It's cherry blossom season again. . . sort of. I caught this lone tree on the way to the station a few days ago. It jumped the gun apparently, since none of its compatriots were in bloom yet.
This year the cherry blossoms are late. People who made early plans for cherry-blossom-viewing parties are stuck sitting under nude trees, forlornly drinking their beer.
By the way, I got a Flickr account, so I'll be posting pictures from there. There's an iPhoto plug-in that makes it ridiculously convenient to upload photos (and comments intact), so you'll probably see more of these in the future. . .
Monday, April 04, 2005
Friday, March 25, 2005
[A]
I haven't exactly been feeling well these past few weeks (weaks!), so most of my time has been spent visiting doctors and pharmacies in search of that magic pill that'll make everything better. But all this down-time has offered me an opportunity to catch up on some Japanese cinema:
1. First, the insignificant: Samurai Champloo is an exercise in gleeful anachronism. Where it pretends to be an Edo-period genre piece (specifically, 'chambara'), it's determining leitmotiv is urban hip-hop flavor. That's pretty far-fetched, but it carries it off with suitably self-referential goofiness all the same, freely adapting plotlines from all over (Zatoichi, Yakuza movies, etc.) This one is ridiculous, but amusing in its playful misuse of historical locale, event, and personae (and for the disciminating eye, there is plenty in there for parody). Now shut up and enjoy the show.
2. Second most insignificant: Shimotsuma Monogatari. In case you're wondering, Shimotsuma is a little town out in Ibaraki Prefecture, and the story naturally is about this town, and how it's not Daikanyama, Tokyo. Actually, it's about two girls who live in that town and how their styles and identities are produced by the media images they consume. Sort of. One embodies the 'white lolita' style only purchasable in Tokyo, while the other brandishes the country-side biker gang trappings readily available at Jusco (similar to Walmart). The movie itself is cut to pieces in a gaudy version of Tarantino's backwards-first method, and just as easily jumps from genre to genre (including anime segments, ala Kill Bill). But the intent is to merely tickle the audience, and not necessary to skewer them; the jolting shifts and odd twists are comic suggestions of our own media-saturated lives.
3. Last, and speaking of media, I rented Mori Tatsuya's documentary on Aum/Aleph/(or just as appropriately, Araki Hiroshi, the embattled young spokesman for the cult) entitled simply 'A'. Mori is ultimately fairly sympathetic to the cult (which was named Aum when it's members released the nerve toxin Sarin in Tokyo's subway network), and it is amazing to see how much access he has to its inner workings. The documentary picks up after the atrocity with the newly appointed spokesman Araki Hiroshi, boyish and bewildered, and tasked with explaining his faith to a shocked and hostile Japan. The documentary doesn't dwell on the details of the gas attack, or the trial of it perpetrators. That element definitely needs to be kept in mind however, since the context for the widespread social abuse of the cult cannot be understood without it. For audiences in Japan, overwrought news reporting has already brought the message home, but people outside will need to refresh their memories.
What is most powerful about this piece however is its depiction of the extreme, vindictive, and narrow-minded response by the media, the police, and average citizens to the cult. I don't believe it can really apologize for what Aum has done, nor does it really lead to a conclusive judgement of the cult as evil or not, since even its spokesman can not reconcile his own simple faith in Aum and the blatant deeds of its leaders. Cornered by journalists over the issue of whether the 'new' Aum would adopt new teachings, seeming to simultaneously claim both that the teachings were not wrong, and that there were some misunderstandings under the old leaders, Araki testily remarks that 'you don't seem to understand how religions work'. And he might be right. After all, all the denunciations and arguments against Aum seem ex post facto; the public has already judged it an evil cult, so people don't feel the need to be careful in their arguments, especially whether their criticisms can also be applied to other mainstream religions as well. Witnessing the police bullying of average cult members demonstrates an extension of this logic; since nobody is going to sympathize with them (they're guilty of being a cult member), does it really matter how far you mistreat them? Does atrocity make us less willing as a society to demand justice over vengeance?
But that's probably an overreading of the movie, according to my own perspective as an American. Mori's point might be simpler: looking at how Japanese society treats Aum cult members (who were not involved in the attack) only shows us why cults like Aum arise in the first place. People feel a need to escape. . .
1. First, the insignificant: Samurai Champloo is an exercise in gleeful anachronism. Where it pretends to be an Edo-period genre piece (specifically, 'chambara'), it's determining leitmotiv is urban hip-hop flavor. That's pretty far-fetched, but it carries it off with suitably self-referential goofiness all the same, freely adapting plotlines from all over (Zatoichi, Yakuza movies, etc.) This one is ridiculous, but amusing in its playful misuse of historical locale, event, and personae (and for the disciminating eye, there is plenty in there for parody). Now shut up and enjoy the show.
2. Second most insignificant: Shimotsuma Monogatari. In case you're wondering, Shimotsuma is a little town out in Ibaraki Prefecture, and the story naturally is about this town, and how it's not Daikanyama, Tokyo. Actually, it's about two girls who live in that town and how their styles and identities are produced by the media images they consume. Sort of. One embodies the 'white lolita' style only purchasable in Tokyo, while the other brandishes the country-side biker gang trappings readily available at Jusco (similar to Walmart). The movie itself is cut to pieces in a gaudy version of Tarantino's backwards-first method, and just as easily jumps from genre to genre (including anime segments, ala Kill Bill). But the intent is to merely tickle the audience, and not necessary to skewer them; the jolting shifts and odd twists are comic suggestions of our own media-saturated lives.
3. Last, and speaking of media, I rented Mori Tatsuya's documentary on Aum/Aleph/(or just as appropriately, Araki Hiroshi, the embattled young spokesman for the cult) entitled simply 'A'. Mori is ultimately fairly sympathetic to the cult (which was named Aum when it's members released the nerve toxin Sarin in Tokyo's subway network), and it is amazing to see how much access he has to its inner workings. The documentary picks up after the atrocity with the newly appointed spokesman Araki Hiroshi, boyish and bewildered, and tasked with explaining his faith to a shocked and hostile Japan. The documentary doesn't dwell on the details of the gas attack, or the trial of it perpetrators. That element definitely needs to be kept in mind however, since the context for the widespread social abuse of the cult cannot be understood without it. For audiences in Japan, overwrought news reporting has already brought the message home, but people outside will need to refresh their memories.
What is most powerful about this piece however is its depiction of the extreme, vindictive, and narrow-minded response by the media, the police, and average citizens to the cult. I don't believe it can really apologize for what Aum has done, nor does it really lead to a conclusive judgement of the cult as evil or not, since even its spokesman can not reconcile his own simple faith in Aum and the blatant deeds of its leaders. Cornered by journalists over the issue of whether the 'new' Aum would adopt new teachings, seeming to simultaneously claim both that the teachings were not wrong, and that there were some misunderstandings under the old leaders, Araki testily remarks that 'you don't seem to understand how religions work'. And he might be right. After all, all the denunciations and arguments against Aum seem ex post facto; the public has already judged it an evil cult, so people don't feel the need to be careful in their arguments, especially whether their criticisms can also be applied to other mainstream religions as well. Witnessing the police bullying of average cult members demonstrates an extension of this logic; since nobody is going to sympathize with them (they're guilty of being a cult member), does it really matter how far you mistreat them? Does atrocity make us less willing as a society to demand justice over vengeance?
But that's probably an overreading of the movie, according to my own perspective as an American. Mori's point might be simpler: looking at how Japanese society treats Aum cult members (who were not involved in the attack) only shows us why cults like Aum arise in the first place. People feel a need to escape. . .
Monday, March 07, 2005
Asian, American?
It's a question, if properly punctuated.
People do ask whether it's liberal to push for an 'Asian-American' identity; whether it makes historical sense to group together Koreans, Chinese, Japanese, Vietnamese, Filipinos etc; whether it's any better (or different) than white chauvinism; whether it's not in fact harmful to the cohesiveness of us 'Americans' as a people (and a democratic constituency).
At the risk of being annoyingly academic, I consider 'Asian-American' a set of issues, a set of questions, rather than simply an identity. And I argue that people have the freedom, in fact should have the freedom, to interpret their own identity as they see fit. That's not a terribly unreasonable position to take, especially since 'assimilation' itself is not inherently good or bad. Two-direction cultural assimilation in the United States is one version, forced one-way 'assimilation' of Koreans into the Japanese Empire (1910-1945), quite a different one. The degree of forcefulness, and the power dynamic is more related to whether or not it's a progressive or oppressive practice.
Recently, I've heard the ostensibly reasonable argument that we're all 'Americans' and we shouldn't have 'Asian-Americans' 'African-Americans' 'Hispanic-Americans' etc. I can't help thinking there's something odd about this argument because it's always directed at these minorities. What that suggests to me is a certain logical blindspot despite the apparent airtightness of the argument. What I want to contribute here is not an outright denial of the validity of this concept of Americanness. Specifically, it's necessary to understand that 'American' is a specific political, but vague cultural category. Furthermore, it's precisely the regressive form of assimilation that only calls upon the minority to become similar to the majority. Hence, before we can dissolve 'Asian-American' into just 'American', we need to also broaden the definition of what it means to be an 'American' in the first place. And that requires educating everyone, not just minorities, to accept a wider range of cultural practices as part of an inclusive 'Americanness'.
End of diatribe.
People do ask whether it's liberal to push for an 'Asian-American' identity; whether it makes historical sense to group together Koreans, Chinese, Japanese, Vietnamese, Filipinos etc; whether it's any better (or different) than white chauvinism; whether it's not in fact harmful to the cohesiveness of us 'Americans' as a people (and a democratic constituency).
At the risk of being annoyingly academic, I consider 'Asian-American' a set of issues, a set of questions, rather than simply an identity. And I argue that people have the freedom, in fact should have the freedom, to interpret their own identity as they see fit. That's not a terribly unreasonable position to take, especially since 'assimilation' itself is not inherently good or bad. Two-direction cultural assimilation in the United States is one version, forced one-way 'assimilation' of Koreans into the Japanese Empire (1910-1945), quite a different one. The degree of forcefulness, and the power dynamic is more related to whether or not it's a progressive or oppressive practice.
Recently, I've heard the ostensibly reasonable argument that we're all 'Americans' and we shouldn't have 'Asian-Americans' 'African-Americans' 'Hispanic-Americans' etc. I can't help thinking there's something odd about this argument because it's always directed at these minorities. What that suggests to me is a certain logical blindspot despite the apparent airtightness of the argument. What I want to contribute here is not an outright denial of the validity of this concept of Americanness. Specifically, it's necessary to understand that 'American' is a specific political, but vague cultural category. Furthermore, it's precisely the regressive form of assimilation that only calls upon the minority to become similar to the majority. Hence, before we can dissolve 'Asian-American' into just 'American', we need to also broaden the definition of what it means to be an 'American' in the first place. And that requires educating everyone, not just minorities, to accept a wider range of cultural practices as part of an inclusive 'Americanness'.
End of diatribe.
Tuesday, March 01, 2005
This is a hijacking
This was going to be a post about Asian-America. But screw that. I just finished watching Casshern(2004), and it's hijacking this blog space. By force.
But speaking of hijacking, Casshern does just that as well, taking a generic '70s superhero anime and compression molding it into a visually composited moral collage on the universalism of hatred and war. Plus a theme song by the director's wife (Utada Hikaru).
For a clear exposition of the plot, see this review from Midnight Eye. Also be aware that sometime in 2005, the studios are planning on unleashing this monstrosity of a movie on American (and other) audiences. Don't say you weren't warned. Why monstrous? Too much Beethoven in the soundtrack. Too many layers and filters to abstract the footage. Garish theatrical sets employing heavy-handed historical symbolism. Too little irony, and too many overwrought soliloquies. And . . . the cliche'd use of retro-future aesthetics (but it's still kinda cool to see people dialing from antique rotary phones and connecting to sleek 3G-style clamshell phones).
I'm being obscure here, of course, but what makes this movie so hard to ignore and write-off, despite being an unmitigated mess, is the fact that it is entirely serious when it visually links THE WAR ON TERROR(sic) and the JAPANESE OCCUPATION OF CHINA. Battle Royale II tried to do something similar, but only ended up jumping on the Anti-American bandwagon and focusing on Japanese historical victimhood. Both films do in fact inject real-world footage of war and death into their fantasy milieus, but while BR2 has the propagandist tendency to eliminate any ambiguity in the roles of 'victim' and 'oppressor', Casshern boomerangs right back onto itself. Not surprisingly, its ending also discards all the technological explanations and moral arguments that come before it. It's simply not possible to guess how it'll end from only the clues in the plot. And much as the movie cannot propose any solution to the cycle of war and vengeance, it dispenses with explanation and ends on an elegy.
But as I just mentioned, the most powerful aspect of this movie is its historical consciousness. Now, there have been plenty of movies positing a different post-war for Japan. This one begins with the assumption that Japan has conquered 'Eurasia' and become a superstate filled with Cyrillic and Chinese iconography. But even with victory, they face an unending insurgency on a continent filled with 'terrorists', especially 'Zone 7' which appears to be the Chinese countryside. The dingy concrete tanks from which the 'neo-sapiens' arise look eerily similar to the photographs of Unit 731's research facilities in Northern China. The grainy black-and-white segments showing the systematic slaughter of civilians focus on women dressed in what appear to be Chinese traditional gowns. Add elements of medical horror, soldiers in gasmasks, and a brief flash of a mushroom cloud, and the film's imagery is surprisingly complete in terms of war in the 20th century.
But objectively speaking, this movie is ponderous. The dialogue is stifling. The female characters spend most of the movie looking begrieved, but saying little. Character development is on the level of a paper puppet play. The plot is equally incredulous, having to make compromises to fit the original plot of the anime series. Example: the 'villains' need an army of robots to threaten humankind. So, they find them.
However, as other reviewers have written, what makes the movie difficult to simply laugh off is it's intermittent flashes of brilliance. As a 2+ hour long aesthetic enterprise it is incomparable. As a definitive statement on ‘war = human nature’, it is foolhardy and over-ambitious. What makes it worthwhile is its intricately constructed and self-reflexive question to the Japanese: Would the world be a better place if Japan had won the war? And to the Americans: What are you going to do now that you've 'won'?
But speaking of hijacking, Casshern does just that as well, taking a generic '70s superhero anime and compression molding it into a visually composited moral collage on the universalism of hatred and war. Plus a theme song by the director's wife (Utada Hikaru).
For a clear exposition of the plot, see this review from Midnight Eye. Also be aware that sometime in 2005, the studios are planning on unleashing this monstrosity of a movie on American (and other) audiences. Don't say you weren't warned. Why monstrous? Too much Beethoven in the soundtrack. Too many layers and filters to abstract the footage. Garish theatrical sets employing heavy-handed historical symbolism. Too little irony, and too many overwrought soliloquies. And . . . the cliche'd use of retro-future aesthetics (but it's still kinda cool to see people dialing from antique rotary phones and connecting to sleek 3G-style clamshell phones).
I'm being obscure here, of course, but what makes this movie so hard to ignore and write-off, despite being an unmitigated mess, is the fact that it is entirely serious when it visually links THE WAR ON TERROR(sic) and the JAPANESE OCCUPATION OF CHINA. Battle Royale II tried to do something similar, but only ended up jumping on the Anti-American bandwagon and focusing on Japanese historical victimhood. Both films do in fact inject real-world footage of war and death into their fantasy milieus, but while BR2 has the propagandist tendency to eliminate any ambiguity in the roles of 'victim' and 'oppressor', Casshern boomerangs right back onto itself. Not surprisingly, its ending also discards all the technological explanations and moral arguments that come before it. It's simply not possible to guess how it'll end from only the clues in the plot. And much as the movie cannot propose any solution to the cycle of war and vengeance, it dispenses with explanation and ends on an elegy.
But as I just mentioned, the most powerful aspect of this movie is its historical consciousness. Now, there have been plenty of movies positing a different post-war for Japan. This one begins with the assumption that Japan has conquered 'Eurasia' and become a superstate filled with Cyrillic and Chinese iconography. But even with victory, they face an unending insurgency on a continent filled with 'terrorists', especially 'Zone 7' which appears to be the Chinese countryside. The dingy concrete tanks from which the 'neo-sapiens' arise look eerily similar to the photographs of Unit 731's research facilities in Northern China. The grainy black-and-white segments showing the systematic slaughter of civilians focus on women dressed in what appear to be Chinese traditional gowns. Add elements of medical horror, soldiers in gasmasks, and a brief flash of a mushroom cloud, and the film's imagery is surprisingly complete in terms of war in the 20th century.
But objectively speaking, this movie is ponderous. The dialogue is stifling. The female characters spend most of the movie looking begrieved, but saying little. Character development is on the level of a paper puppet play. The plot is equally incredulous, having to make compromises to fit the original plot of the anime series. Example: the 'villains' need an army of robots to threaten humankind. So, they find them.
However, as other reviewers have written, what makes the movie difficult to simply laugh off is it's intermittent flashes of brilliance. As a 2+ hour long aesthetic enterprise it is incomparable. As a definitive statement on ‘war = human nature’, it is foolhardy and over-ambitious. What makes it worthwhile is its intricately constructed and self-reflexive question to the Japanese: Would the world be a better place if Japan had won the war? And to the Americans: What are you going to do now that you've 'won'?
Friday, February 25, 2005
Preoccupied with Occupation
It's been a while since I updated this blog, so rough as it is, I'm giving it the old college try.
For those of you who have seen 'Love Hina' (bareta!) the scene on campus today would have been deja vu. But not quite. Today after all was the day entrance exams are conducted for the incoming 2005 class, and for that very important reason, campus was locked down pretty securely. The big red gate 'Aka-mon' was shut, except for a slim little door to the left, where staff with official armbands checked IDs. So much to be won or lost on this day . . . But oddly enough the students (some still in their highschool uniforms) I came across seemed in rather high spirits, chatting and flirting.
Also kind of reminds me of Maison Ikkoku, which by the way is being resurrected from its original 1980s run by its publisher for one more reprint. Just in time, I'd say, for the 'PURE LOVE' boom. That term, jun'ai, has achieved vortextual status now on the heels of such sentimental dramas as 'Winter Sonata', 'Sekai no chushin de ai wo sakebu' and 'Ai ni Yukimasu'. Does the term denote a new aspect of Japanese society, or just a new way to talk about Japanese society? Here, I defer to Kaori Shoji of the Japan Times who does a remarkable job explaining the 'phenomenon' with a straight face. And yet, through her obsessive use of quotation marks for all the 'so-called' 'phrases' 'Japanese' people employ, I can't help detecting an ironic smirk behind the earnestness. Surely she must think it's silly; the quotation marks seem to put plenty of distance between what she herself thinks, and 'what people say'.
So 'pure' love is back. And so are the 1980s. Though they gave love. . . a bad name (bad name).
In other news, I'm doing some heavy-duty translating for my advisor here, who has somehow amassed a large cache of WWII Japanese propaganda. It's rather sad, and unnerving work, but at times hilarious. Makes you wonder if our own occupation of Iraq is really drawing on the correct historical metaphors. Instead of the 'successful' occupations of Germany and Japan, maybe we should contemplate the short-lived Japanese occupations of Manchuria and China as well. By the way, I've been helped a great deal by a new dictionary on the palmpilot: Plecodict. It's the only portable solution I've found that lets you enter traditional hanzi (characters) by the pen/stylus, and get pinyin romanizations (and definitions) out of it. Needless to say, that thoroughly streamlines using my big fat Xian dai han yu ci dian paper dictionary. Finally, the tools that I need. . .
For those of you who have seen 'Love Hina' (bareta!) the scene on campus today would have been deja vu. But not quite. Today after all was the day entrance exams are conducted for the incoming 2005 class, and for that very important reason, campus was locked down pretty securely. The big red gate 'Aka-mon' was shut, except for a slim little door to the left, where staff with official armbands checked IDs. So much to be won or lost on this day . . . But oddly enough the students (some still in their highschool uniforms) I came across seemed in rather high spirits, chatting and flirting.
Also kind of reminds me of Maison Ikkoku, which by the way is being resurrected from its original 1980s run by its publisher for one more reprint. Just in time, I'd say, for the 'PURE LOVE' boom. That term, jun'ai, has achieved vortextual status now on the heels of such sentimental dramas as 'Winter Sonata', 'Sekai no chushin de ai wo sakebu' and 'Ai ni Yukimasu'. Does the term denote a new aspect of Japanese society, or just a new way to talk about Japanese society? Here, I defer to Kaori Shoji of the Japan Times who does a remarkable job explaining the 'phenomenon' with a straight face. And yet, through her obsessive use of quotation marks for all the 'so-called' 'phrases' 'Japanese' people employ, I can't help detecting an ironic smirk behind the earnestness. Surely she must think it's silly; the quotation marks seem to put plenty of distance between what she herself thinks, and 'what people say'.
So 'pure' love is back. And so are the 1980s. Though they gave love. . . a bad name (bad name).
In other news, I'm doing some heavy-duty translating for my advisor here, who has somehow amassed a large cache of WWII Japanese propaganda. It's rather sad, and unnerving work, but at times hilarious. Makes you wonder if our own occupation of Iraq is really drawing on the correct historical metaphors. Instead of the 'successful' occupations of Germany and Japan, maybe we should contemplate the short-lived Japanese occupations of Manchuria and China as well. By the way, I've been helped a great deal by a new dictionary on the palmpilot: Plecodict. It's the only portable solution I've found that lets you enter traditional hanzi (characters) by the pen/stylus, and get pinyin romanizations (and definitions) out of it. Needless to say, that thoroughly streamlines using my big fat Xian dai han yu ci dian paper dictionary. Finally, the tools that I need. . .
Wednesday, February 16, 2005
You’re asking for it. . .
In the information age, you can not only give someone a knuckle sandwich [the old stand-by], you can also give’em a spam sandwich.
So, you better shut up now, or you're really asking for it. Right where it counts.
So, you better shut up now, or you're really asking for it. Right where it counts.
Tuesday, February 15, 2005
It was a '3' here
There was just an earthquake here. The floor started to jerkily shift around on me, the foundations started creaking, dogs started barking. . . and it was only a '3', though it lasted for more than 10 seconds. Apparently, someplace up north in Ibaraki experienced a 5.4, which should be more than 100 times worse than what I experienced. That's insane. And when the big one hits (on the order of 7 or so, as they predict), 30,000 people are forecasted to die in Tokyo. This is the second earthquake I've felt here in 2 weeks. I hope that's not a sign of things to come.
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