Jihei and Koharu are hopelessly in love. Unfortunately, “hopeless” is a good description of their situation.
It’s 1720, and in Osaka, Japan, society is structured into rigid and inescapable classes. Imprinted on every individual from birth is the concept of “giri”: overriding obligation to family and adherence to the rules and mores of society. To fail in “giri” is to incur shame and dishonor.
Jihei, 24, a merchant, is married and the father of two children. Koharu, 19, a courtesan, is trapped into a life of prostitution by a contract which she has no hope of paying off. Jihei (played by San Diego native Trevor Salter) has tried but failed to raise enough money to free Koharu, plunging his family into debt in the attempt. And to make things even worse, it now looks like his rival, Tahei, is about to buy the girl for himself.
Oppressed by guilt and without funds, the desperate young couple can see only one solution: suicide.
The drama unfolds with several twists, some poignancy and a few touches of broad humor for leavening. But finally … (spoiler alert!)
“… the lovers live happily ever after.”
While that traditional fairy-tale phrase might seem a strange coda to “The Love Suicides at Amijima” — which does indeed end with the deaths of the lead characters — it would, in essence, be how author Chikamatsu Monzaemon (1653-1725) and his audience regarded the play.
Chikamatsu doesn’t neglect the painful effects of Jihei’s actions on his family, particularly his wife, Osan — one of the drama’s more complex and interesting characters. But Jihei and Koharu succeed in their quest and, in the beliefs of their society, can thus find happiness by being reborn into an honorable life together.
Their story is one of triumph, not tragedy.
“For the lovers, it’s a happy ending,” says Carla Navarro, DangerHouse Productions’ assistant director, who also plays Koharu.
DangerHouse — self-billed as a creative collective that puts on “theater for people who don’t regularly go to the theater” — hopes to help theatergoers understand and embrace that viewpoint by showcasing the universal themes of love, honor and duty that make up the heart of this story.
“I think even more of it crosses over than we had anticipated,” says director Justine Hince. “It’s something that a lot of people can relate to today.”
Now as then, people struggle with conflicts between what they are expected to do and what they want to do, or take great risks and make great sacrifices for love.
While it involves themes that are timeless, “Love Suicides” is also very much a product of its time and place. It’s hard to overestimate the strength of “giri” or the degree of shame incurred for transgressions. Suicide, with its roots in the Samurai code of Bushido, did not carry the stigma with which it is burdened in Western culture. It was considered by people in all levels of Japanese society to be a means of atonement for failure and a path to salvation.
“That’s something we’ve been struggling with,” admits Hince, “how (differently) we view suicide in our Western society. The Japanese culture had a completely different concept.”
The impulse to compare “Love Suicides” to “Romeo and Juliet” is a natural. Yet aside from the passion of a pair of young lovers, each of whom would literally rather die than live without the other, the two stories have more differences than similarities. For one, the deaths of Shakespeare’s couple are based on a misunderstanding, while Jihei and Koharu deliberately make the decision to kill themselves. And their pact is known from the start by the audience and even by the other characters.
The play inspired the critically acclaimed 1969 film “Double Suicide.”
This production, the West Coast stage premiere, closes the company’s second season, which included “Three Plays of Grand Guignol” and Howard Phillips “H.P.” Lovecraft’s “The Festival.”
While it has some modern touches, it’s “a lot more traditional than (others) DangerHouse has done,” Hince says. “It’s not an adaptation, not in black light, not a horror story. But it does have that blood element that we tend to do a lot.”
