Imported From Japan

Americans, as a whole, are very good at importing and adapting. From various disciplines we take an idea, tweak it, and make it work for us. I'm not critical of this; it is all part of our melting-pot charm. But one area where this practice is constantly criticized is in the arena of entertainment.

I won't really weigh in on this debate. Some see it as an unspeakable failure on the part of Hollywood and American Studios that they have to adapt and remake everything that is good from other countries. We can't appreciate or relate to the original, they believe, unless it's in an American dialect and setting. But I believe the idea that foreign remakes are always horrible is an unreliable truth at best. Yes, most British imports whose originals I liked, like State of Play and Coupling, had severely inferior versions made stateside. But I absolutely love The Birdcage and The Departed, originally a French and Hong Kong flick, respectively.

And when Hollywood wants to steal things from around the world, Japan has had some of its best stuff remade in the US of A.

But this post is not about those films. From the Godzilla re-edits to the Western-izing of most Kurosawa Samurai films (Yojimbo, Rashomon, and Shinichi no Samurai became A Fistful of Dollars, The Outrage, and The Magnificent Seven), lots of entertainment from Japan has been repackaged for American audiences. I mean, who can forget the influx of Asian horror film remakes in the last ten years? From the very good (The Ring) to cringe-worthy messes (One Missed Call).

No, this post is about the complete opposite. For as good as Americans are at importing things to adapt, the Japanese are the even better. Usually, they master something and improve upon it - such is the Japanese way.

So how these messes came about is lost on me.

I am here to present you with the reverse. American movies, television, and various parts of pop culture lovingly remade for a Japanese audience. I call it:

Remade in Japan: A Head-Scratching Interpretation

Naturally, the best place to start is with the movies. Now while we usually steal the best of the best, Japan took it upon themselves to remake Ghost.

, or Ghosto, was released in 2010. Because if anything was screaming for a remake, it was this 1990 seminal classic starring Patrick Swayze and Demi Moore. But in a twist to reinvent this timeless tale, we have the woman dying instead of the man. Let's take a look at the trailer, shall we?

Man, it even has the iconic pottery scene, so you know this movie is all it needs to be. But my lingering question after the trailer is not about the fate of our lovers, but who the hell that little girl is, and why she can see the dead girlfriend. I hope its not because she's a ghost also. As a rule I generally don't like dead children to be part of my romances.

But whatever the answers to these questions, I can tell you that the Japanese Whoopi Goldberg looks hilarious and slightly crazy. So in another words, spot on casting.

But it's not just moderately successful romantic fantasy dramas that get remade in Japan. I recall seeing posters for this next film about a year ago and doing and honest to goodness double take just to make sure it wasn't a glorious illusion. I stood in front of the poster for a good 30 seconds before determining it was, in fact, real. Genuinely and absurdly so. I present to you the Japanese Sideways.

Now I never saw the original movie because I was 18 at the time and not exactly the "mid-life crisis trip through wine country" demographic. But I do love that they unabashedly and unashamedly remade the same movie, just with two Japanese guys. No twist on the formula, no swapping of locations to Japan or a more familiar area, no discernible differences at all. They just shipped themselves off to California and made this movie. Assuredly, all the funny harsh edges of the original were toned down. Which begs the question, in a country that has no great love for wine or pretentious oenophiles, why did this need to be made in the first place? Points for using a Cyndi Lauper song in a 2009 trailer though.

But now turning to a demographic of which I am most definitely a part, there is also a large amount of television that has been remade for Japan. To no ones particular surprise, cartoons especially were constantly remade for Japanese kids. But what was surprising was how much Animation studios here clearly wanted to stomp across my own childhood.

I spent a large part of the early 90s in front of the television watching Saturday morning cartoons with my brothers. They were mostly of the Superhero variety, and both my siblings and I still love these old cartoons. Japan took it upon themselves to blacken those fond memories with these monstrosities, like this Japanese remake of X-Men.

I want to Cry for this Damn Intro. Between the bad heavy metal and the constant barrage of punches, lighting, and flashing blue action lines, I got a headache just watching a minute and a half. I wonder what sitting through the show was like. And mind you, my entire knowledge of X-Men comes from a Saturday morning animation like 18 years ago, but I don't ever recall them fighting what appear to be Mutant Dragon Ground Worms and Space Robots. Didn't they just, like, fight Magneto and Mystique and occasionally evil Military operations? Perhaps I was just misinformed. All I can tell you is that I still hate Jubilee, whatever her incarnation.

Speaking of the woefully misinformed, I have no idea where the plot line for this next one came from. And because I was 6 years old in 1991, the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles was a large part of my childhood at that time. Here is its bizarro twin, courtesy of Japan.

Because mutated turtles trained in the way of the ninja was clearly not a cool enough concept for Japan as is, they had to power up the turtles not once, but twice. Unfortunately, they look less like turtles when they super mutate or whatever and more like robotic body builders.

I was also surprised to see the gratuitous shots of Mt. Fuji since, you know, they live underground in the sewers and all. Perhaps there was a fun camping episode? At least the scene of them running from a subway gives me hope they spent some time underground. I also bet there are less pizza parties. I did, however, enjoy the cameo from Nagoya castle.

But moving on to something made in the last ten years, this next example proves that a show doesn't even need to be animated to get the animated treatment when it arrives in Japan. Supernatural, a CW show with which I am only vaguely familiar, is being remade in a series of DVDs that apparently is coming out very soon.

I remember Jared Padalecki from Gilmore Girls, and I'd be lying if I didn't say I enjoy seeing him androgynously animated. But all in all, I think the Japanese Kansas cover speaks for itself.

In all fairness, a show about two brothers fighting monsters and demons is tailor-made for Japanese television. It could even work as a live action drama here, as it does in the states. But one could also think this of our next title, but somehow, something got lost in translation.

I heard of this show when I first came to Japan, and have heard much of it since from people back home. I am of course referring to the infamous 1978 Japanese television show, Spiderman.

Yea, Yea, Yea, Wow, indeed. Apparently this Spiderman inexplicably had a giant transforming robot, because hey, why not? But what I gleamed from the internet, and between the bursts of hysterical laughter by people here, this Spiderman may look like the Marvel character, but gets his powers from an alien. Or as Wikipedia tells me:

Young motorcycle racer Takuya Yamashiro sees a UFO falling to earth, in fact a space warship named the "Marveller" from the planet "Spider." Takuya's father Dr. Hiroshi Yamashiro, a space archeologist, investigates the case but is killed upon finding the spaceship. The incident also brings the attention of Professor Monster and his evil Iron Cross Army, an alien group that plans to rule the universe.

His father is a "space archeologist," he is supposedly a tough motorcycle racer, and his nemesis is called Professor Monster. Need I say more?

But I must finish this trifecta of Japanese entertainment with a reference to music. Music, of course, is a tough subject for remakes since such a thing as covers exist. These are not covers. These are what I like to call "shameless ripoffs." The melody is the same, but the songs are completely different. For example, does this first one sound familiar?

If you said, that sounds like something Janet Jackson sang once, you would be absolutely correct. Re-dubbed "Papillon" and sung by Shimatani Hitomi, it was apparently a big hit here in Japan when it came out. But do not be fooled by her sweet hair streaks and bitchin 90s pleather jacket; this video was made in 2001.

Ah but we have not left the turn of the millennium pop scene yet. I believe this one is hauntingly familiar.

It's "Larger than Life" by the Backstreet Boys, renamed barairo no hibi, or rose-colored days. I enjoy the twist that a girl group called MAX sang it instead of four guys, but beyond that I have very little to say about this video. They kind of just prance around an empty hotel lobby in their awesome pearl and velour jumpsuit combination. At least the sepia tone still shots of roses let us now this is a heartfelt and serious song. I believe the original Backstreet Boy video had a spaceship.

But this last one is probably the best of the whole bunch, if not of this entire post. It's why I saved it for last, because this is a song that needs to be truly savoured. It's both insane and amazing. This song, when it was released, turned the singer into the Japanese Ricky Martin. These lyrics, though, need to be seen to be believed. I bring you Hiromi Go's horrific "Goldfinger 99."

Ouch, it's hot, did you feel it? That was...well, I'm not saying "Livin' La Vida Loca" was Shakespeare or anything, but if the translation is to be trusted on this one, then, wow.

I feel like you could play a game with this song; pick your favorite insane lyric. I mean, between the evil feelings dancing in the sun and loins in sticky summer and violent feelings in his heart (which is apparently cocoa colored), I have no idea what the hell is going on in this song. And then he turns her into a mermaid? I mean, what the what what? It's like someone wrote this song using poetry refrigerator magnets. I've also yet to decipher what the Goldfinger is, or why there are 99 of them.

Oh, Japan. Shine on you crazy diamond.

Happy New Year, Sort Of

The year of the rabbit has finally hopped along. Of course, as the consummate procrastinator, I have not chosen to mark this occasion till about the 19th of January. This is due in part to the fact that I'm still in slight disbelief that it is, in truth, 2011. It also has to do with the realization that I am just about coming up to my two year anniversary in Japan. So it was with a smirk of doubt and a bit befuddlement that I greeted 2011.

Japan, of course, is celebrating with strawberries. I wish I could tell you definitively why. I always connect strawberries with summer, but then again, we don't grow them in hothouses in the States. But Japan has been whipped into January strawberry fervor, and the ichigo has been popping up everywhere. In desserts and baked items, or as the flavoring for snacks of candies. Even all by their lonesome in the produce aisle in nice, compact 800 yen packages.

I have chosen not to celebrate the new year with overpriced fragaria, but by working six days a week.

The inactivity of this blog the past few months was due to work of a furious nature on graduate school applications. I did this all while working full time, and just when I was about to pull my hair out in frustration, the applications were due and I headed off for a much needed week long winter vacation in Hokkaido.

But applications and trips through the wintry wonderland that is Northern Japan are expensive. So I will be making up the difference by picking up some extremely lucrative overtime work.

This means I will only have one day off for a bit of time. But it also means that I am no longer writing essays and writing samples and will, finally, have time to write for myself. I also will not be frantic and stressed and waking in the middle of the night remembering one more thing I have to do And when the next few weeks are over, debts will be payed and I will even have a nice bit of extra cash in my pockets.

I have always been a generally positive person, and so it is with this attitude that I go into this new year. And though this week was long and exhausting, I still found time to find joy in a few simple things. Here is what I loved this week:

1. Cheap Mikan More commonly known as satsuma in the west, and unlike the strawberries, were super cheap this week. I saw three separate sales at three separate grocery stores for mikan, and I took full advantage each time. My fridge is now packed with the orange fruit, and just like the strawberries, I have no idea why the drastic change in price occurred. But unlike the strawberries, I have no desire to question why. Cheap fruit is so rare here, I worry any investigation will cause it to disappear like a beautiful fever dream.

2. Udo Kier's interview with The A.V. Club Who, you ask, is Udo Kier? Up until this week, I had no idea. Well, I did, but I only knew him as "that German guy in every movie." Take a moment to think of him. Picture his face? That's Udo Kier.

Well he gave an interview this week to the A.V. Club about his long and interesting career, and it is about as delightfully insane as I would expect it to be. I actually laughed out loud when reading through his answers. I nearly lost it completely when he compared auditioning to cleaning furniture in a department store, an analogy I still don't understand. It is just so amazingly bizarre it transcends the print. I would pay good money to have heard the audio. Just read it for yourself.

3. Angela Carter Specifically, The Bloody Chamber and Other Stories. I reread the collection of short stories this week, and ugh, my heart. I will cop immediately to loving fairy tales. I loved the sanitized versions as a tyke, and as a teenager, I discovered the originals in very large tomes hidden in random shelves at my local library. The ones with all the murder, incest, pecked out eyes and lopped off toes; every last dark psychological undertone and subconscious archetype left intact.

To call Carter's writing "adult fairy tales" diminishes what they truly are. It as if she stripped the stories to the core, extracted what makes them both scary and unfailingly relatable, and reworked them.

And on top of that, her prose is just achingly beautiful in places. It is the kind of writing that makes me both insanely jealous and weak in the knees. My favorite in the collection was probably The Company of Wolves, her retelling of Little Red Riding Hood (for if there was ever a tale ripe for Jungian analysis and feminist critique, it's the story of Red.) When Carter describes the Red Riding Hood character:

She stands and moves within the invisible pentacle of her own virginity. She is an unbroken egg; she is a sealed vessel; she has inside her a magic space the entrance to which is shut tight with a plug of membrane; she is a closed system; she does not know how to shiver. She has her knife and she is afraid of nothing.

And when she writes of the wolves themselves:

That long-drawn, wavering howl has, for all its fearful resonance, some inherent sadness in it, as if the beasts would love to be less beastly if only they knew how and never cease to mourn their own condition. There is a vast melancholy in the canticles of the wolves, melancholy infinite as the forest, endless as these long nights of winter and yet that ghastly sadness, that mourning for their own, irremediable appetites, can never move the heart for not one phrase in it hints at the possibility of redemption; grace could not come to the wolf from its own despair, only through some external mediator, so that, sometimes, the beast will look as if he half welcomes the knife that despatches him.

Like I said, my heart. The collection is far from perfect, but truly fantastic. Highly recommended, of course.

And that is what is making me happy in the new year. Simple joys in January to ring 2011 in right. Here's to hoping everyone out there has a fantastic 2011 as well.

And Very Gladly Will I Drink Your Honour's Noble Health

I saw Alice in Wonderland this past weekend.

I generally avoid movies in Japan because they tend to be expensive and a bit of a hassle. The standard price is close to twenty dollars per ticket unless you want to see a showing after 8 PM. Which I don't particularly mind, and at times prefer, but the drawback is that there usually only one or two movies playing after 8. So if you don't catch it by 9, you won't be seeing a movie that night.

The land of midnight movies it is not.

And if you do manage to get a showing after 8, though the tickets are cheaper, you have to pick your seat as you buy your ticket. Because of this practice of assigned seats, they don't let people into the movie until 10 minutes before.

But where, you say, is the problem in that? Well, if you want a decent seat not in the very back or the very front, you have to come quite a bit early to reserve said seat. But since you can't go into the theater, that leaves you way too much time with nowhere to sit. Hence the problem.

And watching movies in English with Japanese subtitles is a very odd experience. It's true that things are lost in translation, and humor is probably one of the biggest causalities.

I went to see Sherlock Holmes a few months ago. Not the best of films, but enjoyable and funny in a pulpy sort of way. Yet it was unnerving at times to watch in a theater full of non-English speakers, for there were parts that had my friends and I laughing like maniacs as the rest of the theater remained silent. As in, did not even crack a smile.

It's weird to be the only one in the room who understands the humor. It makes you question if maybe your the one who misunderstood.

I remember going to the theater in Italy a few years ago and laughing at the inefficiencies of the the Italian theater. The Japanese system is nothing if not efficient. As well as annoying. And overpriced. And unnecessarily complicated.

So needless to say, with this lovely combination of factors, I reserve movie viewing for movies I deem worthy of both my time and effort. I believe I have seen exactly 4 movies since I arrived in Japan a year and three months ago. A pitiful number, to be honest.

But despite all this working against her, Alice made the cut. And how could it not? Despite a few poor films in the last few years (Planet of the Apes and Sweeny Todd, I'm looking at you), a still inextinguishable love for Tim Burton will take me out to see his films every time. He's like the weird kid who sat in the back of the class and wouldn't talk to anyone but drew cool cartoons on his desk and in every corner of his notebook that were dark and twisted but in a whimsical way. How can you not like that kid?

That, and my utter love for the source material, got me there. I've already dedicated a post to Lewis Carroll, and I have an unhealthy fascination with his nonsense poetry. Nonsense verse is beautiful, as we all know semantics is highly overrated. And the poems littered throughout the narrative are what make it truly special.

So did I fall in love with it? No, but I thoroughly enjoyed it. I thought it was visually stunning, and true to the nature and tone of the the story. There were cute homages to the original work, things only someone as geeky as me might have picked up, which I appreciated. I would have liked a more gripping plot, but at the same time something about that seems dishonest to the nonsense and tepid philosophy which the original is all about.

And if you want to put Alice in armor and have her fight the Jabberwocky? Believe me, you will get no complaints from me.

If nothing else, it renewed my interest in how much the story has become such a part of our cultural identity. Few are not familiar with the characters, and many phrases, words, and even theories are drawn from the story. Not bad for a children's book.

For example, sticking solely to cinematic adaptions, Alice in Wonderland has been adapted directly to film 44 times, while about 50 other titles either refashion or draw inspiration from the tale. They span the entire history of film, with the first one being a silent film from 1903 directed by Cecil Hepworth and Percy Stow. It is 8 minutes and 19 seconds in length, and only one copy of the original still exists.

Alice in film has been around almost as long as film has.

I'm not so much a purist that I dislike anything that deviates, but there are times I want to see Carroll done truly right. So to fulfill that need, I didn't need to look any further than this clip from a 1998 BBC production. It was a weird and trippy version that I didn't completely love, but one of the highlights of the film is a weird sequence in which the poem Haddock's Eyes is related by the White Knight to Alice.

If not just a how-to guide from Ian Holm on how to do a dramatic reading correctly, it is presented with the melancholy dreaminess and touch of deeper meaning with which I think every Lewis Carroll poem should be enjoyed.