Anyway, I was in search of a Tenya (a cheap tempura chain) which I had been to once before, but it was nowhere to be found. Instead, I ran into this rather startling site — the Jimbocho Theater, which is owned by the publishing house Shogakukan (“Magazine and book publication, etc., including 66 magazines, 9,000 books, 13,200 comics, 850 mooks and 5,000 videos and DVDs (as of 2006)”) according to their English website. Apparently it opened in 2007, though hell if I knew.

Of course, this being Tokyo, right opposite on one side was this scene of corrugated tin and vending machines. You win some, you lose some.

On view at the moment is a season of old Japanese films called 日本文芸散歩 (nihon bungei sanpo, or literally, “Japan Literary Walk”). Looking over the films listed on the theater’s site, the movies date from between 1939 (the biopic 樋口一葉 (higuchi ichiyou) about the Meiji-era novelist Ichiyou Higuchi) to 1986 (Kinji Fukasaku’s 火宅の人 (Kataku no hito, “House on Fire”)), and are divided into four thematic groupings like “Writers in the Landscape” and “Student’s Tokyo”. Some of the directors featured, besides Fukasaku, include Kon Ichikawa, Yasuzo Masumura, and Nagisa Oshima. Looking down the list of films and film stills brings back many a fond art-house memory, and a regret my Japanese is still not at a point where I could truly appreciate these.

Lead architect for the theater building was Nikken Sekkei. The exterior was supplied by Takahashi Kogyo, a company with roots in the shipbuilding industry (read this inspiring interview with the founder, a 7th-generation shipbuilder). World Buildings Directory has more background and information about the building. And lots more photos at Got Arch?

At the new Omotesando Hills building there will be an exhibition entitled Journey to Onomichi, featuring photos by Wenders and his wife Donata, which will run from April 29 – May 7. The series came about in part because of Wenders’ long-term desire to visit Onomichi, which figures prominently in one of Wenders’ favorite films, Ozu’s Tokyo Story. (Interesting to note that just a month or two after the Wenders visited Onomichi, I did too for much the same reasons).

On May 1st, Wenders will be lecturing and presenting some short films of his at the Ikebukuro campus of Rikkyo University (poster here). The event is free. I believe he’ll be speaking in English with a Japanese interpreter but I’m not sure.

There was a time when I was a huge Wenders fan, starting from when I first saw Paris, Texas (in Texas, appropriately enough, in 1985). Later that year I would see his documentaries Chambre 666, Reverse Angle, and Tokyo-ga, the latter of which still to this day I can see reverberating around in my head (as I wrote briefly about here). The “back catalogue” so to speak — particularly his first “road” film, Alice in the Cities, was also very influential to me at the time. But then for some reason, the wheels fell off; blame it on Wings of Desire, which I could never “get”. They all seemed to get progressively more pretentious after that.

Maybe it’s nostalgia, but I’m keen to get re-in-touch with Wenders again.

UPDATE: Another Wenders’ event I’ve come across is a May 2nd “all-night” screening of three of Wenders’ films (Paris, Texas; Buena Vista Social Club; and Land of Plenty) at the Shin-bungeiza movie theater in Ikebukuro. According to the listing, Wenders will be there to introduce the film screening.

Since I began my journey more or less with Ozu, it was a nice feeling to complete a circle of sorts and end my trip (more or less) by making a visit to the Seishunkan in Matsusaka (Mie prefecture). seishun means youth and the seishunkan is a museum dedicated to the period of the great Japanese filmmaker’s youth (from age 9 to 19, approximately) that he spent in Matsusaka. The museum is housed in a small building made to represent an old-time small town Japanese movie house, and was built on the site of the former Ozu family home (razed in a 1950s fire).

I’m not sure how many visitors they get, as it was clear that the person working there made some calls while I was watching the introductory video and shortly after two older gentlemen who would not have been out of place at a San Francisco beatnik cafe showed up. I’m not exactly sure how they were affiliated with the museum (they seemed to have more access than volunteers), but they proceeded to spend the next hour giving me a personal tour of the exhibits and digging out all manner of albums and diary copies and scrapbooks, and regaling me with all sorts of stories about Ozu’s youth. (I wanted a Japanese workout on this trip and I sure got one today.) I really am indebted to the kindness shown by these gentlemen. It was appropriate that the man who did most of the talking reminded me of my former teacher who first introduced me to Ozu’s beauty.

I’m really glad I made the effort to make it there, as out of the way as it was, though I regret that I didn’t allow more time to explore the town itself (there’s a map available from the museum which notes the places of significance to Ozu’s life).

While the film has a bit of a train wreck waiting to happen appeal to it, and while the hormones wouldn’t mind getting more face time with the Chinese leads (especially Michelle Yeoh), I couldn’t help but get a sickening feeling watching the trailer. Hard to pinpoint, but something due to that manipulative nature of trailers, the way the edits and the soaring violins and suspense-laden percussions work their magic. Temptation Island meets The Last Samurai.

A fictionalized trailer (as noted) about a fictionalized production (Chinese actresses, cardboard Gion, et al.) about a fictionalized account (Golden). One never expects the real deal with these things, but do we much consider how far away they actually are?

The geisha’s traditional white make-up [...] has been deemed too scary for American audiences.

Like I said, how can one be surprised when sappy Spielberg is involved, producing an adaptation of a book that comes already laden with a LOT of baggage? Nevertheless, I found it amusing that the film’s own adviser on all matters geisha, Peter MacIntosh, is quoted in the article as saying “It’s not being made for a Japanese audience and it looks like they’re going to juice it up a bit. Anyone who knows something about Japanese culture might actually be appalled by the whole thing.”

And can one be surprised when the lead role is played by the Chinese Zhang Ziyi with a support cast that seems partly made up of Japanese, partly of Chinese? (In digging around, found this news story about a South Korean actress who turned down a part in the movie because, as she said, “Even if it is Hollywood, I don�t want to start by playing a Japanese geisha. It�s a matter of pride.” A loaded sentiment coming from a Korean woman, but best left to another discussion.)

And can one be surprised by a production that didn’t even have the forethought to snap up the .org domain for memoirsofageisha, leaving it available for an enterprising self-described “New Yorker-American-Japanese-LA-based writer and actor” named Keisuke Hoashi, who is using the site for as he tells it, “intelligent commentaries on American Asian issues, but with a perspective completely contrary to those from the typical ‘Asian American’ crowd.” His thoughts on the “Geisha” film and book are not surprising, nor are they predictable.

Just added this sheet of stamps to my Ozu pages.

It’s only the tiniest of images, but I do believe it qualifies as the first time an image of mine has been published in a publication that actually costs money to buy. The above (click on it for a larger version) is from the October issue of Artforum magazine, and shows my photo of Japanese filmmaker Yasujiro Ozu’s grave stone (original here) at the start of a piece on Ozu by Jim Jarmusch. (I realize it’s a bit teeny-bopperish, but I admit feeling a tinge of excitement when I got the issue and saw this placement, my photo next to Jim Jarmusch’s byline. The headline of this post is meant to be tongue-in-cheek, in case that wasn’t obvious.) The magazine had come across my small site about Ozu via a search and requested some images of his grave, along with some other Ozu paraphernalia.

Just had to get that off my chest.

Fortunately, I was in Kamakura for quite a different attraction, one much more subdued and less-traveled by comparison: an exhibition of miscellany related to the life and career of Japanese filmmaker Yasujiro Ozu, on view at the Kamakura Museum of Literature. The day before, I had been flipping channels on the TV when Naoko caught Ozu’s name on the screen and told me to stop. It was a news segment on the exhibition, which I had not been aware was going on. I was lucky, the exhibition was to end on the 29th of this month. There was still time to go see it, and so I did.

The museum is in Kamakura proper, not too far from the Daibutsu, but I began the day’s journey with a stop in Kita-Kamakura, and a visit to Engaku Temple, on the grounds of which is a cemetary with Ozu’s grave. Inspired by Jonathon Delacour‘s post “Visiting Ozu’s grave”, I had traveled down to Kamakura in July of last year in search of the gravesite, and after some missteps and wrong turns, and not a few rows of grave markers scrutinized heavily, I was finally able to find the austere granite block upon which is inscribed the Chinese character mu, which vaguely means “nothingness” or “non-existence.”

This time of course I was able to go straight there to pay my respects. In contrast to how the grave looked last year, on this occassion someone before me had left a kumotsu or “offering” of sake and beer and a couple packs of cigarettes. One of the cigarette packs was the Peace brand, and later at the exhibit the same distinctively packaged brand could be seen in a display of Ozu’s personal effects.

I continued on my way, with a vague plan to see the Hydrangea Temple, that is until I caught wind of the aforementioned tour guide’s announcement. So I passed the throng and continued my walk to Kamakura, meandering past some temples along the way, and continued to walk for a couple of kilometers to the Daibutsu (I had forgotten that when I first visited Kamakura in 1997, we had taken the Enoden train to the Daibutsu). After an almost obligatory visit to the Daibutsu, and some well-needed rest in the shade, I made my way over to the Kamakura Bungakukan, or Museum of Literature.

The museum is housed in a villa of the former Marquis Maeda, decendent of one of the most powerful feudal clans of the Edo era, and was originally built in 1890. The present Western-style structure dates from 1936, and was depicted by Yukio Mishima in his novel Spring Snow. While the property is large and spacious, the museum itself is quite tiny.

The Ozu exhibit, which was entitled mirai e gatari kakeru monotachi (loosely translated as “Things that speak to the future”), was of modest size, but did not disappoint. In two rooms, various examples of Ozu paintings and drawings were on display, as well as rare (to me, at any rate) photos of Ozu at various stages of his life. My favorite was a photo of Ozu as a 9-year old boy in a ceremonial sumo kesho-mawashi he had made out of paper.

There were display cases with various paraphernalia related to Ozu’s directorial work, notebooks, diaries, screenplay pages with drawings on them, his Leica rangefinder camera, the viewfinder he used when directing, the tripod his crew used to get the famed “tatami-mat” low-angle shots, and Ozu’s trademark white pikebou, or pique hat. I lingered for as long as I thought reasonable, trying to stave off the ephemerality of the visit.

I bought the small book that accompanied the visit, as well as a postcard set of reproductions of some Ozu drawings and watercolors, and have scanned those along with some other bits from the exhibit, and put them online. I’ve also finally created a site with directions on how to find Ozu’s grave at Engaku in Kita-Kamakura, which I had intended to put up online last year but never did. Both these sites can be accessed from here:

Some pages about Yasujiro Ozu

Note: I created these pages in some ways as a test for making a web page using both English and Japanese, and used Mozilla’s Composer for this. Composer is not my WYSIWYG html editor of choice, but it was a dream when it came to inputting both Japanese and English and having them render properly, even in code view. The pages look fine on my system (Windows, using Mozilla 1.3), but as I’m new to this, I would appreciate any feedback from users who might have trouble viewing the pages properly.

ADDENDUM: I should have noted that this Ozu exhibit will end on June 29th, so if you’re in the Tokyo area and interested, you’ll need to hurry. Also, when at the museum, I saw small handbills advertising some sort of Ozu event on the 29th, but I’m not sure exactly what kind of event, nor could I find any information online about it.

The youngest subject (we are never told how any of these people have died, Kore-eda is concerned with much more important matters) is a high-school or college-aged young woman. After not very much deliberation, she selects a trip to Tokyo Disneyland as her most cherished memory. One of the case workers, herself a woman barely older than the subject, can hardly keep from rolling her eyes. Later, the two meet outside and the case worker attempts to delicately tell her that since she has worked at this way-station, over 30 young women have selected a trip to Tokyo Disneyland as their happiest memory. Perhaps the young woman might want to reflect a bit deeper into her life, and select a memory less, well, trite?

You can probably look at the title of this post and the lengthy introduction and figure out where I’m going with this. Tonight as a warm-up, I asked one of my English students, a pleasant woman in her 20′s, a researcher with a pharmaceutical company, with steadily improving English, what place she considered the most beautiful in all of Japan. Kyoto, perhaps? Nikko? Koya-san in Wakayama? Miyajima Island? No. With nary a pause, she unabashedly proclaimed Tokyo Disneyland as her choice for the most beautiful place in Japan.

I’m not sure what’s more offensive: Disneyland as “the happiest place on earth,” or Tokyo Disneyland as the most beautiful place in Japan. At any rate, I didn’t roll my eyes at the woman, or try to talk her out of her choice, or consider that moment as a good time for a vocabulary lesson on “trite,” “cliche,” “tacky,” “banal,” etc. I did think about Kore-eda and his film of cherished memories as I resolved that from here on out I should go back to the standard “where do you live, what are your hobbies, and what’s your favorite food” questions lest I want to further exacerbate a growing malaise I’m experiencing with respect to the outlook of women in this country, what I see as the overall impoverishment of Japanese imagination, and what it all means for my childrens’ future (be they daughters or sons).