The Japan Society Review 51
Book, Stage, Film, Arts and Events Review

Issue 51 Volume 9 Number 3 (June 2014)

Japan’s ageing population

Roujin Z reviewed by Chris Corker

Saving the best till last?

David Knox considers Miyazaki Hayao’s latest film The Wind Rises
In this third issue of 2014, we are pleased to bring a broad range ofreviews on a diverse selection of topics and genres to the fore. We
begin with Chris Corker looking at Granta: 127, a collection of stories
and images solely focussed on Japan covering a range of styles andperspectives.

The next review is of Glorious Misadventures: Nikolai Rezanov and theDream of a Russian America, which chronicles Rezanov’s attempts toestablish and develop Russian settlements across the world. Sir HughCortazzi highlights the relevance to Russo-Japanese relations of theunsuccessful and arguably disastrous efforts of Rezanov to establish
trade relations with the Japanese.

We then move onto two animated films, one re-release of a 1991
classic, the other a brand new effort from a renowned director. Chris
Corker’s review of Roujin Z considers whether Hiroyuki Kitakubo’s
anime has aged gracefully as well as reflecting on the film as a social
commentary, as relevant today as it was in the ‘90s. We also look at
Miyazaki Hayao’s latest offering, The Wind Rises, where David Knox
considers this film that addresses the desire to create something
beautiful and the realities of those creations being used in war.

We then review up and coming director Isogai Nagisa’s The Lust ofAngels which delves into the issues of harrasment of schoolgirls on
public transport. Finally, we look at the evolution of the traditional
into the modern with Mary Murata’s review of Taiko Boom, a bookwhich examines the current social and international profile of taiko
drumming.

Contents

Guest Editor

1) Granta 127: Japan

William Cottrell

William Cottrell
Managing Editor

2) Roujin Z

Isabel Barne

3) The Wind Rises

Reviewers

4) Glorious Misadventures: Nikolai Rezanov and the Dream of a
Russian America

Special Reviewer

5) The Lust of Angels
6) Taiko Boom :Japanese Drumming in Place and Motion

Chris Corker, David Knox, Mike Sullivan & Mary Murata
Sir Hugh Cortazzi
New Reviewswww.japansociety.org.uk/resources/reviews

Granta 127: JapanBy various authors,
edited by Igarashi Yuka
Granta Publications Ltd., 2014272 pages
ISBN-10: 1905881770
Review by Chris Corker

Granta Literary Magazine, est­
ablished in 1889 by students
of Cambridge University andsince then a front-runner inthe promotion of all formsof storytelling, has now released an edition focusing
exclusively on Japan and its culture. Combining fiction andphoto exhibitions, this volume offers something exciting
and unfamiliar for those uninitiated in Japanese culture, andis likely to induce nostalgia in more seasoned Japanophiles.
The accessible familiarity of many of these stories mayborder on trite for anyone already au fait with the culture,and those readers should not approach the collection
expecting to have their preconceptions challenged. Thoseless familiar with Japanese culture, however, will gain
some insight into Japanese society through an enjoyable,
accessible medium.
In terms of theme, many of the stories understandably
feature the Tōhoku Earthquake which has affected every
Japanese person, regardless of their geographical location,highlighting a constant, underlying threat to life in anotherwise incredibly safe society. A secondary theme isone of loneliness and isolation, either self-imposed orforced. Many of the characters feel that they have few or noconnections to society, that their future is a persistent weighton their shoulders. After the earthquake, many people losttheir homes and belongings as entire neighbourhoods
were swallowed by the tsunami, leaving them withouta base or identity. Other themes include the treatment of
the elderly in an increasingly ageing society; JapaneseKorean relations; being a foreigner in Japan; loveless/sexless
marriages; and lagging gender equality (it is worth notingthat many of the protagonists in this collection are female).
In this review I will focus mainly on two of the stories – oneby a Japanese author, one not – and write briefly on a few
more that deal with these topics and others.
‘A Clean Marriage’ by Murata Sayaka is the first story in thecollection and drops the reader right into the microcosmof Japanese married life. The style of writing is very dry
and economical, representing the marriage, which fromthe start seems devoid of passion, the convenience ofthe couples’ life together taking precedence. We are told
immediately that their marriage is platonic. Recent surveys
suggest that anything from a third to 40% of marriages inJapan are sexless, with work commitments, lack of personal
space and no desire to have children being cited as reasonsby couples. The increasing preponderance of the nuclear
family has proved just as much a mixed blessing in Japan2

as in the UK. The husband and wife in the story both seemvery content with the arrangement – both of them in
employment, dividing chores up evenly and seeing otherpeople for sexual fulfillment – until the topic of children is
discussed. Averse to sexual relations with each other, theydecide to undergo a treatment using the ‘Clean Breeder’. As
their doctor explains:‘[I]t is a means to facilitate, in the purest sense of the word,
reproduction. The aim of sex as a medical treatment is not
to provide pleasure.’
Here the modern ambiguity of gender roles is brought
into focus, the biological imperative being replaced by
the technological and clinical. It is the man in the story
who adopts the archetypal female role, being selected as
the focus of the procedure, succumbing later to morning
sickness-esque nausea. In ‘A Clean Marriage’ the intersectionof contemporary family life, convenience and scientificprogress is put under the microscope, the removal of
antiquated ideas and gender stereotypes facing off against
the de-humanising element of this evolution, and thereader is left asking whether or not anything in life should
truly be ‘clean’.
‘Variations on a Theme by Mister Donut’ by David Mitchell isa story that reproduces his now famed narrative technique.
The split perspective – which Mitchell used in both
Ghostwritten and Cloud Atlas – is put to good effect here,
not only offering a different viewpoint on the same tale, butwith each voice revealing a clue that uncovers something
new about the previous narrator. Mitchell taught English
in Japan for 8 years, and his eye for detail adds authenticity
to the story. Anyone familiar with Japan will recognise therange of characters that descend on Mr Donut – a foreigner
teaching English and suffering an existential crisis; a phoneobsessed teen channeling Japan’s sexualised ‘Hello Kitty’
gender stereotype; a senile old man mumbling about thewar; and the polite, earnest shop worker who freezes likea rabbit in the headlights the moment Japanese emerges
from a foreign mouth, reflecting that her one English phrase,‘Is this a pen’, never seems to come up in daily conversation.
All these personalities clash in the diminutive setting ofMister Donut (a fast food café).
While each of these views offers its own social commentary– the old man bigoted, unable to forget the war, treatedwith disdain by the younger generation; the foreignerusing Japan as a mere pit stop in his life journey, hunting
for Japanese girls (‘Gaijin groupies’) by night; the young
girl so consumed by technology and social media that she
loses her sense of differentiation between reality and realityTV – the main theme running through this story is one ofloneliness. Each character, whether through his or her own
self-imposed circumstances or ones forced upon them,is isolated from others in a society where, as the waves ofpeople and progress crash down, it’s easy for the head of
one person to slip beneath the surface. The foreign English
teacher’s solution is simple enough: ‘Befriend loneliness’.
This advice is no use to the old man, whose own lonelinessacts only as a painful reminder of his sweeter memories, hisIssue 51 Volume 9 Number 3 (June 2014)

own mortality tainting the present.
Further stories include Andres Felipe Solano’s ‘Pig Skin’, inwhich a man is fascinated by a Korean he meets on a ferry
and is drawn into a seedy plot that becomes the material
for his own book. As well as depicting Korean-Japaneserelations, this story also discusses Japan’s decadent
generations of previous authors, whose lifestyle was said
to be a rejection of the nationalistic sentiment prevalent
before and during the Second World War. ‘Printable’ by Tō
Enjō is a metafictional story highlighting the plight of thetranslator, re-creating another’s work but never creating
anything of one’s own. Finally, ‘The Dogs’ by Motoya Yukiko
is a pleasant surrealistic story of a woman who withdraws
from society to an isolated cabin in the snowy mountains.
Here she meets a pack of small white dogs who she
adopts as a substitute for human companionship. As her
detachment from society deepens, the people around herlose their reality, becoming surreal.
The photographic art interspersed throughout the volume– some photos old and black and white, others modern
and vividly colourful – is a pleasant diversion. Hamada
Yuji, whose work ‘Primal Mountain’ also features on the
cover of this edition, has attempted to create hyperrealistic mountains from pieces of tinfoil, superimposedon an authentic Japanese skyline. He writes that this is his
response to the unreliable information that was released tothe public after the earthquake. ‘The information that was
broadcast by the media, the information that we received,
didn’t match up to the reality that was before our eyes... I
wanted to make something that showed ‘real’ and ‘fake’
becoming friendly with each other... It is not the makerof the images who establishes and delivers what is seen.’This contrast between what appears on the surface andthe truth hidden below – the subsequent disillusionmentand detachment – are familiar themes in many of thesestories, adding an interesting and serious undercurrent
to the quirky and rich cultural heritage that many alreadyassociate with Japan. An interesting read. §Roujin Z
Directed by Kitakubo
Hiroyuki and writtenby Ōtomo Katsuhiro
Re-release of a 1991 Anime
80 minutes, 2012
Review by Chris Corker

Roujin Z is not a new
anime – it was originallyreleased in 1991 – but it is
one that has recently been
re-released into the publicdomain, and also one ofthose rare pieces of filmmaking whose social context
is still just as relevant today as it was when it was made.
Issue 51 Volume 9 Number 3 (June 2014)

Focussing on the problem of Japan’s ageing population(To quote the BBC: ‘in 1990 [in Japan] there were almost
six people of working age for each retiree, but by 2025
that number will have fallen almost to two.’), the film
satirically reproduces the mech-orientated glory days ofJapanese animation, placing this camp and overblown
genre within a serious moral construct. And it does
so to great effect, possibly more so for those who arefamiliar with older animation – newcomers may justfind the whole thing baffling. Perhaps these, however,will find humour in the knowing nod to early sci-fi, with

its idealistic prophesy of the end of all our problems
through the vessel of technology.
If anything could act as a guarantee of the quality
the film has to offer, it would be the production staff.
Ōtomo Katsuhiro, beside Miyazaki Hayao, is one of the
few names in anime to be well-known outside of Japanand his seminal masterpiece, Akira, is still considered to
be one of the most influential sci-fi and punk films of
all time. The other notable name is Kon Satoshi who,
until his recent and untimely death at the age of 46,
produced some of the most thought-provoking –and certainly mature – anime ever. Works such as thepsychological thrillers Perfect Blue, Paranoia Agent andPaprika, as well as other films such as Tokyo Godfathersand Millennium Actress, are a testament to an
impressive body of work. I would argue, however, that
his greatest project was born of a second collaboration
with Otomo called Memories. Kon’s segment, Magnetic
Rose, perfectly entwines narrative elements such as
love, loss and betrayal in the limited arena of deep
space, and with only a forty minute runtime. I doubt
any other film will ever take the genre of space opera– even if it is somewhat of a misnomer in this case –so seriously, or portray it more adeptly. And while Kon
is only really responsible for art and design here, you
can see the rudimentary origins of his character designand his attention to detail in play. Ōtomo-isms are also
apparent throughout, most noticeably in the electronic
wire tentacles that flail about madly, before connecting
in synergy with buildings and computers, creating a
network of throbbing mechanical veins.
The story takes place in a relatable and recognisable
modern Japan, where the burgeoning population ofelderly is becoming a problem for the state. The Ministryof Public Welfare steps in with a solution: the Z-001
bed, which can care for all of an elderly patient’s needs
3without putting more strain on a nursing force that isalready stretched to breaking point. The Z-001 bed is anall-singing, all-dancing computer that seems too good
to be true – and here’s where the catch emerges: thepower source is nuclear.
The basic concept already feels like one fit for anime
aimed at young boys (shōnen); a bizarre reversal of the
Gundam premise, where young children are forced
into machines and used as tools of war. Here is where
the satire begins. Roujin, in Japanese, simply means anelderly person. We associate the ‘Z’ however, more withshows that involve big shiny robots (as in Mazinger Z)
or giant muscled heroes punching each other throughmountains (Dragon Ball Z). What we don’t expect, is asocial commentary on an ageing society. These layers
are where Roujin Z‘s strength lies. It isn’t afraid to be
derivative or to make nods to other works that haveinfluenced it, such as in a scene where a hacker boasts
he has just infiltrated the Tyrell Corporation, this being
the manufacturer of Replicants in Blade Runner. It’s an
apt reference, given that the question really running
throughout Roujin Z is whether or not a machine,
devoid of compassion and other human emotions, canreally give the same quality of care as a human.

Right in the middle of this troubled setting is Haruko, astudent nurse caring for the elderly Mr Takazawa, whowill later become our man in the machine. Takazawa
yearns for the companionship of his wife, Haru, who
we know has already passed away. His yearning is firstmisdirected towards Haruko (‘ko’ in Japanese can meanchild, placing Haruko as a younger version of the wife
that Takazawa has lost) and then the machine, which,through technological trickery imitates her voice. When
Haruko realises that Takazawa is to be used as a test
subject for the Z-001 she protests, asking the question:‘How can the machine give him the love he needs?’
This is a question that is later turned on its head, as themachine acts with Takazawa’s desire’s at heart, while
the humans in charge of his care, who couldn’t havebeen said to have treated him with dignity, try their best
to capture him. It is Takazawa’s desires – specifically toreturn to Kamakura and the daibutsu in Hase, where hespent happier times as a young man with his wife – thatcause the machine to revolt, first being encouraged byoutside hackers, before gaining sentience.

guise of a humour-filled chase sequence, reminiscentof films like Herbie. Adding to the humour of the chase
are the central characters, featuring the archetypal rolesof the brash, proper but naive official and his quiet,
nefarious sidekick.

As the chase continues, the Z-001 becomes more andmore emotionally involved with its patient, envelopedin the role of wife and protector. Wedged in here forgood measure is a plot involving the use of the Z-001′schip by the military, but this is overshadowed by themore heart-felt narrative, the constant humour which
prevents the story from becoming too heavy. This levity,
however, never detracts from the depth of the story. If
we were to dig beneath the surface we may even see
Otomo’s rampaging, ever-spreading, unstoppable
technology as a clever manifestation of this ageing
society, perhaps even of the effects on the planet of ourentire population. The final scene brilliantly optimises
this bizarre mix of the spiritual and technological, stilltreating it with a dash of humour.
While the animation may have aged, the social
commentary of the film remains as relevant as it ever
was, perhaps more so. It also helps that the film is, at
its core, a light-hearted – at times almost slapstick –adventure that can be enjoyed by anyone familiar with
anime, and probably even by those that are not.§Missed out on a previous issue?
Our back catalogue is now fully up-to-date.
Issues can be downloaded at:
http://www.japansociety.org.uk/resources/
reviews/japan-book-review-back-issues/

If you would like to request hard copies of pastissues please contact:
info@japansociety.org.uk

The escape is chaotic, and here the story takes on the4Issue 51 Volume 9 Number 3 (June 2014)

The Wind Rises
Directed byMiyazaki Hayao
Based on Hori Tatsuo’s 1937
short story The Wind Has
Risen
126 Minutes, 2013 (DVD/
Bluray from Studio Canal)

Many of the sound effects are rendered by human voiceand this lends the machinery a distinctly living, breathing
character. The scenes depicting the Great Kanto Earthquakeof 1923 in particular exemplify this inspired artistic choice.
The animation in conjunction with the vocalized soundeffects gives the sense of a world that is alive, rippling,hissing and groaning as it cracks apart. It really felt as though
Namazu – the earthquake causing catfish of Japanese
mythology – was stirring.

Review by David Knox

The Wind Rises (Kaze
Tachinu)was
neverintended to be a movie. It
was originally conceived
as a manga side-project
by its director and head of Studio Ghibli, Miyazaki Hayao.
The manga was loosely based on the 1937 short story The
Wind Has Risen by Hori Tatsuo, a fictionalized biographyof Horikoshi Jirō. When approached to turn his manga
into a full-length feature Miyazaki was reluctant given that
he didn’t believe the manga was appropriate for children,
but was swayed by his staff’s reasoning that even children
should be allowed to grapple with challenging themes.
I’m glad he changed his mind, though it’s also bittersweet
given that this is his last feature film before retirement.
Jirō Horikoshi was a designer of Japanese fighter planes
during World War II and The Wind Rises follows him as hestruggles to build his aircraft and grapples with life in prewar Japan. There are elements of Jirō’s life that have beenembellished somewhat. For example, Jirō’s wife did nothave tuberculosis. Miyazaki’s mother did, however, andhis father was also director for the company that supplied
rudders for the Mitsubishi A6M Zero, which was designed
by Jirō Horikoshi, so when watching this part of the story
one cannot help but feel that the film is somewhat
autobiographical.

Does it need to be said that the film is achingly beautiful
and stunningly animated? Probably not – it is Studio Ghibli
after all and we’ve come to accept nothing but the bestfrom them. But it’s hard to fathom how the Studio keeps
improving in a purely visual graphic sense. They were alreadyat the top of their game with seemingly nowhere else to gowith their last movie, From Up on Poppy Hill, but here they
improve once more; the colour pallet is exceptional andevery line is exquisitely drawn and wonderfully animated.
Sound design has also long been a strong suit for Studio
Ghibli, and in The Wind Rises they have really raised the bar.
Issue 51 Volume 9 Number 3 (June 2014)

The film is punctuated with dream sequences in which
Jiro converses with his hero and fellow aircraft designer
Giovanni Caproni. Such set pieces should be familiar
territory for those versed in Studio Ghibli’s more whimsicalside. These sequences have a wonderful flow to them;
Caproni acts almost as a guide and mentor to Jiro, extollingon him the virtuous beauty of his designs and lamenting,as does Jirō, their ‘inevitable’ use for violence. It is hard here
to be sympathetic, and the film in general is not without
controversy. We are after all viewing a film about a man who
designed a machine that was used to kill people during themost problematic era of Japan’s history. At one point in thefilm Jirō contemplates that a weight problem with one ofhis designs could easily be rectified by removing the guns.
That’s just not an option, and he knows it, but he continues
to design his aeroplane anyway. Jirō’s thoughts on what
his aeroplane is fundamentally going in to the world to
do are only really explored in passing. At one point heremarks that “Japan is making an enemy of the world” and,in a frank observation, that “Japan will blow up”. The film ischallenging in this regard, which is what takes it to anotherlevel; here we have a man who knows what his creations
will do and yet at the same time he is creating a design
masterpiece, the A6M Zero.
Is The Wind Rises Miyazaki’s best film? No, for me that
honour lies with Spirited Away. Is The Wind Rises a greatmovie? Yes, entirely so. It is visually spectacular, beautifully
written and, when required, wonderfully subtle. But mostimportantly, it feels deeply personal, as though this were alittle piece of Miyazaki’s heart on screen. It is no secret that
Miyazaki has always been passionate about aircraft (Studio
Ghibli is named after an Italian Ca.309 Ghibli, designed by
Giovanni Caproni), and this film is clearly fuelled by thepassions of its author.
Jiro is quoted as saying of his aircraft “All I wanted to do wasmake something beautiful”. Miyazaki has certainly done so.
§
5Glorious Misadventures:
Nikolai Rezanov andthe Dream of a Russian
AmericaBy Owen Matthews
Bloomsbury Publishing,2013
369 pages, £9.98(paperback)ISBN-10: 1408822234
Review by Sir Hugh Cortazzi
This well researched and well written book traces the careerof Nikolai Rezanov who sought to establish and develop
Russian settlements in North America from Alaska tomodern day California. It covers his early life in St Petersburg
from his birth in 1763, his involvement with the Russian
America company, his travels in the Pacific and ends withhis death in Krasnoyarsk in Siberia in 1807.
Rezanov was ambitious but he had a difficult andquarrelsome character and was often his own worst enemy.
He was accompanied by the naturalist Georg Heinrich vonLangsdorff whose lengthy account was published in 1813.
Captain Adam Johann von Krusenstern, who commanded
the ship on which Rezanov travelled on his main voyages,
but with whom he was often not on speaking terms, also
published an account of his voyages with Rezanov in 1813.
Owen Mathews gives an interesting account of life in St
Petersburg, in Siberia and in what was Russian America
at the beginning of the nineteenth century, including
Rezanov’s stay in San Francisco in which he, then a widower,
became betrothed to Conchita, the daughter of the Spanish
governor. Rezanov died before he was able to marry her
and her story has provided a romantic subject for Americanand other writers.
The main interest for anyone involved in the study ofJapanese history and Japan’s reopening to the west liesin the chapters devoted to the mission to Japan led by
Rezanov in 1804/5.
After a tempestuous voyage from Kamchatka, during which
the presents from the Czar to the Japanese Emperor weredamaged by sea water and buffeting and Rezanov andKrusenstern quarrelled fiercely, the Russian ship, Nadezhda,
arrived off the port of Nagasaki at the end of September
1804.

Rezanov had no real knowledge of how Japan was governedin the Edo period and even less understanding of Japanesebureaucracy. He could not begin to comprehend the way
in which the minds of the officials whom he met worked.
He could not speak any Japanese and mistranslations andmisunderstandings proliferated.
Owen Mathews relates the frustrations caused by official
obstruction and deliberate delaying tactics. The Russians
were forced to remain on their ships for weeks and evenwhen permitted to land were confined in what was little
bigger than a cattle pen hidden behind screens. The excuseof the local officials for the delays was that they had toconsult the Bakufu in Edo. Because of the slowness of landand sea communications at this time instructions from Edo
could not reach Nagasaki for months.
Rezanov did not help his case. He openly pissed into the sea
in front of Japanese officials and constantly behaved in anarrogant manner. He often lost his temper and his personal
hygiene shocked the Japanese. Krusenstern and Langsdorff
were frequently disgusted by his behaviour and there weretimes when it seemed that Rezanov was losing his reason.
The response from Edo, when it finally came through andwas conveyed to Rezanov, was a humiliating rebuff. At theresidence of the Nagasaki bugyō (governor) Rezanov was
handed, in what was described by the Japanese as ‘anextraordinary instance of favour,’ a handsome scroll. Thisdeclared that ‘Japan has no great wants and therefore has
little occasions for foreign productions. Her few real wants...
are richly supplied by the Dutch and the Chinese...’ The
Shogun regretted that he could not accept Czar Alexander’sgifts or even his letter. ‘The basic laws of Japan forbid us frommaking foreign acquaintances.’
Rezanov was not allowed to pay for the food and othersupplies, which had been provided by the Nagasaki
authorities, and was told that Russian ships would not be
permitted to return shipwrecked Japanese sailors. The
Czar’s presents, which had been landed and rejected, had
to be repacked and taken away.
On 5 April 1805 the Russian ship was towed out to sea andwhen out of cannon shot the ship’s powder and the crew’s
swords and muskets, which had been impounded while
the ship was in port, were returned to the Russians. The
Japanese parting gift was ‘a beautifully-wrapped packet
of seed for the Empress of Russia so that she might haveJapanese flowers in her northern gardens.’ §Rezanov’s visit was based on an over-optimistic interpretationof the letter, known as ‘the Nagasaki Permit,’ given by theJapanese to Adam Laxman eleven years earlier. This provided
permission for a single Russian ship to come to Japan andtrade. On this flimsy basis and on the humanitarian pretextof returning five shipwrecked Japanese, Rezanov vainly
hoped to persuade the Japanese to open up to trade with
the West.
6

Issue 51 Volume 9 Number 3 (June 2014)

The Lust of Angels
Directed by Isogai Nagisa
UK Premiere at theRaindance Film Festival
40 minutes, 2014
Review by Mike Sullivan(Contains plot spoilers)
One of the reasons The Lustof Angels stands out from themany other Japanese films being shown in London at the
moment is that it was written and directed by a woman,
Isogai Nagisa, and the short movie’s main cast are all girls.
On top of the fact that seeing a Japanese film by a female
director is something of a rarity, Nagisa herself is relatively
unknown, and we have to thank Third Window Filmsfor bringing her work to the UK. Over the summer Third
Window Films started a Kickstarter fundraising project torelease a limited edition DVD called New Directors fromJapan, to include the work of three young talents who
hadn’t yet received any kind of distribution outside of Japan– or even within it. The appetite for such a project was suchthat they reached their goal within days which ensured thatthe DVD would be produced and go on sale in November
2014.
Nagisa’s contribution to the DVD comprises The Lust ofAngels, an earlier short film called My Baby, and an interview.
Furthermore, The Lust of Angels, along with films by Takaya
Kosuke and Watanabe Hirobumi – the two other directors
on the disk – had its UK premiere at the Raindance Film
Festival in London.
Speaking with Nagisa before the premiere she emphasized
how grateful she was to Third Window Films for giving her
this opportunity, while also being extremely nervous about
how the UK audience would react. Regarding the film itself,
she explained that the original inspiration for the story was
based on something that happened to her friend at highschool. A man flashed a group of schoolgirls and, contrary
to his expectations, the whole group started making fun ofhim and one girl even attacked him. Nagisa used this for thebasis of her story and expanded upon it.
The film itself covers the twisted mixed desires of a group offour schoolgirls within a world of male gropers and out ofcontrol schoolboys. On the infamous Hanagawa train line
all girls are aware that there are many gropers, and so mostgirls take long detours rather than risk riding on the train.
One day Saori is on the train and reading a little red bookwhen a middle aged man starts to grope her from behind,unbeknownst to him another schoolgirl, Yuriko, nearby has
noticed.
She attacks the groper, slashing him with a razor blade;
however both the groper and Saori run off when the train
stops. Later at school the teacher introduces a new student,
Saori is shocked to see Yuriko. The two girls become friends,
Issue 51 Volume 9 Number 3 (June 2014)

and along with two other girls make the decision to huntgropers.
However, their hunt exposes deep divides among the girls
which are mainly personified by Saori’s desire to be touched
and Yuriko’s hatred of it. The wide gap between them leads
to their ideals of justice becoming twisted, and puts them
all in danger.
The movie has a real 1970s feel to it, while the plot creates
real tension by addressing an all-too-familiar problem inJapan. At 28, Isogai Nagisa is still a young director and we
can hope to see more from her in the future. §Taiko Boom: JapaneseDrumming in Place andMotionBy Shawn Bender
University of California Press,
2012
280 Pages, £19.95
ISBN: 0520272412
Review by Mary Murata
The sound of the taiko drum isthe sound of Japan. The ‘DON’ of the huge drum booming
across the temple grounds; the high pitched shime-drum
as it drums out the audience from a sumo tournament; thecheerful beats of the festival drums accompanying bonodori. Few traditional Japanese events would be the same
without taiko in the background.
Often described as the ‘ancient’ art of Japanese drumming,
taiko has undergone a revolution since the 1950s. Taiko
has moved out of the shadows, away from being theaccompanying instrument in the background to centre
stage. The player has become a performer, skilled in not only
playing the beats but also executing exciting visual physicalmovements. The development of the taiko ensemble owes
as much to western influences as it does to traditional
Japanese music. The first taiko group – Osuwa Daiko – wasformed by jazz drummer Oguchi Daihachi who had thevision to create a drum kit using traditionally-made drums.
The group Ōedo Sukeroku evolved out of adding flash
dance movements to traditional festival pieces. Ondekoza(later Kodō – arguably the most famous and best taiko
group) was established by disillusioned young urbanites
setting up a commune to live closer to ‘nature’. Althoughstudying traditional music and dance, they were equally
influenced by western musicality.
In his book Taiko Boom, Shawn Bender charts the journeyof taiko out of the temples and festivals and on to theinternational stage. But not only that, he uses taiko as a
prism through which many aspects of Japanese society canbe viewed. Asano Taiko is the world’s leading taiko drum
manufacturer – established in 1609 the current owner is7the 16th generation engaged in the manufacture of taiko
prized across the globe. So why would the head office havea framed certificate from the tax office for ‘outstanding
tax preparation’? The Asano family, in common withmost taiko-makers, are burakumin, a group traditionallyassociated with ‘polluting’ occupations such as leather workand handling dead skins (used for drum skins). Althoughillegal, discrimination against burakumin persists to this day.
Bender takes us to Liberty – the Museum of Human Rights –in Osaka and introduces taiko groups which use taiko as wayof “revealing and overcoming all forms of discrimination”.
In other chapters, Bender discusses the role of women,
nationalism and aesthetics of race in taiko as well as the riseof modern ‘traditions’. Taiko is currently experiencing a hugeincrease in popularity (the titular boom) all round the world;
taiko groups (Japanese and non-Japanese) regularly tour
the UK, and appear on the programme at the Edinburgh
festival, Glastonbury, WOMAD and the Royal Variety
Performance. Despite this, very little information is available
in English. Although written in a slightly academic tone (thebook started life as a doctoral dissertation) it is engaging,entertaining and accessible to anyone with an interest inJapan or taiko. This fascinating book in effect doubles theamount of literature available in English on taiko so is a very
welcome addition. §Interested in writing for the Japan Society Review?
Please write to info@japansociety.org.uk with examples of your work and information about yourknowledge of and interest in Japan.

Issue 51 Volume 9 Number 3 (June 2014)