male macaque in a kimono struck macho poses
and leaped over high hurdles.
Soon it was time to line up at the amphithe-
ater, where a woman named Yuria Suzuki and
her faithful primate, Riku, were headlining a
parody of a popular Japanese police show and
a circus act. When Sergeant Suzuki pretended to
dispatch Captain Riku to a reported crime scene,
he ducked behind the curtain and returned with
a butcher knife—a rubber prop—in his head. In
the circus finale, Riku, in blue polka-dot pants
and a pink satin vest, vaulted across a chasm
between staircases and executed a one-armed
handstand on a tall, swaying pole.
The presentation at Nikko Saru Gundan has
roots in traditional Japanese culture. The acts
evolved from a form of entertainment known as
sarumawashi, monkey performance, based on
the belief that the saru (monkey) is the protector
of horses and the mediator between gods and
humans, capable of dispelling evil spirits and
clearing the path for good fortune. Like Kabuki,
sarumawashi was performed in public theaters
as long as a thousand years ago.
But in a modernizing Japan, the spiritual sig-
nificance has faded.
Today’s monkey performances resemble
circus acts. Many animals are schooled using
positive reinforcement and affection, but some
are harshly disciplined and physically abused
by their trainers, said Keiko Yamazaki, execu-
tive director of the Animal Literacy Research
Institute and a board member of the Japanese
Coalition for Animal Welfare. Yet diapered mon-
keys waddling across stages in Japan have not
gotten the same attention as, say, bears that rideCULTURE, OR ABUSE? 103