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, David Robert Jones

Happy New Year, one and all!

I actually can't believe it's ten years into the 21st century. I rang in 2010 with an air of incredulity.

2009 alone was a memorable year. I moved across the globe and started a life, for starters. But the beginning of a new year got me thinking about where life has taken me over the last several years. Looking back across it is nearly astounding. Did I know, even three years ago, that I would be living in Japan at the start of 2010? Let alone a decade ago? Of course, at the tender age of 14, the future to me never really went beyond that weekend.

But New Year's Eve 2009 was spent in Tokyo, on the brightly lit streets of Roppongi. Wandering backstreets of the neon-illumined district, we ended up in one of the oldest clubs in Tokyo. It was crowded and small, hot and flashy; full of Tokyo fashionistas and foreign invaders. Famous patrons flashed flirtatious smiles from photos on the wall, and glow stick necklaces pulsed with the rhythm of the bass when we found our way into the VIP section. We spent the whole night there, emerging only when the sun peeked over the horizon and the Eastern European models outnumbered the rest of us.

I wish I had something more profound to say about New Year's in such a unique and international city, but this last month has been a whirlwind. I have been entertaining guests as unofficial ambassador to Japan since the 11th of December. And somehow, I found time for a week and half long trip to Thailand in between.

Thailand itself was nothing short of magnificent, and worthy of a post of its own. (Hopefully within a few days time.) Not only was it a truly memorable vacation, but there were a few moments that were, personally, surreal.

For example, I distinctly remember transferring planes at the airport in Shanghai. I was walking along a long hallway, the sun rising but hazy with the pollution from the Chinese metropolis. I was traveling by myself at this point, stopping in China before my final leg back to Japan. Yet there was no fear or trepidation. There had been none maneuvering the massive airport in Bangkok, nor did I anticipate any for the route still ahead of me. Just comfort and an easy confidence in my own ability to get home. Maybe it was the lack of sleep, but in that moment that realization stuck me with a sense of surprise and a little pride. It's interesting to see the traveler, and by extension, the person I have become.

But my last two lovely guests leave me on Monday, and then I can heave a sigh of relief and get back to life as usual. Most likely after sleeping for two days, and fully giving in to my hermit-like tendencies. And possibly finding time to collect my thoughts on Thailand, and post as many photos as humanly possible.

So in truth, tonight I just wanted to post something to remind the world that I am still alive and kicking it on the Pacific Rim.

Of course, I needed a valid reason (at least in my own mind) to post something today. So this is a two-fold post. And since I originally intended to post in honor Jane Austen's birthday December 16th, which came and went, I decided to wait till David Bowie's birthday on January 8th.

(Kate, two posts about David Bowie in a row? Surely not.)

Well, believe it.

I wish I could give it more credible beginnings, but thinking back, I believe my first exposure to Bowie was as a wee girl and watching the 1986 Jim Henson classic, Labyrinth, and wondering who that dashing man in tight pants was. But then I hit high school, discovered my passion for music produced before 1983, and the rest, as they say, is history. In college, internet and copious free time began a love affair with his music that has not diminished since.

The man himself turns 63 today. Though in my mind, I think he will be eternally 30 years old, skinny and smoking, looking vaguely continental and shockingly natural. (Or perhaps he's 25; androgynous, masked, and mulleted. Then again, maybe 36; all bleach blond, thin tied, and entirely 80s.)

But no matter the era, the man had remained a relevant icon for 40 years without losing artistic integrity. And even in spite of my love for his music, that fact alone makes him worthy of admiration.

But perhaps that's just the fan in me showing itself.

So Happy Birthday David Bowie, and a belated Happy New Year to the rest of you.

And here's a figurative glass raised to 2010, and hoping it affords me all the 2009 did.

(And because this is a birthday post, I celebrate 2010 with two of my favorite live performances from vastly different Bowies. An amazing version of Drive-In Saturday from 1973, and then a pitch-perfectly subdued Heroes from 1977. Enjoy.)

Don't You Wonder Sometimes Bout Sound and Vision?

I came across an old Rolling Stone interview this week from 1974, where William S. Burroughs interviews David Bowie. I’m actually surprised I’ve never seen it before, with such an odd yet amazingly appropriate meeting of creative minds.

My brother is more into the beat writers than myself, though I have read Burroughs and Kerouac and the like. I’ve always enjoyed what I have read; the writing is brutally frank and the style terribly liberating. But I’ve never idolized them the way many people do. In truth, I’ve been on a bit of a Bowie kick lately, and my interest in reading the article was to see what he (the true recipient of a little of my idolization) had to say. Because despite Lodger and Low being on a constant loop on my iPod this week, there are times I actually prefer listening to Bowie talk about his music and the process then I do actually listening to it.

(Ok, that’s a flat lie, but needless to say the man is witty. He gives a great interview.)

If you have any interest in either man (or even if you don’t) I highly recommend reading it. Burroughs is older, caustically dry in humor and a little embittered; Bowie is younger with a bit of youthful arrogance sprinkled with his natural tendency for charm and theatrics. There’s actually an amazing chemistry to it - the two men seem to really connect and then feed off each other’s energy. It’s less an interview and more like being witness to a really great conversation.

And while perusing the conversation, they made mention of the cut-up technique. I then vaguely remembered that Burroughs popularized the literary technique, and that Bowie used the method for writing some of his lyrics, and songs on albums like Hunky Dory and Diamond Dogs comes to mind.

But the thought made me giggle.

The cut-up technique, or cutting up text or texts, throwing them into a fishbowl, and then drawing them out, makes me think of every creative writing class I’ve taken in my life. And there have been quite a few. One specific poetry class my senior year sticks out clearly in my mind, but not for particularly good reasons. I laugh because the result of the technique was usually horrendous and, to me, always seemed artsy for the sake of being artsy.

But in a wave of nostalgia, I tried my hand once again at the cut-up technique. The outcome will never see the light of day. I laugh uncontrollably every time I read over the horrible self-indulgence.

The Third Mind or Life on Mars? it is not.

So I think it's well established I’m not a beat poet. But I think I already knew this, because unlike my brother, I don’t want to seclude myself in a cabin in Muir Woods and write. I’m perfectly happy secluding myself in my tiny apartment in Nagoya to much the same effect.

But if you want to read a truly fascinating exchange, click the link below. The nostalgia alone might make it worth it.

http://www.teenagewildlife.com/Appearances/Press/1974/0228/rsinterview/