It was a day in early autumn, the scent of osmanthus wafting softly. The sweet lingering scent of osmanthus lingered, and I headed to the cinema, lured by the artificial smell of caramel. My acquaintances all gave the film "National Treasure" their stamp of approval.
Taking kabuki, a theater deeply rooted in Japanese culture and characterized by its hereditary tenacity, the film beautifully portrays the earthiness and humanity (beauty) that emerges from the conflicts of its members. It depicts the dilemma between those who will inherit and those who will not, and the clash between the "role" of the art and personal emotions. To put it in a metaphor, it was a work depicting a lotus flower blooming in the mud.
It is said that for several days before blooming, the lotus flower's receptacle maintains a temperature of 30-35 degrees, generating heat. Rooted in the muddy depths, the lotus quietly retains heat without being affected by the mud, eventually blooming. Its appearance somehow overlapped with the life of the protagonist, Tachibana Kikuo, in the film.
In ancient Egyptian creation myths, the lotus is said to be the first flower to emerge from the "waters of chaos," from which the sun god was born and filled the world with light. Its tendency to sink to the bottom at night and re-open in the morning makes it a symbol of death, rebirth, and resurrection from darkness.
Strangely enough, in Buddhism, the lotus is also a symbol of purity, growing in the mud but remaining untainted. Its beautiful blooming despite confusion and suffering is spoken of as a metaphor for enlightenment, and the Buddha's seat is represented as a "lotus throne."
Kikuo's life is similar to the characteristics of the lotus. There's a saying that goes, "sell your soul for your art," but he endured adversity—separation from his family, falling off the path to stardom and being forced to perform Noh plays alone in a small town theater—and even painful choices in exchange for support, yet he never let go of the purity of his art. It's heartbreaking to think that these tainted choices were the price to pay to protect the "vessel of art."
