AltJapan

Makoto Chan House

Congrats to manga artist Umezu Kazuo! This afternoon, the Tokyo District Court dismissed the lawsuit several of his neighbors brought against him for painting his Kichijoji home in the trademark Umezz red-and-white stripes (dubbed "Makoto Chan House," as seen in the video above). In a city of patchwork suburbs filled with some of the most random architecture I've ever seen, it's hard to imagine anyone successfully arguing that this building truly represents a public nuisance. 

Buddy Hell

 

I distinctly remember the first time I felt a pang of embarrassment for my fellow Americans. I was in sixth grade. The Transformers fad was in full swing. Toy store shelves were lined with intricate robot creations from the country of Japan. And the best my countrymen could come up with to compete was "Chargertron."

Just as the DEVO-esque theme song proclaimed, they really were robots "like we'd never seen." They looked less like titanic robot warriors than they did kitchen implements (if Ron Popeil piloted a giant robot, I suspect it'd look like Chargertron.) And topping it all off, they featured two of the most apathetic names ever bestowed upon fictional characters: "Protagatron" and "Antagatron." It's right around this time, I suspect, that I first started thinking about moving to Tokyo.

Even the most robot-crazed of my pals didn't ask for these toys for Christmas. I guess that makes the Chargertrons the long-lost relatives of Kore Ja Nai Robo, the "hit" 2001 series of wooden figurines designed to commemorate those special times your parents brought back the wrong robot toy for you as a kid. Then again, why can't I get that damn jingle out of my head? "Switch on, Chargertron..."

Hugs for Ground Zero

Freedom isn't free. It's kawaii! At least according to Daikin, the Japanese company that's providing the heating and cooling systems for the Freedom Tower, the replacement for the Twin Towers in New York City. Spotted on an advertisement in the Tokyo subway system, this just proves yet again that no subject is taboo for the creation of a super-cute Japanese "working character."

Obama Banzai

Otaku celebrate Barack Obama's inauguration the only way they know how: with action figures! This shot of our new Commander in Chief kickin' it under a kotatsu is only matched by the one where he's wielding a pair of gleaming katana blades. Check out the full photo set on the (Japanese language) Gamu Toys site. The doll is a 1/6 scale (roughly 12") figure produced by the Japanese Hong Kong based DID Corporation.

I Am Japan Journalism (And So Can You)

These days, it only takes a single obscure Tokyo establishment to reveal a tragic flaw in the Japanese national character. In this article by the BBC, it's an offbeat but otherwise totally innocuous "cat café" where customers pay to hang out with friendly felines.

Two can play at this game. Check out my latest article on Neojaponisme!

Tonari no Amateur Studio

Fan-creator Otonari Kobo ("Neighbor Studios") produced three, roughly ten second long animated clips of three Osamu Tezuka characters that have never been seen in motion before: the furry-riffic Rikki from Zero Man (1960), Princess Luna from Angel no Oka (1961), and  Pick from Majin Garon (1962). Why? Just because he could. The series is entitled "I Tried Playing With Tezuka Characters," and Japanese fans are raving over the quality. It's a little bit of anime crack custom made by and for old-school otaku.

Trip Trek

Yokai Attack illustrator Tatsuya Morino's latest is out: an artbook for his long-running internet animation "Trip Trek." Check out a sample of the series above and a link to the book here!

Fractured Fairy Tales

This article in yesterday's New York Times discusses how traditional fairy tales are being sanitized for modern kids in America and Europe. I was musing about how this would never happen here in Japan, where Lafcadio Hearn's ghost stories are part of the national school curriculum, when I stumbled across something I'd never heard before: one of Japan's most famous fairy tales was actually sanitized in this very same way.

Nearly everyone who's studied Japanese knows the story of Momotaro, a.k.a. the Peach Boy. (That's him in the bottom corner of the woodblock print at right.) The easy-to-understand little song detailing his exploits is one of the first things many Japanese teachers drill into their students (at least, mine sure did). For those unfamiliar with his story, it goes a little something like this: a giant peach floats down a river, whereupon it is recovered by a little old lady and her woodcutter husband, who discover a little boy inside. He grows into a supernaturally powerful young warrior who eventually teams up with a monkey, a pheasant, and a dog to drive a horde of ogre-like oni from the Japanese islands. The end.

Or is it? It turns out there's an older version of the story. The peach floats down the river and is collected by the little old lady, who tentatively tries a piece and is rewarded by having her body restored to that of a nubile young woman again. She persuades her (presumably pleasantly) shocked elderly husband to try some as well with similar results. The rejuvenated young couple proceed to go at it all night long, whereupon former-granny becomes pregnant and eventually gives birth to our peach-boy hero. (Shades of "Cocoon.") The rest plays out just as it does in the modern version.

The modern, desexualized version first appeared sometime in the early Meiji era (late 1800s), when the Momotaro legend was incorporated into Japanese textbooks. In an era decades before the invention of Viagra, perhaps local authorities worried that scenes of elderly couples knockin' boots would be too much for sensitive young minds?

Gaijin Hanzai File

Someone alert Debito... 

Foreigners brutalized by this policewoman reported  "loving every minute of it." Just another day in Tokyo, filming extras for the upcoming Tokyo Gore Police DVD.

Ganbare Luke

He's baaaa-aack! Someone reposted Masato Shimon's legendary rendition of the Star Wars theme with Japanese lyrics (partial translation here) on YouTube Japan! This never, ever, ever gets old, no matter how many times I listen to it. 

Ignore the imagery (which is thrown together from random footage) and savor the sounds while they last. It's the complete song, including the "cantina theme" breakdown at around two minutes in, when all pretense of sanity goes out the window. Putting tokusatsu-style lyrics on this instrumental theme has to be the greatest US-Japan pop-cultural mash-up of all time (number two possibly being the addition of a giant robot to Spiderman.)