Kureha-za was brought to Meiji-mura in 1971. This two-story wooden theater was originally built in Ikeda, Osaka prefecture, a hundred years earlier, and was designed primarily for kabuki performances. Political plays and movies were also shown, and the building was frequently used as a community meeting hall.

The exterior may appear rather austere to anyone who has visited the famous Kabuki-za in Ginza, Tokyo, but the same elements are present - overhanging eaves and colorful boards promoting the latest shows. Prominent at the upper center of the facade is a one-man balcony from where a drummer would attract theater-goers.

At Meiji-mura an effort is made to bring each building to life so that visitors can experience it in a meaningful way that is close to its original purpose. Kureha-za is no exception, and the theater still hosts occasional shows. For a modest fee, paid on top of entrance to the museum, you can step back in time and be entertained by passing performance troupes.

If you are fortunate, your visit may coincide with an offering of kabuki. This was the raison d'etre of the theater, and will arguably show it at its best. These shows can take maximum advantage of the revolving stage, characteristic of kabuki theaters and operated by stagehands hidden below the performers, and the hanamichi. Literally translated as "flower path", the hanamichi is a long elevated walkway that extends from the stage to the rear of the auditorium, allowing the actors to interact with the audience in a way very different from traditionally one-dimensional western theater.

Kabuki emerged during the Edo era (1603-1867), but retained popularity into the Meiji period (1868-1912) despite the 1629 decree of the Tokugawa shogun that only men could appear on stage due to the raucous reactiion female performers elicited from audiences. It was popular rather then elite entertainment, and addressed Shakespearean themes such as historical events and moral conflict.

The stylized, often melodramatic, manner of kanuki performance, coupled with its formalized dancing and intonation patterns, render it somewhat impenetrable for most modern Japanese. Some major theaters, such as Kabuki-za in Tokyo, offer headsets that explain the action in English for foreign visitors. It comes as quite a surprise when you take your seat and find yourself surrounded by hundreds of Japanese people wearing similar headsets for exactly the same purpose.

During the Meiji years, kabuki, together with other classical forms of Japanese theater, including noh (dance-drama), kyougen (comic tales) and buraku (puppet theater), formed the mainstay of popular entertainment. Rakugo (seated comic storytelling) and manzai (sharp comic dialog between a pair of performers) were also well established by this time, and these can still be seen regularly on TV.

It was not until the later Taisho (1912-1926) and Showa (1926-1989) periods that new forms of theater performance emerged. The reasons for the lack of innovation during the Meiji era are not clear. Some believe time was required for western influences to be absorbed and then interpreted in ways interesting to Japanese audiences. Another theory is that the rise of a consumer culture following industrialization both encouraged and supported evolution in popular entertainment.

These days, if they can tear themselves away from their game consoles and television variety shows, young Japanese theater-goers are far more likely to opt for western musical, Disney show or even Shakespeare than to see kabuki or noh. But the main barrier to more people enjoying traditional Japanese theater may be availability, rather than accessibility.

On the day I visited Meiji-mura, a kyougen play was on offer at Kureha-za. Kyougen, short comedy sketches featuring everyday characters, was originally created to add light relief between the lengthy scenes of noh dramas. About fifty Japanese people sat around me, most in their twenties and thirties. Wedged into the four cushion seating squares, they admired the lovingly preserved interior of the theater.

The energy and enthusiasm of the young performers filled most gaps in my understanding of the play, and the crowd was happy to go along for the ride. There was frequent interaction between the performers and the audience, and plenty of genuine laughter. It was a pleasant change from the passivity and seriousness that can make some Japanese arts a little dull, and the Japanese members of the audience seemed to find it similarly refreshing. Hopefully they will go back for more, and help keep the entertainment of the Meiji era alive for generations to come.