Yasujirou Ozu, Tokyo Story

Theatrical Poster for Tokyo Story

The phrase, "art imitates life," at first struck me as just another cliché. However, after I found myself in my new apartment, without an internet connection (or furniture, or lights), and a copy of Yasujirou Ozu's Tokyo Monogatari (東京物語, Tokyo Story), I decided that perhaps I should go ahead and write about this film. Ozu often appears on lists of the greatest film makers, and has a strong following among cinephiles—those familiar with me know that I'm not a cinephile—however, outside of such circles, it seems that his reputation is Overshadowed by Akira Kurosawa.

For many—I assume—Akira Kurosawa stands out as the creator of some of the most memorable Japanese films to western audiences. However, according to film critic Donald Richie, Ozu is the most Japanese director. Kurosawa is known for making jidaigeki (時代劇) or period dramas. Even though they aren't action oriented in the sense of some western movies, they are driven by greater conflicts, mostly wars. Ozu's films are mostly concerned with the lives of ordinary Japanese families, and his films are almost always set within the homes of these families.

An example of a scene from the film.

Tokyo Story is considered to be Ozu's masterpiece, and in all the details of the storytelling, this shows. Perhaps, he is best known for his use of low, wide-angle shots to depict the subjects of the story in their home. Most scenes feature sitting subjects, so this positioning of the camera gives the sense that the viewer is seated in the same room as the characters-- indeed, it is also a practical constraint from filming inside the confines of a typical Japanese home, which provided relatively little space.

The genre of the film is best described as social realism—Ozu, throughout his career was keenly interested in portraying the dissolution of the Japanese family. In this story, an elderly couple travels to Tokyo to visit their children, only to find them busy with their own lives. The story moves along at it's own pace, but the plot isn't driven so much by action or dramatic tension as much as it is by the attitudes of the characters involved. That isn't to say, however, that the story isn't well written. Quite the contrary, the plot is engrossing—I felt myself absorbed almost immediately—and elegant.

Robert McKee wrote that "the archetypal story unearths a universally human experience, then wraps itself inside a unique, culture-specific expression." Tokyo Story takes something archetypal, as the family, but places them into the cultural atmosphere of post-war Japan. This is a theme that he would revisit throughout his career, often incorporating experiences from his own life into his films.

To anyone new to this film— or viewing it again— I suggest tracking down a copy of the Criterion collection's DVD, as it is accompanied by two documentaries on Ozu's films. Admittedly, a great deal of the information here comes from these sources, but it is important to see and hear this from the actors who worked closely with him.

読んで、ありがとう。

Hyakken Uchida, Realm of the Dead

Photograph of Hyakken Uchida.

Hyakken Uchida (内田 百閒) was a prolific Japanese author of both fiction and non-fiction, who is considered by many to be a literary genius. However, this reputation has not extended far outside of Japan, where he remains relatively obscure—as a matter of fact, I had difficulty gathering any information at all. He was born in 1889, and would later study Germanics (language, literature, history, etc.) at the Univeristy of Tokyo, graduating in 1914. Here he met with the pre-eminent Japanese author Natsume Souseki (夏目 漱石). After his studies, he worked as a professor of German, first at the Imperial Japanese Army Academy and then at Hosei University, until the age of 54. He then retired, so that he could focus on his writing.

Only two of his works have been translated into English: Meido (冥途, The Realm of the Dead) and Ryojun Nyujōshiki (旅順入城式, Triumphant March into Port Arthur). Both are found in a single volume, translated by Rachel DiNitto. Realm of the Dead is his first work, and is really a collection of sketch stories, that are heavily influenced by Japanese folklore, and the stories tend to be characterized by a dark and supernatural atmosphere, and how individuals respond to strange happenings. The story "Kudan" is considered one of the most famous from the collection, dealing with a man who suddenly finds himself transformed into the titular legendary creature, with the body of a cow and the face of a man. Other such stories typically feature such supernatural occurrences, which has lead some to criticize the collection as repetitive; however, the stories vary greatly in tone as far as being suspenseful, humorous, and sometimes just strange, which in the end negates any repetitiousness.

Classical Painting of a Kudan.

Triumphant March into Port Arthur is also a collection of short stories and sketches, but is more variable in the length of stories, and in many of the stories takes on an autobiographical tone, giving more insight into the "earlier" life of the author as a professor of German, where little biographical information (at least in English) exists. In the preface, Uchida addresses the difficulties he faced in getting the book published:

After ten long years, I finally finished Realm of the Dead. The book was ready to be published, but in that year Tokyo was struck by terrible misfortune. The great earthquake and accompanying fires completely destroyed the foundry plates, causing the book to suffer the unfortunate fate of going out of print. For the next ten years, I gnawed at my pen and ripped through paper, and somehow after piecing together this mere collection, I was lucky enough to receive the favor of a publisher. When the book was finally about to be printed, I reflected back on the path of writing and found it to be far to long and precipitous.

Poster for Madadayo.

I can't resist the urge to interject yet another history lesson, as Realm of the Dead was published in 1922 and Triumphant March into Port Arthur in 1934, which was a time of increasing Japanese nationalism and militarism, leading up to the Second Sino-Japanese war. Also, the earthquake alludes (most likely) to the Great Kantou earthquake of 1923, which remains the deadliest earthquake in Japan's history, with nearly 150,000 deaths, and resulting in a fair amount of political turmoil.

Most of Uchida's works were written during the years preceding World War II—a time of increasing nationalism and imperialism in Japan—and following Japan's defeat. Unfortunately, these works are still only accessible to those who can read Japanese. However, many of Uchida's essays and journals were adapted into the film Madadayo, Akira Kurosawa's final film, in 1993.

Concept art of Uchida viewing the moon and ruins
 with his students.

Madadayo is quite unlike many of the films that Kurosawa is better known for, such as Seven Samurai or Ran. It does not, for example, feature a cohesive plot, but rather focuses on several episodic periods of Uchida's life, such as the time spent in a small hut after the destruction of Tokyo in the war, or the search for his lost cat Nora. For those interested in the life of Hyakken Uchida, this film offers a lot of insight. For those interested in reading his non-fiction works, it still serves as a great substitute, being crafted by Akira Kurosawa, one of the greatest film makers of the 20th century.

 

Uchida distributes flyers to children describing his lost cat.

Hopefully, within the following years translations of more works will appear. Until then, what we have will have to do—though, I might mention that one more work may be available in the west. Uchida's Sarasāte no ban (サラサーテの盤) was made into a film entitled Zigeunerweisen. The film, an independent film, is also somewhat obscure, but again, there is very little available to the western audience.

読んで、ありがとう。

Sendai Mediatheque, designed by Toyo Ito

Exterior of the Sendai Mediatheque

Architecture, I have the feeling, is largely a mystery to a lot of people—at the very least, it is to me. People mostly connect to architecture through the physical buildings, once they are completed, but don't have as much familiarity with the history of or the conceptual/design aspect of architecture. Japanese architecture is no exception, as the term is likely to be most associated with the traditional design of Japanese buildings, before the Meiji restoration. However, in the late 19th century, Japan experienced its first period of westernization, and along with this came the western tradition of architecture. At first, many western architects designed building in Japan. But in 1877 the University of Tokyo was established with its own school of engineering and architectural program, and by the early 20th century Japan was producing architects who would design a modernized Japan. Indeed, there is a large body of history here, but it will have to wait. Instead, we'll skip ahead to the year 2000, marking the completion of the Sendai Mediatheque, designed by Toyo Ito (伊東 豊雄).

A schematic diagram of the structure.

Ito graduated from the University of Tokyo in 1965, and after his graduation worked with metabolist architect Kiyonori Kikutake—metabolism was itself an influential movement in Japanese architecture associated with Kenzo Tange and Fumihiko Maki. Ito is, however, not associated with metabolism, but rather with conceptual architecture, in which he attempts to unify concepts from the real, material world and the virtual world. Ito did not come into prominence until the mid 1980s, during the height of Japan's economic boom, when he designed such buildings as Silver Hut in 1984 and Yokohama's Tower of Winds in 1986. During these years, he would work with both  Kazuyo Seijima and Ryue Nishizawa, both influential architects in their own right, which places him very much in the center of post-occupation Japanese architecture. Ito continues to design buildings, and was recently named the 2013 winner of the Pritzker Prize, considered by some as the "Nobel Prize of Architecture" for his lifetime of contributions to the field.

The stairs of the building ascend through the tube.

A central theme in the design of the building are its 13 supporting tubes. Ito describes himself as a "neo-tubist," a term playing off the cubist movement, as it places emphasis on cylindrical structures as natural and allowing for the flow of people, water, light, etc. The building truly takes this to heart in every aspect of its design. First, the tubes provide the primary mechanical support for each level, rather than relying on a post-and-beam system as seen in other buildings. However, the (larger) tubes also provide transportation inside the building, housing stair cases and elevators. The tubes are integrated into the buildings air-conditioning system, allowing airflow between levels, and are even designed to allow light to filter down through the building.

Interior shot of the building.

As structurally innovating as the building is, the function of the Sendai Mediatheque is also meant to innovate on the traditional concept of a library, which have the sole function of housing a collection of books. Each floor of the mediatheque is dedicated to a different purpose, which includes a library for new forms of media (at least new in 2000), as well as providing spaces for citizens to hold public exhibitions, as well as a second gallery space for exhibitions sponsored by the library. Bringing all of these forms of media together is an aspect of Ito's conceptual architecture. In an interview, he said:

Architecture in [the] electronic age is [a] figuration of [the] vortex of information from the primitive age. The human body has been linked with nature as a member in which water and air circulate. People today are equipped with an electronic body in which information circulates, and are thus linked to the world through network of information by means of this other body. This virtual body of electron flow is drastically changing the mode of communication in family and community, while the primitive body in which water and air flow still craves for beautiful light and wind. The biggest challenge for us is how we can integrate these two types of body.

A short documentary was made about the building, including more information on it's construction and function, along with commentary by Ito himself.

A book on the Sendai Mediatheque was published in 2002, and Ito released a book on his broader works in 2009, for those interested.

読んで、ありがとう 。

Les Rallizes Dénudés

Since this is the first post, I should probably explain what this is about. The title, pronounced "koujou", is written in Japanese (though for various reasons I had to resort to using an outdated form of transliteration). It means, "improvement" or "advancement." I would describe myself as Japanophile, but I also consider myself to be a Japanophile who is a bit out of touch with other such individuals of my generation. Since the late 90s, Japanese pop culture has saturated a certain sub-culture in the US (and elsewhere), attracting a great deal of attention to Japan—however, I always considered myself to have a mostly secondary interest in such forms of media, as compared to an interest in the history and language of Japan. More recently, this has translated to interests in other cultural artifacts, such as literature, cinema, and the game of go. My goal with this project is dive more deeply myself into the culture of Japan and to bring some others along with me—that being said, let's get started.

Les Rallizes Dénudés also written as 裸のラリーズ (Hadaka no Rariizu) has an interesting place in the history of Japan during the post-occupation period, but has since occupied a small niche among a small group of enthusiasts. The group was founded as a quartet, but the style and operation of the group has been heavily controlled by it's founder, Takashi Mizutani. The group was founded in 1967, when Mizutani entered Doshisha University—note, that given his entrance to university in this year implies that while he would be too young to remember the early parts of World War II, he would likely remember, as a child, American occupation, and perhaps the more destructive conclusion of the war—during a period of both economic prosperity and increasing Americanization of Japanese culture. While there was a popular acceptance of American culture, for various reasons, there was also a notable critical reaction to American culture, primarily coming from the political left (e.g. Communists), who viewed this is part of a larger imperialism on the part of the United States.

Takashi Mizutani was one such of these individuals, but that is not to say that he did not sympathize with a (former) western power. He was, in fact, a student of French literature, and was an avowed Francophile, as the name of his group reflects. Wheres, the United States Emerged from World War II as a superpower in an economic boom, countries like Japan and France were destroyed, and had lost colonial/imperial territories from their days as world powers. In the years following the war, France would also be home to political battles between the communists (representing the left) and conservative Gaullists (representing the right) as well as the next wave of existential philosophers. These factors, among others, would appeal to individuals such as Mizutani as well as other members of Japanese counterculture.

Musically, Mizutani was influenced by the Velvet Underground—Julian Cope, musician and music writer, argues that their style can be traced specifically to the sound achieved in their song I Hear Her Call My Name and Sister Ray—as well as the music of Blue Cheer, and the image of Japanese rock group, the Jacks. The sound of Les Rallizes Dénudés lies somewhere among the stylings of noise rock and psychedelic rock, and is dominated by the heavy use of feedback, with an otherwise progressive flavor. The group established themselves as avante-garde, as it would not be until a decade later that Mizutani would find a musical atmosphere in which he could find a significant audience; however, by this time, Les Rallizes Dénudés would have fallen into relative obscurity. Part of the mystery and appeal of the group has come from their seclusion. Since the early 1970, Mizutani has lived mostly as a recluse from Japanese society, and the entire discography of Les Rallizes Dénudés is composed of live recordings, most of which exist only as bootlegs. Many tellings of how this group was discovered revolve around obscure Japanese record shops, with labels written by hand. The advent of digital distribution has now made many of these recordings more accessible, and in the early 2000s many such recording surfaced, of widely varying quality.

Much of this obscurity was not entirely by choice, which leads to the telling of what is probably the most infamous part of this story. On March 31, 1970, Japan Airlines Flight 351 was hijacked by members of a terrorist group that would become the Japanese Red Army. Among the hijackers was Moriaki Wakabayashi, the original bassist of Les Rallizes Dénudés. Rumor has it, Mizutani was also asked to participate, but refused. Before this day, the group enjoyed moderate success, and were considered to be visionaries within the counterculture of the time—but this event eclipsed that, and has become much of the reason the group is now remembered today.

At any rate, if you took the time to listen to Romance of Black Grief—which has a more mainstream sound to it—then perhaps you are interested in something that is more characteristic of Les Rallizes Dénudés.

Mizutani, in a flyer for an early performance, was attempting to attract a particular demographic, and to exude a certain image: “For those young people - including you - who live  this modern agonising adolescence and who are wanting the true radical music,  I sincerely wish the dialogue accompanied by piercing pain will be born and fill this  recital hall.” He also adopted the shorter mantra of total sensory assault, as performances were accompanied by the use of strobe lights and mirror balls.

For those interested in this group (or similar Japanese music in general), I suggest finding a copy of Julian Cope's Japrocksampler, which deals mainly with experimental Japanese rock in the post-war period. A blog, entitled The Last One, is also maintained, as a source for recordings, but is only available in Japanese.

読んで、ありがとう。