News and Opinion Archive April 2010

Gokan no Hiroba

As part of my current research in the history of Japanese film theory and criticism, I met with the great film critic, Yamane Sadao, last week.  Since I had just watched a press screening of Sakamoto Junji's new film, Zatoichi, the Last, we met in a cafe in Hibiya. 

Since I had a bit of time between the screening and the meeting time, I wandered around Hibiya. That area around Chanter is basically Toho territory, developed in the 1930s by Kobayashi Ichizo of the Hankyu Railway (now all part of the Hankyu Hanshin Toho Group) . The home office is there, as are some Toho theaters and corporately related theaters (such as the Tokyo Takarazuka Theater). Even Chanter, a shopping center, is owned by Toho. 

In front of Chanter is a square that in Japanese is called the "Gokan no hiroba" (合歓の広場), which roughly translates as "Entertainment Square" ("gokan" is a rarely used word meaning communal enjoyment). Since this is Toho terrain, there is a statue of Godzilla and bronze hand prints (in relief) of some famous movie stars. Most of the stars are Toho veterans, such as Mifune Toshiro, Morishige Hisaya, Frankie Sakai, Yamaguchi Yoshiko (Ri Koran), Ueki Hitoshi, Nakadai Tatsuya, Tanba Tetsuro, Kayama Yuzo, Takamine Hideko, Ikebe Ryo, etc. But there are other stars such as Misora Hibari and foreign stars like Jackie Chen and Tom Cruise. In addition to the hand print, for each one there is usually a signature and a comment.

I took a photo of the plate for Mihashi Tatsuya, first because people probably don't photograph it that much, and second because he appeared in Dolls, by Kitano Takeshi (subject of my first book). Mihashi was a Toho stalwart in the 1950s and 1960s, appearing in Kurosawa Akira's High and Low and also the Kokusai himitsu keisatsu series, two films of which ended up as Woody Allen's What's Up, Tiger Lily?. At the end of his career, he appeared in such films as Shinozaki Makoto's Not Forgotten, for which he won some awards. The aphorism he used on his plate is "Yuku ni komichi ni yorazu" (which roughly means "never take the back road," or "always go on the straight and true").

Mihashi2010_0422

Some (Re)Visions of Japanese Modernity

It took a while, but I am very glad to announce that my new book, Visions of Japanese Modernity: Articulations of Cinema, Nation, and Spectatorship, 1895-1925, is finally out and available at booksellers like Amazon (you can also get it straight from the press). I would like to thank everyone, including those at the University of California Press, for their patience and support.

This took a while to realize. The first version was my dissertation, submitted over a decade ago. A lot has happened since then, including three other books and multiple jobs, but this work continued to change and evolve. Some of the original chapters got published elsewhere and disappeared from the manuscript (the one on novelizations and film criticism ended up in Word and Image in Japanese Cinema; the section on national cinema ended up spread out between A Companion to the Anthropology of Japan and The Culture of Japanese Fascism); remaining chapters were refined, revised, and updated. It's inevitable that an author thinks more could have been done here and there, but people have waited long enough, and sometimes you just have to let your baby leave the nest. 

The title changed too. I must confess I am not wholly satisfied with いt. It seems that publishers of Japan-related books think "modernity" sells, so that word is ending up on a lot of book covers these days. There are some in the field who even mistakenly think that is what the field is about (the review of my Kitano Takeshi book in the Journal of Asian Studies makes that mistake). My new book, in fact, is partially a revision of that view - or at least to its tendency to focus on only a certain narrative of modernity - even if the title doesn't express it as well as it could. It is essentially a discursive history, one clearly influenced by Foucault, which tries to understand the first thirty years of Japanese film history neither as a tale of a foreign modernity entering Japan and changing the culture, nor (à la Burch) as a case of film being inserted into and being shaped by a long-standing traditional culture. Rather, it is a more complex history of the concrete historical struggles that defined the medium and its cultural importance not only through the way films were made (a practice hard to judge these days since very few of the films remain) but also through how they were talked and written about in film criticism, scholarship, exhibition practices (such as the benshI), and even censorship. Such discursive actions have the power to articulate, shape, even create the object. Not only cinema, but "modernity" itself were not given phenomena, but were born of this struggle, one that was intimately tied to conflicts involving both class and nation in a transforming Japan. That is why I do not talk about "modernity" but different "modernities" that were promoted or demoted by different forces in discourse in an effort to define what Japan and its cinema should or should not be. The "visions" in the title, then, is not a presumption that modernity was inherently visual and that such a "visual culture" shaped modern Japan. Rather, given that there were other modernities (and cinemas) that were not visual but bodily, the "visions of modernity" are rather those of figures such as the pure film reformers of the 1910s who worked to define cinema and its modernity as visual - in part so as to suppress that bodily form of cinema. By looking at these complex, and often contradictory struggles, I believe we get not only a richer notion of early Japanese film history, but also a better understand where the cinema (and modernity) that came afterward, came from. We also get a better sense of the historical contingency of some of what we assume about the cinema, such as its visual modernity.

On another note, while title was not the best, the book cover was. California did a great job with it. I had found this image on the net, but it took a while to find a copy that I could use for publication, which I finally did at the Edo-Tokyo Museum. The designers at the Press then transformed it into an excellent cover.

Anyway, I hope you can take a look at this product of many years of hard work. For your information, here is the table of contents:

0. Introduction 

1. The Motion Pictures as a Problem 

2. Gonda Yasunosuke and the Promise of Film Study 

3. Studying the Pure Film 

4. The Subject of the Text: Benshi, Authors, and Industry 

5. Managing the Internal 

Conclusion: Mixture, Hegemony, and Resistance  

Theater Kino in Sapporo

I was surfing the internet the other day and found myself. My wife and I visited Theater Kino in Sapporo at the beginning of the year (my wife is from Hokkaido) to watch Waltz With Bashir (which by the way should have won the Academy Award for best foreign language film, not Departures). Theater Kino is Sapporo's only real independent mini-theater showing alternative and art house movies. The first Theater Kino was founded in 1992 and only had 29 seats; the new one started in 1998 and has two screens, one with 63 seats, the other with 100. It is now located on the second floor of a newly built office building.

P2010_0103_183710

It has a nice atmosphere (here's the Cinema Street introduction), if only because the lobby is covered with graffiti written by many of the big people in Japanese independent film (and some foreigners too). It's fun just to find and read what's written there. They also have set up a used book corner, which provides the warmth of printed paper. Plus they have Billiken (from Sakamoto Junji's film) protecting the theater:

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My wife and I both know the owner, Nakajima Yo, who came over to talk with us as we waited for the movie. Nakajima-san is one of the leading figures in the mini-theater world--which in Japan is now sporting the name "community cinema." Things are tough for such cinemas. My wife and I went to a symposium about such cinemas in the fall (which was where we last ran into Nakajima-san) and heard many tales of losing customers to cineplexes, of distributors refusing to rent films to such small places, of young people stopping viewing anything but mainstream films. On the surface, the Japanese film industry is doing well, but that hides a warped situation where only a couple major companies are doing well, while most everyone else is in trouble. The Japan Community Cinema Center is trying to support such small theaters, which not only show a variety of films, but present films that are otherwise unavailable outside Tokyo and Osaka. 

Anyway, Nakajima-san had us fill out his "people visiting Kino" questionnaire, which he gives out to "VIP" guests (my impression is he wanted my wife, who was a coordinator at the Yamagata Film Festival and now makes DVDs like The Roots of Japanese Anime, to fill it out. But she made me do it). I gave Nakajima-san the form and he took our picture. Since he didn't seem to happy to get the form from me, I thought that was going to be it, but it seems he put it on the net anyway. I should have guessed it, since he put me on the net for a much earlier visit

Anyway, I do recommend a visit to Theater Kino if you are in Sapporo.

Nishikawa Katsumi

The news services report that Nishikawa Katsumi, the director of many of the great postwar youth films, died on April 6, 2010, of pneumonia. He was 91. 

Nishikawa was born in 1918 in Tottori and graduated from the Arts Faculty of Nihon University before entering Shochiku in 1939. The war interrupted his career - an experience he would later write about - but he returned to being an assistant director to Shibuya Minoru and Nakamura Noboru before directing his first film in 1952. He switched to Nikkatsu in 1954 when it resumed production, making films in a number of genres - including action movies - but it was his youth films starring Yoshinaga Sayuri (Nikkatsu's eternal virginal star, with fan sites here and here) or Takahashi Hideki that proved to be big hits. He moved to television when Nikkatsu turned to Roman Porno, but he returned to film in order to shoot youth films starring Yamaguchi Momoe (the enigmatic idol star of the 1970s: see here and here and here) and Miura Tomokazu (whom Momoe-chan would later marry), including such movies as Izu no odoriko (The Izu Dancer) and Eden no umi that he had shot at Nikkatsu before. 

I have seen some film scholars talk about Japanese "youth films" (seishun eiga) but end up only speaking about New Wave cinema. The truly popular youth films, however, were those directed by Nishikawa and his brethren. A real study of these still has not been done in English.

There are some books on or by Nishikawa in Japanese, however: 

  • Nishikawa Katsumi and Gondo Susumu. Nishikawa Katsumi eiga shugyo. Waizu Shuppan, 1993. 
  • Nishikawa Katsumi. Izu no odoriko monogatari. Firumu Atosha, 1994. 
  • Nishikawa Katsumi. Shiroi karasu: Ikinokotta heishi no kiroku. Kojinsha, 1997. 

Iconics 10 and Academic Film Societies in Japan

Film studies has had a hard time developing as an academic discipline in Japan. There are many reasons for that, but one has been the lack of a strong film studies society. Such societies can be problematic in the way their power can be used to define the discipline, but when the discipline is in the minority, they can be strategically important in coordinating activities, promoting communication and networking, consolidating power, and providing legitimacy. 

The Japan Society of Image Arts and Sciences (Nihon Eizo Gakkai 日本映像学会) has valiantly tried to create such a society in Japan, but it has not been easy. Academic societies in Japan need a university to back them, but the JASIAS's backer, Nihon University, insisted from the start that film was insufficient for an academic society and forced the founders to make this an eizo gakkai not an eiga gakkai. The JASIAS is still hampered by having a membership that is too diverse, spanning film academics to filmmakers, from educational media consultants to people who make video projectors. The film studies people, however, long ago "took over" the two journals the JASIAS publishes - Eizogaku and Iconics - and now these two can offer some of the best examples of academic film scholarship in Japan. (I have been a member of the JASIAS for about twenty years, including several years serving on the board of directors, and many years working on various committees, including the editorial boards of the two journals.)

There are other societies in Japan that profess to include film, but the Hyosho Bunkaron Gakkai is largely a product of Tokyo University's peculiar conception of "Culture and Representation" and seems to feature less and less film, and the Nihon Eiga Gakkai was what Kato Mikiro formed when the JASIAS expelled him for various misdeeds (I would not touch it with a ten-foot pole). 

This is all basically a long introduction to an announcement that the JASIAS has just published the 10th issue of Iconics: International Studies of the Modern Image (ISSN 1345-4447). Iconics is published once every 2 years as the international journal of the JASIAS and introduces articles in English, French and German on cinema and other modern image media. The Society also publishes the journal Eizogaku twice a year in Japanese. Iconics features refereed submissions from JASIAS members and invited articles by major world scholars. I am currently on the editorial board of Iconics and used to be the editor.

The new issue features several fine articles on Japanese film, including Jonathan Hall's provocative piece on the neglect of psychoanalysis in Japan film studies, Kano Yuka's rethinking of Hara Setsuko's significance, Okubo Ryo's investigation of combinations of film and theater in early cinema, Naoki Yamamoto's groundbreaking work on why Bluebird films were so important in Japanese film history, and Ryan Cook's deft analysis of the peculiar connections between Oshima and Hasumi regarding sex and cinema. (Naoki and Ryan are my students at Yale.) Each issue of Iconics features one translated article that was selected by the editorial board as the best piece published in the previous two years in Eizogaku: Okubo Ryo's article is that piece in Volume 10.

Here is the table of contents:

  • Pragmatism and the Interpretation of Films (Martin Lefebvre)
  • La Fin du Grand Sommeil de l'Introuvable Dame du Lac (Marc Cerisuelo)
  • Liquid Cinema and the Watery Substance of Vision (A. L. Rees)
  • Kinodrama and Kineorama: Modernity and the Montage of Stage and Screen (Okubo Ryo)
  • The "Eternal Virgin" Reconsidered: Hara Setsuko in Contexts (Kanno Yuka)
  • Strange Bedfellows: Hasumi Shigehiko and Oshima Nagisa on Sex, Censorship and Cinema (Ryan M. Cook)
  • Where Did the Bluebird of Happiness Fly?: Bluebird Photoplays and the Reception of American Films in 1910s Japan (Yamamoto Naoki)
  • Kneeling on Broken Glass: Psychoanalysis and Japan Film Studies (Jonathan M. Hall)

For a list of the contents of previous issues of Iconics, please consult the JASIAS website. You can download some, but not all of the articles from previous issues on the CiNii website.

Inquiries about acquiring single issues of Iconics or starting a subscription, or about joining the JASIAS, can be addressed to the JASIAS office: jasias@nihon-u.ac.jp 

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