by Ender’s Girl

Last February 2^nd, at the Akanishi-Kuroki Nuptials…

(Just kidding!)

So news is out that Akanishi Jin, who by the look of things spent the better part of his adult life taking his, uh, WildOatsMobile for more Test Drives than he can probably remember, is now a Married Man – and maybe a Dad-to-Be as well, with brand-new wifey Kuroki Meisa rumored to be a couple of months impregnito (lol). Shocker, I know. (While Meisa’s condition isn’t official (yet), her abrupt cancelation of all media and event appearances a few days before the Feb. 15 launch of her new album has kept the grapevine buzzing and those raised eyebrows, well, raised.)

Going by the number of blog posts I’ve devoted to His YellowGoldness, I suppose congratulations are in order for the (happy? happyish? hapless?) couple… never mind that the announcement came right out of left field (specifically, from “WTF?”  territory); never mind that the image of Jin settling down with anyone is as incongruous as that of Dame Kiri Te Kanawa front-acting a KAT-TUN concert, hahaha (shudderz!). And never mind that marriage+parenthood is usually career anathema for J-poppers like Jin and Meisa, whose Young!Hot!&Desirable personas are what put food on the table are their main selling points – Meisa perfecting the smoky sexpot-chanteuse act and Jinny Boy livin’ it up as the club-hoppin’, hoodie-wearin’, hoochie-bangin’ hedonist named… Aquaneesha.

Although statistically speaking, Meisa stands to lose more career-wise than Jin. Many female pop artists are viewed as “short-term brands” compared to male artists since their commercial viability is largely a function of looks, age, and accessibility (or desirability) to their fans. It’s hard to brand yourself as fun, flirty and fancy-free when you’re already someone else’s wife and popping babies left and right (just ask Kudo Shizuka, lol) – especially in a youth-obsessed industry like Japan’s. (Queen of J-Pop Amuro Namie would be one of the few exceptions.) But I daresay Meisa will find a way to bounce back via her film and TV work; a case in point is Takeuchi Yuko, who’s still very much in the biz after surviving her own dekichatta kekkon and subsequent divorce from (and ugly custody battle with) that kabuki dude. (Not that… this is the path I envision for Meisa, lol. As, er, tempting as it would be to hear Jin perform OutKast’s Ms. Jackson and really feeeel the lyrics, heh.)

On a side note, my first thought after hearing the news was, “Poor Kame must be KRUSHED!” Hahaha. And sorry to all the Akame slashfic writers out there, but Meisa just redefined the M in the word “Mpreg.” Hahaha. Speaking of which, this brings to mind a certain Akame Mpreg fic that I found floating around one of the LiveJournal JE comms. The title? “First Comes Marriage, then Comes Love” (or sumthin’ like that). BWAHAHAHA. I stopped short of reading the fic itself (sh*t wuz too freaky, lol), but the synopsis read like a classic one-night-stand-leads-to-unplanned-pregnancy-and-quickie-wedding tale. Ohoho the irony.

In their statements, released more than a week after the wedding, Jin and Meisa implored their fans to continue to support their careers, adding they were determined to “deliver (his) best” (Jin’s words) and “work even harder than before” (Meisa’s). Well, I don’t doubt Meisa – the girl is used to juggling acting, singing/dancing and modeling duties anyway. But I’m less sure about Jinny, who signed with Warner Music in late 2010 but whose crossover US career has really yet to hit full stride, despite launching a social media blitz that included opening a Twitter account (which also enabled him to flirt in weird Engrish with other pop artists), and a Youtube channel documenting his L.A. exploits – including, but not limited to, buying a new set of wheels and attempting awkward bro handshakes with his Ultimate Idol Justin Bieber. (Ohboyohboy!)

The documentary series happens to bear the overly ambitious (and rather unfortunate) title of “The Takeover.”  (But then this is Jin, so “The Hangover” woulda been more apropos. LOL) But what exactly Jin is bent on taking over, isn’t made clear. Taking over some dinky little recording studio (and one of the 1,455 littered all over L.A.), so he can churn out yet another generic-sounding pop album? Taking over an itty bitty corner of the Internet so he can digitally release two singles? Taking over neon-lit parking basements so he can feel up half-dressed chicks on the hoods of shiny cars while crooning lewd innuendoes, like he does in the “Test Drive” music video? (Maybe that’s it!!! Ohboyohboy!)

Memo to Bakanishi: dude you ain’t the first dance/R&B singer to feel up half-dressed chicks atop shiny cars in neon-lit parking basements while lip-syncing for a music video, just so y’know. What makes it even funnier (or sadder) is that the director of the “Test Drive” MV (hoochie count: 13) called this production “epic.” Hahahaha. Toss in Jin’s latest release, the “Sun Burns Down” MV (hoochie count: 1) for a grand total of two “epic” – as in epically derivative and cliché-ridded – music videos. And since Jin’s US success has largely been on the digital front, does this mean he gets paid in digital money, too? Like… the 50 gold coins I earn every Monday as a Game of Nerds player? No? It isn’t the same? Is he sure? Hahahaha. Because Jin’s gonna need a whole lotta moolah now that he’s a Family Man, yo. Not to mention that this calls for a drastic change in his lifestyle and spending habits. Fellow blogger zooey put it best when we shared snark over the news: “Bye bye sports car, hello minivan.” (LAWL!)

In related buzz, Jin’s senpai Takizawa Hideaki is said to be veddy, veddy pissed that Jin broke the Jimusho’s No. 1 cardinal rule: that talents MUST remain celibate and unattached for the next 65 years (or until Johnny-san releases them into the Void because their idol careers have bitten the dust). (KimuTaku was the first to break said rule, and he got away with it simply because He.Is.KimuTaku. You need real balls to go out and just do it, Tackey dear. Or at least a preggers girlfriend for that matter, hyukhyuk.) Meanwhile, Johnny K. is reportedly hopping mad and “considering punishing” his 27-year-old talent. (Hahahaha srsly Johnny-san srsly??? The old man really has gone batcrap crazy. Next thing you know he’ll be crashing Hey!Say!JUMP concert stages dressed as a sushi roll.) Furthermore, Johnny-san has ordered YamaPi and Nishikido Ryo to avoid their close pal (and fellow Roppongi party boy) Jin like a vicious STD, lest his contumacy and scandalous ways rub off them!!! *double rolleyes*

Reader Helicidae has a (gut-bustingly funny) theory of her own:

Word is out that Johnny-san’s mad as a horny… a hornet… since Jinny Dearest conveniently forgot to inform his lord and master about the impending nuptials. (Which makes on wonder: Could it be possible that said lord and master is entitled to some kind of jus primae noctis in case one of his underlings plans on tying the knot? Would definitely explain why so many of them are still single.)

(Bwahahahahaha. Makes perfect sense, ne?)

Well, what’s done is done. The bun’s in the oven, the ring’s on the finger, the wedding cake’s been eaten (by Jin of course). I doubt that anybody really wanted this to happen (Jin and Meisa least of all, lol), but who knows – maybe they’ll actually be happy together, with their little Baka-babies tearing around the house. Or maybe they’ll be headed for splitsville after only two years. Maybe one of them will hit a breakthrough in their career, while the other will see their star quietly fade in the months to come. Or maybe this whole marriage+baby scandal will blow over in no time and create less of an impact on both their careers than we predicted. Maybe anything – who really knows for sure? At least they’re keeping little Formalin-kun the baby. Responsibility is a big word, but Jin is manning up and showing Johnny Kame everyone that he knows what it means.

In closing, here’s a clip of Massive Attack performing “Protection” – which we all know is something Jin and Meisa are now wishing they had used a little more of, lol. So enjoy the song! It’s one of my faves. And Happy Month of Hearts (or what’s left of it)!

***

Youtube uploaders:  affamatievisionari, 1497mo

(And thanks to blog readers Te Wan Kim and leilana for being my first news source. XD)

by Ender’s Girl

(Related post: Boxer… Shorts: Vid Clips from Ashita no Joe, Crying Fist and 1-Pound Gospel)

The Cast:
Yamashita Tomohisa, Iseya Yusuke, Karina, Kagawa Teruyuki, and Yomoshita Tomohisa’s various muscle groups in a dazzling repeat performance!!!

Directed by Sori Fumihiko / TBS Pictures, 2011

In a Nutshell:
A scrappy young delinquent discovers a love for boxing and rises from the slums to challenge an old rival in the ring – with a little help from a boozy nut of a trainer, unconventional fighting techniques, and his magic moobs.

(SpoilLert: Everything but the ending!)

[Recommended sing-along companion track: “Eye of the Tiger” by YamaPi. No, by Survivor]

Risin’ up, back on the street
Did my time, took my chances…
Went the distance, now I’m back on my feet
Just a man and his will to survive…

Yamashita Tomohisa, he of the “mighty chest” (LMAO) and plum Getsuku dramas, steps into the ring as Japan’s favorite boxing icon Yabuki Joe in this live-action adaptation of the acclaimed manga epic from Takamori Asao and Chiba Tetsuya.

Serialized from 1968 to 1973 in the Weekly Shounen Magazine, “Ashita no Joe” was an ode to the working-class hero – the social archetype that became wildly popular during the boom years of the ‘50s and ‘60s, when Japan’s remarkable economic growth was largely driven by heavy industry and mass production.

While the coming-of-age theme of “Ashita no Joe” holds universal appeal, the story would resonate especially with members of the so-called “manga generation.” Born around 1950, many of these youths were uneducated factory workers uprooted from rural areas, or radical university students when “Ashita no Joe” was first published. In the character of Yabuki Joe, a street punk who boxes his way to a bantamweight championship despite all odds, these readers found a protagonist they could identify with and root for, and who best embodied their own dreams of overcoming whatever obstacles stood in the way of personal progress.

Manga from the 1960s also reflected Japan’s tumultuous postwar Zeitgeist, with its increasingly strident anti-war and anti-establishment tones. Although counted as mainstream manga, “Ashita no Joe” was influenced by works of the more serious gekiga sub-genre, which were heavy on social realism and often featured characters who were disenchanted with the prevailing social order and were thus unafraid to challenge authority through unconventional or even illegal means.

Unsurprisingly, Yabuki Joe was quickly embraced as a political icon – or a sort of poster boy for various dissident movements ranging from wage-earners fighting against exploitation, to college students protesting the US-Japan Security Treaty. In 1970 one terrorist group even released the slogan “We are Tomorrow’s Joes!” after hijacking a Japan Airlines plane, obviously hoping to cadge public sympathy for their cause. And although the manga’s creators eventually bowed to censorship pressure and pulled the plug on the serial in 1973, Japan’s beloved cloth-cap pugilist has remained a pop culture icon for new generations of manga, anime and gaming enthusiasts around the world.

So many times, it happens too fast
You trade your passion for glory
Don’t lose your grip on the dreams of the past
You must fight just to keep them alive…

The 2011 movie covers the first half of the 20-volume manga, tracing Joe’s troubled beginnings from the back streets of Tokyo’s Asakusa district (homelessness! running from the coppers! street brawls! jailtime!) all the way to his career-defining championship bout with ultimate rival Rikiishi.

To capture the feel of the period, director Sori Fumihiko opens Ashita no Joe with juxtaposed shots of harried ‘60s urbanites in suits, silhouetted factories and dark, rain-soaked alleyways, and slum communities still suffering postwar deprivations. The bluesy soundtrack, drenched in twangy harmonica riffs reminiscent of those ol’ spaghetti Westerns (made me think of tumbleweed and toothpick-chewing geezers lounging on porches, lol), nicely rounds out the whole retro vibe of the film.

Life for the lower classes is so hard, that when Yabuki Joe crosses a bridge to a shantytown on the other side of the Sumida River, and stops for a snooze on the grassy embankment (oooh a Kurosagi moment! bring out the red suspenders! lol), he narrowly survives a mugging attempt by a gang of… eight-year-old urchins, tsk. (The little scamps look too cute and well-fed to be creditable guttersnipes, but then we’re also expected to believe that Joe grew up miserable! and! destitute! on the sole account of YamaPi’s ORANGE FLAT CAP and BINDLE, i.e. the ultimate proletarian accoutrements. The accessories have to do the talking because, alas, Pi’s pretty face won’t really tell you much. LOL)

It’s in this part of town where Joe meets his would-be trainer, Danpei (played with gusto by Kagawa Teruyuki). With the bald pate, eyepatch and horrible overbite (meaning good prosthetics, heh), Danpei could easily pass for an extra in one of those post-apocalyptic films like Mad Max or Waterworld. When Joe breaks up (or escalates, depending on how you see it) a ramen house altercation between the chronically drunk Danpei and some local yakuza, Danpei – himself a failed boxer – spots Joe’s raw potential to make it as a pro, and tries to recruit the youth with the portentous line, “How about aiming for tomorrow with me?”

Yes Joe, how about it now, Joe? Unfortunately, Danpei must wait a little longer before seeing these hopes come to fruition, because the cops soon arrive at the scene to haul Joe before the magistrate – who doesn’t look too kindly on his prior brushes with the law, and promptly metes him a one-year jail term, tsk.

But Joe’s Slamma Time doesn’t mean jack to Drunken Master Danpei! In fact, he begins their training via detailed instructions scrawled on notepaper and slipped into the kid’s prison cell. Erm, okayyy. So I guess we’re to believe that a semiliterate boy can be schooled in proper fight technique – how to counterpunch and parry and jab and feint! – from a bunch of letters he gets in the mail and reads in solitary confinement? It’s “The Art of Boxing for Dummies” – via correspondence course, oh wow! Points for creativity and resourcefulness I s’pose, but for effectivity? I don’t want to state the obvious, but boxing does have a practical as well as theoretical side, just like all disciplines: you can do 834,347 drills a day by your loneseome with just a fight manual to guide you, but without actual sparring sessions and – more importantly – immediate, real-time feedback from your trainer, I doubt you’d really learn much. *rolleyes* (I’m sorry, Original Writer of “Ashita no Joe,” but this part was.just.sirreee.silly.)

Joe still doesn’t get it, though, that what Master Danpei is trying to do is actually more than just teaching him how to box – it’s giving him a fyooooture. *sniffle* So until this truth sinks into his pretty head, the kid must feed his prison boredom by being, uh, Mr. Congeniality: picking fights with the other inmates whenever and wherever – in his own cell, in the mess hall, etc. etc. – before the guards come to throw his unrepentant heinie in the hole for the nth time.

But if there’s one convict with enough power in his punch to put Punky Joe in his place, it’s pro boxer Rikiishi (played by – *Michael Buffer voice* – Iseyaaaa Yuuuusuke!!!!), who apparently is also serving time for beating up some dude. Joe first encounteres Rikiishi (and his Fists of Fury) at a mess hall brawl (which Punky started, obviously) while howling at nobody in particular, “I am free no matter where I am!” (LMAO) Of course for Rikiishi, the fight’s a walkover from the start, although Joe does manage to sneak in a few jabs (courtesy of Danpei’s long-distance tutorials, which aren’t totally useless after all), just enough to grab the unbeaten prizefighter’s attention before the prison guards arrive to break up the party.

It’s the eye of the tiger
It’s the thrill of the fight
Risin’ up to the challenge
Of our rival

And the last known survivor
Stalks his prey in the night
And he’s watching us all with the
Eye of the tiger…

In a way, this initial run-in with Rikiishi is a turning point for Joe. Getting creamed by a boxer whose skill set and mental toughness are a cut above anyone he’s ever fought before fires him up and provides a tangible goal (defeat Rikiishi in the ring! or die trying!) into which he can channel all his wild, wayward energy. It isn’t long before Joe scores a re-match with Rikiishi under a new boxing-for-inmates program sponsored by a wealthy property developer and his granddaughter (played to vanilla blah-ness by Karina).

But Rikiishi’s so good a slugger that Joe predictably kisses the canvas a few times to the jeers of the other prisoners (who are only too happy to watch their favorite troublemaker get pounded to dust-o)… but… but… before the ref can count to ten, Joe just… keeps… getting… back… UP. <cue dramatic slow-mo reaction shots from the hushed spectators> This is Japan’s Working-Class Hero after all, people, the symbol of their nation’s Indomitable Spirit, so OF COURSE he’ll keep getting back up, even if it kills him!!!

And here is where it gets even sillier: the clearly outclassed Joe serves as Rikiishi’s punching bag for, like, 95% of the match, and then – just when he’s on the ropes, he delivers a single cross-counter that neutralizes Rikiishi’s straight left, sending them both to the floor as the final bell sounds! Okayyy… so Palooka Joe of the pitty-pat punches can pack a mean wallop after all – never mind if he’s three weight classes below Rikiishi, has never fought in a real, refereed match before, and has but a wad of “Dear Joe” letters to show for his entire boxing training. Really Joe, really??? LMFAO Joe! LMFAO!!! Ahahahaha

After their release from prison, Rikiishi resumes his pro career as the star boxer of the gym owned by Karina’s ojiisan, while Joe moves in with Master Danpei to begin his own arduous climb to the top. <cue Survivor’s Greatest Hits> What drives both men is the inevitable conclusion that they will have to meet again one day to settle the score. But first, Joe must earn the right to face Rikiishi in the ring, and with each opponent he KO’s, each bout he wins, he advances one step closer to their promised rubber match.

In the meantime, Rikiishi ain’t sitting pretty either, and must work hard to drop the excess poundage in order to meet Joe in his weight division. Rikiishi knows he really has nothing left to prove professionally, but then he’s also too proud a fighter to ignore this pugnacious little upstart who once, only once, managed to knock him out cold. Was it just a fluke, or does the kid really have what it takes to be The Greatest? Rikiishi can’t wait to find out. (But why couldn’t they agree on a catchweight fight? Meaning they’d meet at an intermediate weight class, so that one boxer wouldn’t be put at a disadvantage for having to make all the weight adjustments himself. Because the drastic weight loss does take its toll on Rikiishi, as the story later shows. *shrugs*)

Face to face, out in the heat
Hangin’ tough, stayin’ hungry
They stack the odds
Still we take to the street
For the kill with the skill to survive…

The boxing sequences in Ashita no Joe – Joe vs. Opponent X, or Rikiishi vs. Opponent Y, or Joe vs. Rikiishi – work best when the camera moves freely around the ring as the fighters exchange blows; or when the camera assumes the POV of one of the combatants, and the lens zooms in on the other man’s face absorbing a stinging hook, or his head snapping back from an uppercut.

Boxing scenes are always more effective when they approximate the realism of actual bouts. Unfortunately for this film, such sequences are outnumbered by those that rely on too much gimmickry and drama. For one, the director is suuuper fond of suuuper-sloooow-mo shots and stagey balletic choregraphy that detract from the visceral thrill of watching two grown men in shiny, shiny shorts pummel the living sh*t out of each other. The hyperreal effects are good for productions like Crows Zero, but not for a boxing movie where you want to keep the close-quarter action as gritty and naturalistic as possible.

There’s this weird sequence from 1:35:20-1:36:00 where Joe and Rikiishi do nothing but trade body shots in polite, measured fashion. It’s perplexing because there’s no variety at all – no headshots, or clinching, or attempts to block and parry, just an unbroken succession of body punches amid a spray of sweat droplets and theatrical lighting. It’s just so… strange, so very strange. LOL

And then of course there’s Joe’s default fight strategy, which he employs without fail in each of his post-prison matches: he lets himself get whupped to within an inch of his life, then at the very last minute, he dishes that trademark cross-counter that KO’s his opponent and (conveniently) ends the fight. It’s the Finishing Move trope that we’ve seen played out in everything from Ralph Macchio’s “crane technique” in The Karate Kid, to Mickey Rourke’s “Ram Jam” move in The Wrestler, right down to the “rocket punches” and “layyyzer swooords” from those super robot anime shows.

This trope can be a powerful narrative device when used judiciously (see above examples), but in Ashita no Joe the treatment is so ham-fisted, the cross-counter just becomes a big running joke (but with no punchline, hahaha geddit?). How could the writers (of both the manga and the live-action) ever think that this sort of maneuver would make Joe look good in the ring? It only proves he’s no more than a one-trick boxer, and a mule-headed one at that: he never listens to a thing his trainer tells him, preferring instead to flaunt his boxing incompetence with this cheap gimmick that isn’t even thrilling to watch. A predictable fighter is a weak fighter, and in many ways, a not-so-smart one, either.

While Joe’s cross-counter will only make you roll your eyes in disgust, it’s his other gimmick, the “Imma Lower My Hands and Stand Stupidly in the Ring and Refuse to Hit Back Until You Move In for the Kill at Which Point I Will Unleash My Famous Cross-Counter Sucker Punch… Hahaha Suckers!” comedy shtick, that will probably leave you laughing in a very loud and very mean way. Never in my years of watching boxing on TV have I ever seen anything so stupid. Seriously, who bloody fights like that??? Joe gets knocked around the ring so much not because his opponents are necessarily better or stronger, but because Joe is a bozo.

And you know who else is a bozo? Rikiishi, because he thinks that Joe’s efftarded gambit is worth copying, ayayay! In their climactic bantamweight championship bout, there’s one whole round where Rikiishi and Joe just drop their arms and stand semi-crouched and facing each other in the ring like a pair of Neanderthals. Hahahahahahaha – WTF??!?! Best match evar! A real barnburner, that one!!! LMFAO.

And THEN there’s that speech Joe gives from his corner right before the final round. On the brink of defeat to his greatest foe, Psychoanalyst Joe chooses this very moment to probe deep into his vagabond past and deconstruct all the unconcscious impulses, anxieties and internal conflicts that have kept him from self-realization. Never mind that the speech lasts WAY longer than the one-minute break – apparently he is Relativity Joe as well, who can manipulate the space-time continuum at whim!

Read this excerpt from his dramatic monologue and, uh, try not to laugh TOO hard: “I was always angry… I didn’t have any hopes and dreams… I blamed it all on society… Then I met Rikiishi… I never knew this feeling of competition that makes my passions burn. It’s burning, such a bright red. It’s firing me up.” AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!! Now that’s entertainment-o, yo!!!!!! So that explains Joe’s, uh, dead-fish eyes (hahaha). All that soliloquizing must’ve sapped the remaining energy from his brain-o. You’re the best, Psychoanalyst Joe, YOU’RE THE BEST!!!

It’s the eye of the tiger
It’s the thrill of the fight
Risin’ up to the challenge
Of our rival…

And the last known survivor
Stalks his prey in the night
And he’s watching us all with the
Eye of the tiger…

Another drawback to this movie is that the conflict outside the ring does little to keep you hooked. Good sports films know that the action inside the ring/arena/rink/etc. only serves to enhance the human drama that the characters go through outside of it – the meaty backstories and subplots, the personal demons that must be purged, the ups and downs in the road to self-fulfillment, the tangle of familial or romantic relationships that can make or break the Hero’s bid for his destiny – all these are what actually deepen and enrich the story and make the viewing experience so compelling. It’s through these personal struggles that the protagonist matures into a contender truly worthy of that championship belt (or trophy/medal/ring). The sports action is just the (sweaty) icing on the cake, and the Hero’s final hard-fought win over his rival but a validation that he has indeed learned his life lessons not only as an athlete, but as a person.

In my 2010 anticipatory primer to Ashita no Joe I also touched on Crying Fist, the 2005 boxing film by Ryu Seung-wan starring two of the most exciting actors in Korean cinema, Choi Min-sik and Ryu Seung-bum. What burns brightest in my memoryof this film isn’t the fight direction (which was excellent), but the thoroughly evolved characters of Tae-shik (Choi Min-sik) and Sang-hwan (Ryu Seung-bum), two men who have never met before, but whose disparate personal trajectories are what drive the plot forward until the final tournament where Tae-shik and Sang-hwan’s lives fleetingly come together in a singular moment of victory for one, and of heartbreak for the other.

Whereas the characters of Joe and Rikiishi are so sparsely written that you’re never drawn into their personal journeys (what personal journeys?). Their scenes together just feel like space fillers wedged between fight sequences, like the one-minute time-outs in a really, really long boxing match. How can you root for two people in the ring whom you know nothing about? Only Karina’s character has a backstory – she spent her childhood in Joe and Danpei’s shantytown, and now that she’s rich she wants Gramps to tear down the slums and put up a chain of fitness clubs and sports arenas in its place, ohWOW – but NOBODY CARES ABOUT HER so all those silly flashbacks of Poor Kiddie Karina getting bullied by the squatter kids don’t mean squat.

There’s a vague, pseudo-romantic subplot involving Karina and the two blokes, but whatever semblance of a love triangle is never explored beyond a few tepid exchanges in an empty locker room before a fight, or on the bridge above Master Danpei’s makeshift gym (I’m talking about the scene where UnLoverboy Joe shows Karina he’s got more affection for a little weed sprouting from a crack in the bridge, than he does for her, tsk tsk. big mistake to fall for… Horticulturist Joe, lol). Personally I would’ve been more invested in seeing Karina develop feelings for Rikiishi instead, because she and Iseya Yusuke seemed to have better chemistry, and because for once it would be nice if the Girl fell for the Rival and not the Hero. Aaand because I‘d be bored to tears if Karina ever ended up with YamaPi – it ain’t no fun if your boyfriend has exactly the same comatose facial expression as yours, whether you’re fighting or making up – or (shudder!) making out, lol.

Risin’ up straight to the top
Had the guts, got the glory
Went the distance
Now I’m not gonna stop
Just a man and his will to survive…

But before you write this movie off, look on the bright side – at least there’s the Obligatory Training Montage to pump a little juice into the lackluster storytelling. There’s a reason why even the suckiest of sports movies can become a shade enjoyable when they feature the Underdog Hero – and his Archnemesis too – in MTV-style training sequences set against cheesily inspirational ‘80s rock music. Joe and Rikiishi may not have had the advantage of a macho-mushy signature piece like John Cafferty’s “Hearts On Fire” (Rocky IV) or Joe Esposito’s “You’re the Best” (The Karate Kid) to power their workouts, but all the other staples are there: the jump rope drills! the one-finger pushups! the wheelbarrow pushups! the speed bag punching! the shadowboxing! the sparring! the jogging through wide open spaces! the inverted sit-ups! the body building! (lol)

The great thing about training montages is that the actors don’t need to act their faces off because the focus is on the intense physical activity, not the Oscar-worthiness of their performances. They don’t even have to stay in character; all they need to do is look fierce and determined and show off their unbelievably ripped (and usually ungarbed, teehee) physiques. And fierce, determined, and – oh yes – ripped are what YamaPi and Iseya Yusuke are in this film, attacking their punishing exercise routines with admirable zeal. Man oh man, there is not an inch of flab on these dude’s bodies; I wouldn’t be surprised if their combined body fat percentage amounted to… -6% or something, lol.

From my fangirl perspective, at least the gratuitous sprinkling of eye candy (or muscle candy? heh) takes some of the tedium off the two-hour film. My favorite shot of YamaPi is the one at 1:21:30 where he’s wearing an A-shirt while pumping sand-filled bottles in Danpei’s dinky little gym. Objectively speaking though, Iseya Yusuke has the nicer bod – he’s taller and better-proportioned (meaning the size ratio of his pecs to any other muscle group is less than 349:1 – unlike Mr. Mighty Chest here. lulz). I admire Iseya for really committing to the character, but it got a leeetle freaky watching Rikiishi push his sinewy self to the vein-popping (and eye-popping!) extremes of his rapid weight loss strategy, holing up in the gym’s boiler room and abstaining from water like a fakir possessed – just to make weight in time for F(r)ight Night with Joe Sixpack.

(For some reason, this reminded me of BTS clips of Hallyu king(pin) Bae Yong-joon (aka Yonsama) doing sweaty pushups in-between takes for his commemorative photobook The Image: Volume 1 back in 2004. Now the stuff inside that book is not for the fainthearted, especially the section aptly titled “Secret Hysteria,” where an uber-beefed-up Yonsama acts out his not-so-secret “Commando in a Jungle Prison” fantasies wearing nothing but torn denims, daubs of red clay, and his trademark Winter Sonata glasses (don’t ask). Here’s a picture from said photobook which I dedicated to Thundie at a K-drama forum back in our pre-blogging days, and another one which I posted to the same thread at the height of Korea’s mad-cow scare. We had a good barf – er, laugh over the Ramboesque images, never mind if we had to spritz our eyes with industrial-grade bleach afterwards. Good times, LOL. But imagine if YamaPi had gotten hold of this coffeetable monstrosity and decided to, uh, get the “Yonsama look” for his 2008 AnAn cover shoot? The horror! The horror! Hahahaha /end of pointless unearthing of bad memories)

Oh, and I almost forgot to mention that a special cast member, uh, unwittingly stole the spotlight from YamaPi a couple of times, beginning with this cameo at 1:09…

Hahahahahahahahahha. So the real and undisputed King of the Ring is… YamaPi’s Thing? LULZ. Here’s an encore appearance at Rikiishi and Joe’s pre-fight weigh-in:

Hahahahahahahahahaha!!! Yes, yes, I know what you’re thinking – (besides “Ugh, E.G. you lecherous troll!!!” *spits on ground* LOL) – What the FRAK, YamaPi??? Was it that cold on the movie set, or were you just, er, really really happy to be around other sweaty, shirtless dudes? (Eww. Lol)

Before I get pilloried for my lewd observations, let me defend myself by saying I did not I repeat DID NOT actively search for the offending appendage in every frame, as if the whole movie were a “Where’s Wally Weenie?” picture book. Was it my fault if Pi’s little friend, uh, popped out when I least expected it? Hahahahaha. Anyway, enough of that Weenie of Tomorrow talk. Let us purge the nasty imagery by singing the “Eye of the Tiger” chorus! All together now, with feeling!

It’s the eye of the tiger
It’s the thrill of the fight
Risin’ up to the challenge
Of our rival…

And the last known survivor
Stalks his prey in the night
And he’s watching us all with the
Eye of the tiger…

And speaking of songs, watch out for the Ashita no Joe closing credits, which have the perfect accompaniment in Utada Hikaru’s symphonic rock ballad “Show Me Love (Not a Dream)”. Despite what the song title suggests, there’s a lovely dreamlike quality to this black-and-white music video showing YamaPi and Iseya Yusuke sparring in slow-mo, their faces in shadow. The corded muscles of their arms and torsos are starkly outlined in the low-key lighting as the figthters trade jabs and left hooks – very stylistic and edgy. And leave it to Hikki to jack up the dramatic quotient with her soul-wrenching vocals – “It’s all in my heaaad (Can you show me love) / It’s all in my heaaad (Not a dream)”. It’s a real treat watching this sequence; verrrry noiiiiice indeed.

I won’t spoil the ending for you, in case you (1) never read the manga, or (2) were too lazy to Wiki the synopsis, haha. Let’s just say that Rikiishi and Joe’s epic re-match concludes with the best man winning… although this well-deserved victory comes with the ultimate price, tsk tsk. And as for the loser, he learns that there is honor even in defeat, especially if the fight has been fought hard, and fought well. (Both contenders also learn that drinking a little water never killed anyone, dagnabbit.) YamaPi also gets one last scene to prove his *ehem* drama-worthiness: set in the locker room  right after the bout, it’s a particularly heavy moment that would require any actor to dig deep into his psyche and draw out the complex emotions he needs to convey… But then this is YamaPi remember, so all he impresses on you in that Big Dramatic Scene is that when he cries, he looks like an effin’ panda – from the dark circles around his eyes (“Eye of the Panda”? lol). Although it was prolly all makeup anyway, hyukhyuk.

My 2010 self said this in my Boxer… Shorts post:

…what gives me a faint glimmer of hope is the trailer’s gritty, intense vibe… And the fact that Pi’s face in the final shot, as he delivers a ferocious left hook right into the camera, actually packs more emotion than his characters from his last three dramas ever did, heh heh heh.

Oh, 2010 E.G., what shimmery optimism you had back then, tsk tsk. Turns out, this is the only shot where YamaPi’s face registers any discernible emotion, ayayay!

Ashita no Joe shows us that even the classic underdog boxing tale, with its familiar premise and archetypes – the working-class hero with a troubled past; his eccentric, demanding trainer; the hero’s unbeaten rival; and the girl who comes between them – will still fail to go the distance if all it rides on is a Hero who’s actually more a Chump than a Champ, no thanks to a poorly developed script and a leading man who throws in the acting towel before the opening bell even sounds.

Oh looky – I also tried to recap the movie using YamaPi’s singles and albums:

• YamaPi and Iseya Yusuke’s ripped physiques: Supergood
• YamaPi’s acting: Superbad
• Ashita no Joe romance-o-meter: Loveless
• YamaPi’s unexpected weenie attack: One in a Million! (hahahaha)

(Sorry, but I didn’t know how to work in “Daite Señorita” and “Hadakanbo” – too hard, lol. Perhaps you’ll have better luck than I did. That’s all folks, see you in 2012!)

Grade, by unanimous decision (lol)
Artistic & technical merit: B-
Entertainment value: C+
Overall: B-

***
Photo credits: 8thsinfansubs.wordpress.com, asianmediawiki.com, jefusion.com, jfilmpowwow.blogspot.com, koleksiari.blogspot.com, mandugirl.blogspot.com, movielosophy.com, otakuhouse.com, twitchfilm.com

The Little Dorama Girl turned two a few days ago (um, yay), although I know that things have been a little quiet on the bloggy front the past year. To be honest I haven’t had much progress with my drama To-Watch and review To-Write lists due to (what else?) Real Life obligations. But I hope that my 22 regular readers (down 2 from 24, ohnoes!) find themselves in a forgiving mood as they read this. THANK YOU for continuing to patronize my daft fangirly drivel, really I mean it. I don’t know if you notice, but I totally feel yer lurrve each time you drop me a line! Your comments brighten up my day, and that’s a fact. =D (And – dammit lurkers, STOP HIDING IN KAMENASHI’S CLOSET! lol)

Graphics by jicks (sankyou jicks! words are not enough!!! gahahaha xD)

So I hope you’ll enjoy what I’ve cooked up for my Second Anniversary Offering. Then again, maybe you’ll read this and curse the day you chanced upon my site, hahaha. But it’s Johnnies who got me blogging, and by gum, it’s Johnnies who’ll KEEP me going. I owe their skinny, tinsel-clad heinies more than most people give them credit for, so this post is for them – and for you, if you can, uh, keep an open mind while reading. This is something I’ve never tried before, but DAYYUM I HAD FUN WRITING IT SO THERE!!!

xoxo Ender’s Girl

*cue fairytale-y music*

Hello, I’m Ender’s Girl. For centuries, storytellers have spun their tales of magic and enchantment for the young at heart. There’s something about fairy tales that feels so familiar and universal, regardless of culture or clime. Some of these tales are funny, some are scary, and some romantic. But whatever the setting, these classic stories never fail to enthrall and entertain us – whether in their original form, or as modern-day retellings given a feminist  twist, like Angela Carter’s “The Bloody Chamber,” or a satirical spin, like  James Finn Garner’s “Politically Correct Bedtime Stories.”

I’ve taken the liberty of adding my own voice to the growing potpourri of contemporary fairy tale adaptations. So sit back and relax, and enjoy my collection of familiar stories – like you’ve never known them before:

A poor aspiring performer learns that with patience, hard work and a little magic, musical dreams really do come true, in “Jinderella.” A wooden puppet who yearns to be a real boy sets out on the journey of his life, in “YamaPinocchio.” And a beautiful kabuki princess fleeing great danger crosses paths with five multi-talented, chain-smoking miners who may just change her life forever, in “Matsu and the Five SMAPs.”

***

(For Mil)

Once upon a time there lived an unhappy lad named Jin. His mother died when he was very young and shortly thereafter his merchant father, having fallen into hard times, was forced to sell the boy to a finishing school for aspiring pop idols, which was run by an evil old impresario named Johnny Kitagawa and his equally vile sister, Mary.

Now Johnny and Mary never liked Jin one little bit, for they could not bear the goodness of his heart and the pure head tones of his voice, which none of their pupils possessed. Of the boys at the idol factory, there was one who was especially nasty towards Jin. Kame his name was, a favorite of Johnny and Mary for he liked to suck up to the grownups and rat on his fellow idols-in-training. Nothing was too good for Kame – clothes, shoes, delicious food, soft beds, and every home comfort.

But, for the poor unhappy Jin, there was nothing at all. No nice clothes, only the other boys’ hand-me-downs. No lovely dishes, nothing but scraps. No rest and no comfort. Jin had to work hard all day, doing the meanest jobs in the school: he scoured the dishes and tables, and scrubbed Johnny and Mary’s bathrooms, and those of the pupils; he slept in a tiny garret, upon a wretched straw bed, while the other boys lay upon beds with the softest pillows, in fine rooms, with floors covered with beautiful carpets, and walls on which hung looking-glasses so large they might admire themselves from crimped head to pedicured foot.

Jin bore all patiently, and dared not complain. Only when evening came was he allowed to sit for a while by the fire, near the cinders and ashes. That’s why everybody – Kame most of all – called him ‘Jinderella’. However, Jinderella, even though he was dressed in rags, was a hundred times more comely and talented than the boys at the idol factory, though they would never admit it.

On some afternoons, Jinderella liked to spend a few precious minutes by the well outside the school, singing softly to himself:

“Some day, my big break will come
Some day Imma make it worldwide
And away to a concert stage I’ll go
To be happy forever I know

Some day when Christmas Day is here
And the bass goes ‘boom-boom’
Then the birds will sing
At my Yellow Gold bling
Some dayyy… when my drrrreeeams come trrrruue…”

For although he was never allowed to attend the voice and dance classes at the school (he was just a servant, after all), Jinderella inwardly longed to be a famous singer, and travel far and wide to wow the world with his voice, which he rather thought was pretty good, and his dancing skills, which he thought were more than adequate – and certainly better than the herky-jerky moves the other boys liked to practice all day long but with no discernible improvement.

“Some Day” was Jinderella’s little song to himself, the song that got him through each day and gave him hope that in spite of his wretched life there still was some good remaining in this world, and that if he wished hard enough, his secret dream of becoming a musical superstar would someday come true. So he would also sing it in the kitchen while making pies for dinner, because this was the time when nobody else was around, for the pupils were all busy in the studios rehearsing their godawful routines.

So pure and clear was Jinderella’s singing that random forest critters would come flying and scurrying in through the open window, drawn by the wonderful melodies from within. At the sound of his voice, chipmunks would claw their fur out in rapture, and birds would fly around in ecstasy and leave droppings all over the kitchen. And Jinderella would sweep the blood and fur and stools into the meat pies before baking them, for he did not want Johnny and Mary to know about his animal visitors; and besides, though he had a good heart, he wasn’t a saint.

The harder Jinderella worked without a word of complaint, the more the boys at the idol factory hated him. For Jinderella, even dressed in old rags, was a rangy and good-looking lad, while the other pupils, no matter how splendid and elegant their clothes, were still clumsy, bony and ugly and always would be. Kame was very mean to Jinderella, and loved to go out of his way to saddle the servant boy with extra chores while he sat in a corner and watched Jinderella with a strange gleam in his eye.

For nothing gave Kame as much pleasure as ordering Jinderella around. “Farm boy, polish my red stiletto boots. I want to see my face shining in them by morning,” he would say with an unpretty curl of his lip – even though Jin had been born in a city suburb and not on a farm. But instead of correcting Kame, Jinderella simply answered, “As you wish.” The next day Kame imperiously beckoned Jin into his ornate bathroom. “Farm boy, fill my bathtub with warm water,” he ordered, slowly (and seductively) stripping out of his neon pink leotards. Jinderella blinked but said nothing except – “As you wish.”

And the day after that, while Jinderella was sweeping the hallway, he heard Kame’s voice calling to him from inside his boudoir, and seeing that the door was slightly ajar, he knocked discreetly and entered. A jug of soymilk had been spilled on the floor beside Kame’s bed. “Farm boy, I… um, accidentally tipped my milk over,” Kame said lamely, while reclining on his satin sheets and fingering a purple feather boa which was twined (rather strategically) around his fishnet tights. Jinderella lowered his eyes and dutifully proceeded to mop up the mess. “As you wish” – was all he ever said to Kame.

Then one day, word arrived that a U.S. recording company was in town to hold auditions for “the next international pop idol.” Johnny and Mary wasted no time in ordering extra rehearsal hours for their best wards, and threatened the boys with everything from castration to tarring if they failed to impress the judges at auditions. At night, the evil impresario and his sister dreamed greedy little dreams of fat recording contracts and mountains of ka-ching, while the boys at the idol factory dreamed sweaty little nightmares of castration and tarring. Except for Kame, who dreamed only of Jin.

The auditions were but a week away and the finishing school was a chaotic blur of discarded ribbons, fought-over scraps of chiffon, curling irons, false eyelashes, and other unmentionables. Jinderella didn’t even dare ask if he could go too. He knew very well what Johnny’s answer would be: “You? You’re staying at home to wash the dishes, scrub the floors and turn down the beds for the boys, for they will come home tired and very sleepy.” So Jinderella sighed and washed and ironed the aspiring idols’ clothes and got all their knickknacks and makeup kits ready. Meanwhile, the boys talked all day long of nothing but who they thought stood the best chance of passing the auditions.

“Of course I shall get picked,” Kame told the rest loudly. “My natural talent will shine through. Farm boy, would you not be glad to go with us to the tryouts?”

“Alas!” said Jinderella, “you only jeer me; it is not for a poor servant like me to go to such an affair.”

“You’re quite right,” sneered Kame; “it would make the people laugh to see a scullery boy there.” And the other boys tittered meanly while Jinderella said nothing and continued to polish their boots and primp their luridly dyed hair with bobby pins and hairspray.

Then the time came for the aspiring idols to leave for the auditions, and as they flounced out the door Jinderella followed them with longing in his eyes, and when he had lost sight of them, he fell a-crying as though his heart would break. Then he went and sat by the cold fireplace to nurse his pain and smoke a reefer he had pilfered from Johnny’s gilded Fabergé case.

Suddenly something amazing happened. There was a burst of light and a fairy magically appeared before the despondent lad. “Don’t be alarmed, Jinderella,” said the fairy. “I’m very, very real. You aren’t high… at least not yet. But I know you would love to go to the auditions, wouldn’t you?” Jinderella could but nod mutely. “And so you shall!” the fairy declared. “How can I, dressed in rags?” Jinderella blubbered. “The bouncers will turn me away!”

The fairy smiled. For her real name was BoA and she was really a famous Kpop superstar in disguise. She had been following Jinderella and seen his good heart, great talent and… big feet, and wished to help him find his dream. With a flick of BoA’s magic wand Jinderella found himself wearing the most striking outfit he had ever seen: an oversized black-and-white bomber jacket decorated with large sequined flower patches; baggy acid-washed jeans with five gaping holes; and a black fedora that strategically hid most of his face. And bling. Tons of bling. Lastly, the fairy BoA touched Jin’s tatty socks with her wand and in their place there materialized a sturdy pair of army boots made of fiberglass. They didn’t seem very comfortable but they did look incredibly cool.

“Now for your riiiide,” sang the fairy BoA. “A real pop star would never go to an event on foot! Quick! Get me a pumpkin and seven mice!” “Oh of course,” said Jinderella, bobbing his head and dashing away. All he could find was a half-eaten (by him) turnip and six anemic lizards, but the fairy did not seem to mind. With a flick of BoA’s magic sparkler the turnip turned into a fully tricked-out black Cadillac Escalade, and the lizards became five gum-popping backup dancers cum posse members, while the sixth lizard grew into a chauffeur in a smart uniform. Jinderella could hardly believe his eyes. “I’m finally living my dream! This is the sh*t! That’s gonna be banana!!!”

“No, this is just the beginning, Jinderella,” Boa the fairy told him with a smile. “But remember! You must leave at midnight. That is when my spell ends. Your ride will turn back into a pumpkin – er, turnip, and your posse will become lizards again. You will be dressed in rags and wearing smelly socks instead of these uber-cool limited-edition fiberglass boots! Do you understand?” Jinderella happily replied, “Yes, I understand!”

Jinderella’s arrival at the theater where auditions were being held set everyone a-buzzing about the mystery guy whom nobody could recognize (for Jin’s fedora was pulled low over his face), but who walked and popped poses like a bona fide pop star. “Is he from SMAP?” the other boys whispered, enviously eyeing Jinderella’s platinum-and-diamond chain necklaces and shiny fiberglass boots. “2PM?” “Tohoshinki?” “Backstreet Boys?” “Aaron Carter?” “Maybe he’s one of those Super Junior guys, who flew over to help judge the auditions,” the others said.

Kame, who was doing breathing exercises to “find his center” in a backstage wing, took one look at Jinderella-in-disguise and sniffed, “I’ll say he’s all hype and no talent. Wait till we hear him sing – or try to sing. The judges will have him out on the street in no time.”

When the day deepened to evening and all the boys had finished auditions before a panel of bored-looking judges, it was finally Jinderella’s turn on the stage. “What is your name and what are you singing for your audition piece, son?” Asked the head judge, eyeing Jinderella’s tacky flower patches with mild interest. “My name is Ji – ah – I mean my name is… is… Aquaneesha!” Jinderella stammered , remembering that by no means must he let anyone know who he really was. “And, uh, I would like to perform a song I wrote myself… called, uh, ‘Bandage,’” he finished.

The head judge cocked a brow. “An original composition? How quaint,” he said while the other judges yawned. “Off you go, then.”

So Jinderella opened his mouth and began to sing. It was a poetic ballad about “sorrow soaring in the sky” and “the sun that shines coldly, hard and soft / like a machine, like love.” Jinderella dug deep and held nothing back, his clear, round falsetto soaring effortlessly over the notes and evoking wonder and mystery and rainbows and “a love like the sea of Chaos / where waves always rise at any time,” so that by the end of the song the judges were moved to tears at the sheer beauty and power of his voice.

“Bravo!!!” they cried, rising to their feet and sobbing. “Bravo!!! You are IT!!! You can ACTUALLY SING!!!”

Jinderella was amazed that the judges would receive his audition piece so well, and he bowed low and thanked them profusely. But just as the judges were clambering up the stage to cart Jinderella off to the recording studio, the clock struck midnight! Jinderella remembered what the fairy had said, and spun away in horror. “Wait! Don’t go, Aquaneesha!” shouted the head judge, who also happened to be the president of Warner Music Japan, and who was desperate to make Jinderella an offer he couldn’t refuse.

Without another word Jinderella slipped from the Warner Music president’s grasp and made for the wings as fast as his fiberglass-shod feet could take him. But Jinderella did not see Kame waiting spitefully behind the curtain with his shoe stuck out just as the boy hurtled past. Jinderella stumbled and fell, and in doing so one fiberglass boot slipped off his foot, but not for a moment did he dream of stopping to pick it up! If the last stroke of midnight were to sound… oh… what a disaster that would be! Out he fled and vanished into the night. By the time Jinderella reached the idol factory, his black SUV had turned back into a moldy turnip, and his gum-popping posse were but lizards once more.

The Warner Music president, who was determined to sign Aquaneesha to his roster of “international talents,” found the fiberglass boot backstage and called his suit-wearing flunkies over, “Let us go and search everywhere for the singer whose foot this boot fits. I will never be content until I find him!” So the record executives tried the boot on the foot of every aspiring idol in the land until only Johnny and Mary’s finishing school was left.

The other boys at the school eagerly tried on the unusually large shoe, but none of them could convince the record label executives that it was theirs. “Is there nobody else left in this place?” demanded the Warner Music president, looking around. Mustering his last ounce of courage, Jinderella shyly stepped out of the scullery to which he had been banished.

“That ugly and talentless scullery boy simply could not have been at the auditions,” snapped Johnny the evil impresario, while his equally vile sister Mary turned up her nose and nodded. “Don’t bother with the servant, for that is all he is,” Johnny continued. “All you Warner Music people have to do is choose from our wonderful array of multi-talented pupils! So which one will it be?” At which Kame loudly cleared his throat and self-consciously patted his artfully done coiffure.

“We believe in equal opportunity,” replied the Warner Music president evenly, and beckoned Jinderella forward. “Try it on, lad,” he said kindly. Jinderella slipped his rather large foot into the shoe, and to everyone’s amazement, the fiberglass boot fitted perfectly.

“Aquaneesha!!!” the record execs cried, much to the confusion of Johnny and Mary and all the idol wannabes, who only now were putting two and two together, seeing that the mystery singer at the auditions was indeed their scullery boy, Jinderella.

Then Jinderella pulled the other boot from under his roomy apron, and put it on his right foot. Suddenly the fairy BoA appeared and waved her magic wand. In a flash, Jinderella was arrayed in his complete outfit from the previous night, shining with youth and beauty and all that bling. Johnny, Mary and the idols-in-training cried out in astonishment and the Warner Music president said, “Come with us Jinderella! A fat and juicy recording contract awaits you. You shall be a star on the world stage!”

“And we won’t even have to AutoTune you!” piped in another Warner executive.

Jinderella thought fast. If these suits wanted him this bad, then a little negotiating wouldn’t hurt. “I wanna be an actor too,” he said. “I wanna make it in Hollywood. I wanna make it worldwide.”

The record execs looked at each other. “Ye-esss, I believe that can be arranged,” said the Warner Music president. “If you come with us, we’ll hook you up with a Hollywood agent. Maybe get you a part in the new samurai movie with that Klaatu fella, er…”

“Keanu Reeves?” another suit supplied helpfully.

“Yes, him!” said the president. “How’d you like to star with Keanu? All you gotta do is wave a sword around and say ‘banzai!’ The movie audiences will love you!”

“That’s gonna be banana!” Jinderella exclaimed.

“Actually it’s ‘bananas,’ plural. ‘That’s gonna be bananas.’ But no worries, that can be remedied with English tutorials,” the Warner Music president said. “We’ll give you a complete makeover, the works. Feed you good, too,” he promised, eyeing Jinderella’s overworked, skinny frame. “Come with us and you’ll never go hungry again.”

“That’s the sh*t!!!” Jinderella said. “Let’s shake on it!” said the Warner Music president.

So Jinderella went with the record label executives, happy to finally be leaving the finishing school which had been, for so long, his place of torment, his home and his hell. The other boys watched him go through the windows of the idol factory, resentful and envious of Jinderella’s unbelievably good fortune. Defeated, Johnny the evil old impresario and Mary his equally vile sister turned their rage on the less talented boys at the school, who were promptly demoted from their trainee status and made to scrub the floors and cook their meals and live in the tiny garret that had once been Jinderella’s room.

Whether or not they eventually graduated to become legit (or semi-legit) pop stars, the boys at Johnny’s idol factory never forgot Jinderella and his fiberglass combat boots – most of all Kame, who would shed bitter tears in private just thinking of the lonely nights that lay ahead, nights when he could no longer watch Jinderella go about his boudoir, silently obeying his every twisted whim.

One year later, international pop sensation, rapper extraordinaire and newly minted Hollywood actor Aquaneesha flew into town for a one-night-only sellout concert at the Tokyo Dome. Of all the immensely well-received songs on his repertoire, it was the beautiful piano-powered ballad “Eternal” that moved the crowds the most. For it seemed as though he were singing it for one particular person, and those who heard the song felt that the lyrics – “If I can have my wish granted / May I have a spell cast / So that you will never shed tears of sadness again…” – spoke deeply of someone whom Aquaneesha had known in the past, but had since left behind.

Kame watched the Aquaneesha concert from the darkness of his theater box (the one reserved for local celebrities, for he had by now achieved some measure of success as a pop tart, although he mostly did the rounds of country fairs and backwater circuses), and he wondered in his vain little heart if he was indeed the person that Aquaneesha – Jinderella – Jin – was singing about, and if this meant that there was hope he and Jin could still be… friends in spite of everything, in spite of the beastly way he had treated Jin. But of that he could never really be sure.

The End

The Meta:

I’d say the “Jinderella” fairy tale is the one that most mirrors reality among the stories featured in this collection. Jpop fans know Jin’s own Cinderella story too well: Bakanishi yearns for his big break, then leaves his old life *coughKamecough* behind when Warner Music signs him up for an international recording deal… it does seem the stuff of fairy tales, does it not?

(Related posts: Anatomy of a J-Pop Breakup ; To the Faithless Departed ; Tuesdays with Mori)

I tweaked the lyrics of “Someday My Prince Will Come” (from Disney’s Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs – wrong fairy tale, I know) to include some of the familiar Jin tropes – e.g. Yellow Gold, “bass go boom,” “Imma make it worldwide.” I also apologize to fans of the 1987 Rob Reiner fantasy classic The Princess Bride for co-opting the iconic “Farm boy…” / “As you wish…” exchange between Buttercup and Westley. I know that making Kame do a Buttercup was pretty heinous of me, but I kept getting flashes of Kame delivering those lines in his neon pink leotards and seriously, how could I NOT write that in.

Lastly, I cast Kpop superstar BoA in the role of the fairy because of her well-documented flirty/snarky Twitter exchanges with Bakanishi in April and June of this year. (And yes, TwitterKing Jin reportedly DID at one time tweet, “that’s gonna be banana!” Hahahaha.)

***

(For Jenny and ockoala – who love YamaPi just the way he is)

Once upon a time, there was a carpenter who picked up a strange lump of pinewood one day while mending a table. When he began to chip it, the wood began to moan. This frightened the carpenter and he decided to get rid of it at once, so he gave it to a cobbler friend called Johnnypetto, who wanted to make himself a puppet. Johnnypetto took his lump of wood home, thinking of the name he would give his puppet.

“I’ll call him YamaPinocchio,” he told himself. “For he will bring me good luck.” Back in his dingy basement workshop, Johnypetto started to carve the wood. Suddenly a voice squealed:

“Ite! That hurt!” Johnnypetto was astonished to find that the wood was alive! Excitedly he carved a head and a pair of dead-fish eyes, which immediately stared right at the cobbler. But the second Johnnypetto carved out the nose, it grew longer and longer, and no matter how often the cobbler cut it down to size, it just stayed a long nose. The newly cut mouth began to chuckle and when Johnnypetto angrily told it to stop, the puppet stuck out its raspy tongue at him. That was nothing, however! When the cobbler shaped the hands, they snatched the good man’s wig, and the newly carved legs gave him a hearty kick in the nuts. Johnnypetto doubled over in pain, screaming expletives at the puppet.

“You $%@(*&^ naughty thing! I haven’t even finished making you, yet you’ve no respect for your maker! I’ll teach you who’s master!!!” Then he picked up the puppet and was about to hurl it into the fire when it spoke again. “Please don’t hurt me,” it pleaded. “I – I just wanna be a real boy.” Johnnypetto blinked and dropped the puppet on the floor. So it could think. And speak. And, apparently, inflict great pain on his privates. But could it feel real human emotions besides mischief and fear? He gazed at YamaPinocchio thoughtfully. It was such a novel thing, to have a talking, animated puppet, one that could be trained to be useful around the house, and it would be a pity to see him end up as common firewood.

“All right, YamaPinocchio,” Johnnypetto said after a moment. “I won’t throw you into the fire even though you deserved it. But I expect you to help me with chores, and you must do whatever else I command you,” he added sternly. “Then, will I become a real boy?” asked YamaPinocchio, his dead-fish eyes shining with hope. “Of course,” answered Johnnypetto confidently, though in truth he had no inkling how that could ever be possible. “Just do as I say and you will one day be a real, live, flesh-and-blood boy.”

So YamaPinocchio dutifully did everything that his old master commanded – hauling and chopping firewood, carrying water from the nearby well, cooking and cleaning, going to market, and repairing random things around the house. He did all this because he believed it would turn him into a real boy someday.

In the evenings Johnnypetto liked to dress YamaPinocchio in various costumes he fished out of a rusty chest, and he would make the puppet tapdance in front of the fire while he played tune after bawdy tune on his battered fiddle. Johnnypetto’s chest seemed an inexhaustible trove of outfits, some stranger than the others: on some evenings YamaPinocchio would be made to wear a sailor boy uniform with white trousers and a navy blue cap; on other evenings the ensemble would consist of ruffled petticoats with satin bows and ribbons. But YamaPinocchio never complained as he dressed up each night and stamped, click-clacked and shimmied all over the living room floor until the room spun from Johnnypetto’s relentless fiddling and he fell down, exhausted, and did not get up till the following morning.

YamaPinocchio would often wonder why he had not yet turned into a real boy as Johnypetto had promised. His limbs were still wooden, and each time that he anxiously gazed in the mirror – which was quite often – he looked no different from the day he was carved. At night, after his master had bolted the door and gone off to bed, YamaPinocchio would creep to the windowsill and gaze at the stars. Something stirred deep within him, that indescribable longing to be human. Somewhere nearby he could hear a cricket chirping. It was the last sound he heard each night before he slept.

One afternoon, Johnypetto brought home two people YamaPinocchio had never seen before. One was a squinty-eyed and rather greasy fellow who carried a strange black object that had a round nozzle attached to a flashbulb. The other person was a pretty girl around his size. She was chewing gum and looked very bored. Johnnypetto waved YamaPinocchio over: “This nice young lady’s name is An-An, and she’s a fashion model,” he told the puppet. “And the fine gentleman here is a photographer and he’ll be taking pictures of you both.”

“Yes, Johnnypetto,” said YamaPinocchio.

“That’s my boy!” the cobbler said heartily. The girl just stared at YamaPinocchio, cracking her gum. She turned to the photographer, who was eyeing YamaPinocchio speculatively. “He’s weird,” she said.

“Now, now, let’s not go labeling people, luv,” Johnnypetto replied smoothly. “Shall we begin the pictorial?” He cleared his throat meaningfully and the photographer discreetly slipped a drawstring purse into the cobbler’s pocket. Though small, it was heavy and clinked with coins.

Johnnypetto made YamaPinocchio and An-An shed most of their clothing and do various poses for photographer. They went from room to room, with the photographer clicking away as he directed YamaPinocchio and An-An where to stand and sit and hold each other and look into the lens. The strange incessant flashing of the camera bulb frightened YamaPinocchio, but he did not want to upset Johnnypetto by refusing to do the pictorial.

Then the photographer herded YamaPinocchio and An-An into the bathroom and instructed them to disrobe completely. The girl obeyed mechanically, as if this were something she was quite used to doing. But YamaPinocchio was feeling very, very unhappy. He could not understand why Johnnypetto and the photographer were making him do this, but he knew that it was wrong. The photographer turned the shower knob and as the camera kept clicking and flashing, YamaPinocchio could feel the water droplets drenching his wooden body. He closed his eyes to drown out the misery. If he were a real boy he’d be crying by now, but no tears rolled down his wooden cheeks, because he was not a real boy, just a wooden puppet.

YamaPinocchio searched for Johnnypetto and saw him by the bathroom door, greedily counting his gold. Then YamaPinocchio realized that he could no longer stay in this house and keep doing the things – the nasty, awful things – that his master made him do. He pushed past An-An and the astonished photographer and skidded across the slippery bathroom floor and out the door, knocking Johnnypetto down in the process.

“Where do you think you’re going, you bloody fool!!!” roared Johnnypetto, his gold coins scattering all over the wet tiles. He made a grab for YamaPinocchio’s arm but the puppet was too fast for him. YamaPinocchio was almost at the door when he realized that he had no clothes on! He ran back to Johnnypetto’s old costume chest by the fireplace, hurriedly opened the lid and fished out the first outfit he could find: it consisted of a large blue bib-like bowtie, dark trousers with red suspenders, and an orange cap with a red feather.

YamaPinocchio looked back and saw Johnnypetto barreling towards him, his face a bright purply pink. Thinking fast, the puppet kicked the heavy iron chest in his master’s direction and Johnnypetto tripped over it, screaming foul curses at his ward. YamaPinocchio dashed out the door, the clothes bunched under his arm, and ran away from the cottage as fast as his sturdy wooden legs could take him.

YamaPinocchio ran and ran and ran, passing fields and farmhouses, and pausing only to put on his clothes when his wooden body had dried off from the shower. He did not know where he was, but all he wanted was to get as far away as possible from his old master and his old life.

Evening fell and YamaPinocchio, exhausted from running, found a ditch by the woods where he could hide and pass the night. He lay in the ditch staring at the pale yellow moon which shone through the brambles that grew over the ditch. A single star twinkled just outside the moon’s hazy nimbus, while the wind whipped and howled through the bare branches of the trees. YamaPinocchio shivered. He had never felt so alone in his whole life.

Suddenly, he could hear a faint voice singing in the darkness. The voice grew steadily louder but YamaPinocchio could not make out the form of the singer – and yet the words of the song moved him and filled him with hope and courage. The voice went on singing:

“When you wish upon a star, makes no difference who you are
Anything your heart desires will come to you
If your hearts is in your dream, no request is too extreme
When you wish upon a star as dreamers do…”

Out of the night air, a shimmery ball of blue light started forming. The light hovered above the bramble patch and alighted on the sodden turf by the ditch. YamaPinocchio almost cried out in fear but he realized that the lovely song he was hearing was actually coming from the blue light. The light grew and grew, enveloping the ditch in the same radiance, but taking on a more solid form as the song ended. A fairy stepped out of the light and knelt down beside the ditch where YamaPinocchio lay trembling. She was very beautiful and wore a blue gauzy gown and matching headband that sat prettily on her short dark hair.

“Hello YamaPinocchio, I am the Blue Maki,” said the fairy in a soft, musical voice. “Speak your heart’s desire, dear one.”

YamaPinocchio slowly sat up and crept forward in wonder. “I – I – just… want to be a real boy,” he whispered.

The Blue Maki smiled and laid a creamy hand on YamaPinocchio’s disheveled cap. “I can turn you into a real boy, but you must first prove yourself worthy. Before that time comes, you shall remain a wooden puppet.”

“Then what must I do?” YamaPinocchio pleaded.

“Prove yourself brave, truthful, and unselfish, and someday, you will be a real boy,” answered the Blue Maki. “But do not worry, for I will leave someone who can be your guide and your friend, if you will let him.” She whistled a few more lovely notes until a small creature jumped down from a nearby branch. It was a cricket, but dressed rather oddly, with a miniature bowler hat and black jacket, and carrying a tiny pink umbrella. “This is Kamenashi Cricket, and he will accompany you on the road, YamaPinocchio,” said the Blue Maki.

Kamenashi Cricket swept the bowler hat off his head and bowed low before YamaPinocchio. “Ohayo amigo,” the cricket chirped, winking good-naturedly at the puppet.

“O… hayo…” YamaPinocchio responded, looking askance at the cricket. For some reason the creature annoyed him very much, but he dared not voice this to the fairy.

Smiling, the Blue Maki leaned down and breathed a kiss on the puppet’s wooden brow. She smelled of lavender and citrus and rainbows. “Now remember, YamaPinocchio: be a good boy,” she told him. “And always let your conscience be your guide.” (At which the cricket gave a small, self-important cough that ticked YamaPinocchio off even more.) Then the fairy was gone in a burst of blue starlight.

Kamenashi Cricket hopped down from the branch where he was perched. “Well, that’s that,” he said brightly. “Go rest now amigo, for tomorrow will be a busy day for sure.”

Early the next morning, an incessant buzzing sound in YamaPinocchio’s ear jolted him from his deep sleep. It was Kamenashi Cricket, holding a leaf that he had furled into a cone and was using as a makeshift loudspeaker. “Tiiiime to waaaake up, amiiiigo!” the cricket trilled.

“It isn’t even daybreak yet,” YamaPinocchio grumbled. “Lemme sleep s’more…” But the cricket was very insistent. “We have much traveling to do, if you’re to find the secret to becoming a REAL BOY! With a REAL FACE!!!” Then he started singing loudly, “Girigiri de itsumo ikite itai karaaa / A-aaah, koko wo ima tobidashite ikou ze…”

YamaPinocchio swatted the side of his head but the cricket nimbly skittered out of reach. “Don’t ever wake me up this way again,” said the puppet crossly, sitting up. “I don’t care if the Blue Maki sent you to help me. I don’t need your help, so go away and leave me be.”

The puppet jumped to his feet and clambered out of the ditch, leaving Kamenashi Cricket behind. “Wait for me, amigo!” the cricket chirped, still trying to crawl its way to the top of the furrow. But YamaPinocchio was already skipping down the road, laughing nastily. “I’m NOT your amigo. So long, ya stupid little bug!”

It was noon when YamaPinocchio arrived at a fork in the road. As he stood there contemplating which way to go, the puppet failed to notice a tall, lean fox and a squat mutant cat strolling down the road some two dozen paces behind him. As soon as they caught sight of YamaPinocchio, the duo stopped in their tracks, staring hard at the puppet.

“Look Teggy, look, it’s amazing!” whispered the fox to the cat. “A live puppet without strings! A thing like that ought to be worth a fortune to someone. Now let me see… that’s it! Stromboli! Why that old bastard would give anything for this. Listen, if we play our cards right we’ll be on easy street or my name isn’t Honest Ryo.” To which the mutant cat grinned stupidly and hiccupped.

The fox and the cat approached YamaPinocchio, who was still standing at the juncture. “Well, well, what do we have here, Teggy,” said the fox loudly to the cat, feigning surprise. “A wooden puppet without any strings? How terribly fascinating!”  YamaPinocchio turned to look at his fellow travelers. They made an odd pair: the fox was wearing a blue cloak and a bowler hat; he had a sallow complexion and droopy eyelids, suggesting a variety of questionable health conditions ranging from plain nutrient deficiency to jaundice to ptosis. The cat, upon closer inspection, looked very strange indeed, for it actually had two heads – one head seemed normal enough, but the other sported curly orange hair and was gawking at YamaPinocchio with round empty eyes and a mouth that never closed, that the puppet felt the sudden urge to kick it right in the face. But he remembered the Blue Maki’s admonition to be a good boy, and made the effort to do nothing rash – for now.

The fox stuck out a well-groomed paw and shook YamaPinocchio’s hand. “The name’s R. Nishikido Foulfellow, but do call me ‘Honest Ryo,’ for that’s what I am. And this here’s my feline associate, TegoMass. Our work is in… um, procurements.” The fox winked lazily at the cat, who tittered and hiccupped on cue (at least the normal-looking head did; the other head just stared uncomprehendingly at YamaPinocchio with that mouth that never closed).

“I am YamaPinocchio and I want to be a real live boy,” answered the puppet.

Honest Ryo threw the cat another sidelong look. “Hear that, Teggy? The puppet here wants to be a real, live, BOY. And I think I may have the remedy for that,” said the fox to YamaPinocchio.

“Oh do you really, Honest Ryo, do you really?” cried the puppet in amazement. “The Blue Maki told me last night that if I am brave, truthful and unselfish, then I will become a real boy.” With a stab of guilt YamaPinocchio remembered how he had left Kamenashi Cricket behind in the ditch, but Honest Ryo’s smooth, silky voice cut into his troubled thoughts.

“Perhaps the Blue Whatsis – er, your friend was right, but she obviously hasn’t heard of the easier road to success – and apparently, neither have you.” The fox looped a furry forelimb through YamaPinocchio’s wooden arm and led him down the left branch of the road, with the mutant cat ambling after them. “There’s only one place where all dreams come true, YamaPinocchio. And that place is… Pleasure Island!”

“Pleasure Island?” asked the puppet.

“That’s right! The happy land of real, live, carefree boys, where everyday’s a holiday! Come with us, and we’ll make sure you find your heart’s desire – and much, much more! Bright lights, music, applause. Fame! But let us hurry, for the last ferry departs at sunset!”

So YamaPinocchio happily went with Honest Ryo and TegoMass. The fox taught him this merry song called “Hoshi wo Mezashite,” about “aiming for the stars” and “taking one step at a time.” In their enjoyment, neither the puppet nor his new friends noticed the tiny cricket with a miniature bowler hat and pink umbrella huffing and puffing down the road some distance behind them. The insect looked mad enough to slay a rhino.

By late afternoon, the road had narrowed to a footpath that snaked through a low-lying stretch of scrubland, opening into a seaside hamlet that had clearly seen better times. YamaPinocchio, Honest Ryo and TegoMass walked past crude wooden houses and shops crammed cheek-by-jowl along muddy alleys swimming in refuse. Hollow-eyed faces peered at them from behind the dark windows. The place reeked of raw fish and a dozen unpleasant things.

At the far end of the village was a ramshackle wooden pier to which a ferryboat was moored. The words “Pleasure Island: Free rydz b/w 3-6 pm” were painted on the starboard side in large, uneven letters.

“Here we are, YamaPinocchio, our ride to Pleasure Island!” announced Honest Ryo. The fox produced two copper coins from his pocket and gave them to the one-eyed sailor manning the gangplank. “One for me and Teggy,” Honest Ryo said. “And I believe this puppet here gets a free ride, since it is, after all, his first time and he is very, very excited to be going to Pleasure Island, after all… Wouldn’t you agree, matey?” the fox asked the sailor pointedly. “Aaarrr, me hearties!” growled the grizzled tar, waving them through with a leer.

Inside the boat were a great many boys of all shapes and sizes, all eager to set off for Pleasure Island and the many delights it promised. Free popcorn and cotton candy were being passed around by scruffy deckhands. YamaPinocchio found himself on a wooden bench, wedged between Honest Ryo and another runaway boy named Koyama. The boy had a thin, hungry face and liked to talk about himself in the third person for the duration of the trip.

Again, nobody seemed to notice the cricket that had managed to latch on to the gunwale of the ferry just before it pushed off. The little stowaway was now clinging desperately but determinedly to the rotting wood amid the tangle of barnacles and seaweed, counting the myriad ways he’d like to teach his wooden ward a lesson for (literally) ditching him that morning.

It was evening when the ferryboat docked at Pleasure Island. As soon as YamaPinocchio disembarked with his two animal companions, his senses were assailed by the sights, sounds and smells of the crowded fairgrounds. With Honest Ryo and TegoMass nudging him this way and there, the puppet ran from tent to tent, hoping to sample all the pleasures of the place. And what a place it was! Each tent had its own attraction to show off – there were Siamese twins and snake charmers, hairy hobgoblins and hermaphrodites, maid cafes and microcephalics… and oh, more of that wonderful, free-flowing popcorn and cotton candy everywhere he looked! YamaPinocchio was too busy stuffing his face and enjoying the sideshows that he forgot all about the Blue Maki and his quest to become a real boy.

The puppet followed the fox and the mutant cat into a large square, full of people standing in front of a little wooden stage painted in garish neon colors. A stained crimson curtain hung before the stage while a four-piece brass band played on in the tiny orchestra pit. On the stage outside the curtain, a frenetic boxing match between two gaudily dressed midgets was taking place before the claps and jeers of the spectators. This little freak show seemed to be the front act to the main event – whatever that was.

“What is this place?” YamaPinocchio wondered aloud.

Honest Ryo replied, “Read the sign and you’ll know.”

“But I can’t read, I’ve never been to school.”

“Oh really? Then I shall read it to you. This place is the Master Showman’s Great Marionette Theater – The Never Ending Wonderful Show.” The fox steered YamaPinocchio away from the throng and towards a side door behind the stage. “Let’s go take a look, shall we? It will be nice to see other boys of your… own kind.”

Then YamaPinocchio remembered that he had come to Pleasure Island to find the cure to his wooden condition, not fraternize with other puppets. “But I don’t want to be a puppet anymore,” he protested as Honest Ryo and TegoMass pushed him inside the door. “Honest Ryo, but you promised to help me become a real boy.”

The puppet turned to leave, but it was too late! Quick as a flash, the fox snaked a forelimb around the puppet’s neck and held him firmly in place, while the two-headed cat pounced on YamaPinocchio’s feet, pinning him effectively to the floor of the fusty backstage room. “Now, now,” said Honest Ryo in that lazy voice of his, his skin looking more jaundiced than ever. “It’s too late to escape, little one. Or Stromboli won’t like it one bit.”

“W—who’s Stromboli?” asked YamaPinocchio, feeling a rush of dread at the sound of the name.

Just then, in strode Stromboli the Master Showman, a frightful-looking man with fierce bloodshot eyes. His beard was as black as pitch, and so long that it reached from his chin down past his huge paunch. His mouth was as wide as an oven, his teeth like yellow fangs, and his eyes, two glowing red coals. In his huge, hairy hands, a long whip, made of green snakes and black cats’ tails twisted together, swished through the air in a dangerous way.

“And what’s this?” the puppet-master sneered, jerking YamaPinocchio up by his red suspenders and giving the puppet a mean shake.

“Put me down!” howled YamaPinocchio wretchedly.

“Insolent little toothpick! Puppets that can’t show no respect will make a fine fire for my spit.”

Honest Ryo smoothly stepped in with an ingratiating bow. “Oh, but our puppet friend YamaPinocchio is far more useful on the stage than in your fire,” said the fox unctuously. Purring, TegoMass the cat rubbed its flank coaxingly against Stromboli’s filthy boots. “See? No strings,” the fox continued. “You don’t need no strings to make him move. He’s a special one, he is.”

“No strings, eh?” Stromboli released YamaPinocchio and the puppet dropped painfully to the dirt floor. The puppet-master rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Well, well, well. A marionette like this will be very good for business, very good indeed.”

Honest Ryo stepped closer, rubbing his paws together. “Then do we have ourselves a deal? That’ll be eighty gold coins for the talking puppet.”

“Thirty!” countered Stromboli. TegoMass the cat hissed in disapproval.

“All right, fifty,” said the fox.

“Done!” the puppet-master boomed. The flickering flames in the nearby fireplace cast grotesque shadows on the wall as Stromboli and Honest Ryo quickly settled the deal, chuckling evilly. YamaPinocchio could hear the clamorous buzz of the crowds outside the theater as the brass band kept blaring in the background. The midget show must be over now, he thought.

Stromboli reached down and seized YamaPinocchio by his suspenders. The puppet struggled feebly but was no match for the fearsome showman. Over Stromboli’s shoulder YamaPinocchio could see the two tricksters waving goodbye at him, nasty grins on their faces. “Well then, we’d best get going now. It was oh-so terribly nice traveling with you,” the fox called out in mock sincerity. “Nyaa!” said the mutant cat.

Behind the curtain, YamaPinocchio could see a row of other wooden puppets sitting limply on the stage with strings attached to their wrists, heads, knees and ankles. The midget boxers were gone and the outdoor theater swarmed with boys and girls of all shapes and sizes, wriggling and stomping about in impatience to see the marionettes dance.

Stromboli stepped onstage and in a loud, pompous voice made the following announcement:

“Most honored friends, Gentlemen and Ladies! Your humble servant, I, Stromboli the Master Showman of this theater, am proud to present before you tonight a most unusual kind of puppet, the only one of its kind…the only puppet who can sing and dance without the aid of strings!!! And he will sing and dance for you tonight, as he will do every single night that we will be in town, as well as every single night that we will be touring and performing before the kings and queens and emperors of all the great courts of the world.”

The speech was greeted by much whistling and applause. Stromboli shoved YamaPinocchio towards the front of the stage, but not before whispering dire threats in the puppet’s ear about what awaited him if he did not do as he was told. The Master Showman bowed with a flourish, his heavy black beard sweeping the floor. “Presenting the new star of our Never Ending Wonderful Show, a one-of-a-kind addition to my collection of dancing NEWS boys… I give you, YamaPinocchio!”

At the crack of the puppet-master’s whip, the brass band resumed playing and the other marionettes started dancing on the stage, manipulated through their strings by Stromboli’s silent minions perched on the theater rafters. YamaPinocchio started shuffling his feet to the beat, thinking dully that his current state was not really much different from his days with the old cobbler Johnnypetto, who had also been fond of making YamaPinocchio dress up and dance for him. Stromboli and Johnnypetto… An-An and the photographer… Honest Ryo and TegoMass – they were all the same. None of them really wanted to help YamaPinocchio become a real, live boy. None of them were his true friends, but were only using him for their own ends.

The marionettes kicked and clacked around the stage. YamaPinocchio’s head spun from the flurry of strings and jerking limbs, and he tripped and fell flat on his nose. But the crowds were clearly enjoying the spectacle despite YamaPinocchio’s clumsiness: coins (and the odd piece of underwear) were soon flying through the air as the people laughed and clapped and cried at the NEWS boys’ antics – and most especially, at YamaPinocchio’s.

The puppet show was a rousing success, and it was midnight when the crowds finally dispersed, vowing to return the following evening. Stromboli gathered all the marionettes and threw them into a cage in the room backstage before sitting down at a table to count his sizable earnings. YamaPinocchio found himself jumbled together with the lifeless, sightless puppets, their wooden appendages entangled in the strings.

“Lemme out of here!” YamaPinocchio wailed, rattling the iron bars. “I’m gonna get out! You can’t keep me! I’m gonna be a real boy!”

“QUIET! Shut up before I *knock* you silly!” Stromboli bolted the cage with a terrible clang and turned the key in the padlock.  “You belong to me now. And when you have grown too old to sing and dance, you will make good firewood! Good night now, my little wooden gold mine! Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha!!!” The puppet master swept the coins off the table and into a metal box, which he tucked away inside his coat. “Time to go celebrate with the ladies! Now don’t do anything you’ll regret!” And with that he slammed the door shut behind him, leaving YamaPinocchio in the dark.

Stromboli had been gone a few minutes when a scratching sound could be heard – not from inside the room, but from somewhere very near. Then, a small familiar form popped out through the sliver of space between the door and the dirt floor, using his pink umbrella for leverage. “Kamenashi Cricket!!!” YamaPinocchio cried out in amazement. For some strange reason, he was very happy to see the insect.

“Shhh!!!” said the cricket grumpily, still sore that he had to make such a long and arduous journey. “You stupid little blockhead, do you want to call that mean old monster back here?” Kamenashi Cricket hopped over to the cage where YamaPinocchio was huddled. “So this is where I find you! How do you ever expect to be a real boy? Woe to boys who refuse to obey their conscience! They will never be happy in this world, and when they are older they will be very sorry for it.” The cricket stood there with arms akimbo, shaking his head in exasperation.

“I—I’m sorry I left you behind,” YamaPinocchio said, and he actually meant it. The cricket rolled his eyes. “Do you know I that almost got drowned, mutilated, desiccated, and squashed to bits just to find you? You buttered your bread. Now sleep in it!”

“I won’t do it again, I promise. P-please don’t tell the fairy I was, um, a little mean to you this morning.”

“A little mean? A little mean? You were downright beastly is what you were. A little boy who won’t be good might just as well be made of wood.” Then the cricket sighed, his rage fully spent. “But I might as well try to get you out of here, amigo.” He inserted his pink umbrella into the padlock, twisting and turning to spring the latch free, but his attempts proved futile. The cage remained firmly locked. Kamenashi Cricket threw his umbrella down in disgust.

“What are we gonna do now?” YamaPinocchio whimpered. “How am I gonna get out now?”

“I don’t know, amigo, I don’t know.” The cricket crawled between the iron bars and sat tiredly at YamaPinocchio’s feet. “But I can sing to keep you company until the puppet-master returns. And I will never leave you again, even if I have to hide in your silly blue bib all the time.”

So the cricket sang the same lullaby that YamaPinocchio had first heard from the Blue Maki back in the forest. The puppet knew he would probably spend the rest of his days in Stromboli’s clutches, but having his only friend by his side somehow gave him a renewed sense of comfort, as did the words of the song:

“Like a bolt out of the blue
Fate steps in and sees you through
When you wish upon a star
Your dreams come true…”

The last line of the song faded into a resigned silence. YamaPinocchio and Kamenashi Cricket sat side by side in the cage, feeling more worn out than they’d ever been in their life – when, just like in the song, the Blue Maki appeared before them in a shimmery burst of light!

“YamaPinocchio, why did you not go with Kamenashi Cricket that morning?” the fairy asked, looking grave and beautiful.

The puppet was suddenly ashamed of admitting the truth. “Um, I, uh, didn’t really mean to leave Kamenashi Cricket behind,” he hedged. “In fact I didn’t even notice I’d been traveling without him.”

The poor cricket looked crestfallen at YamaPinocchio’s prevarication, but was too weary to object. All at once, the puppet’s nose began to stretch, and the Blue Maki laughed.

“I mean, I, uh, I did kind of notice,” YamaPinocchio backpedaled. “But – you see, I was kidnapped by evil strangers! They tied me up and brought me to this awful place!” The puppet’s nose grew longer at these words.

“A lie keeps growing and growing until it’s as plain as the nose on your face,” said the fairy rather sternly.

Blushing in mortification, YamaPinocchio had no idea what to do with such an ungainly nose and he began to weep, not noticing that he was actually shedding real tears whereas he could not do so before. “I’m sorry I lied,” he blubbered. “The truth is I hated Kamenashi Cricket so I left him behind and then I met a fox and a two-headed cat and they told me if I went with them to Pleasure Island I’d become a real boy… I—I deserve to be in this cage and I don’t deserve to be a real boy…”

The room was silent except for YamaPinocchio’s hiccupping sobs. Then the Blue Maki clapped her hands and a flock of woodpeckers materialized from nowhere to peck the puppet’s nose back to its proper length.

“Now, don’t tell any more lies,” the fairy warned him, “or your nose will grow again!” She waved her hand over the padlock and it came free while the cage unbolted itself by magic. “You are free to go, but you must leave this island and never come back. Head for the trail at the back of this theater. The moon will show you the way. The path leads down a steep hill and into a secret cove, where a small rowboat awaits to take you back to the mainland. I will meet you on the other side – but you must hurry, before Stromboli returns and finds you out!”

Overcome with joy, YamaPinocchio was out of the cage like a shot – but not before remembering to tuck Kamenashi Cricket – and his pink umbrella – safely inside his big blue bowtie. He turned to say “thank you” to the Blue Maki, but the fairy was gone.

Moonlight shone on the path that led down to the cove – whether by magic or natural means, YamaPinocchio could not tell. A dinghy sat on the rocky beach at the foot of the hill, just as the fairy had said. With unnatural vigor, YamaPinocchio pushed the rowboat into the water and began working the oars, the lights and sounds of Pleasure Island quickly receding behind them. He was finally out of Stromboli’s clutches! From the pale light of the moon, YamaPinocchio could see the faint outline of the mainland. If he kept rowing in that direction, he and Kamenashi Cricket were sure to reach the shore before daybreak.

Then, without any warning, a hulking shape broke from the water and loomed over their little dinghy. It was a monstrous white shark! The creature had an enormous head with a huge mouth, wide open and showing three rows of jagged teeth that glistened in the moonlight. YamaPinocchio cried out in terror and tried to maneuver the little rowboat away from the path of the shark, but that immense mouth kept coming nearer and nearer. “Faster amigo, row faster!” screeched Kamenashi Cricket, who had crept out of the puppet’s bowtie upon hearing the commotion. “Try to make it to the shore!”

YamaPinocchio rowed harder and harder and harder. The little dinghy shot through the water, but alas! It was too late. The monster overtook them and chomped down hard on the rowboat, easily snapping it in two. The puppet found himself between the rows of gleaming white teeth. There was no escaping now! For as the icy cold water rushed into the shark’s cavern-like mouth, he was sucked in with it. “This is surely the end of me,” thought YamaPinocchio even as he tried to kick free of the deadly vortex.

Suddenly, the shark let out a sickening scream and thrashed about in the water, spewing out the contents of its mouth. The force was so great that YamaPinocchio hurtled through the air to land against the shattered hull of the dinghy. Shaking the seawater from his face, he turned to stare at the beast, wondering what had caused it to behave so – when he saw Kamenashi Cricket standing on top of the shark’s snout! The cricket was jabbing mercilessly at the monster’s bulging eyes using his tiny pink umbrella, hopping from one orb to the next in blinding-quick succession. The shark screamed again in pain as the umbrella punctured its corneas like a vicious little needle.

“Swim away, amigo!” Kamenashi Cricket cried, stabbing relentlessly at the shark’s wounded eyes. “Swim for your life!”

“No! I can’t leave you here!” YamaPinocchio shouted. Looking around, the puppet sighted one of the oars floating near him, and he swam clumsily towards it. He was not a strong swimmer, but his light wooden body kept him from sinking and made it easier to paddle and move about. “I’m coming Kamenashi Cricket, I’m coming!” The oar in one hand, YamaPinocchio pushed towards the shark and hauled himself up using its pectoral fin as leverage, heedless of the abrasions that the monster’s rough dermal scales were inflicting on his wooden limbs.

“Why’d you come back?” Kamenashi Cricket gasped. The cricket was tiring fast, but the monster was recovering from the stinging blows just as quickly. “You’re my only friend and I’m not leaving you alone, EVER,” yelled YamaPinocchio over the din. The shark reared its head high above the water, preparing to plunge into the ocean and take the cricket and the puppet with it. But before it could make that dive, YamaPinocchio sprang forward and thrust the oar he was holding deep into the monster’s left eye.

The shark screamed again, its agony and rage a hundred times greater. But it was simply too strong for the puppet and his brave cricket friend. The oar still jammed in its head, the beast gave a mighty shake and came down hard on the water, dislodging both Kamenashi Cricket and YamaPinocchio before disappearing into the depths. The puppet was thrown into the water several feet away, and when he bobbed back up he swam hard towards the floating wreckage of the boat, calling out the cricket’s name.

The puppet found his friend lying on a broken board, his eyes closed, the pink umbrella gone. “Kamenashi Cricket! Talk to me!” YamaPinocchio sobbed. The cricket’s eyes opened one more time. “You came back for me, amigo,” Kamenashi Cricket whispered ever so faintly. “You… came… back.” Then his battered little body gave one last shudder before going completely still, his sightless eyes wide open.

YamaPinocchio did not have time to mourn, because the sea monster suddenly resurfaced with a vengeance, this time aiming straight for the puppet. But instead of swallowing him whole, the shark bit down savagely on YamaPinocchio’s right arm, tearing it right off at the elbow. YamaPinocchio nearly fainted from the pain but he had lost the energy to scream. The shark, obviously toying with the puppet before it finished him off for good, turned its attention to YamaPinocchio’s left arm. Two seconds later, that limb had also become a jagged stump of pinewood.

YamaPinocchio looked down at the shards that used to be his arms. He looked up at the monster, which was slowly dipping its head beneath the water, about to chomp off the puppet’s legs. Then with his last burst of strength, YamaPinocchio plunged both his shattered arms straight into the shark right eye, all the way down till they pierced its brain, never letting go – not even when the beast thrashed about in the water, shrieking madly; not even when its blood and bits of brain gushed into the ocean; not even when other, smaller sharks converged on the great white and began taking little bites out of its injured body.

The bites from the smaller predators became bigger and bolder, but throughout this feeding frenzy YamaPinocchio’s arms remained lodged in the great shark’s eye, simply because he had no more strength to shake himself free. And as the monster’s half-eaten carcass sank deeper and deeper into the sea, taking YamaPinocchio with it, the puppet thought he could see a ray of blue light piercing the inky abyss like that from a single, vivid star. But the darkness soon took him.

***

A low, musical voice whispered: “Little puppet made of pine, awake. The gift of life is thine.”

The boy awoke on a grassy knoll. The sun was shining through the fleecy clouds; a cool wind fanned his face. His senses were alive in a way they had never been before: he could feel the turf tickling his feet, smell the scent of brine and seaweed nearby, hear the cawing of seagulls high above. He sat up slowly, looking around him. He appeared to be on a small islet a short distance from the mainland. The rusty ruins of an old lighthouse towered behind him in the center of the islet. The sea was calm this morning, the gentle roll of the surf giving no hint of the terrible things that had taken place a short while ago.

Memories from the previous night flashed through the boy’s mind: marionettes in a cage… a midnight escape by boat… a monster’s huge, terrifying jaws … a brave little cricket lying on a piece of flotsam, dead forever… The boy wept bitterly as he remembered his fallen friend, whom he would never see again.

A gentle touch on his shoulder caused the boy to look up. Through his tear-blurred vision he could make out the shimmery form of the Blue Maki. “Haven’t you noticed, YamaPinocchio?” she asked him. “You have proven yourself brave, truthful, and unselfish. Your wish is granted. A puppet you are no longer.”

YamaPinocchio looked down at his limbs, and for the first time he realized that the jagged stumps were gone, and in place were a pair of sturdy arms and hands of real flesh, fully made whole again. The boy reached up to touch his face and marveled at how soft his cheeks felt – for they were no longer carved out of wood, but made of real skin and veins and tissue knit together by the very miracle of life. His hair ruffled in the breeze – real hair, not a painted head of wood. Even his toes felt different – no longer hard and stiff, but wonderfully pliant, wriggling and flexing at his command. His clothes were in tatters – all that was left of his outfit were his trousers and red suspenders – but he was wholly, completely human. He was a real, live, boy.

“You will no longer be called ‘YamaPinocchio,’ for gone is the nocchio – the gnarly lump of wood from which you were carved,” the fairy continued. “From this day on you will be known simply as ‘YamaPi.’”

YamaPi was silent for a moment. “I thank you,” he said quietly. “Really, I thank you. But… must it hurt like this? Why does my heart hurt so much?” Being fully human, YamaPi could now feel things with a clarity and intensity far greater than he had ever felt as a marionette: Love. Fear. Hope. Anger. Hatred. Grief.

“Yes. That is what being human means,” the Blue Maki answered with a sad smile.

YamaPi remembered Kamenashi Cricket in a fresh rush of memories. “This is all their fault,” he said fiercely. “Honest Ryo and TegoMass – they tricked me and sold me to Stromboli!” YamaPi’s hands balled up into a fist. “If none of that had happened, Kamenashi Cricket would be alive right now!”

The boy rose to his feet. “I’m going after them,” he vowed. “I’m gonna hunt them all down – the fox, the cat, Stromboli and Johnnypetto, and all the tricksters, cheaters and swindlers that are still out there. I won’t rest until I’ve killed them all! No – I’ll swindle them first, give them a dose of their own medicine… And when I’ve beat the bastards at their own game, that’s when I’ll finish ‘em off! Then Kamenashi Cricket’s death will be avenged!”

The Blue Maki looked at the boy for a moment. “Revenge is not the answer, YamaPi,” she said gravely. “It will not bring your friend back. Even if you roam the streets of every town and city in all the world, dogging these swindlers day and night without rest, and even if you wear a thousand disguises and fool a thousand people, your heart will never be at peace. For your friend will still be dead.”

Deep down, YamaPi knew that the fairy’s words rung true. There was nothing in the world that could bring back a loved one lost. He sank down to the grass and buried his face in his hands, his body racked with sobs.

“If this is what being human is like, then I’d rather be a puppet again,” YamaPi whispered.

The Blue Maki smiled sadly and shook her head. “Alas, I do not have the power to turn you back.”

The place was silent except for the heartbroken sounds of weeping from the boy who was once made of wood.

But the fairy took pity on him, and said, “I may not have the power to reverse the spell that made you human, but I can help you forget what it is that you wish to forget. But be warned, for once my spell is cast, it cannot be undone.”

YamaPi lifted his head and gazed out at the ocean, watching the rhythmic motion of the waves as they crashed onto shore before ebbing back to sea. “Yes, I would like that,” he said presently. “To forget all of this, for it is too painful to bear. That is all I want.”

“Then it shall be as you wish.” The Blue Maki stood to her full height and lifted a slender arm, pointing her thumb and index finger at the boy as she recited the spell.  “Bang,” she said. “Bang… bang… bang…” YamaPi could feel his eyes growing heavy and he slumped back on the grassy slope, slipping into a deep sleep. The fairy went on in her soft, lulling voice:

“So be at peace, forevermore
And lie, untroubled, upon this shore
May your dreams keep you safe and warm
With magic, I now seal this charm.”

The Blue Maki leaned down and kissed YamaPi on the brow. Then a fresh sea breeze blew over the islet, leaving in its wake the slumbering boy and a few shimmery blue wisps that rose and scattered in the wind.

And there he lies to this day, a solitary boy in red suspenders, sleeping deeply without a care or worry in the world, warmed by the sun on that grassy knoll by the ruined lighthouse, forever young, forever innocent, and with only a cricket to keep him company in the vast, eternal playground of his own sweet dreams.

The End

The Meta:

This was the Nobuta wo Produce OT3 fic that never should’ve been written, lol.

The idea for “YamaPinocchio” was ridiculously easy to come by, given YamaPi’s legendary woodenness in front of the camera. So casting PiPi as Pinocchio wasn’t a stretch at all. However, this story took me the longest to write of the three, mainly because YamaPi stories usually take me forever to complete, hello my unfinished “The Devolution of Yamashita Tomohisa” fic because of the richness of the source material. After all, Carlo Collodi’s 19^th century classic “The Adventures of Pinocchio” is less a fairy tale than a full-length serial novel for children, chock-full of twists and turns and moral lessons learned.

My revisionist tale also takes the most deviations and detours from the original compared to the other two stories in this collection: for one, though it was only natural for Geppetto to find a real-life counterpart in Johnny K., I couldn’t make the resulting hybrid – Johnnypetto – the kind, softhearted surrogate father that Collodi’s woodcarver was – that would just feel wrong, lol. Besides, Johnnypetto worked better for the story if he retained the sinister, exploitative qualities of the real-life Johnny K. (And yes, Johnny really made YamaPi do that nudie photoshoot for AnAn Magazine (No. 1597) back in Feb. 2008, including that infamous shower scene.)

Having been weaned on all things Disney, I also borrowed heavily from the 1940 animated film Pinocchio, particularly the names of the secondary characters Stromboli, J. Worthington Foulfellow/“Honest John” the fox, Gideon the cat, the Blue Fairy, and Jiminy Cricket. Only Stromboli remained Stromboli in my version; Honest John and Gideon were re-dubbed Honest Ryo and TegoMass, respectively (Nishikido Ryo and TegoMass being YamaPi’s crewmates from the JE boyband NEWS); while Horikita Maki and Kamenashi Kazuya assumed the parts of the Blue Fairy and Jiminy Cricket, respectively – obviously as a shout-out to Nobuta wo Produce fans (myself included, whee) for whom the YamaPi+Maki+Kame OT3 ranks as the most epic TV threesome EVAR.

I also merged the Pinocchio-and-the-marionettes chapter with a later sequence where the puppet is taken to Toyland (Pleasure Island in the Disney version) – although for reasons of brevity I left out the bit where he gets turned into a donkey.

Now for the music: besides using the classic song from the Disney movie (“When You Wish Upon a Star”), I inserted lyrics from a couple other J-Pop songs, namely “Hoshi o Mezashite / Aim for the Stars” (2007 NEWS single), and “Real Face” (2006 KAT-TUN single). Kamenashi Cricket calling YamaPinocchio ‘Amigo’ is an obvious reference to “Seishun Amigo” (theme song of Nobuta wo Produce, peformed by YamaPi and Kame as the unit Shuji to Akira).

And finally, I cribbed a few things – no, actually a LOT of things, from YamaPi and Maki’s 2006 swindler+cosplay drama Kurosagi. Not my favorite renzoku by any standard (though I did love the brilliant opening credits and the score), but it was necessary to rip certain elements from that show to serve the purposes of this story, e.g. the seaside hill with the rusty lighthouse! bare-chested YamaPi in red suspenders, lolling on the grass! YamaPi vowing to become a swindler out of revenge! Maki pointing her fingers at YamPi and going “Bang!” (which quite honestly made me go “LOLWHUTLOL” when I first watched the drama). Try viewing the Kurosagi intro (video posted above) and look out for the 00:27 mark — just so you’ll know I didn’t entirely make this all up, lol.

***

(For yanie and all the KimuxMatsu shippers out there, who know too well that “True love never runs smooth.” May our tribe increase)

A very long time ago, in mid-winter, when the snowflakes were falling on Tokyo like feathers from heaven, a beautiful queen of the royal kabuki house of Koraiya sat sewing at her window, which had a frame of black ebony.  As she worked, she looked sometimes at the falling snow, and it happened that she pricked her finger with her needle, so that three drops of blood fell upon the snow. How pretty the red blood looked upon the dazzling white! The young queen said to herself as she gazed at it, “Oh, if only I had a dear little child who had skin as white as snow, lips as rosy as the blood, and hair as black as the ebony window!”

Soon afterwards she gave birth to a daughter whose skin was white as snow, lips rosy as blood, and hair as black as ebony. She named her “Matsu Takako.” Matsu’s father delightedly ordered a new family crest to be hung in the nursery – in a beautiful, bold design red as blood and white as snow.

But alas! When little Matsu turned five, her gentle mother died.

Several years passed and Matsu’s father decided that although Matsu was a girl, she could be groomed to be the first woman kabuki star in centuries. It’s what his dead wife would have wanted, he thought, and Matsu’s illustrious lineage all but demanded it. So one day he brought Matsu’s cousin, Ichikawa Ebizo, to come and live in their house. Ebizo was roughly Matsu’s age and, while just a boy, was already a rising kabuki star. Matsu’s father, who was often away on tour, bade his talented nephew to teach his daughter the tricks of their trade, as well as keep this lonely, motherless girl company.

So Matsu spent her days immersed in kabuki training, which usually took up the whole afternoon after school. Not wanting to displease her father, she dutifully attended her drama and voice classes, practiced the shamisen, and even took up extra lessons in gidayu recitation and Noh dance. She never had time to ask herself if she was truly happy, but when winter came she often gazed out the ebony window of her room, thinking of her mother and wondering what it must be like to have been born into a different house, a different family.

Matsu’s cousin Ichikawa Ebizo did his duty in overseeing Matsu’s training, but he had a rotten core, and could not bear that anyone else should surpass him in talent and prestige. Though he treated Matsu with civility, in his heart he coveted her place and pedigree, and vowed that one day Matsu’s inheritance would become his.

Ebizo also had a magic mirror that could tell only the truth. One day he stood before the mirror and asked, “Mirror, mirror upon the wall, who’s the best kabuki actor of us all?” The mirror answered, “Thou, O Ebizo, art the best kabuki actor of all.” And Ichikawa Ebizo was content, because he knew the mirror could speak nothing but the truth.

But as time passed, Matsu grew into a lovely young lady, bright as day and showing more talent in singing, dancing and acting than anyone else in their clan or guild. After a day of watching Matsu rehearse for a stage play, Ichikawa Ebizo asked his magic mirror,

“Mirror, mirror on the wall, who’s the best kabuki actor of us all?”

The mirror answered, “O kabuki prince, though great you be, Matsu is greater far to see.”

Ichikawa Ebizo flew into a black rage, and from that moment envy and pride festered in his heart like a rank sore, so that he had no peace day or night, until one day, while Matsu’s father was away for an Osaka show, Ebizo called one of his shady Yakuza friends (for he had many of them) and said, “Take my dear little cousin into the woods, for I can no longer bear the sight of her. And when you return, bring with you her heart that I may know you have indeed finished her off.”

That night the hitman waited for Matsu to come out of dance rehearsals, followed her into a dark alley, and there drugged her, and took her into the woods outside Tokyo. When they were out in the forest, Matsu awoke and saw the hitman watching her with a sorrowful expression. For he was secretly a fan of Matsu’s who liked to go to her concerts and stage plays, though he would never admit this to Ichikawa Ebizo. The hitman quickly untied Matsu’s bonds, helped her to her feet, and said, “I shall spare your life but you must run away, and never go home again, or your cousin Ichikawa Ebizo will surely kill you.” While to himself he thought, “The wild beasts will soon have devoured you,” and yet it seemed as if a stone had been rolled from his heart since he no longer had to kill her.

Then as a young wild boar came rushing by, he killed it, took out its heart, and carried it back to Ichikawa Ebizo, who ate it thinking he had eaten the heart of Matsu.

Poor Matsu was now all alone in the wild wood, and so frightened she was that she trembled at every leaf that rustled. Then she began to run, and ran over sharp stones and through thorns, and the wild beasts ran past her, but did her no harm. And she kept running until she came to a little house in a forest clearing, and seeing that the door was not locked, she opened it and went in.

Inside the cottage, everything she saw was brightly colored (if a little kitschy), and not quite clean – the dishes were piled on the sink, and the floor looked like it could use a little sweeping. Upon a dirty pink checker cloth-covered table there stood five plates piled high with cold food. Beside the plates lay five spoons, and five pairs of chopsticks, and five wine goblets and five ashtrays. Against the wall, and side by side, stood six – not five, but six – unmade beds whose quilts and sheets didn’t quite match.  On the wooden headboards were tacked pinups of various pop tarts in skimpy clothing.

Matsu considered leaving this strange place, but her hunger and thirst got the better of her that she took a little food from each of the five plates, and drank a few drops of wine from each goblet, for she did not wish to take everything away from one. Then, because she was so tired, she crept into one of the beds, but it did not suit her, and then she tried the others, but one was too long, another too short, and so on, until she came to the sixth, which suited her exactly; so she said a prayer of thanks and soon fell fast asleep.

When night fell the masters of the little house came home singing their coming-home-from-work song in five different voices. They were five miners who worked with a pick-axe and spade, searching for things like copper and gold in the heart of the mountains.

They lit their five candles and then saw that someone had been to visit them. The first, their leader, said in a rather squeaky voice, “Who has been sitting in my chair?”

The second, rangy and with bleached hair, roared, “Who has been eating from my plate?”

The third, looking petulantly at his favorite brush, which now had a few straight, black strands (Matsu’s) entwined with his coarse curly ones, demanded, “Who has been going through my dresser?”

The fourth, who had headed straight for his wine goblet, whined, “Who has been drinking out of my goblet?”

And the fifth, who had eyes like a hawk’s and instincts like a wolf’s, stalked over to the sixth bed on the far end of the wall, and merely said, “Someone IS in Mori’s bed.” And he flung the dusty coverlet off Matsu’s sleeping form. The other four came running up, and they cried out with astonishment “Oyaoya!!!” and brought their candles closer to let the light fall on Matsu. For a moment they were silent, for they had never met such a creature before. “She’s the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen!” – the fourth miner blurted out in wonder while taking little swigs from his wine goblet. The fifth miner promptly clouted the fourth, causing him to slosh his drink all over his frilly overalls. “Baka. You’ll wake her up. We can get her story in the morning – even if we have to wring it out of her.”

So the five miners tiptoed away, careful not to disturb their sleeping visitor, and ate their dinner in hushed voices and washed up with as little clatter as possible. Then they got into their beds and blew their candles out. The fifth miner, whose bed was just beside the sixth, stared thoughtfully at Matsu’s huddled form until sleep eventually took him.

When the sun rose, Matsu awoke and, oh! How frightened she was to see the five miners lined up at the foot of her bed. But they seemed more friendly than hostile, and asked her who she was. “My name is Matsu,” she answered.

The first miner cleared his throat and bowed formally. “Welcome to our humble abode. My name is Nakai.”

“Shingo,” the second miner said, smiling broadly.

“Goro,” said the third, still a bit miffed that Matsu had used his brush the night before.

“Tsuyoshi,” added the fourth, smiling creepily at Matsu.

The fifth miner held Matsu’s curious gaze a moment longer before bowing stiffly. “Kimura,” he said.

“We have nicknames, too,” Shingo ventured with a wink. “They call me Saiyuuki ‘coz I like to, uh, monkey around. This here’s Squeaky,” he said, clapping Nakai on the back. “Primpy, for obvious reasons,” he said, rolling his eyes at Goro, who had wandered to his dresser mirror to run his brush through his thick, permed hair. “That’s Tipsy over there,” Shingo said, indicating Tsuyoshi. “And try to guess who Smexy is,” he added grinning. Kimura coughed and reddened slightly. “You really don’t have to use our stupid nicknames, you know,” he informed Matsu drily while giving Shingo the finger behind his back.

“Oh… Oh I see,” Matsu replied, still a little overwhelmed by all the male attention.

Nakai aka Squeaky promptly came to her rescue: “In case you were wondering, we’re actually miners. But we believe in fair trade so we’ve formed a guild and called ourselves ‘Super Miners Always Playing’ – or ‘SMAP’ for short.”

“Because all work and no play can be the pits!” Shingo aka Saiyuuki declared. “Right boys?” Nakai nodded earnestly, Goro aka Primpy just said “unh-huh” rather distractedly while examining his reflection, and Tsuyoshi aka Tipsy said nothing but gave Matsu a watery smile that creeped her out even more.

“But there are six beds here,” Matsu pointed out. “And only five of you.”

“There was a sixth miner, Mori, but he left the forest to pursue another career path,” Nakai answered while the other four began to discreetly pull the sexy pinups down from their headboards. “You were sleeping in his bed.”

Kimura kicked the crumpled pinups under his bed and cleared his throat. “Now that we’ve gotten the pleasantries out of the way,” he said, “Let’s hear the lady’s story.” He crossed his arms and looked at her hard. “What were you doing in our house? We don’t normally take kindly to trespassers, you know.”

So Matsu told the miners how she had grown up without a mother and how her father was constantly away, and how her cousin Ichikawa Ebizo had intended to kill her, but the hitman had spared her life and she had to run on until she reached their little house. By the end of her story Nakai was wiping away tears, Shingo was shaking his head in mingled anger and sorrow, Goro had at least put his brush down for a moment, Tsuyoshi was taking large gulps from his goblet and turning redder by the minute, and Kimura had fallen silent, watching her with amber eyes. All five miners simultaneously reached for their back pockets and pulled out a cigarette, which they lit in unison.

“You can stay here with us,” Nakai told Matsu kindly.

“You should stay forever!” Tsuyoshi interjected eagerly, licking the wine from his lips.

“Only while her life is in danger, but not longer than that,” Goro huffed, taking up his brush.

“You can stay for as LONG as you like,” Nakai the leader concluded diplomatically while Shingo nodded in agreement.

Kimura took another drag on his cigarette, walked over to the kitchen and began poking around the icebox. “Best if you don’t wear out your welcome,” he muttered. “But we could use a housekeeper – or something. If you know how to make our beds, wash, mend, and knit, and keep everything neat and clean – if you can manage to do that, then you may stay with us… for now.”

“Yes, of course. Thank you very much, I am most grateful,” answered Matsu with a deep and graceful bow.

“Just one house rule,” Nakai said. “Leave the cooking to us.”

“Because WE LOVE TO COOK!!!” Shingo bellowed.  And Matsu’s stomach growled in response.

“Hear that boys?” Nakai squeaked. “The lassie’s hungry. That means it’s time for breakfast! So what do you feel like eating today?” he asked Matsu.

“Oh!” Matsu replied, thinking hard. “Well… back home, we had kaiseki ryori every day. But that’s all right if you can’t cook such elaborate meals here,” she added hastily, regretting that she had imposed such an unreasonable request on these rustic forest dwellers.

“So, haute cuisine for breakfast, eh? Leave that to us,” Nakai answered confidently. He then turned to the other four and screamed, “ORDERRRRR!!!”

The other four miners donned their color-coded aprons and briskly set to work while Nakai settled Matsu down at the dining table and kept her company with his easy conversation. The tiny kitchen became a flurry of flying knives and rattling saucepans as the miners whipped up dish after exquisite dish – there was sashimi on shredded daikon, chawanmushi custard, octopus sunomono, takenoko gohan, pickled plums, and the most fragrant miso soup. One by one the miners presented the food before Matsu, who sampled each dish with great delight and adjudged them all to be “Oishii!” (Except for the grilled cod, which Tsuyoshi had burned beyond salvaging.)

After the wondrous feast (and there was enough for the miners to pack in their bento boxes, and still enough left on the table for supper later), the miners left Matsu alone in the cottage, but not before warning her to lock the door until they returned that evening. They went down the forest path in high spirits and their frilly overalls, puffing on their cigarettes and singing their off-to-work song in five different voices.

So the weeks passed and Matsu stayed with the miners and kept the house neat and clean for them, who (after cooking breakfast for the better part of the morning) went off to search for copper and gold in the mountains. For the rest of the day Matsu was alone, but kept in mind the miners’ warning not to let anyone into the cottage. “For,” said they, “your evil cousin will soon discover that you are living here.”

Matsu got along very well with the miners, who were friendly and affable (especially Nakai and Shingo) and were quick to laugh and joke around with each other and with her. At least Goro would now let her use his dresser while he was away (seeing that Matsu had brought no grooming kit with her), and while Tsuyoshi kept giving her those feeble little smiles over his wine goblet, he now seemed more harmless than creepy.

Now that they had a captive audience, the miners would mount little revues every night after supper, when all the dishes had been cleared away and everyone had assembled in the living room. The SMAPs weren’t exceptionally good singers, dancers or actors, as Matsu’s kabuki-honed instincts told her, but they performed with such peppy enthusiasm that when each routine ended and they eagerly looked at Matsu for her feedback, she did not have the heart to critique their less-than-stellar variety shows, and instead gave very encouraging comments – which were received with immense delight, hi-fives and back-slapping, and – for Tsuyoshi most of all – extra rounds of wine.

Kimura said little to her when the others were around, but after Matsu had offhandedly mentioned one morning at breakfast that she was fond of apples, he began a habit of bringing an apple home every evening to leave on Matsu’s pillow. Their beds were beside each other, and sometimes, when the others were fast asleep (and snoring loudly, in Shingo’s case) they would converse deep into the night, their low voices filling the empty space between their beds, talking long after the nocturnal forest sounds outside the little cottage had quieted down one by one.

They talked of many things: Matsu shared bits and pieces from her childhood, and what it was like growing up with all the demands and expectations of her kabuki house. And Kimura would listen, ask questions thoughtfully and then listen some more, and his amber eyes were the last thing that Matsu remembered before falling asleep. In the morning Kimura would be his usual reserved self around her, but he never failed to bring home a crisp red apple, freshly picked from deep in the forest, to later lay on Matsu’s pillow.

There were mornings when Kimura would get up at the crack of dawn and go off to the little woodshed behind the cottage. But he would always slip back into the house just in time for the miners’ morning “kitchen performances,” and though Matsu asked him a few times what he was doing in the woodshed, he would just smile and shake his head, and go about his cooking.

Then winter came and the land was soon blanketed in snow. Back in the kabuki house of Koraiya, Ichikawa Ebizo, believing, of course, that Matsu was dead, and that he had eaten her heart, and that therefore he was again the most talented performer in the land, went to his magic mirror and said –

“Mirror, mirror on the wall, who’s the best kabuki actor of us all?”

The mirror answered, “O kabuki prince, though great you be, Matsu is greater far to see. Over the hills and far away, she dwells with five miners to-day.” And an image of the little cottage in the forest clearing appeared in the mirror, and then dissolved into a reflection of Ebizo’s livid face.

How shocked and angry Ebizo was, for he knew that the mirror spoke the truth, and that his hitman friend must therefore have deceived him. He thought and thought of how he might kill Matsu, for he knew that he would have neither rest nor peace until he really was the greatest kabuki actor in all the land. At length he decided what to do. So he painted his face, donned a wig and dressed himself like an old peddler woman, so that no one could recognize him when he left the city.

In this disguise Ebizo made for the forest, climbing the seven mountains that lay between him and the miners, until at last he came to their cottage and knocked on the door. Remembering that Matsu loved apples as a child, he had brought a basket filled with a dozen of the bright red fruit, but which he had laced with the nastiest poison known to man.

Alone in the house, Matsu peered from the window and said cautiously, “Good day dear obaasan, you seem lost in the forest, are you not?”

“Just passing through, my sweet,” Ebizo croaked, summoning all his talent and years of acting experience to play the part of a harmless old crone. “I do have a basket full of plump red apples. Would you care to let me in and spare you a few? It is very cold out here, in the snow.”

“Surely I might let this poor obaasan warm herself here?” thought Matsu, and unbolted the door to let the crone in.

“Dear, dear, what a sight for sore eyes you are, child,” said the old lady. “Here, take an apple, for it is as rosy as your cheeks. Rosy with love, eh my sweet? Ah, to be young and in love!”

Matsu, who was thinking of one particular miner at the moment, blushed prettily and smiled. “Oh do warm your hands and feet by our hearth, dear obaasan, and thank you for this lovely apple, I do love them so.” She reached for the apple that the crone was holding out to her, but hesitated a moment, for she remembered the miners’ warning.

“Surely you are not afraid of poison,” said the crone. “See, I will cut one in two: the rose cheek you shall take, and the white cheek I will eat myself.”

Now, the apple had been so cleverly made that only the rose-cheeked side contained the poison. Matsu longed for the delicious-looking fruit, and when she saw the obaasan eat half of it, she thought there could be no danger, and stretched out her hand and took the other part. She bit deeply into it, so red and juicy and… poisonous. Matsu fell down and could not breathe, lying on the floor as though she were dead.

Ebizo laughed aloud as he gazed at his cousin. “White as snow, red as blood, black as ebony,” he said. “Now the miners cannot awaken you. And now,” he chortled, “I am once more the greatest kabuki performer in the land.” With that he made haste away from the cottage.

When the miners came home that night they found Matsu lying cold and still on the floor of the cottage. Kimura was last to enter the house, regretting he could not bring an apple home to Matsu since it was winter and the apple trees in the forest were all bare. But when he stepped into the cottage he saw the other four sobbing over Matsu’s crumpled form. Though the sight of her punched a hole in his chest and sent his head spinning, his sharp eyes took in the partly eaten apple not far from Matsu’s limp hand, and he knew beyond doubt that it was Matsu’s evil cousin who had come that day.

Nakai was checking Matsu’s pulse. “I can’t feel anything,” he said brokenly, even as Tsuyoshi attempted to resuscitate her orally. Shingo and Goro said nothing but took their hats off and covered their faces. Nakai looked up and met Kimura’s stricken gaze. “She’s gone,” he said simply.

Kimura backed out the door and stumbled over the cottage steps. But the miner noticed that the murderer’s tracks were still faintly visible on the snow-covered ground. His grief burned into revenge, and he stood up to face the other four. “He couldn’t have gone far,” he told them. “I’ll get him, I’ll get the bastard. Just don’t… don’t bury her until I return.”

Kimura tore through the trees, tracking Ebizo’s footprints all over the forest, until he came to a snowy hill where a discarded basket and a dozen or so apples lay at the foot of the rise, half obscured by snowflakes. Sensing his quarry was near, Kimura raced up the slope. The ice crunched under his boots. On the crest of the hill he could make out a shadowy form: Ichikawa Ebizo. In his haste, Matsu’s cousin had somehow lost his way and was now standing over a steep drop, for the other side of the hill was actually a rocky and treacherous ravine.

Kimura shouted Ebizo’s name over the howling of the wind. Matsu’s cousin, still in his obaasan costume, turned around with hate in his eyes, and came rushing at Kimura with a knife which he had suddenly produced from under his thick kimono sleeves. The two men scuffled in the snow, rolling dangerously close to the edge of the precipice. Ebizo lashed out at Kimura with his knife, and managed to cut the miner in the arms and chest, but he was encumbered by the heavy robes of his costume, and the face paint which had begun to melt from his sweat stung his eyes. Though weakened from the gashes, Kimura gave one last heave and kicked Ebizo off him. Ichikawa Ebizo tumbled back, his feet and legs entangled in his long kimono, and fell screaming into the deep, dark ravine. No sound was heard from him again.

When Kimura hobbled back to the cottage, he saw that the other four miners had built Matsu a bier made of pine wood, with the top made of glass. So pale and beautiful she looked, hair black as ebony and skin white as snow. Her face needed no makeup, and they dared not defile it with Goro’s dubious cosmetics. So they lifted her tenderly, combed her hair, and washed her with wine and water, but all in vain – dead she was and dead she remained. They laid her in the casket, and all five of them sat round about it, and wept as thought their hearts would break, for three whole days.

On the third day, Kimura went into the woodshed behind the cottage and brought back a perfectly shaped glass apple, which he had been crafting in secret those mornings before breakfast, and which he meant to give Matsu on her birthday. He placed the glass apple on Matsu’s still breast, above her clasped hands. And all five miners bowed deeply before the casket, before setting the lid firmly atop it. “Arigatou,” they said. “Thank you for bringing light and color into our lives.”

Then they carried Matsu to the top of the tallest mountain, but they could not bear to leave her in the ground. So they left her bier above ground and one of them always stayed by it and watched it. And birds came too, and wept for Matsu; first an owl, then a raven, and last a dove.

It chanced that a traveling prince came into the wood, and went to the miner’s house, meaning to spend the night there. He saw the bier upon the mountaintop, and asked the miners who was it who lay inside. They answered the prince, and when he learned it was Matsu who was inside, he realized that this was the long-lost princess of the royal kabuki house of Koraiya, now presumed dead, and whose puzzling disappearance from the city last autumn had sent the entire kabuki world into mourning.

And so the prince said to the miners, “If you will but let me have the casket, I will take it to her father, so that Matsu may be properly mourned back home. For she comes from a great lineage of artists, a living national treasure in her own right, and she deserves better than to rot on this mountain in the middle of the forest, watched over by a bunch of poor miners.”

The miners held their tongue at the prince’s haughty words, for though it grieved them to part with Matsu, they knew he spoke the truth, that she did not belong to them, or to their world. With great sorrow they gave the prince the coffin, but insisted they help him carry it to the edge of the forest. “It’s the least we can do for Matsu,” they said.

But as the small procession descended the mountain, the prince stumbled against the stump of a tree, and the violent rocking of the casket dislodged the piece of poisonous apple which had been caught in Matsu’s throat, so that she coughed and opened her eyes, raised the lid and sat up, looking around her.

All were amazed to find Matsu alive. The miners knelt on the ground and wept, overjoyed beyond words. “Where am I?” Matsu cried, and the prince, having recovered from the shock, swiftly told her, “Thou art with me, dearest.” With a flourish he then took out a shamisen from his rucksack – for he was also an accomplished minstrel – and regaled her with a hastily made-up song about a long-lost kabuki princess who died in the forest but magically returned to life after being awakened by a prince. Matsu listened in silence as the minstrel prince strummed and sang, but she kept glancing at the miners who were looking at her with indescribable expressions.

When the song ended, the minstrel prince bowed low and introduced himself. “I’m a prince, but also a minstrel, my lady,” he said grandly. “A musician of the highest order, in fact. And now that you have been found – by me, it is time to return to your home and ease your father’s sorrow.” He helped Matsu stand and step out of the coffin. “Come my sweet, we shall be wed, and both your family and mine – both very, very, very well-respected families, I must add, will be pleased by our glorious union,” he finished pointedly, eyeing the miners who had also risen shyly to their feet.

Matsu looked from the minstrel prince to the five miners. “Must I really go with you?” she asked the prince. The miners looked at the ground and were silent, but Kimura stepped forward. “Go with him,” he said. “You belong to that world, with him, with your family. Your evil cousin is dead, and he won’t be able to hurt you anymore.” He bowed deeply. “Sayonara.” With that he turned swiftly and walked away. The other four miners followed suit, throwing Matsu brave, sad smiles over their shoulders as they trudged back into the thicket.

“Well,” said the minstrel prince, plucking absently at his shamisen, “thank goodness they didn’t make a scene and try to keep you in these godforsaken backwoods. In fact I rather thought they were happy to get you off their hands. You can never expect these uncultured laborer types to know how to comport themselves before royalty. They’re not like us, you know.” He clasped Matsu’s hand in his. “Shall we?”

Matsu said nothing as the prince led her through the forest; presently they reached the outskirts of the city where her family lived. A thought kept niggling at the back of her mind, this vague feeling that she had left something behind. “Wait,” she said, stopping in her tracks. Then, suddenly, she remembered what it was.

“I’m deeply grateful to you for making such a tremendous effort to bring me back, but I cannot go back with you,” she said.

The minstrel prince turned to look at her, blinked a few times, then said smoothly, “Don’t be silly, Matsu. You’re a national treasure, don’t forget that. Surely you don’t want to throw that all away just to go live in the boondocks, do you?”

Matsu took a step backwards, away from the prince, and firmly said, “Please tell my father that I love him and will visit him one of these days. But I cannot go back to my old life. For the first time since I can remember I’m actually making a choice on my own, and now I choose to be happy. Make a song out of it if you like.” And Matsu turned and walked back into the forest.

She retraced her steps until she came to the abandoned casket, which was now covered with a thin layer of snow. She reached into the wooden box and drew out what she had remembered holding while she was still inside, during those brief, confused moments between waking up and rising from her casket. It was the single glass apple, made of cold, clear crystal that glinted in the winter sun.

Matsu stuffed the precious apple into the pocket of her robe and ran all the way back to the forest clearing and the cottage she had come to love so dearly, even though it took her the better part of the day. She flung open the door of the house, and saw the miners gathered around the dining table – red-eyed and silent, a cigarette in one hand and a wine goblet in another, nursing their grief in the only way they knew.

“I’m back,” Matsu announced. The miners looked up and rubbed their eyes blearily. “Great. Now I’m starting to imagine things,” Goro said testily. “Me too,” Tsuyoshi mumbled. “Or maybe I’m just drunk… again,” he finished morosely. But Nakai stood up slowly, his eyes widening. “Ano… I don’t… think… we’re just imagining things,” he said. Shingo slapped his cheeks and rose quickly, upending his chair. “It’s her, it really is her!” he roared.

Matsu walked over to them, smiling brightly. “Hello, it’s good to be back,” she said. “But where’s um, the fifth one? You know, um, Smexy?” she asked, her eyes twinkling. The other four chuckled while blowing their noses on their sleeves at the same time. “I think Mr. Smexy went off to the mountaintop, where we used to keep watch over you. He said he wanted to be – well, he just wanted to be alone,” Nakai said.

“Then I must go to him and let him know that I’m back,” Matsu told them. “Wait!” Goro cried. He grabbed his brush and tossed it at Matsu. “Your hair’s a mess,” was all he said. While Matsu was combing the snarls out of her long ebony hair, Tsuyoshi came up behind her. “Um, you know, I’ve always liked you,” he began shyly. “But I think he likes you more,” he finished with a smile. Impulsively, Matsu turned and hugged his bony frame. “I’m lucky to have a friend like you,” she said, and planted a kiss on his cheek, which made him giggle and turn beet red.

Matsu put Goro’s brush down and made straight for the door, then stopped and turned around. “Thank you. For giving me a home – for everything,” she said to the four miners, who waved in return. “Best not keep him waiting,” Nakai said while the others grinned knowingly. When she left the cottage she could hear them singing merrily, and in four different voices, a familiar ditty of theirs: “Chotto akita kana / (Time to get it on) Go now!!!”

Matsu ran up the mountainside until she found Kimura leaning against a tall pine tree overlooking the forest, smoking a cigarette. Cigarette butts littered the snow at his feet.

“Hi. I’m – I’m here,” she called out.

His back still to her, Kimura froze; the cigarette fell away from his fingers and burned a hole in the snow. He turned around slowly. “I thought you’d gone home,” was all he said.

“Well, I am home,” Matsu answered.

“Where’s your prince?” Kimura asked, searching the trees behind Matsu.

“He’s not my prince,” Matsu said.

Still Kimura said nothing, so she took a step closer to him. “I came back because… I never got to thank you. For this.” She fished out the glass apple from her pocket and held it up in her hand. “It’s beautiful. Did you really make this for me?” she asked.

He nodded, could not speak. “You didn’t have to come back,” he said after a while.

“Yes, I did,” Matsu replied. She moved closer until their faces were level. Then she kissed him.

And he kissed her back.

“I carved something on it. Did you notice?” Kimura asked when the kiss ended. Matsu held the apple up and turned it against the light, peering closely at the perfectly formed crystal. There, in exquisite script, were etched the words, “True love never runs smooth.”

“It won’t be an easy life – being married to a miner, you know,” Kimura said quietly, leaning his forehead against Matsu’s.

“I know,” she replied. “And I’m fine with that. Besides, perfect endings only happen in fairy tales.”

And they embraced tightly, as though they never would part, and together watched the sun set over the snow-topped forest that was their home.

The End

The Meta:

This is the closest I’ll ever get to writing a KimuxMatsu shipper fic. I was never comfortable with the thought of doing KimuxMatsu fics unless the context was as far removed as possible from Kimura and Matsu’s present-day reality – which kind of made this fairy tale the perfect medium. Obviously, for purposes of the story I’ve chosen to completely ignore certain real-life details like Kimura having a wife and kids (a minor complication really, haha), or Matsu having an older brother (actor Ichikawa Somegoro), or even that Matsu’s mother is still very much alive.

Matsu’s real-life cousin (and kabuki world heartthrob) Ichikawa Ebizo seemed a shoo-in for the Evil Queen character given his late 2010 involvement in a highly controversial barroom brawl. (You may also remember him as the fruit drop-sucking Ultimate Baddie opposite Kimura in Mr. Brain.)  And yes, that’s really him in full onnagata mode in the photo shown above. The traveling minstrel prince in my version of the story can find a parallel in Matsu’s real-life husband, professional guitarist Sahashi Yoshiyuki. (And no, I have no idea if he’s as big a douche bag in reality as I’ve painted him to be in the story. Hyuk hyuk hyuk.)

For the benefit of non-SMAP fans, the cooking scenes were inspired by the popular Bistro SMAP segment of the manband’s long-running variety show SMAPxSMAP, on which Matsu has occasionally guested.

This version of the fairy tale also draws inspiration from the1997 fantasy/horror film Snow White: A Tale of Terror (starring Sigourney Weaver as the Queen), in which Snow White meets seven miners instead of dwarfs, eventually falling for one of them (played by Gil Bellows).

And I hope that Love Generation fans will overlook the liberties I took in ripping certain elements from that drama, like the iconic glass apple, the scene where Kimura runs up a snowy hill, and the “true love never runs smooth” adage. And finally, no offense meant to SMAP members Nakai, Shingo, Goro, Tsuyoshi and Kimura, whose traits I selectively and deliberately exaggerated to serve the story – i.e. Nakai’s squeaky voice, Goro’s vanity, Shingo’s expansiveness, and Tsuyoshi’s drinking. I also wrote the Kimura character in my story to be a little more reserved around Matsu than he is in real life, so as to give both their characters more sexual tension. I hope it worked. =)

E.G.

***
Credits:
1) Fairy tale templates taken from:
- SurLaLuneFairytales.com
- StoryNory.com
- “The Adventures of Pinocchio” by Carlo Collodi
- Walt Disney’s Pinocchio (1940)
2) Opening spiel partly lifted from Shelley Duvall’s Faerie Tale Theatre (Showtime, 1982-1985)
3) Title photo taken from behance.net
4) Photo of Horikita Maki courtesy of Jenny via Tumblr
5) Photo of SMAP taken from their 2011 Softbank CF series. (The boys were darlings to agree to dress up as miners just to humor me, knowing I had written this story about them. Hahaha. No, not really. But I’m entitled to a fairy tale of my own, doncha think?)
6) Videos uploaded by:
- sellyreko (“Eternal” PV)
- Haruki-Hikaru (Kurosagi Ep. 1)
- kumpulanmusik (“Shiawase na Ketsumatsu,” theme from Love Generation)

***

If my above sophomoric scribblings have put you in the mood for fairy tales of the more respectable kind, then allow me to share my favorite fairy tale of ALL TIME, the one I adore WAY MOAR than what Hans Christian or Jakob & Wilhelm have ever published – and believe me, I’ve read ‘em all.

For all of us who are blind fools in love:

The Dark Princess by Richard Kennedy

by Ender’s Girl

(Sorry for the lame-o title-o, but a pun on the hit 2001 K-romcom My Sassy Girl was the best I could come up with – though I know not everyone can relate. My apologies.)

The Cast:
Yakusho Koji, Yamada Takayuki, Iseya Yusuke, Matsukata Hiroki, Inagaki Goro, Ihara Tsuyoshi, Sawamura Ikki, Furuta Arata, Takaoka Sousuke, Rokkaku Seiji, Matsumoto Koshiro, Namioka Kazuki, Kondo Koen, Ishigaki Yuma, Kubota Masataka, Ichimura Masachika

Directed by Miike Takashi / Toho & Sedic International, 2010

In a Nutshell:
A crack team of 13 samurai battles the odds – and an army of 200 elite guardsmen – in a suicide mission to dispatch an evil lord in late-Edo Japan.

(SpoilLert: Don’t worry, not saying who dies – or lives – in the end!)

“A good fort needs a gap. The enemy must be lured in so we can attack them. If we only defend, we lose the war.”

– Shimada Kambei in Seven Samurai (Kurosawa, 1954)

With 13 Assassins, master provoc-auteur Miike Takashi takes on a revitalized genre that, in recent years, has become the playground of veteran filmmakers like Yamada Yoji who favor quieter, deconstructed re-imaginings of samurai slumming it in the relatively bloodless years of the Pax Tokugawa.

In sharp contrast to Miike’s 2010 period opus (and, uh, 183,034^th career feature to date lol), Yamada Yoji jidaigeki (Twilight Samurai, The Hidden Blade) are leisurely explorations of the minutiae of Japanese feudal society – samurai pass their time running office errands, dabbling in a trade, or perhaps, on more exciting days, refereeing (or figuring in) a domestic spat or two. In this era of peace, nobody has time to whinge about not having any civil wars to fight, or foreign armies to repel, or rival daimyo to vanquish (the daily grind of life is a battle in itself). And instead of traditional heroes and villains, Yamada Yoji protagonists are but regular blokes, and the antagonists usually snooty in-laws or petty, opportunistic bureaucrats.

Now enter Miike Takashi’s World, where: “If it ain’t about the killin’, then it ain’t worth filmin’!!!” His samurai and aristos are just. too. cool to trouble themselves with such mind-numbing mundanities; they loaf through the hated peacetime torpor with a bad case of the blahs, willing themselves back to the good ol’ pre-shogunate g(l)ory days of barbarism and bloodshed, when everyone and everything went by the credo “Fight-o ergo sum.” Robbed of their self-validating license to do violence, they longingly finger their idle swords while dreaming of honor and sacrifice, and nursing death wishes of an epic scale to match their own aspirations to immortality.

And the villains in Miike’s World? All ineffably twisted megalomaniacs stripped of every shred of human decency. If you’re wondering just how bad a villain ought to be in a Miike Takashi jidaigeki, suffice it to say that simple rape and pillage simply won’t cut it anymore – just ask Lord Naritsugu (Inagaki Goro FTW!!), the debauched dilettante-lord (and half-brother to the shogun, ohNOES!) whose uncontrollable bloodlust and sadistic (read: freakyshiyeeet) fetishes spark off the chain of events depicted in the film.

In fact, Lord Naritsugu is SOOOO EEEVOL, that when he’s on the road and stops the night at a local daimyo’s estate, his idea of “room service” is to exercise his droit de seigneur on the first pretty young thing he sees in the hallway; when the poor girl’s horrified husband rushes in, Naritsugu, blade in hand, skewers the young man and then calmly hacks his head off. And that’s not all!!! Lord Naritsugu is SOOOO EEEVOL, he plays soccer with people’s severed heads, not caring a whit if these heads once belonged to nameless prisoners or his long-serving deputies, tsk tsk.

And that’s not all!!! He’s SOOOO EEEVOL, that when a dissenting lord commits seppuku to protest Naritsugu’s, well, EEEVOLness, the maniac has the dead lord’s surviving family members – including a four-year-old boy! – rounded up, hogtied, and used for his archery target practice. And that’s not all!!! Lord Naritsugu is SOOOO EEEVOL, that he orders the “total massacre” of a rebel leader’s family – but he spares the daughter just so he can have her limbs and tongue cut off, to keep on for his sick amusement.

Well, at least no one can say that Lord Naritsugu didn’t have it coming; and if his endless rap sheet of atrocities weren’t already screaming for divine comeuppance one way or another, they certainly warranted the next best punishment: an elaborate liquidation plot secretly ordered by a veddy, veddy concerned bakufu official. For we know that in Miike’s World, there are few fates scarier than getting CREAMED!!! BY. A. BADASS!!! SAMURAI!!! HIT SQUAD!!!

Interesting premise, yes? The concept alone had me salivating for months, beginning with this anticipatory primer which I posted a while back. But halfway into the film, I realized I may have set my expectations a tad too high. (Memo to self: No more anticipatory primers!!! Ayayay!) Because surely there’s got to be a more dynamic way to set the stage and build narrative tension in Act I than by showing a bunch of middle-aged mandarins in a midnight conclave, trading Lord Naritsugu horror stories in hushed tones and matching expressions of revulsion and righteous anger – e.g. “OMG he’s sooo EEEVOL!!!” “IKR??? A total whack job!!!” “I mean this ain’t Ancient Rome, yo!” “He must be stopped before he plunges our land into chaos!!!” “OMG, we gotta take him out!!!” “Imma make sure Lord Naritsugu sleeps with the fishes!!!” “Bad Goro! Bad Goro!!!” (Okay that last one was all me.) And for emphasis, cue intercutting shots of Goro (okay, of Lord Naritsugu) committing said acts of villainy, tsk tsk.

But Lord Naritsugu’s monstrous nature doesn’t quite jibe with the overall tone of 13 Assassins, which dyed-in-the-wool Miike Takashi fans might find too staid for the prolific filmmaker’s signature style, conspicuously lacking the mad, manic fingerprints of Japanese cinema’s favorite pulp anarchist, enfant terrible, and Energizer Bunny rolled into one. Naritsugu’s heinousness would work better in Miike Takashi’s less… temperate works, where the characters and scenarios are on a totally different plane of reality that you don’t really question why everyone and everything is so over-the-top kerreyyyzeee, you just accept it as the status quo. Whereas Lord Naritsugu’s EVOLness in 13 Assassins just feels absurd. We don’t even know how Lord Naritsugu turned out to be such a trigger-happy psycho – was he dropped on his head as a baby? bullied relentlessly by SMAP in the third grade? catch his pops in the outhouse one afternoon dressed as a geisha? Meh.

Despite the thinly written role, Inagaki Goro impresses with his unsettling portrayal of Naritsugu. Behind each heavy-lidded gaze and malcontent sigh is a listless depravity that’s far more effective than face-scrunching, moustache-twirling antics. Naritsugu reminds you of those dudes who seem perfectly normal and sane on the outside but turn out to be cold-blooded murderers or rapists or something. (Some of the most memorable baddie roles usually fall into this mold, from Dr. Lecter to William Hinks (the serial killer/stalker on The Practice) to Moriarty from the more recent Sherlock BBC mini-series… and so on.)

It wasn’t much fun watching the first hour of 13 Assassins (rising action too inert, storytelling too straightforward for my liking), but dayyum I enjoyed the Bad Goro moments – like the time he remarks parenthetically to his rape victim while decapitating her dead husband, that “Monkey necks can be so tough, ne?” – and from his tone he could just have been discussing the price of tomatoes. Or take the archery target practice scene where he actually “tsks” (lol!) when his arrow deflects off the four-year-old boy’s trussed-up, quivering body. I’ve only seen Goro do comedy (whether it’s intentional, like the sketches he does on SMAPxSMAP – he’s pretty good at it, too; or, uh, unintentional – like, uh, every time SMAP share their stage with an international guest singer, bwahaha), so it was a welcome surprise to find him more than capable of handling serious material. (Good Goro, Good Goro!)

Lord Doi, the veddy, veddy concerned bakufu official who orders the hit on Naritsugu, actually does so with the shogun’s secret blessing – although obviously the shogun would never openly go against his own (half-)brother dearest as this would dangerously undermine his own legitimacy and authority. Since Lord Doi cannot denounce Naritsugu without implicating his boss, he delegates the job to the only man he can trust, a recently widowed samurai now living in gentrified semi-retirement out in the country. The name? Shimada. Shimada Shinzaemon.

Miike Takashi hit a bonanza by casting industry great Yakusho Koji as Shimada Shinzaemon, the seasoned leader of the titular assassins. Younger audiences may recognize Yakusho Koji from big Hollywood productions like Babel and Memoirs of a Geisha, but it’s the 1996 homegrown hit Shall We Dance? (yeah the one remade into the R-Gere/J-Lo starrer) that he seems best remembered for. Yakusho Koji doesn’t get to flex many acting muscles in 13 Assassins (nothing terribly challenging here besides the punishing stunt work), but he brings a good mix of righteous gravitas and stoic heroism (not to mention those lean, leathery good looks) to every frame he’s in, whether he’s swinging a katana blade or a fishing pole.

Since Shimada obviously can’t pull off such a crucial assignment all by himself, his first order of business is to assemble his A-Team by asking them, “Shall We Kill?” (lol) You’d expect the pace to pick up at this point, but… it doesn’t. As with Act I, there’s a lot of… sitting and talking that happens in Act II. Shimada doesn’t even go out to actively enlist his ronin; he just sits in his dojo and waits for them to come to him. And despite cursory attempts by the writer to tack on a backstory to one or two characters, the samurai are barely distinguishable from each other because they all wear the same hairstyle because the viewer doesn’t get the chance to soak up the characters – it’s like marinating a slab of meat for only 3 minutes and expecting the flavor to go all the way in when you take a bite. Well, it doesn’t.

Perhaps Miike Takashi didn’t wish his remake to be a radical departure from the 1963 black-and-white original that he tended to play it safe in this film – both as a period piece and as a manly-man team action/adventure caper. But I wanted a team film with at least a little personality, a little flavor to make it memorable. I didn’t mean the raffish, wink-wink slickness of Ocean’s Eleven, or the bromo-erotic brio of Zac Snyder’s 300 (with its steroidal smorgasbord of chest bumps, war whoops and codpieces, oh my!), or even the clever, mindscrewy nonlinearity of The Usual Suspects. But I wish Miike and writer Tengan Daisuke had injected more creativity into the storytelling. Apart from the kickass battle sequence in the third act, there’s little else in 13 Assassins that really, really stands out.

13 Assassins also begs the inevitable comparison to Kurosawa’s genre-setting classic Seven Samurai, not only for its “Tiny band of samurai hole up in a village in a desperate last stand against the bad guys!!!” premise, but also for certain characters who were clearly inspired by the said epic. Despite being, oh, 43 hours long, Seven Samurai was a brilliantly edited piece of storytelling that had thematic depth, humor and real tension percolating between the well-defined characters; whereas 13 Assassins gives you a rudimentary framework of plot and characters but with very little of the meat – and thus very little of the satisfaction.

So who exactly are these thirteen would-be Goro-killers? (lol) Of course there’s Shimada the leader, who finds in the mission his samuraic raison d’etre (so he confides to Lord Doi). There’s also Shimada’s former protégé, a ronin who likes to practice some veddy, veddy cool slasher moves in Shimada’s dojo. There’s another recruit who’s candid enough to say he’s in it for the money; and then there’s the token rookie who looks like he’s nine or something, and who joins up to prove his worth with his first kill.

Yamada Takayuki plays Shimada’s profligate nephew who jumps on the Goro Must Go! bandwagon after Uncle Shimada makes him a sales pitch he can’t refuse: “Do you want to sell sugar water for the rest of your life or come with me and change the world?” “Do you want to shag geisha for the rest of your life or come with me and change Japan? And oh yeah we gonna kill Goro too, kill him good!” Yet it’s pretty frustrating to see Yamada Takayuki’s mojo wasted here. I wanted him to at least have fun with the role, dang it. Instead his character plods along with the rest of the film. Where was my crazy-eyed little bugger from the Crows Zeroes? Gone. Gone!!!

Then there’s the cute dude who brings his small posse of all-look-same trainees (uh, Juniors? Lol) from the dojo owned by Shimada’s old buddy, a samurai who has pledged to help out with the mission. Now this geezer is quite a funny character: I call him The Count (yes, as in the Muppet from Sesame Street) because of his compulsive need to keep a running tally of their numbers with each new enlistee, as in: “ONE! One little samurai assassin! AH AH AH AHHH!!!… TWO! Two little samurai assassins! AH AH AH AHHH!!!…” – And so on and so forth; I could seriously picture him with the pointy cape and the thunder and lightning and creepy organ music in the background. (Or mebbe that was just me being bored. AH AH AH AHHH!!!)

There’s almost enough eye candy in this movie to make up for the meager character development – hellooo Takaoka Sousuke and your moobs (ohnoes keep your moobs!), hellooo Sawamura Ikki, hellooo Ihara Tsuyoshi, and yes you, Yamada Takayuki. (Spot the HanaKimi/Gokusen/Nodame Cantabile alums, too!) And let’s not forget the flawlessly chiseled Iseya Yusuke as Kiga the fey forest dweller whom the assassins (at this point numbering – twelve! twelve little samurai assassins! AH AH AH AHHH!!!) come across on their journey and reluctantly admit into their ranks, not knowing what an asset he’ll prove to be in the decisive battle. Grubby, outburst-prone Kiga is an obvious nod to the archetypal Wildman of the Woods/ Offbeat Outsider character virtually patented by the great Mifune Toshiro in films like Seven Samurai. While Iseya is no Mifune, at least his character is the only one of the lot with a love life (albeit shown briefly in flashback), which at least humanizes him a little. Plus, you can never go wrong with those cheekbones.

Now Señor Miike isn’t exactly known for his “progressive” (haha) views on gender relations, and it shows in this film: you’ll find the women in 13 Assassins to be either mewling victims of sexual violence (with or without their… appendages), or pretty, pining domesticates. On the eve of the mission, a dour Yamada Takayuki leaves his wifey at the doorstep with a casual, over-the-shoulder “Oh by the way, Imma return soon… OR NOT. See you at the Festival of the Dead or whatever.” And from his bored, just-shoot-me-now expression you can tell he’d rather be at the damn festival than at home playin’ Scrabble with the missus. He doesn’t even let her respond, he just leaves. I wanted to suckah-punch Yamada in the face. SO BAD. (At least Lena Headey in 300 got to say something ultra cool to hubby-king Gerard Butler before he marched off into the waiting gold-banded arms of Xerxes the Brazilian: “Come back with your shield… or ON it.” *raised chin* *steely gaze* *all fierce woman raargh*)

Act II is when Team Shimada go to the mattresses. (“Leave the katana, take the kappamaki.” LOL) The job, after all, is a do-or-die deal requiring no less than the perfect confluence of timing, a foolproof strategy, and butt-oodles of luck. The annual trek that Bad Goro will be making from the capital to his Akashi domain opens a narrow window of opportunity to take him out. In the wise words of Marshall Mathers III, “You only get one shot / Do not miss your chance to blow / This opportunity comes once in a lifetime, yo!”

Meanwhile, Bad Goro’s crusty chief retainer named Old Jedediah Hanbei is just as determined to thwart Shimada at every turn. The two embody vastly diametrical ideologies: duty-bound Hanbei shares none of Shimada’s social justice ideals, believing that the lot of samurai “is not to wonder why, but to obey our fate and die.” That Hanbei happens to be Shimada’s old rival from samurai academy ups the ante considerably, as each man feels the insane pressure to bring his “A” game all the way to their climactic confrontation.

Shimada’s game plan is to divert Bad Goro’s retinue through a mountain pass and ambush them there. To do this, the assassins engage samurai from Bad Goro’s rival clan, the Owari – all hard-bitten men with a veddy, veddy personal ax to grind against El Psycho. With a little push from Shimada, the Owari samurai block Bad Goro on their bridge with a “You. Shall Not. PASS!!!” moment (reminded me of Gandalf and the Balrog from The Fellowship of the Ring – with leadah Matsumoto Koshiro as Gandalf, natch!), thereby forcing Goro to send the bulk of his Praetorian Guard ahead, and leaving him to traverse the mountain pass with but a “skeleton” force of 200.

At the base of the gorge is a village that Shimada and his men have chosen as the site of their entrapment. After buying the locals’ cooperation and silence, they proceed to rig the town infrastructure with an elaborate system of booby traps, so cleverly placed they practically blend into the scenery. But unlike Seven Samurai, where the heroes fortify a farming village to keep a band of marauders out, the objective of Shimada and his posse is to lure Bad Goro’s entourage in, and make sure nobody gets out alive. I still think Miike Takashi could’ve used better interplay between villagers and samurai at this point to make the story much richer – as Kurosawa had done in Seven Samurai, where the samurai-villager dynamics gave the plot some wonderful traction. Not so for 13 Assassins. (There’s like a 2-second shot of a diminutive village boy showing off his ding-dong while the samurai go about their work, but, um, I don’t think that counts.)

With all preps done, Shimada and his dirty dozen dig in and wait for their quarry to arrive – while the viewer digs in and waits for the film to (finally!!!) reach its flashpoint. And the much-anticipated Big Action-Packed Payoff does come, a ferocious coup de main of detonating bridges and collapsing houses, deadly landmines and crashing makeshift portcullises, sniper arrows and flaming fake CGI ungulates rampaging through the streets. Bad Goro’s beefeaters who survive this initial ambuscade try to fight their way out of the death trap they have unwittingly ridden into, only to find themselves facing the merciless swords, spears and slingshots of Team Shimada. It’s 13 against 200, but in the end, there can be only one (or maybe… two) – but not before each warrior gets his own Epic Moment of Awesome, to replay and freeze-frame for all eternity.

The battle royale clocks in at 40+ nonstop minutes of BLOODY GOOD ACTION, an expertly directed and edited slice-‘em-up mini-movie that aptly requires no background music other than the grunts and screams of grown men fighting and dying amid the smoking ruins and blood-slicked alleys of the village. Every nook, window, roof and mud puddle is utilized to the hilt as the roiling battle shifts in focus but never in momentum or sheer visceral thrill; the combatants clash and regroup, often breaking off into pocket skirmishes and isolated duels before finding themselves swept back into the melee. And the deft, energetic swordplay needs no embellishment from digital or wire effects – the choreography is just that good.

As with the Crows Zeroes, it’s the piece-de-resistance sequences like these that establish Miike’s genius as a stunt/action maven whose greatest strength clearly lies in depicting the beauty and brutality of battle. Of course the danger and consequences are much more amplified in 13 Assassins than in the Crows Zeroes – for these are real men and not surly schoolboys at war, men who actually die, and the stakes are much, much higher than ruling rights over a derelict school building. But whether it’s the juvie slugfests of the Crows franchise or the third-act samurai showdown in 13 Assassins, Miike pours his heart, soul and twisted little mind into these cinematic centerpieces, giving followers of the director (and of the action genre) enough to rave about for a long time to come.

But there’s a sense of self-control in the direction that elevates 13 Assassins above the usual excesses permeating Miike’s most noted (and notorious) works. Sure there’s lotsa blood on the dancefloor – er, battlefloor, but the barf factor is significantly scaled back – for example, in the movie’s two seppuku scenes, Miike tastefully zooms in on the gritted, agony-wracked faces of Uchino Masaaki and Matsumoto Koshiro (with just a Pollockian smatter of blood and squishy sound effects to suggest the actual disembowelment) instead of, well, letting it all hang out before the camera, lol. Even the Bad Goro moments – like the decapitation scene – go easy on the queasy because the worst acts of butchery hover safely out of camera range, and thus deliver their intended effect more powerfully.  The art direction evokes this same restraint with an appropriately low-key palette of plums and browns and teals that comes off as austerely beautiful despite the drab tones.

The one concession that Miike makes to his shock/horror genre roots is a scene early in the film where Shimada Shinzaemon is confronted with Bad Goro’s limbless, tongueless ex-plaything. As the amputee labors to squiggle “total massacre” on a sheet of washi paper, the camera closes in on her face – drooling mouth clamped hard on the brush, bloodshot eyes screaming rage – and you’ll either recoil from your screen, or do a double fist-pump whooping, “Now that’s more like the Miike I know!” You’ll also wonder for a moment who had more fun doing what – Bad Goro mutilating the girl, or Miike Takashi orchestrating the scene as the sly impresario of his own Theater of the Grotesque. (Probably the latter, lol.)

In the movie’s final minutes, when the smoke begins to clear and the mountain fog disperses over the gutted village and its fallen warriors, a survivor is left to ponder this long day and its implications for his class and for him, personally. Viewers, too, will reflect upon the past two hours and ask themselves if the film was an experience worth revisiting again and again – as all well-loved classics are. For all of Miike Takashi’s earnest attempts to craft a modern masterpiece cut from the same cloth as the Golden Age jidaigeki greats, I can’t say that 13 Assassins delivered on my expectations. (Miike followed this up with another remake, the 3D Hara-Kiri: Death of a Samurai, which debuted at Cannes 2011 to disappointing reviews.)  But is 13 Assassins a movie still worth keeping around the house (or hard disk)? Oh heck, yes – it’ll be perfect for those muggy Saturday afternoons when I’m in an exceptionally sanguinary mood. Naturally I’ll skim over the perfunctory first two acts (but slow down for the Bad Goro parts, lol), and hit “play” at the 70-minute mark, as the movie truly comes alive in all its wild, pulsating glory. And no, I’m not ashamed to say that I share Bad Goro/Lord Naritsugu’s morbid fascination with warfare when he gushes to his loyal Hanbei as the battle rages on: “How magnificent!!!”

Grade:
Artistic and technical merit: B+
Entertainment value: B
Final: B+

***

Photo credits: 13assassins.com, bonjourtristesse.com, collider.com, gonnawatchit.com, imdb.com, lens-view.com, milehighcinema.com, ruthlessculture.com

by Ender’s Girl

The Cast:
Kimura Takuya, Kuroki Meisa, Yanagiba Toshiro, Ogata Naoto, Yamazaki Tsutomu

Directed by Yamazaki Takashi / Toho; TBS Films, 2010

In a Nutshell:
A single battleship and its doughty crew are mankind’s last hope against an invading alien race!!!

The Real Nutshell:
Kimura Takuya makes a bid for international moviestardom!!!

(SpoilLert: Well it’s that kind of film, so can there really be anything to spoil?)

It’s 2199 and there’s something straaange in the solar system: Earth is this close to getting nuked out of existence by an invading alien race – SO WHO YA GONNA CALL?????????????

KIMUTAKUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

(Did the Ghostbusters theme song start playing in your head just now??? It did, dinnit??? Hahahaha)

The last time a cocky, nonconformist hero saved the world from imminent destruction while a Steven Tyler power ballad blared in the background, the year was 1998 and the movie was Armageddon. It’s 2011 and (a newly relevant) Steven Tyler is still caterwauling the same tune (well, almost), although the crew nationalities have changed from Eeemrrican to Japanese, the Earth faces a different kind of threat (enemy extraterrestrials! instead of giant asteroids!), and the hero (Kimura Takuya in full-on Moviestar Mode) has way more hair than Bruce Willis did in Armageddon (or anything he starred in since 1987, for that matter).

I don’t know if the producers of the 2010 Space Battleship Yamato remake intentionally hired Steven Tyler as a nod to Armageddon – and, by association, that other celestial-body-on-a-collision-course-with-Earth-OHNOES!!! flick from 1998, Deep Impact (whose plotline the Bay/Bruckheimer/Willis mega-production reportedly cribbed off, tsk tsk). Strictly speaking, Yamato isn’t a disaster sci-fi flick like Armageddon or Deep Impact, but it runs on the same basic premise: A motley crew of spacemen sets out on a hail-Mary mission to [insert planetary body], which they must [destroy/steal an alien device from] in order to save the earth. Chances of success or survival seem dire, but the intrepid officers and crewmen are prepared to make the ultimate sacrifice for the sake of our planet!!! *cue [insert Steven Tyler song]*

As the first live-action feature based on the successful 1970s anime-manga franchise, Space Battleship Yamato was given its own daunting mission to execute: to entice the core fan base back to the mother ship; to wow new and younger audiences with astronomical (pun intended) doses of visual and sound FX; and to break into international markets and, er, boldly go where no KimuTaku film has gone before.

Growing up I never really followed the original anime, or even the dubbed U.S. release, Star Blazers. (I did watch a bit of Macross, but was a far bigger fan of the cheesy supah roboto shows like Voltron and Voltes V – eeewww, I know. Hahaha.) So I can’t speak for the Yamato die-hards and judge whether the live-action was a worthy remake or not – although a quick comparison of googled photos shows that the movie had the key visual references from the series pretty much covered – from the design of the Yamato battleship to Captain Okita’s naval uniform with the white combination cap, etc. – obviously so as not to alienate the nerds fans. Well, the franchise fans didn’t seem to mind: joining forces with a hefty slice of Japan’s moviegoing public AND Kimmy’s ever-formidable fanbase, they helped propel Yamato to the top of the box-office, where it knocked Potter 7: Part 1 off the No. 1 slot in December 2010 and maintained a strong showing for the rest of its extended run.

I wish I could say that I found Space Battleship Yamato extremely enjoyable, and that I would still watch the movie even without Kimura in it. But I can’t. And while the production design and VFX (more on that later) were very impressive for the relatively modest budget (relative to Hollywood, of course), there was little else that kept me stoked. Although to be fair to the movie, it stays faithful to the original story and its space-opera genre, not deviating off-course for even one nanodegree. But it also loses points for staying too faithful to a genre that started feeling dated a good while back. The familiar tropes of a traditional space opera, which decades ago may have felt as exciting as a freshly minted Galaxy-class starship, are now clichéd and outmoded. (“Built-in obsolescence,” yah? I guess even genres have a shelf life, lol.) Space Battleship Yamato safely tries to go where a whole bunch of sci-fi shows have gone before, but did I really want another retread of the same old stuff?

Again, trying to be fair to the movie, I get that its source material was a product of its time more than anything: As one of the earliest space/military sci-fi shows in Japan, predating even the Star Wars and Battlestar Galactica franchises, all the 1974 anime had for a template was the 1966-69 Star Trek: TOS, and you really can’t get more “space operatic” than that. So it’s no wonder that the Yamato franchise comes replete with all its genre conventions, like the predictable plot trajectory and stock characters; Shatneresque (lol) voice-overs; a preponderance of technobabble (shock cannons! meteorite bombs! wave motion guns!); highly evolved alien species possessing godlike technologies that can either save or destroy mankind; smart-mouthed robot sidekicks (but okay, I loved Kimura’s robot sidekick in this one, lol); super-cool mega-weapons (i.e. the wave motion gun, called a “laser beam on steroids” by tvtropes.com, lol); etc. etc.

It doesn’t help either that the live-action Yamato came out a few years after the Sci-Fi Channel’s excellent reimagining of the 1978 Battlestar Galactica series. This acclaimed 2004-2009 drama was a touchstone both for the space/military sci-fi genre and for television in general, smashing well-entrenched norms and opening global audiences to the possibility that, yes, there IS more to these types of shows than phasers and latex-suited aliens and spacecraft (or should I say, cameras? lol) that pitch wildly while the crew on the bridge scream, “We’re hit aft! Losing thrust!” “Incoming!” – and later, “Aaauughhh!!!!” (lol) So I’m not sure how the 2010 Yamato remake can still be relevant, let alone sustainably entertaining, in this post-Galactica world where “naturalistic science fiction” is the new paradigm, and adult audiences are seeking more sophisticated, character-driven instead of hardware-driven forms of entertainment.

Ah, well, on with our space J-popera: It’s 2199 and for the last five years Earth has been under heavy attack from a hostile alien race known only as “Gamilas.” The unrelenting blitzing by Gamilas forces – in the form of nuclear “meteorite bombs” – has reduced the planet’s surface to one vast radioactive funk and driven the human survivors below ground where they live like starving sardines in dingy, shoebox-type bunkers. (The fact that Yamato opened in Japan just a few months before 3/11 gives the film an extra meta dimension, doesn’t it? You also realize that though the story is pure science fiction, the effects of a full-blown nuclear crisis are already being felt in the present world. A disturbing thought.)

On the verge of utter defeat, the Earth Defense Force (EDF) musters one final counterattack, but the superior technology and firepower of the alien spacecraft wipe out the entire EDF fleet except for one ship. (The Earth Defense Force is supposedly a global military alliance of sorts, but the movie makes no bones about who’s in charge: in mankind’s ultimate war for survival, Nihon stands alone. Which is perfectly understandable – this is a Japanese movie after all; even Armageddon never bothered to hide its core theme of “White American Hero saves the world!!!” and the audiences lapped it up. So it’s moot.)

Soon after that disastrous space battle, a mysterious pod thing crashes on Earth, bearing what appears to be an alien care package from the planet Iskandar in a neighboring galaxy: there are hologram-encoded blueprints for two über-technologies, namely a device that enables faster-than-light (FTL) travel, and a humungous “wave motion cannon” that can vaporize enemy ships in a single ka-boom. Also in the capsule are coordinates to Iskandar, which happens to be in possession of an anti-radiation thingamajiggy. Whoever sent the message means for the humans to come and get said curative, and then race back to clean up Earth’s irradiated surface and restore the planet to inhabitable levels.  (I dunno about you but these aliens have pretty much taken the term “good neighbors” to a whole new dimension, lol.)

Soooo let’s see… FTL travel, a badass new weapon, and directions to a radiation cure-all from Earth’s new alien BFF. If that won’t make you think twice before jumping off into hyperspace towards what could very well be a trap, then I don’t know what will. But lo! – desperate times call for desperate measures, and so! – armed with this propitious new info, the EDF brass task their engineers to assemble said gizmos (from scratch!) – and yes, we are expected to believe that unheard-of alien technology will only take humans a few months, if not a few weeks to understand, let alone build. (We are “puny earthlings” no more, didn’t you hear!) But you do wonder why the Gamilas ships didn’t just finish the humans off during this lull, with Earth’s defenses virtually nil. Did the Gamilas E.T.s call a cease-fire or something? Them little green men ain’t so smart after all, huh? lol

Then the EDF (meaning Japan) takes it a notch higher and retrofits the FTL machine and wave gun cannon into the recovered wreckage of the battleship Yamato, that once-mighty flagship that saw action in the Second World War before succumbing to Allied torpedoes in April 1945. In a masterful confluence of digitally rendered matte-backdrops and CGI modeling, the newly resurrected Yamato cruiser breaks free of its subterranean shipyard and majestically lifts off into space, a titanium phoenix rising from the ashes of a post-apocalyptic landscape. (Considering that the anime came out just 30 years after WW II, one may say that this premise making the Yamato 2.0 central to a futuristic salvation story echoes Japan’s post-War nostalgia for its faded military glory, while recalling the original ship’s revered status as a cultural symbol for patriotic duty and self-sacrifice.)

And where does KimuTaku figure in all of this, pray tell? Why, he’s here… there… and EVERYWHERE!!! Lol. No really, he is: manning the controls of the Yamato 2.0… operating the wave motion gun… piloting a fighter plane… tussling with an alien hijacker… rescuing an endangered colleague… leading a daring ground assault team… steering the Yamato into its final maneuver… saving the planet – oh you know, the usual KimuTaku everyday heroics. You’re reminded that this movie is every bit Kimura’s star vehicle as it is a remake of a classic anime. So who does Japan love more – Space Battleship Yamato, or Dorama King KimuTaku? DOH, who cares??? Put them BOTH in one movie and see if you don’t hit pay dirt, hahaha. (Oh wait, the movie studio already did!!!)

Kimura’s character, the “ace pilot” (lol I’ll never get tired of saying that) Kodai Susumu is basically a torqued-up version of one of his most successful dorama character templates, the “KimuTaku as Tom Cruise” template. Kimura really just phoned it all in, reprising his roles as Maverick Pilot Shinkai from Good Luck! and Rule-breaking Hot-rodder Jiro from Engine – but in space!!! Lawl.  So when the EDF calls for volunteer crew on the Yamato 2.0’s last-ditch mission to Iskandar, guess who’s first in line??? Shinkai! I mean – Jiro!!! I mean – Kodai!!! Same thing, same thing!!! hahahaha (I swear, I think Kimura’s space uniform in Yamato was actually one of his racer jackets from Engine – I dare you to prove me wrong! Lulz. But it’s all good because oh baby the spaceman jacket suited him oh-so-faha-haiiin…)

Kodai is a man on a mission, but he’s also one man with <wait for it> baggage from his past (oohh, backstory!!! lol). Turns out he was a decorated fighter pilot who quit the EDF some five years ago after a counterattack he was leading against Gamilas bombers went horribly awry, leading to significant civilian casualties (among them his own parents – tsk).  Since then he’s eked out a living scavenging for rare earth metals, with only his trusty HAZMAT suit and a wisecracking calculator-sized data analyzing robot named, um, Analyzer to keep him company on the surface wasteland of Earth. It’s funny how life has been reduced to hell on earth, with humans either dying from radiation poisoning above ground, or subsisting on severely rationed supplies under it – AND YET apparently there’s enough hair product available to keep Kimura’s fluffy mahogany mane in perfect luster and bounce, LMAO. Don’t you think Kimura’s character should have turned bald by now from the chronic radiation exposure? A little verisimilitude here, producers?!?!? Yes? Yes? No?

So Kodai enlists – oh I’m sorry, I mean re-enlists – for the EDF. But OH WHAT’S THIS? He’s barely boarded the Yamato when the C.O. reinstates him as squadron leader, never mind that he could be, um, a little rusty after five years? So, um, no re-orientation program or refresher course for EDF dropouts? (i.e. “This is starboard.” “This is a joystick.” “That is Saturn.” Lol) No? None? Not even a few simulation runs to test the mental-physical reflexes of 38-year-old ex-pilots who may have spent a little too much time on the earth’s highly toxic surface? No? None? *sigh*

And that’s not all! Guess who gets to fiddle with the joystick of the Yamato’s prototypical (meaning it’s never even been tested!!!!) wave motion cannon, which apparently is the only weapon strong enough to vaporize Gamilas missiles??? Take a wild guess!!!! Hahahaha. So not only does Kodai find himself on the ship’s flight deck with the other *cough*active and more battle-seasoned*cough* officers, but he gets to be the point man for the prized weapon despite himself admitting to zero experience at the command console of a battleship. But never fear, for our Ace Pilot Kodai <wait for it> has read the wave motion engine manual!!! LMFAO.

Luckily for Kodai (and for the rest of the Yamato’s officers and crew, whose lives Kodai would have recklessly put on the line had he forgotten to read the manual ahahaha), the wave motion gun actually works!!! (I am seriously getting sick of saying “wave motion gun” ayayayayyy) The Gamilas missiles sent to intercept the Yamato are promptly obliterated, allowing the battleship to pull away from the earth’s gravitational field and into space.

The rest of Space Battleship Yamato is an alternating play of flashy, messy, noisy action with close-quarter interpersonal drama, obviously meant to give audiences (as well as the movie studio’s in-house CGI-churning elves, bless their hearts) a brief respite before the next interstellar dogfight or warp jump or whatever. That’s all very good, but I thought the movie’s aim was to let viewers catch their breath, not put them to sleep. The film bogs down when the story unduly magnifies the crew dynamics, mostly to expand on (and later give closure to) unfinished business or lingering tensions between characters X and Y. But these “downtime” scenes are often too drawn-out, if not completely inessential, and only serve to bloat the movie’s running time to over two hours. (The ponderous voiceover didn’t help the momentum of the movie, either, making me feel I was watching a show at the local planetarium.)

One of my issues with Kimura’s other “ace pilot” (lol) starrer, the 2003 dorama Good Luck!, was that the dramatic tension between the passengers and crew of the ANA flights felt so manufactured. Same with the crew of the Yamato: Aliens above, but these spacemen seemed to have way too many hang-ups for their own good, starting with (who else?) KimuTaku – er, Kodai, who joins the mission carrying an ax to grind against the Yamato’s skipper, Capt. Okita (Yamazaki Tsutomu). We learn that Kodai’s oniisama (Tsutsumi Shinichi in a cameo, and wearing a uniform that was probably swiped from the set of Good Luck! lol), perished with his ship when Gamilas forces nuked the entire EDF fleet in the recent ill-fated battle. Only Capt. Okita’s ship got away, and so Kodai blames Okita for causing his brother’s death, mistakenly thinking that Okita used Tsutsumi Shinichi’s ship as a shield so he could escape – when in fact it was Tsutsumi Shinichi who voluntarily sacrificed his ship on Okita’s behalf.

Some people just DON’T KNOW when to let it go, yo: Kodai just.carps. on. ENDLESSLY aboard the Yamato, and does everything to undermine Capt. Okita’s authority – from sniping barbs in the captain’s general direction, to defying a direct order to stay aboard when a fighter pilot (Kuroki Meisa) gets separated from her squadron following a skirmish with Gamilas pursuers. Of course Kodai goes off to find Meisa, and of course they make it back to the Yamato milliseconds before the next scheduled warp jump, thereby justifying his insubordination once again. I guess it wouldn’t be a “KimuTaku as Tom Cruise” type of role without him giving chain of command The Finger – that’s KimuTaku for you, saving the world… but on his own terms.

When the movie is three-quarters done and Kodai is still taking Capt. Okita to task for leaving his brother to die in space blah blah, that’s when you realize just how badly and cheesily written the script is, particularly in the supposedly “emotionally charged” moments. I mean this was the scene where the captain was in his sickbed for frak’s sake, about to confide to Kodai the Mutinous all the secrets his ship carried – but Kodai couldn’t keep his bitter little trap SHUT for just one minute, couldn’t stop reminding the old man how they were nothing alike because he’d never leave his comrades behind. Sheeeesh.

And I don’t know if the Capt. Okita from the anime was supposed to be as stern and humorless as he was portrayed in the movie, but I expected more from actor Yamazaki Tsutomu – never mind if he looked like Captain Haddock’s grizzled grandpaw (though I wouldn’t have minded seeing him roar out “Blistering blue barnacles!!!” “Troglodytes!!!” and my favorite, “Ectoplasm!!!” just for the heck of it, lololll). It’s just that I greatly enjoyed his performances in Kurosagi (in spite of YamaPi lol) and in Departures because his characters had a twinkle to them, a sense of humor mixed in with irony, which I didn’t see in his character in Yamato.

Capt. Okita’s relationship with Kodai is a big fat flatliner despite attempts by the writing to play up the vaunted similarities between the two men. Too much time is wasted on scenes where crew members tell Kodai that he!is!justlike!theCaptain!!! while Kodai rolls his eyes or snorts in disbelief before making another gibe at the poor skipper.

There’s one scene where Kodai gets thrown in the brig (for disobeying ze captain, what else? *rolleyes*) and the chief engineer Tokugawa pays him a visit. A fleet veteran who knew Kodai from the old days, Tokugawa (played by the actor who also played Kimura’s beloved otosan-in-law in Karei naru Ichizoku) lends a sympathetic ear to the younger man, then tries to explain how Kodai is really a <wait for it!!!> younger version of Capt. Okita. *rolleyes* I liked Tokugawa but didn’t appreciate how his character was only good for perfunctory exposition and for belaboring the Kodai-Okita Ties That Bind Rainbow Connection. Actually, Kodai’s time in the brig is pretty pointless because he goes scot-free like, the next day or something. (And here I thought insubordination was a serious military offense, tsk.) At least the jail stint gives him an excuse to zip off his jacket and do sit-ups in his undershirt, showing his biceps brachii to glorious advantage, heh heh heh.

Another major character with a serious chip on her shoulder is Kuroki Meisa’s character, a prickly little hottie who liberally dispenses scowls and right hooks like a KAT-TUN member on a bad hair day – no wonder nobody likes her. Her beef is mainly with Kodai, whom she idolized in her days as a new recruit, but whose abrupt exit from the military five years ago left her disillusioned and without a father figure (hahaha).

Meisa is one idoru who knows how to play up her strengths and physical attributes (for one, she’s freakin’ gohrgeoussss), and who doesn’t seem to mind being typecast this early as the Token Tough Babe. Still, it doesn’t do her much good to phone in her performance the way Kimura does in this movie. She played someone similar in Ninkyo Helper but at least she managed to draw out highly relatable aspects of the character; she wasn’t just a sexy, one-dimensional gangster in that drama, but a person – an independent woman, a fiercely loyal friend, a girl secretly in love. She also had terrific chemistry with Kusanagi Tsuyoshi, which is more than I can say for her and KimuTaku in Yamato.

You’d expect the combined sex appeal of Kimura and Meisa to ignite some chemistry between their characters, but it’s like all they had in the Zero G of outer space was Zero C – as in zero chemistry, hahaha. Theirs is a rather lame-o “love story” marked by a few heated exchanges on the ship, followed by a couple of emotionally raw, life-and-death moments… aaand before we know it, they’re making out in her cabin and – oh what’s this? – they’re doin’ the horizontal mambo just as the Yamato enters warp drive. Hahahaha WTF??? What is this – warp sex or something? A… quantum quickie? Hahahaha. Er… faster than the speed of light, eh, Kodaiii? *wink, wink* LOLZZZ (Hey I just thought of more alliterative sex-in-space terms: interstellar intercourse? cosmic congress? FTL… er… never mind. LMAO) But don’t you think it’s – I dunno, SO irresponsible to just go off on a shagalactic time out (aka “Lust in Space” ahahaha) when your sleep-deprived crew mates are ALL PRESENT at their stations, trying their darnedest to keep the ship afloat while staving off the next wave of Gamilas attacks? Tsk tsk tsk.

On second thought, better Kuroki Meisa as the love interest in Yamato than Sawajiri Erika, who was the first choice for the role but got booted off the project for – I dunno, diva issues? ego issues? Kimura issues? (lol) I shudder to think how Sawajiri would’ve handled such a dangerous intergalactic mission: she probably would’ve cried all the time or maybe even summoned her pet magical butterflies or something. (1 Liter of Tears/Shinobi fans go: “Heyyy. Low blow!!! Low blow!!!” lolz) Fragile thing, it’s a good thing she stayed home instead.

But there are a few times when the interpersonal development actually works. For instance I enjoyed Kodai’s scenes with Shima (Ogata Naoto), the Yamato’s chief navigator. (Shima’s pregnant wife was among the collateral dead along with Kodai’s parents in the wake of Kodai’s disastrous mission five years ago. Shima’s son survived but lost his hearing.) Kodai and Shima’s backstory is given enough time and space to unfold, quietly but realistically. And when the two old friends and former shipmates find a chance to reconnect on the flight and learn to put the past behind them, none of it feels contrived.

It’s also quite a relief that Space Battleship Yamato has likable minor characters played by an able supporting cast. Besides the chief navigator Shima and the chief engineer Tokugawa, I particularly liked the chief S&T officer Sanada (Yanagiba Toshiro, who also played the stern but cool senior E.R. doctor who whipped YamaPi’s butt into shapely – er, shape in the Code Blues); swaggering Saito of the Space Commandos (Ikeuchi Hiroyuki, also seen in Beautiful Days and Tatta Hitotsu no Koi); and perhaps my favorite character of all, Analyzer the sentient robot, who shares an unexpectedly touching moment – or two – with Kodai. Analyzer reminds me of Calcifer the fire demon from Miyazaki’s Howl’s Moving Castle (and guess who voiced the wizard Howl? KimuTakuuuu!!! lol). If they were people, Analyzer and Calcifer would make a fine duo of wisecracking, know-it-all geeks – or just the sort of guy friends I used to hang out with in school (and still do, lol).

The chipper youngsters of the Black Tiger fighter squadron – Kodai’s old unit – didn’t appeal as much to me: I neither cared to know their names nor felt a twinge of anything when a number of them were KIA. And from the “gruffly affectionate big bro” manner that alpha Tiger Kodai treated his still-loyal space cadets, you’d think you were watching a spinoff episode of Engine II: Lost in Space, hahaha. Just imagine the Engine rugrats growing up to be, um, fighter pilots, and they meet KimuTaku in the mess hall of the Yamato – and what else would you expect but cute, playful banter!!! reminiscing and catching-up!!! heartfelt gestures of loyalty!!! (Guhh but this Good Luck!-Engine-Yamato mash-up is seriously messin’ wid my brain, lolzzz)

Then there’s the cat-toting ship doctor (Takashima Reiko) who doesn’t even know what “warp” means until a crew member in the hallway has to stop and explain it to her. WHUTT. I liked Takashima Reiko in her past roles, but her naïve and constantly befuddled character in Yamato was mildly irritating. Someone tell me why the Earth Defense Force picked a person so lacking in presence of mind, and so ignorant of basic aeronautics to serve as ship doctor? One thing’s for sure – she ain’t no Dr. Beverly Crusher from the Star Trek: TNG series. Oh well.

The scene that packed the most emotional punch for me wasn’t KimuTaku’s rah-rah-rally speech on the embattled ship’s bridge towards the movie’s climax; nor was it the loss of a beloved officer to a lingering illness, or even the perilous ground raid in the warren-like tunnels below Iskandar (or should I say… Gamilas? lol); and it definitely was not that protracted parting scene at the movie’s close. The most effectively touching moment for me was earlier in the film, when the Yamato’s crew were each given a minute of face time with loved ones on Earth before communication lines were cut off as the battleship exited the solar system. I don’t know about you but my eyes were not dry afterwards. This reminded me of Liv Tyler’s immortalized hand-on-static-screen shot from Armageddon – or that equally poignant scene from Deep Impact where the shuttle crew say goodbye to their families. It’s quiet but deeply personal moments like these that are ultimately more satisfying than the melodrama and hyperbolized human conflict that often plague stories set against large-than-life (and louder-than-life) backdrops.

Speaking of backdrops, the art design of Space Battleship Yamato is really commendable, the digital effects comparable to those from any Hollywood film. I enjoyed all the visuals – from the striking panoramic shots of the earth’s gasping, dust-strewn surface; to a brief scene where Kimura crosses a bridge spanning the multi-tiered bunker city the survivors have carved out underground; to the wicked-looking Gamilas ships that resemble gothic arthropods; down to the Yamato’s design – sleek yet robust, fitted with a long, red hull and gaping nozzle, and cruising through space like an interstellar whale. Super cool!

The Yamato interiors attempt to channel that distressed, space-retro vibe the 2004-2009 Battlestar Galactica series managed to make cool again: spartan and functional, if a little worn, as befitting a military vessel – and way more realistic, too, than chrome-and-leather flight decks. As for the digitally imposed Gamilas aliens, they look like standard-issue extraterrestrials so no surprise there: humanoid but not too humanoid so as to be unsettling (like Mel Gibson’s “burn-victim” visitors from Signs). Still, I think I would’ve enjoyed something looking a little more outta-this-world, like that hilariously grotesque brain bug from Starship Troopers – the brain-slurpin’ scene was SO much fun to watch! lol

All in all, not bad for something made under 24 mil USD. (Hollywood flicks can cost five times more on the average.) So big props to Yamato director/VFX supervisor Yamazaki Takashi (Returner), although let’s not discount claims that KimuTaku used his clout to get the VFX team to spruce up the visuals after finding their initial efforts wanting. His main motivation? A little movie called Avatar. Legend has it that in early 2010, Kimura was sitting in a cushy downtown-Tokyo theater after a screening of the James Cameron eco-epic. He then turned to his date wife besto friend Kame agent and sobbed, “Why can’t we come up with something like that? Why??!!???”

Okayyy so maybe I embellished a bit, lol. But Japanese media reported that Kimura pushed for spiffier FX when Yamato was already in post-production, even if it meant having to re-shoot certain scenes and re-layer the CGI. But the process wouldn’t come cheap – which is why Kimura offered to take a huge pay cut just so his, um, Avataresque vision could be achieved. A true meta moment for the star of a movie whose core theme is self-sacrifice – although one can also imagine what other belt-tightening measures the studio must have resorted to, like… cast and crew having to eat nothing but Skittles until production wrapped, or Kimura having to, uh,  share a trailer with Kuroki Meisa, lol.

The final act of this rambling space odyssey is a cavalcade of textbook heroics, though if you stuck around long enough you’d see the Independence Day and Armageddon (and, uh, Fly Boys Fly!) moments coming from a parsec away – right down to the fuzzy little epilogue (okay so that epilogue was more of a… Pearl Harbor moment, lol). (And I can assure you that Space Battleship Yamato is nothing like the 2003 alien-themed K-movie Save the Green Planet, hah hah.)

But in spite of the plot clichés and the drama, there’s something so inherently and historically Japanese about this film’s central theme of an individual – be it person or ship – making the supreme sacrifice for the sake of their nation. It’s the ultimate bushido ideal: complete your mission in a blaze of glory, or falter and flame out. For whatever it’s worth, perhaps Yamato is just the type of film that Japanese audiences need at this time, an unabashed tribute to their remarkable grit and resilience as a people.

When it comes right down to it, Space Battleship Yamato is Kimura’s baby (and not just the cute critter we see frolicking on an impossibly green Earth at the movie’s close – it’s as if the alien invasion never happened! and if the kid’s mother actually possessed a sense of humor, she’d name him “Warp Child” or “Kal-El,” hahaha). With this film, Kimura has taken his signature Cocky Nonconformist Hero Who Saves the Day on His Own Terms template, blown it up for the big screen, and beamed it far and wide for all the world – nay, the galaxy! – to see, announcing to the nations and the planets and the pulsars that THIS is his flagship role, so damnright you better expect MOAR!!! repeat performances (or variants thereof) in his coming *crossfingers* blockbusters . Call him a late bloomer, but he (and his fans) can now say with growing conviction that, YES, A MOVIESTAR IS BORN. (LOL) So the universe can go screw itself, but the Man from Japan’s got a Mission and a Plan… So excuuuuse Cap’n KimuTaku while he kisses the sky, and takes his Ultimate Hero character to infinityyyy and beyooooond…… Or for now at least, just to a theater near you.

Grade
Artistic & technical merit: B
Entertainment value: C+
Overall: B-

***
Photo credits: dramacrazy.net, drama-otaku.com, fat-geisha.blogspot.com, film-book.com, jfilmpowwow.blogspot.com, liveforfilms.com, nipponcinema.com, starblazers.com, tenkai-japan.com, tokyohive.com, total-manga.com, yamato-movie.net, zdoramaagain.blogspot.com, zimbio.com

Oh, and speaking of aliens, here’s a public service message from The Little Dorama Girl:

Hahahahahahahahaa

(continued)

by Ender’s Girl

(Read Part One: my Koizora review)

Kimi ni Todoke: Nice and Over Easy… (But Too Easy?)

The Cast:
Tabe Mikako, Miura Haruma, Renbutsu Mikako, Netsuna, Arata, Katsumura Masanobu

Directed by Kumazawa Naoto / NTV and Toho, 2010

In a Nutshell:
The last four decent students at West High attempt to draw out the class loner from her antisocial shell. Friendship, self-confidence and love bloom under the cherry trees!!!

(SpoilLert: Yep, there’s quite a few!)

If Koizora was the Ultimate Makjang Fantasy, then Kimi ni Todoke (From Me to You, lit. Reaching You) would be the Ultimate Shoujo Fantasy – not that this makes it a bad thing, not at all. I’ll take the most jejune of shoujo fiction over the obscene little sideshow that was Koizora any fureaking day of the year, thank you very much.

When this much-awaited live-action adaptation of the popular manga hit theaters in 2010, Miura Haruma could not have chosen a better post-Koizora palate-cleanser for fans clamoring to see him in another romantic-lead role – although this time, his character was a complete about-face from his soulful-cad-secretly-dying-of-too-much-hair-bleach-cancer in Koizora. If his Koizora character, Hiro, was the boy you loved to hate, then his Kazehaya Shota in Kimi ni Todoke was that boy in school, Mr. Perfect, the Golden Boy himself. (And forgive my inner geek-dork, but at this point I’m tempted to add that bit from the Voltron series opener: “…loved by good, feared by evil!” That’s Kazehaya-kun for you! lol) So I don’t see why fans of the original manga would ever object to Miura essaying the role of Kazehaya-kun; judging from the character’s description, the decision to cast the Most Agreeable-Looking Idoru Under 30 was right on the money.

[Sidebar: It’s quite interesting how Miura so convincingly embodies both the Ultimate Shounen Hero (in the Bloody Mondays) and the Ultimate Shoujo Heartthrob (Kimi ni Todoke). Could his idealized good looks and wholesome, sincere vibe have anything to do with it? Still, points for unisex appeal. *ka-ching!* ]

And it isn’t just Miura that’s easy on the eye in this movie. Props to the filmmakers for putting together such a visually charming package, from the pleasantly subdued palette of muted tans and neutrals to the solid, steady camera frames. I especially loved the high-angle shots of Kazehaya (Miura) and Sawako (Tabe Mikako) at the zebra crossing, both looking up at the cherry tree, with the white painted lines on the asphalt road a lovely contrast to the delicate snowy pink of the sakura petals above them. Very nicely styled.

That said, it’s the plot of Kimi ni Todoke that I’m not too crazy about. Don’t get me wrong – as far as teenybopper romances go, this one’s a smooth and pleasant ride. But is it a tad too smooth and pleasant? If Koizora portrayed Puppy Love at its most rabidly homicidal (as I said in my Koizora review), then this film seems to show Puppy Love at its most… spayed and neutered, lol.

For one, the major “conflicts” that buttress Kimi ni Todoke aren’t so much real conflicts as juvenile misunderstandings hyperbolized for effect. Such “conflicts,” which may have worked well in the source manga and the anime adaptation, simply don’t translate well to film: They fail to pass cinematic muster, being too trivial to hold up in the more expansive, drama-charged narrative of a mainstream movie, but still too contrived even for a quieter, slice-of-life kind of film. The so-called conflicts also cut up the movie into shorter episodes (each dealing with its own “conflict”), but this treatment falls short of bringing the film into cohesion. A far more suitable medium would’ve been television, and with Kimi ni Todoke as a ten-episode Jdorama. (Now WHY didn’t Miura just do a Kimi ni Todoke renzoku instead of that 2011 classroom morality play he eventually wound up in? ‘Twould’ve been more age-appropriate, too.)

Conflict-not-a-conflict # 1: Weird girl likes cute boy… but does he like her back???

I can see why the Kimi ni Todoke source material was a resounding hit with female readers, especially teens – I mean come on, what girl wouldn’t want the cutest, most popular boy in school to be secretly in love with her all along? Such is the scenario on which the film is premised: High school heartthrob tries his darnedest – though not always successfully – to reach out (*ka-ching!* there’s the title for you!) to the class misfit. Which really shouldn’t be much of a challenge… except that said misfit happens to be the most ill-discerning, socially maladroit human being in Japan!!! (*ka-ching!* there’s conflict for you!)

I normally don’t mind these opposites-attract, “handsome & popular guy falls for self-esteem-challenged weirdo” (or, in The Breakfast Club terminology, “Prince falls for Basket Case”) kinds of tropes. But it all felt too… I dunno, easy-peasy. It turns out that Kazehaya-kun has liked our heroine, Sawako, from Day 1 – now where’s the challenge in that?

Take their initial meeting on the first day of school, when Sawako spots this new boy in their West High uniform standing at a crossroads and puzzling over directions in his hand. She diffidently points him in the right way, and he walks up to her, smiling warmly in relief – but uh-oh, red flag moment here – his gaze lingers a few beats too long on her bashful little face while the camera lingers a few beats too long on the two of them standing on the zebra crossing – just in case it hasn’t occurred to viewers by now that they! are! the! OTP!

And to driiiive home the point for the rest of us, the boy plucks a stray sakura petal from Sawako’s hair – and it’s perfectly heart-shaped!!! what could this mean, pray tell??!?!? – and they engage in more meaningful eye-locking before he spots his homies down the street. OH COME ONE. Seriously??? A heart-shaped petal??? The entire money shot is pretty, yes, poetic, yes, but how believable is it? Not bloody much. In fact, not bloody at all.

This First Meeting scene, whose significance in both setting the tone of the film and in hooking the viewers’ interest I need not underscore, could have been great – had it been handled with less of the staginess and blatant manipulation. Clearly, the encounter was designed more for viewer fanservice than anything else. Who stands in the middle of the effin’ road staring moony-eyed at someone they’ve just met – for a full minute??? And with those (heavy-handedly) auspicious heart-shaped petals swirling around them??? You’d just as soon expect the heavens to burst open, discharging choirs of cherubim, or, in the same grand manner, for a sword wedged in a block of granite to magically appear before them with a mighty poof! *rolleyes*

I don’t like my OTPs to be railroaded into OTP-ness before the ten-minute mark, goshdarnit. I want their relationship to grow on me – organically please, without the director and editor screaming into my ears, “Look at those two, ne?!!?! *poke, poke* Look at how they can’t keep their eyes off each other, ne?!?!! *nudge, nudge* Notice the byoootiful metaphor of the kokoro-shaped petal, ne?!?!! *prod, prod* This means looove, ne?!?!!” – Please. I would’ve had a much easier time getting into the moment if Kazehaya had simply… thanked Sawako with a quick smile before heading down the road. Maybe he would’ve spared her a second glance over his shoulder, briefly taking in her bowed head and thick curtain of hair – but out of curiosity or mild interest, and nothing more. She shouldn’t matter to him at this point. Not yet. (I’ll pretend the silly heart petals never happened.)

I know there’s no point in trying to rewrite the bloody script, but I just wanted to get that little revisionist moment off my chest. And besides, even if (in a perfect world, ha!) we had gone with my version, it still would’ve fit neatly with what happens next in the chronological order of the plot, which is only revealed in flashback later in the film: Kazehaya having joined his friends down the road turns and takes one long look at Sawako, and it’s the exact moment that she’s smiling at the cherry tree. It still shouldn’t be love at first sight for Kazehaya, but now he’d be able to gaze more openly – and thoughtfully – at Sawako while feeling the stirrings of attraction towards the strange, shy girl with the incongruously disarming smile.

What follows in the film is a montage of school vignettes of Sawako crushing on Kazehaya from afar while he gets fawned over by their classmates for being – oh, perfect: She waters the campus flowerbeds, surreptitiously watching Kazehaya play football in the adjacent field… She tinkers with her chemistry lab experiment, peeking through the tripod legs at Kazehaya as he jokes around with a table of admirers – and I LIKE how his eyes ever so briefly flicker in her direction – squee! – before he turns his attention back to his posse… (I would’ve appreciated more of these subtle clues that convince you that the odd loner girl shunned by the whole class has indeed caught the resident heartthrob’s fancy.)

Other vignettes, this time from Kazehaya-kun’s POV: He walks past the cafeteria window and notices Sawako sorting out bottles for recycling… He engages in small talk with his chums but he’s really watching her tidy up the hallway, mop and pail in hand. And she obviously never notices him noticing her – which is the whole point of the story anyway, for about 4/5 of the film. And like I said, this formula had great potential to succeed had the execution been better, if only the director had let the tension between Sawako and Kazehaya build naturally and unhurriedly instead of dishing it too much, too soon. Let it simmer, let it grow… make them WANT it, dammit! (And make ME want it, too!)

And when I speak of wanting my unresolved sexual tension (UST), I don’t mean the “Argh, I can’t stand being around you in class, ‘coz all I REALLY wanna do, is EAT you… *sparkles* …nomnomnom” variety, but the kind that is predicated on Kazehaya’s growing awareness of Sawako and her seeming disinterest in making friends with anyone in their class – including him, and in spite of his repeated attempts to – *ka-ching!* – reach out to her. Rather than Kazehaya expressing frank admiration for Sawako from the get-go, I would’ve wanted a more nuanced development of their relationship – marked perhaps by a friendly smile in the hallway, or a casual greeting before the bell. Adding texture to their dynamic would be Kazehaya’s puzzlement at Sawako’s mulish unsociability in stark contrast to her quiet helpfulness around school and thoughtfulness towards others – thus intriguing him further and stoking his attraction. Now… that’s the way aha-aha-I would’ve liked it.

Conflict-not-a-conflict # 2: Weird girl’s weirdness alienates her from classmates, who see her as a walking jinx!!!

Which brings us to the character of Kuronuma Sawako, named “pleasant child” by her family but dubbed “Sadako” since primary school for her perceived resemblance to the girl from The Ring. Though kind and helpful by nature, it’s her excruciating shyness and low self-esteem that keep her walled off from… civilization. Tabe Mikako adequately channels the emotional isolation of her character, although I wish she didn’t have to glare balefully at everyone ALL the time – as if the actress were trying too hard to play up the supposedly “scary” aspects of the character. (Maybe she got the scare tactics from The Ring and The Eye all mixed up, hyuk hyuk hyuk.)

Most of all, I don’t get what turned Sawako into this weird little zombie when she had such a happy and comfortable family life. I mean, it’s not like her dad (Katsumura Masanobu) was some abusive drunk or a neglectful absentee parent; he was just a regular chap who doted on his daughter. Plus, you can’t possibly find a mean bone in someone who: (a) played cymbals for a local orchestra; and (b) was Egami from Hero (lol. but really!!! It’s – EGAMI!!! hahaha Team Josai 4vr!!!! <3 <3 <3 ).

So with such well-adjusted and loving parents – why the personality disorder? Was it just because of the “Sadako” moniker – and that damaged her for life? Did those bullyboys from primary school crush her spirit forever, did they? Boo, not convincing at all. I mean, you were KIDS. GET OVER IT. Sawako’s present personality simply didn’t check out with her backstory. (This sort of inconsistency begs comparisons to Kotani Nobuta, Horikita Maki’s character in Nobuta wo Produce. At least Nobuta had to put up with a mother who was never there and a step-dad who coldly rejected her as a child.) Sorry, but there simply isn’t enough background angst in Sawako’s home life to sufficiently explain her sociopathic behavior.

In the same vein, I could NOT for the life of me grasp why this film makes such a big effin’ deal over how “scary” Sawako looks, and how the students are in constant freak-out mode over the “Don’t look into Sadako’s eyes or you’ll be CURSED!” urban legend/scuttlebutt – an unfunny running gag that wears thin right from the start. I mean… GHADZ. How DUMB are these kids, anyway? I’ve seen five-year-olds with more common sense. I’m not pooh-poohing bullying or peer exclusion here – because they’re valid realities in any school society, I get that. My beef is with Sawako’s classmates ostracizing her because they actually fear her and believe she has the ability to supernaturally hurt them, and not because she’s simply weird or different (as was the case in Nobuta wo Produce).

It’s bad enough that all the kids in school (except Kazehaya-kun, natch!) blow the “Sawako = Horror Girl” angle completely out of proportion, but for their homeroom teacher, Pin (Arata), an adult and a member of the freaking faculty, to readily buy into the BS – is really beyond silly. I don’t know if it’s bad acting, bad writing or bad directing (or all of the above), but the character didn’t even seem to be humoring his students’ superstitious fears in an ironic, tongue-in-cheek way (à la Catherine, the ball-busting vice-principal in Nobuta wo Produce) – he just seemed equally spooked by Sawako’s reputation. Which is – all together now – STOOPID. This, coupled with his unhealthy interest in the private affairs of his students, and that off-putting overgrown-kid-channeling-random-Jdorama-funnyman shtick, made Pin my least liked minor character in the story.

Conflict-not-a-conflict # 3: Weird girl makes new friends, but a misunderstanding gets in the way!!! And their reputations might suffer if they continue to be her friend!!!

Enter the Superfriends composed of Kazehaya-kun, his childhood tomodachi Ryu (Aoyama Haru) and Chizuru (Renbutsu Misako), and Chizuru’s BFF Ayane (Natsuna), who openly induct Sawako into their clique – evil classmates be damned! – and show her the kindness and acceptance she never experienced from her peers. It was a relief to find all four characters genuinely likable without being clichés; the actors also did a good job in bringing out their distinct personalities as well as the dynamics of their easy, omg-that’s-SO-high-school-in-a-good-way! camaraderie.

The slice-of-life scenes where the Superfriends hang out with Sawako – bonding over ramen, walking their bikes home, or teaching her the rudiments of football – captured the high school feeling really well, much like the after-school vignettes from the 2006 anime film The Girl Who Leapt Though Time. A nice bonus was the development of the Beta Couple’s own arc – Ryu and Chizuru are childhood pals, Ryu’s been in love with Chizuru since forever BUT she has the hots for his older bro… ohnoes! – which provided a more mature and realistic counterpoint to Kazehaya and Sawako’s nebulous non-relationship. (Too often I found myself wishing the movie had been about Ryu and Chizuru instead. By far the cooler and more riveting couple, sorry.)

But the “conflict” here is rather silly – really a non-issue, a case of miscommunication blown out of proportion and drawn out longer than it should. Sawako distances herself from Ayane+Chizuru and Kazehaya because nice, normal people like them shouldn’t be fraternizing with freaks like herself, or her unpopularity might rub off the two. *rolleyes* And it all gets resolved, in perfect accordance with Shoujo Canon, by a big confrontation scene in the girls’ restroom (gotta have at least one of those!), where Sawako stoutly defends Ayane and Chizuru against the school’s token Mean Girls (ah, token biyatches – gotta have those, too! lol).

This confrontation scene (conveniently) manages to achieve three things at once: Ayane and Chizuru’s reputations are restored, the salacious rumors about them debunked; the Mean Girls, humbled and moved by Sawako’s loyalty to her friends, experience a change of heart; and Ayane+Chizuru patch things up with Sawako, leading to a teary-eyed (but sweet) group hug on the rooftop (but – what’s this? – while Kazehaya’s beaming proudly at them from the ground – WTF? was this really necessary?). But all’s well that ends well in Shoujo Land, no matter how pat or manipulative the resolution. *rolleyes*

Conflict-not-a-conflict # 4: Weird girl’s frenemy schemes to steal cute boy from her!!!

Oh yes, there’s the token Frenemy too, a sneaky little vixen named Kurumi (who weirdly resembles a sluttier, over-accessorized Aragaki Yui – so I took to calling her “Evil Gakky” lol – made her scenes with Miura funnier too, in a wink-wink way). Kurumi tries (unsuccessfully) to supplant Sawako in Kazehaya-kun’s affections using  sabotage and emotional blackmail. *yawn* Ayane and Chizuru (aka the Powerpuff Girls) soon suss out Evil Gakky’s game, but when they confront her about it before Sawako, the little soft-hearted (and soft-headed?) weirdo takes the high road and refuses to expose Evil Gakky’s schemes before Kazehaya-kun and the whole world, instead showing kindness! and mercy! *rolleyes* So they can ALL BE FRIENDS at the end of the day!!! Classic.

At this point I wondered if the Kimi ni Todoke storyboard was lifted straight from “The Little Survival Book of Shoujo Crisis Management” with the following chapter titles: This is how you get a guy to like you without really trying!!! This is how you handle class disputes!!! This is how you cope with peer rejection!!! This is how you defend your friends from gossipmongers!!! This is how you deal with evil bitch girls and bullies!!! And at all times, just remember to be yourself!!! (hahaha)

If this sort of treatment worked for starry-eyed fifteen-year-olds, all I can say is… I’m not fifteen anymore, lol. I now have little patience for movies that – very patronizingly, if I may add – gloss over the complexities of adolescent peer/self-image issues by purveying unrealistically simple, stop-gap remedies leading to feel-good conclusions. So that at the end of the day, the characters can pat each other on the back saying, “We’ve learned our lesson, all’s well again, move along now people!” But then again, let’s look at the bright side – AT LEAST Sawako didn’t get: (a) deflowered by her boyfriend; (b) raped by goons; (c) preggers; (d) dumped by a terminally ill boyfriend who didn’t want her to see him die; (e) all of the above. Hahahahahaha *drinks*

Conflict-not-a-conflict # 5: Cute boy finally confesses his true feelings, but weird girl is too scared to take the plunge!!!

Kazehaya and Sawako’s romantic moments (no matter how one-sided) aren’t exactly groundbreaking and they didn’t sweep me off my feet, but they’re sweet and cute enough – especially when Kazehaya-kun steps up his game (‘coz the girl just can’t take a hint! *rolleyes*). Take the night the whole class go on a Courage Hike (some kind of team-building activity Kazehaya organizes, but really an excuse to spend a little alone time with the girl he likes. Kazehaya-kuuun you sly one youuu!). He and Sawako find themselves alone on a forested hilltop, although she largely remains impervious to his little overtures that would undoubtedly have gotten noticed had they been directed at someone who could actually READ SOCIAL CUES, DUH.

In a later scene, Kazehaya sticks up for Sawako (very sweet of him, too) when their classmates set them up on a date as “punishment” for Kazehaya’s last-place finish at the Courage Hike (which was deliberate anyway – he stayed behind for Sawako). (And, um, it’s nice to see Kazehaya telling his classmates off without screaming death threats at them and then dragging Sawako to the library for a little… afternoon delight, hahaha. E.G. will you STOP it with these Koizora references??? hahaha)

Sawako’s naiveté mixed with her insecurities (i.e. “What can a guy like you ever see in a freak like me?” *scuffs ground with shoe* *shambles off to… go water the flowerbeds. or something*) only blind her to Kazehaya’s intentions and prevent their relationship from making ANY kind of headway. And sometimes it can be endearing – like that afternoon when Kazehaya starts to confess his feelings under the cherry tree but she stiffly cuts him off, adding how much she admires and respects him as a human being (lololol) – which ain’t exactly the most encouraging thing to hear if you’re laying your heart bare to the girl you like, teehee.

Other times, however, all that innocence and self-doubt will make you grate your teeth and do God-knows-what-else, and you’ll want very badly to go over and thwack Sawako on the head with enough force to shame a daytime Kdrama ahjumma. This is especially true watching Kazehaya’s Big Confession Scene – yes, the one where he scores two tickets (two!!! meaning it’s a DATE, silly Sawako!) to a Christmas Eve show at the planetarium (planetarium!!! meaning he’s just DYING to try all those star/angel/heaven pickup lines on you, silly Sawako!). But poor, poor Kazehaya-kun!!! Courting Sawako is like courting a two-year-old: you have to sit her down and patiently explaining such complex concepts as “boy”… “boyfriend”… “crush”… “love”… “special feelings”… and “date.” (For goodness’ sake, WHY couldn’t this girl just have been more NORMAL??? *bangs head on cherry tree trunk*)

And the Best Scene Evar of the whole movie? Let’s just say it’s the scene involving a near-empty (but not quite!) gymnasium, an orange cone marker, and one very, very jealous boy (teehee!!!). It’s also the one time during the film that actually got me of my seat screaming, “YEAH. BABY, YEAH!!!” *double fist-pump* *body-slam throw pillows* (lol) Though very brief, it’s intense, it’s charged, it’s hardcore! Saints alive, finally we get A MOMENT that shoots past the fuzzy cuteness of earlier moments and straight into CrazySexyLove territory. Oh yes, Kazehaya KAN!!! (lol)

But it doesn’t end there!!! The gym scene flows into this lovely intermezzo on the soccer field. (And he’s still kind of mad at this point – driven mad with jealousy all right, woohoo! – so all the better for everyone, woohoo!) And as for me, well… time also stopped during this scene, and I remember saying in equally slow measure while wiping my drool off the remote: “Guhhh… hey Miura, why yo’ grip so tight? Guhhh… hey Miura, why yo’ hair so soft? Guhhh… hey Miura, why yo’ cheekbones so chiseled? Guhhh… hey Miura, why yo’ sparklin’ in tha sun?” (errr scratch that last one, lololol)

This movie being the quintessential shoujo romance, expect a climax that soundly delivers those moments of adolescent suspense (i.e. “Aieeee, will they or won’t they get together on Christmas Eve???”); heartwarming father speeches (with an especially poignant symmetry given the circumstances of Sawako’s birth; very nicely done); and lest we forget, that obligatory soupçon of sappiness – particularly when the Telltale Heart-shaped Sakura Petal makes a surprise appearance inside someone’s pocketbook one New Year’s Eve, lol. But overall a satisfactory ending, and one of the better-edited sequences of the film.

Ah, well, those were my issues with Kimi ni Todoke. True-blue manga fans far more steeped in shoujo canon than I will probably find my gripes negligible or plain unwarranted. For the record, I really, truly wanted to fall in love with the story and characters, but I also hoped to find that emotional heft underneath the feel-good fluff, something thematically deeper and more resonant than what was being served. So forgive my frustration at finding this movie a little too benign and – at times – juvenile and shallow for my liking. (If I set my expectations too high for Kimi ni Todoke, blame it on Nobuta wo Produce and its pitch-perfect depiction of adolescent life. Perhaps that show has spoiled me rotten, but it also made me realize that high school plots don’t always have to be all fuzzy frivolity *coughKimi ni Todokecough* or morally (and intellectually) bereft soap operas *barfKoizorabarf*, lol.)

Even the character of Kazehaya-kun, for all his choir-boy goodness, comes across as too idealized and blandly perfect to be real. I don’t mean to say that he HAD to be a pathologically messed-up prick in order to be interesting (*cough Hiro cough*), but I would have wanted a meatier portrayal of Kazehaya that went beyond the sunny smile and genial disposition – in other words, something that added texture and emotional traction to an otherwise two-dimensional vanilla character. Oh well. At least Miura’s performance in this movie didn’t make me want to down a whole carboy of peroxide or commit random acts of indecency in a school library, hahaha. So, points for improvement! You’ve come a long, long way, Miura my dahhling!!! Lulz

My criticism notwithstanding, Kimi ni Todoke is still for the most part a charming two-hour trip to Pleasantville – and for once, it’s nice to watch a teen romance that isn’t a train wreck. Anyway I’m probably just carping over nothing, because we all know that this movie could have turned out so, so, sooo much worse. Again, look at the bright side – at least no unborn babies, teenage uteri, or bottles of hair bleach were hurt in the making of this movie… which is MOAR! than I can say for *other* productions out there… (I’m looking at you, Koizora!!! I’m laughing at you, Koizora!!! HAH HAH HAH HAH)

Grade
Artistic & technical merit: B
Entertainment value: B-
Overall: B

***
Photo credits: aigoo-iichan.blogspot.com, angryanimebitches.wordpress.com, asian-eiga.blogspot.com, asianmediawiki.com, ciachiaa.blogspot.com, club.ados.fr, darling79.blogspot.com, fadedshadow.xanga.com, flickr.com, fymh.tumblr.com, fyifamilies.com, gatopardos.com, hyorina.tumblr.com, jfilm.tumblr.com, jktcraze.blogspot.com, maypang-amin.com, micacola.glogster.com, mylot.com, m-y-m1nd.blogspot.com, nikpi-0409.blogspot.com, nipponcinema,com, pom16.multiply.com, randomc.net, secretbear @ polyvore.com, singlelittlethingofmine-evelynwann.blogspot.com, ssangcheo.tumblr.com, whattamessgurl.wordpress.com, yousaytoo.com

by Ender’s Girl

“Nothing really matters / I don’t really care
What nobody tells me / I’m gonna be here
It’s a matter of extreme importance
My first teenage love affair…”

Alicia Keys, “Teenage Love Affair”

Ah, Spring! Never experienced it, lol. (Here in the tropics, we have only two seasons: El Niño and La Niña, hahaha) …And [noona alert!!! run away run away!!!] ah, Miura Haruma! — the ultimate poster boy for Spring: bright-eyed, fresh-faced and with a smile so sweetly accessible, a young man on the cusp of bloom standing tall and pure amid the orgiastic freakscape of dancing plassstic Johnny-botsss (my precioussss…).

It would only be fitting for an actor of Miura’s looks and appeal to move past the mandatory silliness of his earlier work and anchor his promising career on heartthrob roles of the young-adult persuasion. After all, the boy turned 21 this year, so forget the shounen-manga adventurism of the Bloody Mondays or the high school hijinks of Gokusen 3 and Samurai High School; because the real rite of passage, the definitive landmark of any aspiring leading man’s career, is the Romantic Drama Screen Test (RDST): 1) Can you convincingly play someone who’s young and in love? 2) Can you make female audiences fall in love with your character, and with you? and 3) Can you do it again and again until you make the transition to Hot Single Dad/Elder Statesman roles? (I hope you’re taking notes, KimuTaku. ha,ha,ha)

We all know how a 24-year-old Kimura aced his RDST in Long Vacation back in ‘96 (and no, Asunaro Hakusho doesn’t count, hahaha. eeewww geeks hahaha); ditto Tsumabuki Satoshi in the contemporary classic, Orange Days in 2004 (although fans may argue that Lunch Queen in 2002 was the real turning point). To follow this matinee-idol trajectory would be a wise career move as any for someone of Miura’s type. I mean, if weird little Kame, who skews more towards “horny hobgoblin” than “hetero heartthrob,” pulled it off beautifully in Tatta Hitotsu no Koi, then it ought to be a cinch for wholesome, normal-looking Haruma-kun, right?

Prior to 2011, Miura the TV Actor seemed happier spending his teen years out-hacking cyber-terrorists or goofing off with his deadbeat high school homies (*loves on Shirota Yu*) than really getting serious about romahhhnce (unless you count his turn as Shida Mirai’s 15-year-old babydaddy in 14 Sai no Haha, hahaha). (And I’ll ignore – for now – his eyebrow-raising performance as an affianced high school instructor who tangles with a student in that Winter 2011 ren’ai with a riddikulooosly long name. Hold your thoughts on the matter; all I’m going to say is that soon, very soon, Miura and I are going to have a very, very long chat. Behind closed doors. Come to noona! Lulz)

Whereas Miura the Movie Actor already has a number of romantic films under his belt, the most popular being Koizora (Sky of Love), the 2007 celluloid version of the cell phone novel turned pop-culture phenom, and 2010’s Kimi ni Todoke (From Me to You), based on the hit shoujo manga and anime of the same name. In both movies, Miura romances the female protag (played by Aragaki Yui and Tabe Mikako, respectively), first as a bleached-haired badass biker boy in Koizora, then as a high school Prince Charming in Kimi ni Todoke.

Although Koizora and Kimi ni Todoke are hugely different movies in terms of material and themes explored, the one thing they do have in common is the pretty. Pretty, pretty actors against pretty, pretty backdrops. So pretty!!! And I daresay you’ll find both movies quite entertaining, albeit for very, very different reasons. *remembers Koizora with fondness* Read on!

Koizora: Because Life’s a Bitch and Then You Die… of Laughter

The Cast:
Miura Haruma, Aragaki Yui, Nakamura Aoi

Directed by Imai Natsuki / TBS Pictures, 2007

In a Nutshell:
Shy high school girl falls for resident bad boy. Then sh*t happens. (And how!!!)

(SpoilLert: Just like the movie, expect everything but the kitchen sink in this review. Come to think of it, might as well throw in that damn sink. *ker-SPLAT!!!*)

A word to the unsuspecting: do NOT let this movie fool you!!! The title and promotional posters would want you to expect a regular teen coming-of-age romance – replete with clear blue skies and pretty rainbows and carefree bike rides and picnics and snowmen and la-la-la-la and maybe a little weepy on the side – but don’t be fooled!!! This is a sick and irredeemably warped movie!!! Run away!!! Run away!!!

But if you’re the type of feller who doesn’t mind a little self-inflicted torment here and there, then – to quote Seth Rogen from The Green Hornet – will you take my hand, and come with me on this adventure? Hahahahahha

First thing we do is punch a hole right through Koizora’s highly fraudulent advertising. Koizora, your average teen love story, is it??? HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. Deconstruct this movie and what you’ll get is a really retarded version of Spring Awakening crossed with The Jerry Springer Show, coming rigged with every bluddy makjang trope from every bluddy makjang ever made since the first makjangs sprouted along the banks of the Han River in 1582 BC. (For non-Kdrama viewers, makjang dramas <=> U.S./Mexican/etc. daytime soaps.) Koizora is a 2-hour FML festival (yes, as in, “F*** My Life”) about an ingenuous (ingenuous <=> retarded) high school girl named Mika who goes through what may best be described as… not a bad-hair day, or even a bad-hair week or month, but a bad-hair life. Murphy’s Law is a person, and her name is Mika!

But wait, you ask. Really, what’s the worst that can happen to her, she’s just in high school for goodness’ sake. So she goes through a little adolescent angst, gets her heart broken for the first time, experiences the requisite coming-of-age pangs of Puppy Love? No biggie, right? WRONG. Oh it’s Puppy Love all right – Puppy Love at its rabid, homicidal worst. Our naïve little heroine finds love, all right – plus a whole sh*tload of complications, some even of the criminal variety (tsk tsk). This ain’t a nice teen romance, but a day visit to the JUVIE PSYCH WARD. Falling in love has never been so monumentally f***ed-up as it’s shown to be in Koizora, that by the movie’s end you’ll have sworn off love, libraries, and Miura Haruma for the rest of your life (…okay maybe not… Miura Haruma lol. come to noona!!! hahaha).

The movie starts out innocently enough: A twenty-something Mika (Aragaki Yui) looks out the window of a train reminiscing her First Love, who may or may not still be alive, but whom we can safely infer is no longer in her life. Mika’s voiceover: “If I had not met you that day, then I would not have experienced that pain and sadness… but then had I not met you, I would not have experienced that joy, excitement, preciousness, and the feeling of absolute happiness. How are you now? I continue to love the vast blue… <wait for it> SKY.” Okay, so that opening spiel was a tad treacly, but certainly not reason enough to hit the eject button, you argue. But wait – there’s MOAR!!!

One Missed Call

Flashback to high school, with Mika as your typical dreamy-eyed freshman who is just discovering the untold joys of pink lip gloss and the opposite sex. One fine spring day, a boy from another section corners her in the hallway and attempts to wheedle out her phone number. Repulsed by his presumptuousness and multiple skin piercings (btw the boy here is a very young and unrecognizable Nakamura Aoi, pre-Q.E.D.), Mika tries to evade the boy’s unwanted attention – and bumps smack into his friend Hiro (Miura Haruma), who with the baggy pants, spiky blond pouf, and ear piercing, must be another baaad boyyy OHNOES!!! (Btw, Miura throughout this movie = fashion YUCK.)

But Mika thinks nothing of their first encounter, preoccupied as she is with the more quotidian things in her student life. One day she loses her mobile phone at school, and although it turns up later on a shelf in the library, Mika discovers that some creepy student has gotten to her gizmo first, and has apparently deleted ALL of her contacts but left his number in the phone’s address book. (I know I know, all together now: WTF right? But wait – there’s MOAR!!!) Mika’s phone suddenly rings – it’s the creep calling to regale her with his tampering exploits, and the stupendousness of his reasoning is equaled only by the arrogance in which it is delivered: “If they want to talk to you, they’ll call you,” says Mystery Boy, Despoiler of Mobile Phones.

It appears that Mystery Boy wants Mika (and her phone) AAAALL to himself. But only a numpty like Mika would meekly swallow this new arrangement instead of doing the only sensible thing a girl can do when she realizes her privacy has just been violated, which would be to yell into the receiver, “Imma break yer balls, creeeeeeep!!!” and run home as fast as she could. Alas, as our heroine has neither the cojones nor the IQ points to tell her stalker off, this strange exchange thus becomes the anchoring point for Mika and Mystery Boy’s summer-long… <wait for it> phone fling!!!

Summer Lovin’, Happened So Fast… (Tell Me MOAR, Tell Me MOAR!)

Despite that library scene foreshadowing Mystery Boy’s sociopathic obsession with Mika, the movie is still relatively pleasant up to this point, as the two youngsters spend every day of their vacation talking about everything under the sun, as teenagers are wont to do: e.g. Mystery Boy’s facial features!… things Mika likes (flowers! an empty school! <dun-dun-duuunnn> the library!) and dislikes!… urban legends circulating their school!… Mika’s insecurities! (she thinks she’s plain) and skin texture! (he: “Is your body soft?” she: (still not getting the yucky phone-sex vibes) “My body is very stiff” hahahaha the silly bint)… Mika’s family problems!… Mika’s birthday! (and on her otanjoubi, he sings to her in this high-pitched voice that manages to be both creepy and LOLtastique at the same time, hahaha. ohhh Miura. you may be 9324934x better looking than them Johnnies, but you sing just as bad hahaha)…

Although the secret-admirer shtick verges on the pervy at times, I kind of liked that this all happens while Mika does random everyday things like brushing her teeth or lazing about the house, her cell phone plastered to her ear the whole time. Didn’t we use to do that in high school, spend long hours on the phone with our crush du jour, zoning everything out as if the voice on the other end of the line were the only sound that mattered in the world? So points for nostalgia and believability here.

The new school year rolls around and Mystery Boy decides it’s time for <dun-dun-duuun> The Big Reveal! Mika agrees to meet him on the rooftop after class, and – surprise, surprise, it’s Bad Boy Hiro, he of the bleached hair and skin piercings!!! And he brought her flowers!!! But pure, sweet, freaked-out Mika rejects the offering and bolts, calling him a “silver haired scary person.” (LMAO)

But later that afternoon, Mika sees Hiro PLANTING THE SPURNED FLOWERS in the school’s flower bed, and this melts her trusting little kokoro!!! Feeling a little guilty about her earlier rebuff, she stops for a chat, and in joyful response he takes the garden hose and points it at the sun!!! Where a brilliant rainbow materializes above them!!! As if to auspiciously say, “Let young love blossom as the flowers bloom!!! Grow my pretties, grow, grow!!!”

Let’s Get This Party Started!!!

And then – ZOMG HAHAHAHAHA THE FUN IS JUST BEGINNING!!!!! Cut to Mika sitting in class, listless and bored. Her phone beeps: it’s Hiro, commanding her to “Come to the library now.” Thinking he’s in some kind of trouble, the ninny fakes a stomach ache for a hall pass and makes a beeline for the library. (I mean it’s the frakking school library. What life-threatening accident could Hiro have possibly gotten into? Tripped on a globe? Inadvertently swallowed a date stamp? Hahahaha) But it turns out that ALL THE HORNY LITTLE CREEP wants to do is play hooky… and then make whoopee. Gawwwd.

So they sneak off campus and go on a bike ride! He takes her home, to his room! They make out on the floor, but he wants MOAR! And he promises to be gentle! (Hahahahahaha) In fact he’s SO gentle that they do it with their clothes on! (Ahahahahahaha how did they DO that? I don’t know I don’t know!!! Let’s just driiink!!! DRIIIINK!!!)

Just before sunset she wakes up but he’s still asleep – and then the creep mumbles some floozy’s name!!! (Ahahahahahha) Feeling like a dirty used rag, Mika flees The Room of Deflowering, but a few minutes later Hiro rouses and calls her up for a really awkward post-coital phone chat, i.e. He: “The hoochie whose name I uttered repeatedly in my sexually sated stupor? Oh that was my ex-girlfriend. Who’s a psychotic ho, by the way.” She: “C-can I trust you?” (LMFAO driiink!!! DRIIINK!!!)

Oh but it gets better!!! It gets better! So for their first real date, Mika and Hiro agree to meet at a bus stop in the middle of nowhere. She gets there early, then suddenly a minivan pulls over – and there are TEENAGE HOODS INSIDE!!! They grab her and zoom off, and next thing Mika knows the van stops beside a poppy field (or whatever)! The door slides open and Mika gets out and they chase her into the meadow, where they line up and have their way with her amid the flattened red flowers!!! Then the lowlifes leave Mika in the Field of Rape, and then it’s nighttime, and Mika’s huddled in a ditch by the wayside!!! A lone biker careens down the road – and it’s Hiro!!! Who’s at least several hours late for their date! (tsk tsk)

Mika can’t believe Hiro managed to find her in the dark, squatting amid the weeds. “How did you find me?” she squeaks as he pulls her into a frantic embrace. Hiro the Useless pulls back, gazes into Mika’s eyes and solemnly replies, “This is the power of my love.”

<takes a moment>

BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!!!!!!!!!!!! The power of my love??? The power of my love??? LMFAOOOOO!!! BEST SCENE EVAR!!! Apparently love not only “makes you strong” (to quote from YamaPi the Philosopher-Pecs, lol), but it also endows you with a built-in homing device that honks whenever your ladylove is in danger!!! DRIIIINK!!!

Indeed, hell hath no fury like a useless turd of a boyfriend who arrived too late to save his girlfriend from a sex crime. (Too late the… Hiro, eh? Lulz) So our Mr. Furious tracks the thugs to a darkened warehouse (of course!), hops off his dinky little bike (but since he’s wearing a BLACK LEATHER JACKET he’s obviously invincible!!) and singlehandedly thrashes them into confessing! Turns out the mastermind is Hiro’s ex-GF Saki, who ordered the dirty job to get back at Hiro for dumping her… which would make Hiro indirectly to blame for Mika’s woes, oh wow! Hiro finds Saki and drags her BY THE HAIR to fling before Mika’s feet, growling murderously, “Mika, how should we punish her? One word from you and I’ll kill her!” (HAHAHAHAHHA Hiro you comedian. DRIIINK!!!) But moved to pity, Mika stays his wrathful hand! She forgives Saki!!! (tsk tsk) (Well dammit, Hiro shoulda just stiffed the skank, gotten himself arrested, and spent the rest of his life in the slammer, end of story let’s all go home. Alas, whoever wrote this stinker of a tale just didn’t know when to stop.)

So Mika goes home and bravely tries to put the trauma behind her. But her classmates are less than sympathetic, leaving malicious graffiti scrawled on the blackboard for the whole school to see. This calls for a job for – Hiro!!! Who barges into the classroom, takes one look at the blackboard, whirls around angrily and spits out, “Who did this? Who dared to bully my girl? If you ever do this again, even if you’re a girl, I won’t let you get away with it! I’ll protect Mika no matter what!!!”  (You gotta hand it to the writer, Hiro does have the best lines in this movie. The best!!! Hahahaha DRIIINK!!!)

Babies Making Babies, and Other Oddities

Hiro grabs Mika and they run off to the library (of course), where she tells him, “Hiro… I’m not afraid anymore.” Meaning she’s no longer scared of future rapists and psycho ex-GFs, bring ‘em ON. Hiro may not be able to PREVENT future acts of violence, but at least he’ll get mad, get VERY MAD at the perps!!! (Hahahaha) They celebrate their Promise of Love (at the Dolphin Bay, lol) by makin’ s’MOAR whoopee ON THE LIBRARY FLOOR, between the first bookshelf and the freakin’ display table. The two kiddos are so consumed by lust they don’t even bother to find a dark nook somewhere (although this is a high school library, so I doubt there’d be dark nook for.. er, nookie, anywhere, ne?), AND they do it FULLY CLOTHED. AGAIN. Hahahahahaha DRIIINK!!!!

Then oh wow – Mika learns that she’s PREGNANT with Hiro’s child!!! He’s thrilled and can’t wait to be a father! He even wants to marry her! But before Hiro the Honorable formally asks Mika’s parents for her hand, he dyes his hair back to his natural dark color – because he wants to prove to them that this reformed, er, Brash Brat (ehehe) is oh-so-serious about their precious daughter!!! (Hahahaha) At least Mika’s parents approach the teen wedlock issue more realistically (i.e. are supportive but with reservations, in contrast to Hiro’s folks’ blithe acceptance), but capitulate anyway under the earnestness of their daughter’s bright-eyed impregnator with the normal-colored hair.

Just when the future is looking rosy for Mika and Hiro, Saki re-enters the picture to exact her revenge on Mika!!! Mika delivers this contender for best line of the film (“Hiro isn’t a possession!” — she’s wrong though, ‘coz Hiro is a tool, and tools are possessions too, bwahahaha) before Psycho-Skank Saki pushes her down the stairs, ohnoes!!!

It doesn’t take a genius to figger it out: preggers teener dogged by misfortune + murderous psychotic biyatch + a tumble down a flight of stairs = miscarriage! On Christmas Eve!!! (Okay I’ll admit this part was a little sad, especially when Hiro rushes off to the shrine to pray for their child while Mika wakes up in a haze of sedatives only to be told that she just lost her baby. And the scene where they leave a little snowman in their flowerbox and say a pray for their dead daughter… that was very sad.)

(Sidebar: I just need to take a short breather from Koizora and say: Seriously??? THIS is what high-schoolers go through these days??? Back in my time all me and my chums ever did after school was hang out at the benches under the trees discussing books or our favorite alt-rock bands, or we’d hie off to the nearby mall to play Whac-a-Mole at the gaming arcade before blowing our allowance on Dairy Queen Blizzards and The Mighty Ducks collectibles. The world was so young and innocent back then, tsk tsk. Lol)

Sophomore year, spring term. Mika doesn’t see much of Hiro, he won’t return her calls etc etc, then her friend throws a party which turns out to be nothing more than a teen orgy of sexdrugsrocknroll in some garret, and oh oh oh – Hiro’s also at the pahr-TAY! And he’s back to sporting his bleached hair!!! And strumming a mean-looking electric guitar, and flirting with the girls!!! Alas, it can only mean one thing: Bad Boy Hiro is BACK!!! (Hahahahhaha DRIIINK!!!)

So later that night while everyone’s passed out on the floor, some stoned creep starts to grope Mika, making her flee to the bathroom. But when she comes out, she sees Hiro sucking face with a hoochie!!! Hurt! Pain! Heartbreak!

Back at school, Mika sees Hiro in the library aka the Room of Unprotected Nookie. Let’s break up, he tells her cruelly! Because he’s tired of monogamy! She later spams him with text messages about how she won’t give up on their love and all that sad, desperate sh*t, and even tries to lure him back into the library hoping to trigger memories of their lusty little interludes in the General Reference section, but he never comes!!! Pain! Agony! Heartbreak!!!

After a relatively uneventful school year of being ignored by Hiro, Mika finds herself at a goukon with some college boys (ooooh!). (College boys <=> Koide Keisuke and that geekboy from Code Blue, who makes a sad geeky pass at Mika with the pickup line, “W-would you like to r-ride the D-doctor Heli with me?” Lawlll)

But it’s Koide Keisuke whom Mika feels drawn to because he has gentle eyes and is studious and responsible and likes long walks and flowery speech, i.e. Exhibit A:

Koide Keisuke: “Tell me about your First Love.”
Mika: “He’s like a river. His waves take everything away.”
Koide Keisuke: “If he’s the river, then I am the… <wait for it!> SEA.”

(Ahahahahahahaha WTF, right? Is this guy fo’ realz??? From one nutjob to another, ehhh Mika? No wonder your life is so screwed. Hahahahaha DRIIINK!!!)

Apparently the most efftardedly insipid of metaphors are Mika’s kind of thang, and she happily jumps into a relationship with Koide “Shakespeare” Keisuke. Fast forward to Christmas Eve, and Mika’s on her way to her dead baby’s shrine at the Flowerbox of Regret, when she sees Hiro there (!!!) and — he’s wearing a beanie (!!!) and his face is unnaturally chalky (!!!) – SO HE MUST HAVE CANCER, RIGHT??? *rolleyes* But these visual clues sail past Mika’s pretty head and she trundles unsuspectingly back to Boyfriend Numbah Two, thus prolonging everyone’s misery (not least of all the viewer’s).

Come high school graduation (finally!), Mika notices Hiro’s conspicuous absence from the ceremony. Not the brightest bulb in the room, she goes off to college still clueless about Hiro’s worsening condition. When Koide Keisuke proposes to her the following Christmas Eve, who does she bump into at the flowerbed/shrine but Nakamura Aoi, who reveals (finally!) that Hiro’s been sick since their second year in high school!!! *rolleyes* Which was around the time he suddenly and inexplicably turned cold towards Mika!!! *rolleyes* (Well at least the end’s in sight now, yay. Nothing like terminal sickness to neatly tie up a convoluted narrative.)

Mika breaks up with Koide Keisuke despite his last-ditch efforts to cling on (“Don’t go to see him!”  lmao), and then she runs off to be with Hiro at the hospital, where she sees him still wearing their engagement ring! Hugs of forgiveness and tenderness and sweet, sweet regret all around! Mika vows to take good care of Hiro until his very last breath – which, judging from his wan, long-suffering smile, can’t be too long off. But the young lovers make one last truant bicycle ride to the library (no nookie though, hahaha), then to their favorite grassy spot by the river (well at least it ain’t in the Field of Rape, hahaha), where Hiro makes Mika A CROWN OF FLOWERS before collapsing against a tree, sobbing. (Hahahahahaha) Then he finally says the three magic words (“I rabu you”) which could’ve saved them both a buttload of heartache had he told her this SOONER. *rolleyes* And Hiro’s dying wish? “I want to become the… <wait for it> SKY…” (Hahahahahahahhaa DRIIIINK!!!!)

So the sick little creep finally breathes his last.*moment of silence… NOT. hahahaha* In the throes of grief, Mika attempts to jump off a bridge but gets thwarted by a flock of white birds presumably sent by Hiro’s spirit to protect her (not unlike Jeon Ji-hyun and her giant life-saving hand-shaped balloon in Windstruck – but in a more “hahaha man that’s stoopid” kind of way). And then there’s something about Mika discovering Hiro’s blue diary (!!!) filled with pictures upon pictures of her, and Mika looking at the sky smiling, and origami birds on a train. Then roll credits — and IT’S THE END!!!! THE END!!!! DRIIIINK!!!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA

Portrait of the Makjang as a J-Movie

There’s really nothing to analyze in this sodden, self-indulgent mess of melo-porn, so don’t even bother. But laugh at it, yes, and laugh heartily, for it shall bring you many a merry (albeit brain-destroying) moment. Few productions can out-makjang the makjang, but Koizora manages to do just that!

The problem with this type of narrative – and melos/makjangs in general – is that it desensitizes the viewer to the multiple whammies (gang-rape! teen pregnancy! spontaneous abortion! psychotic people! cancer!) that bludgeon the main characters from every conceivable direction, start to finish. Instead of being given one or two major plot conflicts to focus on and build one’s sympathies around, the viewer easily gets alienated from the characters because they’ve become mere objects of tragedy and misfortune rather than flesh-and-blood human beings grappling with the challenges of their world.

This doesn’t mean that the societal evils and hot-button issues tackled in Koizora do not exist; my beef is with the overweening treatment these topics are given in the film: there’s no real gut-wrenching gravitas to the story, only a glib artificiality to the plot contrivances – as if the writer were pulling randomly from a grab bag of Horrible Things, hoping to meet some sick boo-hoo quota.

This kind of melodrama-pastiche treatment also cheapens the true-to-life experiences of people in the real world who have been victimized by gang-rape, or battled an incurable disease, or lost a stillborn child. It diminishes their tragedy and loss while insulting the intelligence of the movie viewers, who are actually expected to believe that — yes, Virginia, all these hardships CAN happen to just ONE person. You CAN get sexually assaulted, AND get preggers, AND miscarry your baby, AND watch your boyfriend die of cancer – all before your 20^th birthday. *rolleyes* But do not worry, because you will invariably come out A STRONGER PERSON!!!

I would’ve invested more in Mika and Hiro’s relationship had I actually gotten to know them before the story started dumping green slimy buckets of misery on them both, like they do to celebrities at the Nickelodeon Kids Choice Awards. (Every time something awful happened to Mika I felt like screaming (rather gleefully), “You got SLIMED!!!” Hahahaha) I also would’ve invested more in the whole story if the dialogue weren’t so farking CHEESY. *throws up in mouth* And also if Aragaki Yui and Miura Haruma had infused a little pathos and street cred into their work, instead of approaching their roles with sweet-faced vacuity and constipated, hammy zeal, respectively. (Miura easily chalks this up as his worst perf EVAR. My best friend remarked that as cringe-worthy as Miura’s portrayal was, the fact that he could deliver such drippy dialogue with a straight face – hahahhaha – made it even worse.)

The biggest whammy of all is that the anonymous author of the film’s source book – a mobile phone novel (keitai shousetsu) entitled “Koizora: Setsunai Koi Monogatari” –  claimed that the plot was culled from her life experiences…… Um, seriously, this sh*t was autobiographical??? HAHAHAHAHAHA. If Koizora was based on a true story, then I’m a yodeling Swiss goatherd named Juergen, HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

What’s even more disturbing is that Japan effing BOUGHT the tripe and let it snowball into a “cultural phenomenon,” according to Wiki. The novel went viral in 2005 with a whopping 20 million subscriptions, then sold two million copies in hard print, and even spawned its own manga, dorama and film adaptations. (Srsly Jpn srslyyyy???????) Apparently, the whole country got a collective kick from reading about the never-ending woes of their favorite teenage love martyr, never mind if these were probably nothing more than the hyperactive fantasies of a lonely, affection-starved bint who happened to have too much time on her hands. Poor critter, I hope she finally grew a life.

All together now: DRIIIIIINK!!!!!

What's that, Hiro? Sorry seems to be the hardest word, eh Hiro? Hahahaha

Grade
Artistic & technical merit: D-
Entertainment value: D
Overall: D

(Click to read my Kimi ni Todoke review)

***
Photo credits: aigoo-iichan.blogspot.com, angryanimebitches.wordpress.com, asian-eiga.blogspot.com, asianmediawiki.com, ciachiaa.blogspot.com, club.ados.fr, darling79.blogspot.com, fadedshadow.xanga.com, flickr.com, fymh.tumblr.com, fyifamilies.com, gatopardos.com, hyorina.tumblr.com, jfilm.tumblr.com, jktcraze.blogspot.com, maypang-amin.com, micacola.glogster.com, mylot.com, m-y-m1nd.blogspot.com, nikpi-0409.blogspot.com, nipponcinema,com, pom16.multiply.com, randomc.net, secretbear @ polyvore.com, singlelittlethingofmine-evelynwann.blogspot.com, ssangcheo.tumblr.com, whattamessgurl.wordpress.com, yousaytoo.com

by Ender’s Girl

A hopeless sucker for a good sword-and-sorcery yarn, I never pass up the chance to road-test possible contenders for the Next Great Asian Fantasy Flick. (Recs from y’all are most welcome!) This particular movie tracks two ill-fated ninja lovers trying (not?) to kill each other in the mountain forests of 17^th-century Japan. Sounds, epic, I know. But is it really?

Shinobi: Heart Under Blade

The Cast:
Nakama Yukie, Odagiri Joe, Sawajiri Erika

Directed by Shimoyama Ten / Shochiku Films, 2005

In a Nutshell:
An uncanny pair of star-crossed ninjas (and one in a mullet) must choose between forbidden love and clan duty. (OHNOES OHNOES!!!)

(SpoilLert: Ohohoho you bet!)

Genres: fantasy, romance, cosplay
Iconography: secret ninja communes, dueling magicky people, Odagiri Joe in a mullet
Main themes: mullets, blood feuds, filial piety, forbidden love
Key message: If your boyfriend grows a mullet, you might as well gouge your eyes out. (Yowww!)

Watching certain parts of Shinobi – and I’m just talking about the good parts here – is like watching nature-themed screensavers while pretending to send emails from your workstation. Same amount of brainwork required, too. Because if all you’re looking for is a pretty movie, then this one is it. It’s hard to top the visuals of the Edenic realm in which this film is set: a falcon winging over tree-topped ravines… a shallow rock pool shimmering in a forest glade… a fish arcing out of the water and scattering crystal droplets in slow-mo… a wood nymph with lavender chenille in her hair, alighting by the pool for a sip while her would-be lover, a solemn young man in a mullet, gazes at her from across the water…

Okayyy, so maybe a moony-eyed man in a mullet ain’t such a great idea for a screensaver. But all the other location shots just mentioned are very scenic indeed. Too bad there’s little else to be admired about this movie — besides the fact that Nakama Yukie has never looked lovelier than she does here (no nerd glasses or unisex track suits for Yankumi this time, oh no no!). She’s the wood nymph by the mountain stream… except that she’s not really a nymph, but a tough cookie of a ninja princess (!!!) — who can kill with a glance (!!!). Enter the mullet (gonggg!!!) in the shape and form of Odagiri Joe, who also happens to be a ninja… except that his clan has a long-standing blood feud with Nakama Yukie’s kin, ohnoes (!!!).

Yepyepyep, it’s THAT kind of story, think Romeo and Juliet… but with superpowers! And mullets! (I seriously have to stop saying that… but first I ought to mullet over, hahaha.) The year is 1614 and Tokugawa Ieyasu sits in his castle fretting over spy reports that the shinobi people (another term for ninja) are offering their arcane arts to the highest bidders, many of whom are the Shogun’s political enemies. Worried that these mystical mercenaries will be used to undermine his regime, Tokugawa Ieyasu and his advisers hatch a plan that will pit the two strongest shinobi clans against each other.

These two clans, the Iga-ryu and the Kouga-ryu, have been locked in an uneasy 400-year peace treaty that basically limits their mutual hostilities to mooning each other across the river and leaving territorial pee marks on the bark of enemy trees – pretty hardcore stuff, I know. But the ancient ceasefire obviously hasn’t stopped the tribes from hating each other with a passion – or, as we find in the case of Yankumi and Odagiri Joe, from luhhhving each other, either.

Guarding this shaky peace is Hattori Hanzo, a functionary in the Shogunate’s employ tasked to arbitrate among the shinobi. It naturally becomes clear to the Shogun and his flunkies that the most effective way to stamp out these stealthy little buggers is to rescind the no-fighting ban – and then wait as they finish each other off. The Shogun then commands both tribes to select their five best ninja, who are to square off in a fight-oh!!! to the death-oh!!! – all on the pretext that the winning clan will get to determine the next Shogun. It’s a terribly lame-oh!!! ruse, I know, but the shinobi fall for it hook, line and, er, shuriken – which makes you wonder whether all those centuries of hermitic inbreeding have caused their recessive traits – low IQs! mutant powers! fast-growing mullets! – to surface with a vengeance.

A sylvan people, the Iga-ryu live in primitive huts on a secluded river bend, while the Kouga-ryu have carved out a mountaintop hamlet where they can practice mining, quarrying and other ecologically destructive methods to their hearts’ content. Even the set design of both villages couldn’t be more disparate, as if to stress just how much at odds these two tribes are: the Kouga lands are all dusty browns and blazing sunlight, in contrast to the tranquil blue-greenery where the Iga tree-huggers romp and live.

And did I mention that Yankumi and Mullet Joe are the only ones unhappy with the Shogun’s new edict? Because they’re secretly lovahs, not fightahs!!! But as much as they want to elope to the city and put the whole silly vendetta business behind them, they can’t – because Yankumi’s granny just happens to be the Iga clan’s chieftain, while Mullet Joe’s gramps happens to be – you guessed it!!! – the headman of the Kouga. (What to do, what to do???)

Turns out that Granny and Gramps don’t wanna fight each otha’ no mo’ either, for their confrontation in the forest following the Shogun’s announcement suggests that they, too, were once lovahhs. But, well, clan duty trumps personal happiness once again, because the chieftains end up fighting their final duel, this time to the death — for both of them. (Tsk, tsk)

Meanwhile, Yankumi and Mullet Joe are having their own romantic powwow in another forest clearing, oblivious to the geriatric showdown just a few thickets away, lol. In this scene, Mullet Joe finds Yankumi by the river and grabs her behind – er, grabs her from behind – and it’s without a doubt the lovers’ Shining Moment of Happiness before their Doom!Doom!!!, something akin to Romeo and Juliet’s last (illicit) hurrah before their story’s tragic denouement.

Hours later (and still a little dopey from their tryst), the lovers return home to learn the unfortunate news. With the ancient peace treaty now irretrievably shattered, the clamors for revenge from both sides will not be denied. But as the tribes gear up for war, oh! – what’s this? Mullet Joe morphs into “Pacifist Joe” and balks at leading his homies into battle against Team Iga! The poor chump also knows he can’t fess up to his loyal subjects that he’s been sleepin’ with the enemy (or who knows what they’ll do to him – maybe chop off his mullet? shudders!), so he vents this frustration by screaming and punching the walls of his mud hut. Tsk tsk… excitable, excitable. Lol. Baffled by his un-Kouga-like behavior, the villagers promptly label their leader a pansy and call him everything from “Satyagraha Joe” to the less cultured “Chickensh*t Joe,” e.g. “Oh here comes Chickensh*t Joe, too sissy to fight those gay Iga river rats!” *spits on ground* (Lawl)

Thankfully, Yankumi is made of fiercer stuff than her wimp-o boyfriend and wastes no time going on the warpath with Strike Force Iga. And just so you know who we’re speaking of, here’s a quick look at their lineup:

1) Yankumi. (Power: the Death Stare that turns one’s innards into gunge!!!)

2) Mr Hypothermia – a jujumancer in a color-coordinated ensemble of silvery hair, purplish lips, cobalt blue wizard robes, and a ghastly, ghastly shade of face powder. (Power: longevity and self-healing abilities, thanks to his symbiotic pet worms!!!)

3) Whippy the Whipping Boy – an androgyne in a stylized black-and-white kimono-cum-Adidas tracksuit. (Power: can shoot whiplike wires from his sleeves!!!)

4) Beastly. (or… Manimal?) (Power: can do a really, really low-rent Wolverine impersonation!!!)

5) Sawajiri Erika. (Power: blows gold pixie dust that turns into… butterflies!!! hahahaha are you all scared now, Team Kouga??? ARE YOU ALL SCARED NOW???)

Not to be outdone in the costume and prosthetics department — is Team Kouga!!!

1) Mullet Joe – ‘nuff said. (Power: can move fast, very very fast! – faster than a speeding mullet! er, bullet! hahaha)

2) The Saracen – a blind, blah-looking man in brown robes and a nondescript cowl. (Power: clairvoyance and remote sensing!!!)

3) Lamia — a slinky, pouty vamp secretly in love with Mullet Joe. (Power: there isss poissson in her kissss!!!)

4) El Scowl’o – a dour-looking bearded dude sporting an old leather cuirass and gray bloomers. (Power: none!!! but is good with weapons and heavy machinery!!!)

5) Mr WTF – a silver-faced mummy zipped up in a filthy gray… pod. Or something. (Power: can shape-shift! and teleport faster than you can say “WTF?!!??”)

After seeing these ten ninjas parade before the screen in their… frippery, you’d expect that back home, the other villagers would also be decked out in similar fashion, right? RIGHT? Then why does everyone else look so friggin’ normal, clad in simple villager garb of tatty tunics and breeches — and oh looky, no makeup or face paint!!! Hahahaha. Which only makes our ten elite shinobi fighters look stooopider than they already do, blerg.

So Mullet Joe sends a strongly worded telegram to Team Iga saying that he and his posse won’t rise to the Shogun’s bait, but will seek an audience with Hattori Hanzo in yonder Emerald City, and ask the burning question of the day: “WTF is going on and why are you making us play this sick and cruel game, huh?” (lol) But while Mullet Joe & Co. skip down the Yellow Brick Road leading to Sumpu Castle, linking arms and singing, “We’re off to see the Hanzo, the Hattori Hanzo of Oz…” an incensed Yankumi sets her own hit squad after the Kouga peaceniks — OHNOES!!!

What follows is the Great Shinobi Purge-a-thon, in which our ten little ninjas dispatch each other with disturbing alacrity. But it’s the speed and casualness at which these shinobi drop dead (and drop out of the story) that only prove how disposable everyone is, writing-wise. You feel no real loss even as these ninjas, these mortal kombatants, run all over the forest stiffing each other, because you never get to know them beyond their fancy superficies. What does it say about a movie if more thought and effort obviously went into designing the cast’s cosplay outfits and props, and ascribing the characters their superpowers — than into developing the characters as real persons who evolve as the story unfolds?

Well, you can chalk it up to a script that’s thinner than denatured alcohol and characters flatter than pee on a plate. These ninjas have about as much depth as those mutant Beastnoids from the Super Sentai shows of yore, the ones who’d get trotted out in their cheap rubberized suits just to strike one or two fierce poses and show off their combat moves — before getting whacked by the bionic heroes, of course.

Things get so bloody predictable in Shinobi that you can sniff the payoff a mile away. I mean, we all know how that popular children’s counting rhyme ends, don’t we? 

Ten little ninjas looking fierce and fine,
One got the kiss of death and then there were nine;

Nine little ninjas out to test their fate,
One was skewered to a tree and then there were eight;

Eight little ninjas (cos)playing under heaven,
One croaked by the river and then there were seven;

Seven little ninjas pulling out more tricks,
One had his cover blown and then there were six;

Six little ninjas miraculously still alive,
One became a dartboard and then there were five;

Five little ninjas fond of blood and gore,
One received the laser stare and then there were four;

Four little ninjas lurking in the trees,
One gave her life for love and then there were three;

Three little ninjas playing peek-a-boo,
One got eaten by his worms and then there were two;

Two little ninjas no longer having fun,
One ran the other through and then there was one;

One little ninja, now blind and very glum,
Slipped and fell into a stream… and then there were none.

(Well okay, so maybe we never really see Yankumi drowning in a mountain stream per se, but it ain’t that hard to imagine, LMAO.)

Granted, the fight choreography in Shinobi can wow the most hard-to-please of action-adventure (and ninjutsu) enthusiasts, especially that standout scene where Mullet Joe on “super speed” mode hacks his way through a swarm of government-issue ninjas in a moonlit glade (or was it just his magic mullet doing all the work? t’was too dark to tell, lol). But seriously, what’s the point if the action and stunt work – however niftily executed – do nothing to substantiate or advance the plot?

And please don’t get me started on the love stuff – or egregious lack of it. The creative mavens behind Shinobi flattered themselves by styling their movie after well-known specimens of the doomed love sub-genre, but aping certain scenes from, say, Zhang Zimou’s Hero only underscores what a pretentious, unoriginal adaptation Shinobi is — even if the source material was published decades before films like Hero came out. I may not have read the original novel by Yamada Futaru or the 2003 manga, nor seen the 2005 anime, but this live-action adaptation penned by Kenya Hirata just blows. Epically.

This is one movie that feels more like a hack-and-slash arcade game played by truant high school boys, than a worthy entrant to the pantheon of tragic romance canon. The scenes that bookend the lovers’ luckless story – i.e. Yankumi and Mullet Joe’s first meeting by the mountain stream, and lastly their disastrous face-off at the story’s climax – may be as dramatic and cool-looking as anything you’ve seen, but it isn’t Point A or Point B, but the entire journey in between that will keep the viewer interested, invested and involved.

And heckyeah, of course I wanted to be interested, invested and involved; I wanted to know Yankumi and Mullet Joe’s backstory and see how they fell in love after that chance encounter at the beginning of the movie (and not merely rely on the narration, which was expendable anyway), and later, how their progressively difficult choices drove them farther apart until the story could not be resolved without one of them dying. And dammit, I wanted something more meaty and satisfying than a few stolen cuddles in the woods, no matter how prettily shot. But all I got was emotional static and dead air… plus lots of fight scenes that, while nicely done, were really beside the point.

Watching Shinobi can become so mentally stultifying that at some point you’ll feel compelled to do something that demands a little more brainpower — like maybe paint your nails (as I did, lol). In the scene where the doomed lovers finally face off on that desert ridge, I looked up from my half-finished nails with a vague feeling that I ought to be sad for them. Had I been watching, say, Hero or Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, my face would’ve been buried in my tear-soaked pillow by now. But seeing a homicidal Yankumi run her blade through a very stoic Mullet Joe only made me go, “oh.” before turning my attention (and nail polish) to my big toe.

Next thing you know, Yankumi’s jabbing two fingers into her eyes before a stunned Tokugawa Ieyasu and his court — in a desperate bid to convince the Shogun that she’ll forgo her  ninja powers if it means saving the Iga-ryu and Kouga-ryu from the Shogun’s armies, who, unbeknownst to the dueling shinobi, have laid siege to their mountain retreats and are this close to pulverizing both villages to sawdust and pixie dust. Yankumi sacrificing her eyes is all very statement-y, but rather pointless because by the time Tokugawa Ieyasu orders his armies to cease and desist, there’s nothing left of either village but mud and sticks and dead ninjas. (Tsk, tsk. At least Yankumi’s boyfriend got to keep his mullet to the very end, lolzzz)

Yankumi is by turns fierce and flinty as the revenge-obsessed Oboro (there, I’ve said her character’s real name at least once, happy now?) — and you can see her efforts to bring life to such a sketchy and underdeveloped role. Odagiri Joe is a totally different matter, coasting along for the paycheck 95% of the time. I mean it doesn’t take much to look glum and listless while puttering around the forest, spouting quasi-philosophical anti-war slogans, does it? 4% of the time he pulls off some actual ninja fighting, and the remaining 1% is when he remembers to “act” — and by “act” I mean “register any form of emotion” — as his mini-screaming fits in two scenes show us. And speaking of “screaming,” is it just me, or does the whole look of this dude scream “CONTEMPORARY!!!” It’s hard to buy the whole ninja act because it’s like Odagiri Joe doesn’t even belong in the movie, much less the year 1614. It seems as though he just wandered in from the year, um, 1985 maybe? Lol. (It had to be 1985, the mullet’s a dead giveaway, hahaha.)

Need I also point out the utter absence of chemistry and sexual tension between the two leads? No come-from-behind hugging could squeeze a driblet of romantic alchemy from Yankumi and Mullet Joe. I’m not even talking about open-mouthed kissing (although that too is always welcome, lol), but I needed to see the bridled (but simmering!) sexual energy and unrealized passion that typify romances of the forbidden and doomed varieties, made even more volatile by the lovers’ polarized convictions regarding duty, war, peace, honor. It’s a shame none of that yummy stuff is in this movie. (And puhleeeze, hugging is SO overrated. *rolleyes*) Shinobi a “Tragic Romance?” Hahaha. The only real tragedy here is that there isn’t enough romance in this clunker. And what “Doomed Lovers?” The only thing that’s doomed is the time you spend watching this film, 107 minutes of your life that all the ninja powers and magic mullets in the world can never, ever get back.

Grade
Artistic & technical merit: C+
Entertainment value: D
Overall: C

***

Postscript: In which E.G. Plugs a Book for the Very First Time

If you came away from Shinobi feeling as gypped as I was, and yearn to see the Star-crossed Lovers archetype fleshed out to an infinitely more satisfying degree — but still well within the same fantasy-adventure genre and ninja/warrior motif as Shinobi, then you might just love Lian Hearn’s “Tales of the Otori” cycle (five books in all). An exhilarating blend of historical drama, magic realism, philosophy, YA coming-of-age fiction, and — oh yes – romance baby romance, the “Otori” books are set in a world that strongly echoes Japan in the 16^th or 17^th century – but in an intentionally unintentional way, if you know what I mean. It’s a world inhabited by deadly assassins and duty-bound warriors, sadistic overlords and exquisite noblewomen, scheming courtiers and forbidden sects. (You won’t find the words “samurai” or “ninja” — or “shinobi” for that matter, hyukhyuk — anywhere in these books, but the geographical and cultural allusions to feudal Japan are hard to miss.)

When I read the first book “Across the Nightingale Floor” several years ago, I instantly fell in love with Lian Hearn’s lush and lyrical prose, and with her richly written characters who struggle with their human nature and with the choices they each make – but always endeavoring to find peace and fulfillment in a cruel, uncertain world.

The “Otori” saga is everything Shinobi would’ve wished to be, but wasn’t. There’s love and honor and heroism and sacrifice and destiny and tragedy and betrayal and all that great, great stuff that makes a true epic. And the action here is no child’s play – neither is it cosplay (hahaha). You’ll get your fill of fierce skirmishes, daring castle break-ins, epic battles and other heart-stopping moments. (Eat your heart out, Shinobi ninjas.)

And it’s impossible not to love the main characters: there’s the teenage Takeo who must choose between two completely different paths, being the sole heir of a noble warrior-lord who adopts him, as well as the secret scion of an underground network of spies, assassins and mercenaries known only as the Tribe. Sensitive and mature beyond his years but imbued with an unshakable idealism despite his conflicted feelings about killing and war, Takeo is everything Mullet Joe in Shinobi should’ve been. And there’s the highborn Kaede, Takeo’s secret love who is pledged to another. She’s everything Nakama Yukie’s character could’ve been – both fragile and headstrong, and incredibly brave in the face of the terrible constraints of her class.

The forbidden romance between Takeo and Kaede will make your heart sing, while their slow-burning sexual tension will simply DRIVE YOU INSANE, HAHAHAHA. There is passion, intrigue, danger, sex — and even a little homoeroticism on the side (which shocked me at first, but then this was way before I got to know my Johnnies, so cut me some slack here, lol).

Do give the first book a try. Once you’re swept away in the “Otori” saga you’ll realize that those silly, shallow Shinobi ninjas never stood a chance.

(Still not convinced? Read what the author posted on her site.)

***
Photo credits: asianmediacritics.blogspot.com, astronerdboy.blogspot.com, blu-ray.com, CinemaFrenzy @ photobucket.com, daily.greencine.com, dvdtown.com, flixster.com, hakojou.blogspot.com, japinoy.com, lianhearn.com, orendsrange.blogspot.com, reviewbuster.net, syukri0235.blogspot.com, the-other-view.com

Vintage SMAP…

…and their message for the Tohoku disaster victims:

What things can we do right now.
Let’s all do what we can now.
Whether that’s donating or turning off your electric switches.
Actions like that contribute even just the tiniest bit to the hope of tomorrow.
We can put all of our efforts together.
We can bring our hearts together.
Let’s do it everyone!!!
SMAP

***
Source: Tokyohive

When I heard about the Paper Cranes for Japan project, I wanted to take part and do something — anything — that would express my solidarity with the quake and tsunami victims. Although work left me with little downtime for most of last week (which is also why I haven’t been posting new stuff lately… gomen and miane to my 20-odd regular readers, sankyou for sticking it out with delinquent old E.G., lol), Saturday evening finally found me with some paper and a pair of scissors in hand, surfing Youtube for a DIY origami video.  Since my artist-designer sister wasn’t around to make the tsuru for me, I decided to give it a shot (my first ever). And it actually wasn’t half as hard as it looked. Took a few shots of the crane on two sheets of blue craft paper which I had spread on our dining table, and voila — finished product above.

I racked my brains for an inspiring message to accompany my little paper tsuru on its maiden goodwill flight (a haiku? a verse? kana characters lifted from Babelfish?), but in the end a simple word of encouragement felt best.

I had also wished to send this photo for inclusion in the Waratte, Nippon! video project, but I missed the deadline last Saturday by a few hours. So I’m posting it here instead. I know the crisis in Japan is far from over, but for whatever it’s worth… Ganbatte, Japan!

(Make your tsuru and share it, too!)