Saturday, December 3, 2011

Battle of the Mascots

Japan has a well-earned reputation as Land of the Cute, and nothing underlines this more than the bewildering range of cute and cuddly mascots that can be encountered here. While I don't have the hard stats to back this up, I'm confident in claiming that Japan must have the highest mascot-per-capita ratio in the world (a source of national pride if ever there was one!).

Apart from the run-of-the-mill sports team mascots, perhaps the most weird assortment of these waddling, grinning creatures can be found acting as promotional characters for towns, cities and regions across the country. These so-called Yuru-chara  are a highly competitive bunch, constantly vying for public attention, and every year they get to test their popularity in the Yuru-chara Grand Prix. Though I do kind of wish this was a motor race, Mario Kart style, it's actually an online voting competition. The results of 2011's edition were just announced last month, and the proud winner was Kumamon, a rosy-cheeked black bear from Kumamoto prefecture in Kyushu ("kuma" means bear in Japanese, you see).



Now, while it can't be denied that Kumamon is pretty damn cute, and I'm sure he's got an adorable personality, I've got to admit I was fairly underwhelmed by his selection. Surely, I thought, there must be plenty of better mascots out there, more worthy of fame and praise. So, after taking a look at the hundreds (!!) of other entrants to this year's competition, I have come up with my definitive top 5 list, presented in reverse order below. Enjoy!

5.  Meron-kuma

Now, THIS is my kind of bear! Just look at those fearsome teeth! And he's got a melon for a head! What's not to love? Meron-kuma hails from the city of Yubari in Hokkaido. He freely admits on his profile that he is not particularly cute, and this clearly cost him in the voting as he finished way down in 146th place. A travesty, in my opinion...

4. Sanomaru
Sanomaru, from Sano city in Tochigi prefecture, sports the beatific smile and huge eyes common to most mascots. Where he really scores points for me, though, is the addition of an upturned bowl of ramen on his head, justified by the fact that Sano has its own popular version of the slurp-tastic Japanese noodle dish. And, seeing as Sanomaru is a self-declared Samurai warrior, he needs a few weapons, which in this case are swords made from sweet potatoes. Awesome!

3. Take-no-michi Yuzuru
I'm a sucker for Samurai, which is partly why this guy made it on to my list. But mainly I just love his massive eyebrows! And his mischievous smile also gives him extra character. In a recurring fruit-as-head theme, Yuzuru's head is a yuzu (Japanese persimmon). Incidentally, Yuzuru is from Mino city near Osaka, which is, presumably, "famous" for its persimmons.

2. Shoubu-pan Oni-ichi (Panky, for short)
This guy also has extremely impressive eyebrows, topped off by...some kind of flower? He's from Saitama, but I'm not exactly sure what the connection with his headgear or tiger-skin pants are with that area... But who cares when you look this cool?! Judging from the "Oni" part of his rather long-winded name, Panky is a devil, though his cuteness factor way outstrips his fear factor, especially with that missing tooth. In his promotional statement, he professes to be on a mission to bring love and victory to the people of Saitama, mainly with the help of his "Shobu (fighting) pants." What a dude!

1. Takamaru-kun
Takamaru-kun is the mascot of Hirosagi Castle, up in northern Aomori prefecture. In case you hadn't noticed, that's the castle perching on top of his head. With his cute yet slightly intimidating appearance, cool weapon (samurai sword) and, of course, spectacular headgear, this majestic hawk ticks all of the essential mascot boxes for me. He even makes me want to go all the way up to freezing Aomori to check out the castle, which surely means he's doing his job right. So take a bow Takamaru-kun, my personal mascot champion. Just make sure your castle-helmet doesn't fall off!

Monday, October 31, 2011

Vagabond - Miyamoto Musashi Missing in Action

Though I occasionally enjoy reading manga, I've never been a particularly big fan of any one title - with one exception. "Vagabond," by the acclaimed manga artist/author Takehiko Inoue (best known for the high school basketball series "Slam Dunk") enthralled me from the time I picked up the first volume over 10 years ago.

It tells the story of Miyamoto Musashi, arguably the greatest warrior Japan has ever seen. Musashi was born in the late sixteenth century, and devoted the best part of his life to the art of sword fighting, engaging in duels and defeating all-comers throughout much of central and western Japan. He is perhaps the archetypal example of a ronin, a breed of wandering, masterless samurai, and the inspiration for the title of this blog. There was much more to Musashi than just his peerless fighting skills, however. In the last few years of his life, he laid down his sword, retreating to live as a virtual hermit in a cave outside Kumamoto on the southern island of Kyushu. Here, he wrote down his philosophy on sword fighting and military strategy in a text called Go Rin No Sho ("The Book of Five Rings"). In the centuries since, this passionate and powerful work lost little of its influence, even becoming a kind of de facto handbook for Japanese business leaders in Japan's post-war period of rapid economic growth.

As is usually the case with heroic figures, Miyamoto Musashi's life has been celebrated numerous times on the page and the big screen, with the historical facts increasingly taking a back seat to romanticised fictional accounts. There have been dozens of films made about him in Japan, perhaps the most famous of which, "Samurai I," starring the legendary actor Toshiro Mifune, picked up an Academy Award for Best Foreign Language Film back in 1955. In print, the biggest account of his life, quite literally, is the epic novel "Musashi," by Eiji Yoshikawa, which was first published in the 1930s and eventually translated into English in the 1980s. The novel follows Musashi from his time as a wild and undisciplined young man named Takezo, who is outcast by his village, and details his subsequent growth into the unmatched warrior of legend, climaxing with a dramatic duel against another great swordsman of the day, Sasaki Kojiro. This is the work that Inoue chose to follow when he undertook his equally epic manga serialization, "Vagabond."



Starting in 1998, "Vagabond" was serialized in the "Weekly Morning" manga magazine, with the chapters being collected and published separately in book form at the rate of around four volumes a year. While there are currently 33 volumes in the series, this has unfortunately been the case for over a year now, as fans of "Vagabond" have been suffering an increasingly frustrating wait for the next volume to be released. It seems that Inoue has been suffering himself, from ill health, on top of a serious case of writer's block. Considering that the main source for his story already exists in the form of Yoshikawa's novel, it's hard to see how Inoue could be experiencing such difficulties in continuing "Vagabond." However, things are not quite so simple, as although "Vagabond" follows the basic story arc of "Musashi," it is far from a direct interpretation. For example, while Musashi's rival Sasaki Kojiro is a cunning, arrogant and outspoken character in the novel, Inoue chose to portray him as a deaf-mute in his manga version.  Changes such as this would certainly present a challenge to the author, which is presumably why Inoue chose to make them. I just hope he's not regretting the adventurous path he's taken too much, and that he finds some way to continue the story of "Vagabond" soon, as it would be a criminal shame for such a great series to be left unfinished.

In my opinion, "Vagabond" is much more than just an exciting, action-packed adventure story. Like Musashi's own "Book of Five Rings" it also focuses on the moral issues involved in living life as a warrior, and shows how killing in battle can cause a man to feel as if he is losing his own humanity. Perhaps the most appealing part of "Vagabond" for me however, is the exceptional quality of Inoue's art. "Art" is really the only way to describe such detailed and lovingly realized images. As if to emphasize the artistic nature of this work, a few years ago Inoue took a selection of his best original illustrations and paintings from "Vagabond" on a nationwide tour around various art galleries in Japan. These are also collected in a gorgeous artbook entitled "Water."

Although there is a significant lack of recent news regarding the continuation of "Vagabond," I remain quietly confident that Inoue will get his act together sooner rather than later. Once he does, I'm sure it will be worth the wait!

Thursday, October 6, 2011

"From up on Poppy Hill" (Kokuriko-zaka kara) - Review


Studio Ghibli is, in my opinion, the Japanese equivalent of Pixar, in that any film it releases comes with a virtually guaranteed seal of quality. The latest feature-length animation from the studio,  "From up on Poppy Hill," came out here in Japan this July, and I'm pleased to report that it maintains the high Ghibli standard.

This is the studio that recently brought us such family-friendly viewing delights as "Ponyo" (a kind of Japanese "Little Mermaid") and "Arietty" (a retelling of the classic children's story "The Borrowers"). However, I wouldn't recommended bringing your kids along to "From up on Poppy Hill," as it's squarely aimed at a more mature audience. Now, this doesn't mean it's the kind of Anime that features scenes of blood-splattered violence or pneumatically-endowed naked bimbos (heaven forbid Ghibli ever goes down that route!). Rather, it's a deeply nostalgic coming-of-age tale that, while brimming with heart-warming charm, lacks the fantastical or cutesy element to keep the average kid entertained.

This is the second effort from director Goro Miyazaki, son of Hayao, the beloved founder of Ghibli. His directorial debut, "Tales from Earthsea" received a mixed critical reception, but so far "...Poppy Hill" has fared much better with Japanese critics and audiences, and deservedly so in my opinion, as overall it's a superior film.

Set in 1963, the Poppy Hill of the title is a picturesque part of Yokohama which overlooks the city's harbour. It's here that the 16 year-old heroine of the story, Umi, lives, in the grand family home Kokuriko Manor, from whose garden she diligently raises a flag each morning, bearing a message of "safe voyage" for passing ships. Umi feels a particular affinity with the sailors, as her own father died at sea in the Korean War.

The bulk of the story takes place in Umi's high school, which, even considering the 1960s setting, struck me as being a quaintly old-fashioned institution. The embodiment of this is the school's Culture Society, rather pretentiously named the "Quartier Latin," which is housed in a rickety old building that has certainly seen better days. With the Olympic Games set to be held in Tokyo the following year, the school authorities are keen to embrace the ideals of a new, modern Japan, and this apparently entails knocking down the Quartier Latin headquarters and replacing it with a shiny new structure. Many of the students are firmly against this drive for change, however, and chief among them is the earnest and eloquent Shun, a boy in the year above Umi. While campaigning together to try and save the old building, Umi and Shun feel themselves growing closer together, but, as they soon realize, young love rarely runs a smooth course...

There may not be many thrills and spills during the 90-minutes running time, but that didn't matter one bit to me. I came out of the cinema feeling all warm and fuzzy inside, which is not something that's happened to me for quite a while. The main cause of this was not so much the story, which was pleasant enough, but the whole look and feel of the film. This is almost entirely due to the sumptuous quality of the hand-drawn animation, with the settings of 1960s Yokohama and Tokyo recreated in such loving detail that I felt I was really back there myself. Even though I'm not Japanese, and have relatively little knowledge of the Japan of that era, I was left with a palpable sense of nostalgia, wishing that I could have grown up in Yokohama 50 years ago. The wonderfully atmospheric soundtrack also deserves a mention, a mixture of original instrumentals and  Japanese '60s pop numbers contributing to the nostalgic feel.

So while, unlike many other Ghibli productions, "From up on Poppy Hill" doesn't feature any magic as such, it is nevertheless a magical film in itself, full of spellbinding images in the true Ghibli tradition that should stay with the viewer long after the credits have rolled.

Saturday, October 1, 2011

"1Q84" by Haruki Murakami - Review


The king of modern Japanese literature, Haruki Murakami, is back at last! The millions of Murakami fans outside Japan have been enduring a long wait for his latest magnum-opus "1Q84," which is released in English this October. Luckily, I have been able to jump the queue, thanks to my Japanese knowledge, as the original version of the novel has actually been out here in Japan for over 2 years, breaking all kinds of sales records in the meantime.


The title of "1Q84" is a kind of Japanese pun, as "9" in Japanese is pronounced the same as "Q." The reason for this quirky substitution becomes apparent fairly early on in the story, which is set in 1984 and divided up between two characters, living in two parallel realities. Tengo resides in our familiar reality, which is appropriate as he's a fairly typical Murakami protagonist - a thoughtful loner with an unremarkable life, in this case working as a cram school teacher while doing a bit of editing on the side. Aomame, on the other hand, who crosses into the alternative "Q" reality near the start of her narrative (though she doesn't realize it at first) is a more mysterious character with a far from normal job. She is also, as a female main character, something of a novelty for a Murakami novel, although in truth, in terms of personality she is more masculine than the mild-mannered Tengo.

These two characters, now living in separate worlds, actually share a deep emotional connection originating from a childhood encounter when they were classmates in elementary school. As the story flicks back and forth between Tengo and Aomame, who both find themselves caught up in the affairs of a decidedly shady religious cult with supernatural undertones, we get the sense that they are destined to meet again, if only they could manage to unite their two realities. Indeed, while they are oblivious to the fact, these two lost and lonely souls may well hold the key to the destiny of both worlds in their hands.

On one level "1Q84" is a love story, in the same vein as Murakami's most famous novel "Norwegian Wood" but it also follows in the surreal traditions of his more recent works "The Wind-up Bird Chronicle" and "Kafka on the Shore." Murakami enjoys placing his characters in bizarre situations, where they seem just as puzzled as the reader as to what on earth is going on. Reading a Murakami novel can be a somewhat challenging experience, as we are often left wondering what deeper meaning the fantastical elements of the story may have, without being given a clear answer. This invitation to analyse events, where reality and fantasy seem to blur into one another, is what most attracts me to Murakami's writing, however, and "1Q84" certainly doesn't disappoint in this regard. It also features some truly memorable, and creepy, scenes, involving the so-called "Little People" who are not as cute as they sound. And there is one particular scene involving an NHK (Japanese equivalent of BBC) license fee collector which sent shivers down my spine.

In the final analysis, however, while I found "1Q84" a frequently entertaining and thought-provoking read, I have to say that it does not quite measure up to the weird and wonderful standards set in "Wind-up Bird" and "Kafka." Firstly, after a captivating opening few chapters, the story settles down to a pace which, for me, was too slow. We spend a lot of time with the two main characters as they dwell on their memories and contemplate their circumstances, without their narratives making much significant progress. The novel was released in three parts here in Japan, the third part of which came out a whole year after the first two. The third part, in which a third main character is introduced, is, in my opinion, the weakest one. Seeing as it will be released in one volume in English, I'm hoping that the translation will cut at least a little bit of unnecessary filler from the original to make the story more streamlined. Incidentally, I was slightly anxious to hear that the English version has been split between two translators, with Jay Rubin handling parts one and two, and Philip Gabriel taking over for part three. While both translators have previously done amazing jobs, on "Wind-up Bird" and "Kafka" respectively, I'm not sure it's such a great idea splitting translation duties between them in one novel, as a certain amount of consistency in tone is likely to be sacrificed. Hopefully it won't be too noticeable, though.

In any case, I will certainly be getting hold of a copy of the English translation as soon as it comes out, as "1Q84" is, like most of Murakami's work, a multi-layered and complex story that demands repeated readings.   It may not be my favourite of his efforts, but it is still a fascinating story, packed with touching, suspenseful, bizarre and humorous scenes, which will stay with you long after it's been put down.