How Academics Approach Japanese Urbanisation - Reflected in the Films of Isao Takahata

My Neighbours the Yamadas (Takahata, 1999)

Introduction to Academic Contexts:

Isolade Standish identifies the existence of much debate within Western academic discourse surrounding Japanese modernity. Key periods which these concern are cited in post-war economic booms as well as much earlier, during the Meji Restoration of 1868 (2006, 29-30). However, these are generally all related to industrial capitalism in the form of urbanisation, progress defined by a “cult of success” determined “in terms of [Japan’s] projection of western societies” (ibid.).

In terms of figures, over the course of the 20th century, Japan’s population distribution transformed, with around 80% becoming an urban population. Though, as André Sorensen notes, “While rapid and sustained economic growth in the post-war period… did greatly increase the standards of living for virtually all Japanese peoples… there have also been considerable social and environmental costs” to the urbanisation strategies (2002, 1). Most notably, environmental pollution and the destruction of natural ecosystems, further leading to “regional imbalances” within the Japanese countryside. Such negative effects are prevalent in Japanese cinema, particularly in the period following the 1980s, which I shall contextualise further within this analyses.

However, whilst remaining on the topic of Japanese modernisation as-depicted within its national cinema, Davis’ Picturing Japaneseness states that Japanese cinema is, quote, “canon fodder” for “postmodern interpretations” of themes such as urbanisation and traditional decline (1996, 13). Though it is important to note that the view Davis offers is somewhat problematic in its contexts of Japanese urbanisation. They claim their viewpoint is, “not about western versions of Japan nor western opinions of the Japanese self-concept” (ibid., 2). However, this itself is untrue, given their claims are- by their very nature- inherently Westernised. Therefore, theirs and similar analyses made of Japanese cinema by Western academics must be observed and cross-examined critically.

Beyond urbanisation, the decline of Japanese folklore and tradition is also a vastly-divulged area of Japanese film theory. Keiko Mcdonald identifies, “oneness with nature” as a long considered part of Japanese culture, though one that- by the late 1980s- was a concern for Japanese parents, who feared “their children were losing touch with nature” to “urban sprawl” (2006, 178).

Yūko Kikuchi’s study into Japanese Modernisation and critique of the Mingei folkcraft movement can be assessed for its consideration of Orientalist Western expectations of Japanese culture and tradition. Kikuchi points to discourses of “quintessential Japaneseness” in relation to Mingei, with claims the functional and localised art form is representative of “the most ‘innate’ and ‘original’ Japan” (2004, 109). Moreover, that as, “the ultimate beauty expressed by the collective nation”, the art form is fetishised as inherently Japanese as a result of anxieties of Westernisation and modernisation, a loss of tradition and nostalgia (ibid., 109-112).

Pom Poko (Takahata, 1994)

The Work of Isao Takahata:

Studio Ghibli’s co-founder Isao Takahata was born in 1935 in Ise, home of Japan’s indigenous Shintō religion’s most sacred shrine. Takahata grew up during Japan’s turbulent postwar period, initially living under US occupation until Japan developed as an economic power through their aforementioned urbanisation efforts. Something multiple film academics point out is that Takahata’s filmography appears to reflect both these factors of his upbringing. As Odell and Le Blanc note, Takahata’s films, “are generally set in Japan and many reference Japanese culture, particularly folk tales, poetry, mythical creatures and history” (2019, 7-8, 12)

A key theme of Takahata’s works is environmentalism and- quote- “often Earth is portrayed as suffering as a result of human ignorance” (ibid., 14). This centrality on environment is played alongside Japanese mythology and culture, with references to Shintōism and spiritual harmony with the natural environment. More specifically, localised practices associated with Mingei are also evident within certain Ghibli works, for instance, Only Yesterday (Takahata, 1991) sees dissatisfied city dweller, Taeko, take up a summer job in the county picking safflower for rouge pigment to use in dye for fabrics.

As Odell and Le Blanc note, there is an unsubtle inference made between urban and country life in regards to the practice (ibid.). Protagonist Taeko references the Japanese poet Matsuo Bashō and his folktale of the bloodstained hands of country women picking the thistle plants for the consumers in the modernised cities. The film also takes the time to note safflower as a “famous local product”, though rare, and one that provides wealth to merchants selling the dye, though little to the farmers who harvest it.

Moreover, the local farmer character, Toshio, verbally expresses the frustrations of the dwindling countryside and invasive urban expansion, though a counter argument is presented by Andrew Osmond that the film dissolves into “open propaganda” for country living because of this (2006, 88). However, as Tze-yue Hu notes in Frames of Anime, Toshio is representative of the “born-again farmer” prevalent in the 1980s, when state-sponsored programs and incentives encouraged those living in the city to move back into rural communities. (2010, 128)

Thus, this claim that Only Yesterday’s representation of the countryside is- quote- “a more pointedly artificial approach to Japanese nostalgia” (Osmond, 2006, 88) is flawed because it fails to take into account such factors, and assumes that Takahata’s position of urbanisation is an inherently negative one. No scene better divulges this than when Taeko proclaims her love for the lush “natural” landscape in front of her, only for Toshio to inform her that everything she sees: from the river to the hillside to the forest, is all man-made.

Only Yesterday- like Pom Poko (Takahata, 1994)- does not criticise humans for existing and inhabiting space- rather promotes a healthy co-habitation between humans and nature, exploring, “the way in which our environment is a living collection of interconnected beings that should be respected” (Odell & Le Blanc, 2019, 14). In Reanimating Folklore (2013), Ortabasi contextualises Ghibli’s Pom Poko in regards to the folklore at the heart of its narrative; claiming Takahata’s film, “greatly extrapolates the… raccoon dog [known as tanuki] folktale tradition and the inhering crisis within modern Japanese society as it relates to both the environment and a homogenous notion of Japanese identity.” (255)

Odell and Le Blanc however, claim that, “For non-Japanese audiences, Pom Poko can seem overwhelming in its cultural references” to Shintōism and Buddhism (2019, 72) – a problematic claim which appears to Other Japanese customs as something inaccessible to Western audiences. Ortabasi too, identifies that despite being a critical success in Japan- beating out The Lion King (Mikoff & Alders, 1994) at the box office and becoming the year’s foreign language submission to the Academy Awards- “non-Japanese critics have chastised the film for this domestic popular appeal” claiming it is, “eco-moralizing” and romanticises Japan’s agricultural past (2013, 156) in a similar fashion to the aforementioned claims of Osmond and Only Yesterday.

Indeed, this is something that can be seen to translate beyond academic assessments of the film, and into Western consumption of the text itself. As is key in tanuki folklore, a prominent focus on the raccoon’s scrotums is evident within the film, something which the English distributed dub of the film rejects- instead referring to these as “raccoon pouches”. This sort of censorship too contributes to an Othering of Japanese customs.

Beyond the analysis of Pom Poko’s reliance on Japanese mythology, is its overarching narrative of deforestation and urbanisation. Pom Poko takes place in 1960s during the Tama Hills housing development in southwest Tokyo, and sees a band of Tanuki’s desperate attempts to utilise their shapeshifting powers to prevent the urban development from destroying their natural home. It would appear therefore, there is a recurring trend which criticises Takahata’s themes as idolising of traditional rural lifestyles.

However, Hu states that in his own interview with Takahata, while the director, “stressed nostalgic elements, and implied that real utopia had existed in Japan’s past”, he rebuked suggestions that he “idealized a utopian future” (2010, 131). This therefore supports the notion that Takahata’s themes reflect a maintenance of mutual respect with nature, rather than a return to time before.

Yomota Inuhiko’s What is Japanese cinema, points specifically towards the Japanese bubble economy 1980s as a site of postmodern interpretations of urbanisation that damaged cinema with an influx of pastiche commentaries similar to those made in the years of Ozu and Kurosawa (2019, 181).

Similarly, in Reading A Japanese Film, Keiko McDonald too, identifies that following the burst, filmmaking became difficult and in turn, critical of the negative effects of rapid urbanisation beyond environmental ones (2006, 11-12). One such negative impact on Japanese life was that, quote, “family life suffered. The competitive pressures of the workplace took much of the blame for dissolving family bonds. Overworked fathers had little time for family life. Mothers, forced to take charge at home, became overachievers of another, dreadful kind.” (ibid., 178)

Such an assessment of the strain on the Japanese nuclear family can be seen as evident in both My Neighbours the Yamadas (Takahata, 1999) and Only Yesterday, which both portray similar business-headed fathers who have a distant association to their children compared to their stay-at-home wives, whose core objectives revolve not only around homemaking labour, but also the educational development of their children. Unlike the two previous films, not only does My Neighbours the Yamadas incorporate themes of Japanese tradition into its narrative, it is physically embedded into the film’s structure.

As Lucca notes, rather than a single overarching narrative, “[the film] is a series of vignettes about a less-than-perfect family, bookended by haiku by Bashō and and other great Japanese poets.” (2018, 47) Yamadas relies on Japanese folklore and tradition as a means by which the characters behave and events affect them and overall, “feels more like a collection of Buddhist parables… that helps you think towards a lesson rather than simply stating the moral.” (ibid.)

This structure however, is something Odell and Le Blanc claims make Yamadas, “one of Ghibli’s most difficult films to watch outside Japan, as every scene relies on cultural knowledge to fully engage with it.” (2019, 83) Once again, the pair’s assessment of Takahata’s work is blatantly saturated by its Westernised viewpoint, and thus problematic. They compare the dynamic of the Yamada family with that of American series The Simpsons, yet divulge that the latter, though similarly makes reference to popular culture and US history, isn’t “jarring” because doesn’t “embody them” to the same extant Takahata’s film does (ibid.).

From a Western perspective themselves they are able to acknowledge a Western text to lack complexity, therefore making it more more “approachable”, as it embodies a culture they exist within. To call Japanese cinema complex for being “Japanese” is to assume that Japanese society by extension is confusing, because it is Other, being that it is not of immediate Western understanding. It might be a fair assessment to state that Japanese culture is itself complex, and further that it is beneficial for Western academics to identify it as such. However, when presented in a manner identical to Odell and Le Blanc’s, such a statement is rendered troublesome, given it critiques Japanese cinema for exhibiting traits of its own culture, rather than adhering to Western understandings.

Only Yesterday (Takahata, 1991)

Conclusion:

In conclusion, as discussed, there does appear to be a problematic trend with western academics in the study of Japanese urbanisation, as well as the cinema of Isao Takahata. The director's narrative themes are often critiqued by academics as too complex, while these analyses often fail to acknowledge the position the academic themselves are in to come to such a conclusion.

Yomota Inuhiko identifies the connection between Japanese cinema and culture, claiming that one viewpoint considers that Japanese cinema must be seen as part of Japan’s culture for the themes and inspiration it takes, be that Edo Kabuki plays, or folktales such as those in Bashō’s poems (xvi, 2019). Moreover, Inuhiko identifies that, “Only when one can understand both the images in the hearts of the people who made Japanese films and those in the hearts of these [watched them]… is it possible to grasp the depth of Japanese cinema.” (ibid., xvi-xvii).

This in itself is an impossible task. No one person can completely understand an image from the perspective of another. Though even more obviously, one cannot assume such an understanding based on a limiting Western viewpoint. However, Inuhiko also notes that, “Although Japanese cinema cannot be separated from the cultural particularities of Japan, we must also see it as part of the universal history for humanity’s desire for images and moment.” (ibid.) Therefore, an alternative viewpoint might also consider the extent to which Takahata’s films do not conform to a presumed “Japaneseness”- and how this is read by academics.

Ironically, across multiple academic works I have discussed, the films of Takahata’s Ghibli partner, Hayao Miyazaki, are not only more broadly divulged, they are often praised for exhibiting similar traits that Takahata is chastised for. Odell and Le Blanc claim that, “Part of the joy in watching Studio Ghibli films is their ‘Japaneseness’, even in the films are set in a European context.” (2019, 22) Praises are made of the mystical nature of such works, fantasy worlds and situations which take inspiration from European cultures and histories. However, this is never criticised as appropriative, nor “confusing” the way in which Takahata’s films are.

Furthermore, if Japanese cinema is to implement transnational elements, yet still be signified as a Japanese cinema, this is contradictory because, “transnational literally means going beyond the boundaries of nation” and if “Japanese” is added to this, it returns to a national identity (Miyao, 2019, 111). Therefore, to praise Ghibli films when they extend beyond a localised context, is not only limiting, it also fails to be critical of Ghibli in how this can also be Othering or appropriative of cultures outside of Japan.

For instance, Only Yesterday’s Toshio expresses he is a fan of Bulgarian folk music, which the film’s score frequently exhibits. Toshio claims to identify with the music as “farmer’s music”, which seems somewhat contradictory given the music’s inherent detachment from rural Japan. Moreover, the music used within the film is not actually exclusively Bulgarian, and both Hungarian and Romanian soundtracks are also featured. This therefore raises a wide potential for debate as to the film’s detachment from these European cultural contexts, something no academic I personally found to have actually brought up.

Reference List:

• Davis, D.W. (1996) Picturing Japaneseness: Monumental Style, National Identity, Japanese Film. West Sussex: Columbia University Press.

• Hu, T.G. (2010) Frames of Anime: Culture and Image-Building. Hong Kong: Hong Kong University Press.

• Inuhiko, Y. (2019) What is Japanese Cinema? A History. Chichester, West Sussex: Columbia University Press.

• Kikuchi, Y. (2004) Japanese Modernization and Mingei Theory: Cultural Nationalism and Oriental Orientalism. London: RoutledgeCurzon.

• Lucca, V. (2018) Worldly Wise. Film Comment. 54, 4 (44-48).

• McDonald, K. (2006) Reading a Japanese Film: Cinema in Context. United States of America: University of Hawai’i Press.

• Minkoff, R. & Allers, R. (dirs.) (1994) The Lion King [DVD]. Buena Vista Pictures.

• Miyao, D. (2019) Hoe can we talk about ‘transnational’ when we talk about Japanese cinema? Journal of Japanese and Korean Cinema. 11, 2 (109-116).

• Odell, C. & Le Blanc, M. (2019) Studio Ghibli: The Films of Hayao Miyazaki and Isao Takahata. Third Edition. UK: Kamera Books.

• Ortabasi, M. (2013) (Re)animating Folklore: Raccoon Dogs, Foxes and Other Supernatural Japanese Citizens in Takahata Isao’s Heisei tanuki gassenpompoko. Marvels & Tales: Journal of Fairy-Tale Studies. 27 (2) (254-275). Detroit, Michigan: Wayne State University Press.

• Osmond, A. (2006) Don’t look back in anger. Sight & Sound. 16, 17 (88) British Film Institute.

• Sorensen, A. (2002) The Making of Urban Japan: Cities and Planning From Edo to the Twenty First Century. London: Routledge.

• Standish, I. (2006) A New History of Japanese Cinema: A Century of Narrative Film. New York: The Continuum International Publishing Group Inc.

• Takahata, I. (dir.) (1991) Omoide Poro Poro [Netflix]. Toho.

• Takahata, I. (dir.) (1994) Heisei TanukiGassen Ponpoko [DVD]. Toho.

• Takahata, I. (dir.) (1999) Hōhokekyo Tonari no Yamada-kun [Netflix]. Toho, Shochiku.