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Japan: a moveable feast
Jul. 27th, 2007 12:12 pmI'm being a bit of a homebody just now, writing my novel and watching recent Japanese movies downloaded by our neighbour Yoshito. Since a large part of me (no, not that part, clearly) is a Japanese woman -- or at least seems to react emotionally like one -- the film I've enjoyed the most is a real "women's picture": Kamome Diner (written by Yoko Mure and directed by Naoko Ogigami).
Set in Helsinki (but written by a Japanese woman who'd never been there), this quiet, warm and quirky film tells the story of Sachie, who notes some similarities between Finland and Japan (forests, saunas, soul) and sets up a diner there. At first no-one comes, and Sachie collects a motley band of Japanese ex-pats, who work for her despite the fact that the diner has only managed to attract one customer -- a Finnish Japan freak, a blond boy who arrives each day in a different Japanese-themed t-shirt, drinks coffee, and sits in the corner by the window, eavesdropping on the conversations of the staff and speaking to them proudly in Japanese.
"Ah, your shirt shows a geisha today!" exclaims the tactless new waitress. "Why don't you bring your friends? [Sotto voce:] Oh, you probably don't have any."
The emotional payoff came, for me, at the end. Sachie is swimming at the local pool. She's finally attracted some loyal customers (they love her onigiri) and her success is represented by a crowd of bathers suddenly applauding her and declaring "You've really succeeded with your diner, Sachie!" The non-realistic "affirmation moment" resembles the one at the end of the Train Man movie, when the neons of Shinjuku suddenly light up with messages of congratulation for the otaku-turned-human. It's a classic Japanese women's picture moment; a fanciful, sentimental, valorizing visualization of the individual's affirmation by the collectivity. Society approves, and that matters. For some reason, it's a moment I always find deeply moving. Somebody honest, kind, humble, constructive and determined got their efforts recognized, their talents rewarded. It doesn't happen much in Western films these days.
Sachie's diner reminded me of Smart Deli, our favourite Japanese cafe here in Berlin. Run by Yumi Son, Smart Deli is like a little cultural mission for Japan, with muted Japanese TV playing in the corner, Japanese pop music on the stereo, Japanese home cooking and a constant stream of Japanese customers. There's also usually a Japan otaku sitting there. Sometimes it's me.
Yesterday Hisae and I were delighted to find that they've started getting Japanese magazines like Tune and So-En at Smart Deli. Yumi's husband works in Dusseldorf,
(known as Little Tokyo on the Rhine) where they actually have Japanese bookstores and video stores. So we order tapes of Japanese TV, and get them delivered from Dusseldorf. Yesterday Yumi asked us to recommend magazines she could leave lying around the cafe for customers to read, and we gave her a wish list of our top 20.
But it was already pretty exciting to see Tune and a new magazine (beautiful photos!) about tuna, or fashion mag So-En. The picture on the right is from So-En. It's someone called Kinichi Ogata, who runs an interiors shop in Sendai. I like to dream that I live in his forest house. That's what magazines are for, right -- dreaming?
They're also for identifying trends, no matter how small or silly. A flick through Tune suggests that the thing to do this season is wear dungarees with the chest panel hanging down, either just on one side or all the way down, from the waist, so it looks like a skirt.
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I love how you can assemble Japan anywhere. It's a moveable feast. No matter where you are in the world, you can organize a matsuri -- we're running a little stall outside Smart Deli on August 12th, starting at midday, for example. And if I sound like the Finnish Japan freak in the Kamome Diner now, that's because I basically am him. That's me in the corner.
Set in Helsinki (but written by a Japanese woman who'd never been there), this quiet, warm and quirky film tells the story of Sachie, who notes some similarities between Finland and Japan (forests, saunas, soul) and sets up a diner there. At first no-one comes, and Sachie collects a motley band of Japanese ex-pats, who work for her despite the fact that the diner has only managed to attract one customer -- a Finnish Japan freak, a blond boy who arrives each day in a different Japanese-themed t-shirt, drinks coffee, and sits in the corner by the window, eavesdropping on the conversations of the staff and speaking to them proudly in Japanese.
"Ah, your shirt shows a geisha today!" exclaims the tactless new waitress. "Why don't you bring your friends? [Sotto voce:] Oh, you probably don't have any."
The emotional payoff came, for me, at the end. Sachie is swimming at the local pool. She's finally attracted some loyal customers (they love her onigiri) and her success is represented by a crowd of bathers suddenly applauding her and declaring "You've really succeeded with your diner, Sachie!" The non-realistic "affirmation moment" resembles the one at the end of the Train Man movie, when the neons of Shinjuku suddenly light up with messages of congratulation for the otaku-turned-human. It's a classic Japanese women's picture moment; a fanciful, sentimental, valorizing visualization of the individual's affirmation by the collectivity. Society approves, and that matters. For some reason, it's a moment I always find deeply moving. Somebody honest, kind, humble, constructive and determined got their efforts recognized, their talents rewarded. It doesn't happen much in Western films these days. Sachie's diner reminded me of Smart Deli, our favourite Japanese cafe here in Berlin. Run by Yumi Son, Smart Deli is like a little cultural mission for Japan, with muted Japanese TV playing in the corner, Japanese pop music on the stereo, Japanese home cooking and a constant stream of Japanese customers. There's also usually a Japan otaku sitting there. Sometimes it's me.
Yesterday Hisae and I were delighted to find that they've started getting Japanese magazines like Tune and So-En at Smart Deli. Yumi's husband works in Dusseldorf,
(known as Little Tokyo on the Rhine) where they actually have Japanese bookstores and video stores. So we order tapes of Japanese TV, and get them delivered from Dusseldorf. Yesterday Yumi asked us to recommend magazines she could leave lying around the cafe for customers to read, and we gave her a wish list of our top 20.But it was already pretty exciting to see Tune and a new magazine (beautiful photos!) about tuna, or fashion mag So-En. The picture on the right is from So-En. It's someone called Kinichi Ogata, who runs an interiors shop in Sendai. I like to dream that I live in his forest house. That's what magazines are for, right -- dreaming?
They're also for identifying trends, no matter how small or silly. A flick through Tune suggests that the thing to do this season is wear dungarees with the chest panel hanging down, either just on one side or all the way down, from the waist, so it looks like a skirt.
[Error: unknown template video]
I love how you can assemble Japan anywhere. It's a moveable feast. No matter where you are in the world, you can organize a matsuri -- we're running a little stall outside Smart Deli on August 12th, starting at midday, for example. And if I sound like the Finnish Japan freak in the Kamome Diner now, that's because I basically am him. That's me in the corner.