than the sum of its parts. The same goes for Winter Troupe, for Mankai Company, for acting itself. Even if they started their voyage from different shores, bringing different parts onboard, now they are bound together through their shared devotion to acting, the stage their shared dream.
Watch now, the curtain rises. Watch me, Takato beckons the audience.
And when he beckons, you go along.
Every chapter a new book, and Mankai Company’s Takato Tasuku is bent on a never ending story. The prologue starts here.
Die by the Sword is currently playing at MANKAI Theatre. For more information about the play and Mankai Company in general, please visit http://www.mankai-stage.jp/
Written by T. Xavi for The Veludo Way Times. He can be reached through his twitter @204thebee.