Unmasking the Nopperabou | Mononoke Theory

There's something beautiful about a mystery, and something mysterious about beauty. The sheer horror of the supernatural can entrance us just as much as the curiosity it inspires. These enigmatic feelings are at the core of the artistic masterpiece that is Mononoke. No, not that one. I'm talking about the 13-episode supernatural mystery-thriller that aired way back in 2007. The show follows a mysterious man known only as Kusuriuri, through five unassociated arcs in which he is the only constant. In each arc, he must face off against a different Mononoke, a cross between a supernatural creature and a curse. However, he cannot exercise these spirits from the get-go. He must first discover the form of the Mononoke, the truth behind what human misdeeds are responsible for its conception, and the reason for its continued presence. There's a lot that can be said about this beautiful series, but for today we're going to zoom in on just one of the tales that make up Mononoke's run, the third arc, Nopperabou, or The Faceless Monster. Like all the other arcs, there's a mystery at the heart of this haunting. Kusuriuri has approached a woman named Ochou on death row who is charged with the violent slaughter of her husband and his family. Though she's utterly resigned to her fate, Kusuriuri doesn't believe things are so clear-cut. He thinks that there must be some supernatural force that helped her. Sure enough, a mysterious figure emerges to confront them soon after he begins asking Ochou about her circumstances. What adds a layer of style and intrigue to this arc is the use of theatrics as a major focus in the story. The theater style used is the oldest and most traditional of all Japanese styles, nō. That's nō theater, not nō the word nō. Nō serves as a fantastic pair to this faceless monster, because masks are one of the most defining aspects of nō theater, and there's even a bit of wordplay at work here. Nō is being used to tell the story of a nopperabou. Get it? Nopperabou? In the show Mononoke? Was that one nō good? This story is very clearly being framed in the aesthetics of nō. Its distinctive box stage appears in roughly three different forms. All the masks donned by the nopperabou are based on traditional masks, and Kusuriuri even begins referring to time frames as acts. To dissect what's really going on here, we need to watch it through a lens that's privy to this theatrical style. Without this informed viewpoint, the nopperabou arc is, in particular, more ambiguous than the others, not only with its resolution, but with what's actually going on throughout its run. Nō theater originated in the 14th century and has been so well preserved that its practices have barely changed since its conception. Like previously mentioned, performances are held on small, box-shaped stages. They prominently use song, dance, and masks, and, like many other ancient theatrical traditions, nō plays generally tell the stories of heroes, spirits, and gods. But how it tells these stories is where it varies wildly from other cultures. Nō theater troupes are extremely limited, consisting of just three roles. Musicians, the shite, and the waki. I'm sure we can all figure out what the musicians do, so I'll skip right to the interesting stuff. The shite and the waki. These are the actor roles and they are very specifically singular. There are usually only two actors present in a nō performance, just one of each class. The shite is the principal actor, who plays the leading role or roles, and the waki is the supporting actor, who plays bit roles. The shite is the one who dons the iconic masks within a nō performance, and because there are only male nō actors, these masks are essential for expressing certain characters such as old ladies or goddesses. There are hundreds of different masks, each portraying a different archetypal role. This would lead us to believe, then, that the nō pedabo can be read as the shite within Mononoke. He most frequently dons a kitsune mask, but occasionally changes to an ona and an ao oni, among others. The practice of changing masks throughout acts to portray different characters or different states of characters is not uncommon, so this seems to support our hypothesis. It's at this point that I'd like to strongly advise you to watch Mononoke's nō pedabo arc, if you haven't already, as my analysis and conclusions might be pretty hard to follow if you aren't familiar with the events of the story. You can watch any arc of Mononoke on its own, as they really are complete stories, there's not much set up even in the first few episodes. I've provided a link below if you'd like to watch these two episodes before finishing this video. In the second episode of the arc, a projection of Ocho's mother arrives and begins drawing out the traumas that Ocho has repressed. Like the nō pedabo, she is almost exclusively portrayed wearing a mask. This creates a bit of a contradiction. The mask should represent the shite, but the presence of Ocho's mother disrupts what should be the nō pedabo's victory. If the nō pedabo is meant to be the protagonist figure in this show within a show, why is he playing against himself? There's a third character we see donning a mask as well, the kusuryūri himself. Though his use of them is brief, his mastery is clear. This is all rather puzzling, and we can't Many viewers will pick up on one incredibly damning feature of the nō pedabo, his similarities to the kusuryūri's other self or hyperform. The tan skin, long silver hair, and pointed ears are all a reflection of the kusuryūri. Then there's the matter of the arc's outcome. No Mononoke is ever slain. The form, truth, and reason never come from what we've been assuming is the nō pedabo, but instead from Ocho herself. She's the one who became a Mononoke here. So just who the hell is this guy? The end of the arc has kusuryūri sparing Ocho. She's been subjected to years of abuse at the hands of her mother and husband. She suppressed her own sense of being an agency to such an extent that she'd metaphorically killed herself by losing her identity, or face, and becoming a mindless, abused servant. An escapist fantasy about brutally murdering herself and others became her only coping mechanism amidst daily suffering. Her circumstances are a call to the most famous nō mask, the hannya, used to represent a woman transformed to a demon by suffering. Ocho never acted on her fantasies, and she never was in prison. She simply felt imprisoned in her daily life. It was an illusion she herself created, not unlike wearing a mask and not unlike the performance put on by the fox-faced monster. So what about the kusuryūri and the In all likelihood, there was never any Mononoke besides Ocho herself. The fox-masked creature we saw kusuryūri butt heads with was nothing more than a performance as well. A performance by kusuryūri himself. The multiplicity of the shitei role is one of the core aspects of nō theater. It's not strange for one person to convey two, three, or even more characters within a play. Thus, in a world where the real and illusionary are blending, it's reasonable to theorize that every role aside from Ocho has been kusuryūri from the beginning. Why go to such lengths to reach out to Ocho, who's already become a monster? Maybe he's explaining his motivations outright when he hypothesizes that the creature was a pathetic Mononoke that had fallen into a hopeless love and wanted to release Ocho from her torment. But maybe that's just part of his performance, and his goal, as always, has just been to eliminate the threat brought about by Ocho's transformation before anyone gets hurt. The mystery behind another supernatural curse has been resolved, but we're still left not knowing everything. Mononoke is a perplexing show that will never outright give you an answer. The beauty of a mystery is the unique investment it can instill in the viewer, the relationship that gradually builds as it offers them the chance to solve puzzles before the cast does. You have to look deeply at the clues you're presented and discern the truth for yourself. Mononoke, in particular, utilizes its enigmatism to coax the viewer into pondering its questions a while longer. However, all the pieces are there, they just sometimes don't line up until you take on a role yourself and don the mask of the audience. Thank you so much for watching this video. Mononoke is a show I've really wanted to talk about for a long time, and my recent studies lined up perfectly with the Nopetabo arc. On that note, I want to give a special thanks to the University of Minnesota's Professor Isaka for not only teaching the course that inspired this video, but also for answering some lingering questions that helped me better understand the illusions at play here. If you're looking for more content like this, you can check out our channel, The Digital Dream Club, or you can follow us on Twitter at DigiDreamClub to stay updated on our latest content. I'm definitely going to come back to Mononoke again because it's a big favorite, but for now I'm just going to have to sate my interests with this. So, thanks again for watching. Bye-bye.