"Kiss Me" by Sixpence None the Richer... in Japanese!

Lovely song, cool language, bad video. I prefer the Paris version where she puts her "he loves me/he loves me not" flower on filmmaker Francois Truffaut's grave.

Still... Japanese lyrics add mysterious beauty.

Watching Crappy American TV Shows in Japan Is a Unique and Enjoyable Experience!

There's an episode of Walker Texas Ranger (which I only like in an ironic, campy way) on TV. It's so funny to be watching this in Japan. It's not even subtitled. I wonder if there's a Japanese audio track. Holy shit! THERE IS! Walker is now talking in perfect, native-speaker level Nihongo! How delightfully weird! In Nihongo, his name is "Wa-ka." Which sounds like "WAWKAA."

Anyway, I mention this because the reason I started watching it was there was a computer hacker battle on it earlier that was fascinating in its verisimilitude. The awesomely supreme Michael Ironside, bad guy from Total Recall, was bossing this nerd guy in some high tech evil hideout to control a plane and Waka and this really cute bespectacled nerd girl (what can I say? I have a weakness for cute, bespectacled nerd women, especially if they have deliberately bad haircuts like this girl's) were fighting them from another computer at the Texas Rangers headquarters.

How do hackers in Waka's universe wage online wars? They type a lot at their keyboards. They say something along the lines of "I've accessed the main database subroutine and now I'm going to route the DSL lite through the mainframe system" and then type really really really fast!

The dialogue ran along these lines:

EVIL NERD: We're getting interference from another source...
TOTAL RECALL GUY: Can you block it? Lock down the firewall.
EVIL NERD: I'll try. But she's good... she's very good...

Lots of keyboard typing. On some side monitor off camera, the Walker Texas Ranger key grip is reading the screen and it says "GKLDNGEKEWINGNEOIGVKJDFKJNBVOIEHE#IHGKJNBEV(HE#$*(#)TG)(#."

By the way, in Texas the police can beat you indiscriminately with kung fu and karate even if you haven't done anything. Then they can search you totally without probable cause- unless your having been the victim of a savage beating by the police constitutes probable cause in the state of Texas- and prosecute you for whatever they find. Even if they were there for other reasons.

Welcome to America, Mike Huckabee style!

Also, Mr. Chuck Norris, while you can certainly roundhouse kick, you and your well-groomed beard cannot sing. Your "Ranger" theme song is horrible. You, sir, are no Clint Eastwood circa Honkytonk. Bruce Lee kicked your ass and I'm glad. I hope he comes back from the dead and kicks it again. If the bogeyman checks in his closet for Chuck Norris, then Chuck Norris looks under his bed for Bruce Lee.

But Bruce Lee is EVERYWHERE, baby. EVERYWHERE.

What Must They Think of Such Things?

I just watched Little Miss Sunshine on Stars. Wow! Wonderful movie. I have to think about it a little more, but it absolutely pressed all my buttons for Things I Enjoy. And another thing I just enjoyed?

Well, there was a preview for the much reviled Wayans Family comedy Little Man, which may be one of the worst things humanity has ever produced. An artifact so foul, so thoroughly ugly and hateful it should be preserved for all eternity as a sort of anti-Sistine Chapel. Proof that in our human endeavors we can produce both the sublime and the Wayans Family comedy Little Man. Proof of the divine extremes our creativity can reach.

After clips of Marlon Wayans with his head grotesquely computer-imposed on a child's (or midget's) body, making crude sexual overtures that pass unnoticed by the oblivious women semi-involved and then a long... and I do mean long because they showed the entire scene... clip of Shawn Wayans getting hit in the nuts by a line-drive hit by Little Man himself, Stars cut to one of their hosts, a lovely young woman in fashionable attire, sitting in a chair in what appears to be a comfortably appointed living room for her reaction.

Which wasn't a grimace, exactly. And not a smile.

Just a wry screwing up of her lips followed by a noncommital "Hmmm..." as if she felt reluctant to let her true feelings be known. As if she wanted to warn the viewers Little Man is something to avoid as you might a particularly foul-smelling hobo walking around pantsless but she couldn't because of her job as a television presenter.

So just, "Hmmm... make up your own damn minds."

Usually they tell you a little about the movie in case you might have been intrigued and want to watch it. Not this time. Just "Hmmm..." and then they jumped right into the next clip (Casino Royale).

Perfect!

The Butcher Strikes!

I don't really like to post about work incidents here, but this is one of my rare exceptions. Sometimes my personal and professional lives- which I dilligently keep separate- merge in hilarious ways. Ah, one of those times.

Yesterday, I was teaching a lesson about occupations. You know, jobs. We read a list of common jobs, one of which was butcher.

After we finished, one of the students asked me, "Do you know the wrestler the Butcher?"

I thought for a moment, then told her, "I... think..."

A wrestler called the Butcher? That seemed vaguely familiar, so my mental harddrive began whirring away, trying to access the information. Which was somewhere among all the other files, but in degraded form. The Butcher. Bill the Butcher, from Gangs of New York? Sam the Butcher from Brady Bunch? The Butcher... the Butcher. Butch Patrick. Butch the fighter from Pulp Fiction (which has been on Stars Classic a few times recently, by the way).

Then it hit me. "Abdullah the Butcher?"

"YES!" she said, laughing. "Abdullah the Butcher!"

Everyone else was confused, but we quickly ran down a few storied names. Abdullah the Butcher, Andre the Giant, Hulk Hogan, Rowdy Roddy Piper, Jesse "The Body" Ventura. She knew all of them. I briefly told them about my all-time favorite, Mr. Wrestling #2. I don't know why Mr. Wrestling #1 wasn't more than enough for Georgia professional wrestling, but I thank God he wasn't. Otherwise my childhoood would've been deprived of one of its seminal figures. A demigod occupying a pantheon of greats that included Evel Knieval, Muhammad Ali, Ed Podolak, Willie Mays, O.J. Simpson (oops), Dale Murphy, Hank Aaron, Gen. George S. Patton and Captain James T. Kirk among others.

An eclectic assemblage of august personages, to be sure.

I also briefly described the superhuman figure known popularly as Dusty Rhodes. The American Dream, possessed of the Atomic Elbow against which no mere mortal could contend.

You can never guess what's filtered through from Western pop culture into Japanese. Just when you think you have it all figured out, someone surprises you. It's little moments like this that can turn your whole day around.

"Battle Royale," My Favorite Japanese Cult Flick...

And that's the trailer for Battle Royale, with Kitano Takeshi. Those related to me may know him as "Vic Romano" from MXC. However, here in Japan he's a ubiquitous TV personality, highly respected film director and actor. Battle Royale was just an acting gig for him, but he makes the most of his limited screen time. This movie also features a young Kuriyama Chiaki, who went on to American pop culture iconic status as Gogo Yubari in Quentin Tarantino's Kill Bill Volume One. Several of its other stars- like bad girl Shibasaki Kou- have gone on to varying degrees of show business success, so I'd compare this movie to the 80s commie paranoia flick Red Dawn with its cast of teens and young adults like Patrick Swayze, C. Thomas Howell, Charlie Sheen, Jennifer Grey and the great Harry Dean Stanton in his film debut as a gun-totin' toddler.

It's similar to Red Dawn in that its hearty seasonings of violence and ridiculousness make it eminently watchable and rewatchable. You can enjoy it on any number of levels. I mean, if you're into this sort of thing.

And I am.

As you can probably guess this movie caused quite a stir here in Japan when it debuted, but most of the people I meet have never seen it. Or even if they do know of it, they think it's a curiosity, not all that good (contrary to its almost legendary status in the States) or else merely extremely silly. They also tend to think I'm weird for liking it. No argument there.

Whenever I'm asked what Japanese films I like, I list the typical Japanophile favorites- Kurosawa, Kurosawa, Kurosawa, plus Miyazaki Hayao and his Studio Ghibli animated masterworks.

Those usually get appreciative nods, and the Miyazaki mention often leads to more questions, such as, "Have you watched Laputa?" or "Have you watched Porco Rosso?" The charming Totoro remains a universally beloved classic so sometimes at that point the conversation gets rerouted down the Totoro Track and we travel along through a Ghibli-inspired landscape while we reminisce about our favorite scenes. So of course I've seen those- except Porco Rosso, but it's only a matter of time. However, when I get to Battle Royale...

That's when people crack up and exclaim: "Eeehhhh?!!?"

And because I love the over the top score in its intro scene, here's the first 9 minutes or so:

When the 2-Way Misunderstandings Come Fast and Furious on My Other Blog, I Come Back Here...

And it's with a gift of love... a mountain trip to Japan, 1959...



Enjoy the feelings of warmth and belonging.

Japanese Lends Itself to Colorful Expressions... and Tests!

Sorry I haven't written in this blog for a while. There's not a whole lot going on in my life here in Japan worth writing about these days. Just smooth sailin'. Things are going quite well but the flipside of that shiny coin is things have become very boring. I'm thinking about having another Tokyo junket to shake things up, maybe over my next 3-day weekend or during Golden Week. There may be romance blossoming but that's all anyone needs to know for now.

In the meantime, the Japan Times Online has taken up some of the content slack. One of my favorite aspects of learning Japanese is the way native speakers come up with so many creative usages. While we Americans refer to a vain balding man as having a "comb-over," which is too on the nose and not so interesting, in Japan a similar hairstyle is refered to as "barcode hair," which is funnier and creates a vivid mental image. It does look like a barcode!

Japan Times has an article on the "secret" language used by Japan's working women. If you don't want to read the entire article, here's the main list:

* Tabitomo (traveling companion) — an illicit lover, used in reference to extramarital affairs.
* Yuryo bukken (excellent property) — a real-estate term used here to mean a male colleague considered a possible romantic interest.
* Kakurenbo oji (hide-and-seek prince) — a man who ignores his female colleague until just before it's time to knock off for the day.
* Katorina — a man who wreaks havoc on the office environment. So named for the hurricane that devastated New Orleans.
* Ichigo (strawberry) — used figuratively to describe a pimply complexion.
* Ganburon — an unsightly male who grows his hair long. Formed by stringing together gan (face), busaiku (unappealing) and ronge (long hair).

My favorites are yuryo bukken, katorina and ichigo. Ichigo is brilliantly visual. And many people I've met here are still fascinated by Hurrican Katrina, so I'm not surprised it's entered the slang vernacular here in such an appropriate way.

And in news that hits closer to home (several people I know had to change travel plans this weekend because the shinkansen were almost all booked up), the yearly university-entrance exam rite has begun.

I don't know how it is in Europe, but this is very different from the American way of getting a higher education. Each year, graduating Japanese high schoolers have to make the journey to testing centers for rigorous university entrance exams. Failure means a year of further cram school and status as a "ronin," an old school samurai term for a "masterless warrior." Kurosawa Akira made some great movies about these samurai and their adventures, but for the exam flopper it's a time of uncertainty, anxiety and hard work.

Whereas we Americans take the SAT, fill out a form, pay a truckload of money and off we go.

For those who pass, life begins to arrange itself into a familiar, timeless pattern; it must be something of a relief after all the pressures heaped on them in high school. Their parents did it, their aunts and uncles did it, their older siblings did it. School, a degree, a job, marriage and a child. They're all set. However stultifying that may seem, once in college Japanese students tend to indulge in that universal ingredient of matriculated life: beer, beer and more beer. And also, they drink beer.

I do know of one lucky young man locally. He's so brilliant he gets to skip his senior year of high school and go straight into Chiba University where he'll study physics and go on to contribute mightily to humanity's accumulated scientific know-how.

Maybe he'll even successfully blow up the planet!