AltJapan

Based on a True Story

They're here. They're weird. Get used to it. They're the YOKAI! That's right: Hiroko and I have had a little secret brewing for the last year or so:

Meet our newest book: Yokai Attack: The Japanese Monster Survival Guide! Published by the fine folks at Kodansha International, it's what we believe is the world's first English-language guidebook to surviving potential encounters with monsters of Japanese myth and legend. For generations they were believed to have stalked Japan's mountains, forests, fields, coastlines, and towns. And who's to say they still aren't around? Written and created by Hiroko and I, illustrated by the talented manga-ka Tatsuya Morino, it's the last guide to Japan you'll ever need.

The book is organized by yokai, letting you take in important characteristics like pronunciation, size, locomotion, prevalence, danger level, and habitat at a glance. But don't let the "datafile" format fool you: this sucker is dense. Every entry also contains abundant info about each creature's historical/cultural background and modus operandi -- handy for surviving potential close encounters. It isn't "fiction," isn't anime or manga -- it's a collection of anecdotes and conventional wisdom about the creatures, giving you a leg up on the many references to yokai that appear in Japanese literature, film, anime, slang, and even cuisine (another serving of Kappa Maki, my friends?)

It's 196 pages covering almost fifty hand-picked favorites. It's coming out in America and Europe this fall, but it's going on sale this JUNE in Japanese bookstores!

Get to Know Your Local Yokai

Name: Namahage
Pronunciation: (NAH-mah HAH-gay)
English Name: Literally, “The Blister-Peeler”
Gender: Male (red) or female (blue)
Height: Approximately 6 ft. (180cm)
Habitat: Alpine regions in Akita Prefecture
Abundance: Prevalent
Offensive Weapons: Wide-bladed farm knife or machete
Photographed by: Hiroko, February 9, 2008 (Namahage Festival)

Ge Ge Ge no Go

I think the weather in July makes people horny.

Last year, I posted a partial translation of a discussion between legendary manga-ka Go Nagai and Monkey Punch. It was from the online magazine Moura ("Total Coverage"), an online portal of content culled from various Kodansha magazines.

This time, I've translated Moura's discussion between Go Nagai and yokai master Shigeru Mizuki, creator of the "Ge Ge Ge no Kitaro" series. Conducted in 2002 when Mizuki was 80, it's a really fascinating look into the "kashi-bon" manga scene -- a now-extinct industry of shops that rented (rather than sold) comic books in the '50s and early '60s, just before weekly and monthly manga magazines debuted. Check it out after the jump.

Go! Go! Second Time Yokai

Under the mask, nobody can hear you scream. It's true -- that's the first thing they told us when they handed out our gear.

Good news: Takashi Miike's "Yokai Daisenso," a.k.a. "The Great Yokai War," will be shown on February 17th at the Silent Movie Theater in Los Angeles (in a double-bill with "Zebraman," no less.)

You know what this means, right? It's your big chance to see Hiroko and I on the big screen. (That's her above. No, not the woman. The frog in the kimono.) We played several extras in the film -- see some more photos right here. Or read the set reports we sent to Patrick here and here.

Mausketeers

FOUND at a suburban Tokyo antiques fair! Disturbing evidence that a certain world-famous mouse who shall not be named has a seedier past than you might think.

There he is, spotted in some weird scene with a yokai monster. Proof of his connections to the occult? You be the judge.

Hmm... "Ano ne no ossan" translates into something like "Mr. You Know Who." And judging by that German army helmet, I don't think it's supposed to be Charlie Chaplin.

Here's what a certain "Duck" looks like when he's not on camera. The eyes... The EYES! We can only guess what sort of wacky antics he and "American Soldier" were up to in occupied Japan.

These are "karuta," cardboard trading cards produced in massive numbers in postwar Japan. They can be used in a variety of playground games, and decades ago, they were as popular as the likes of Yu-Gi-Oh and Pokemon today. They featured a wide range of imagery, often appropriated totally without permission, and were sold in sheets, which you can see in their original forms here and here. (Dig other American favorites like "Popai" and Tarzan in that second one.)

Karuta are related to a similarly copyright-bending genre of cards called "menko," which tend to be round. (As you can see from this link, they remained popular well into the '80s. That "ET" still gives me the creeps.)

Get to Know Your Local Tsuchi-no-ko

It's almost May, and you know what that means? It's Tsuchinoko season!

Huh? What's a Tsuchinoko?

A mysterious, mythical, legendary... snake with a weight problem.

No, seriously. An enduring Japanese folk legacy, something like an alpine version of Nessie, the Tsuchinoko is said to inhabit Japanese mountain areas. They're from one to two feet long, usually a mottled gray or tan color, sport bulbously distended bodies, tiny tails, and -- here's the clincher, the reason why they're definitely mysterious and not, like, say, a drunken mis-interpretation of a garter snake -- they move by jumping or rolling in a hoop rather than slithering. Some reports say they even tumble end-over-end (as seen in the illustrations at the bottom of this page.)

I can hear you now. Yeah, yeah, whatever -- rice wine plus country bumpkins equals the birth of an obscure local legend nobody cares about, right? Wrong. Because the Tsuchinoko is big business in Japan. Well, sorta. Similar to the clione (which has the advantage of being a real organism), the Tsuchinoko has a serious cult of personality over here, complete with its own merchandise. Kaiyodo sculpted Tsuchinoko gashapon figures for Furuta's Choco Eggs (the limited-edition black version will set you back 15,000 yen on Yahoo Auctions these days.) Here's a Tsuchinoko hot water bottle. The city of Aikawa bottled its own Tsuchinoko-label wine. And you know the Tsuchinoko's hit the supernatural big-time when there's even a Hello Kitty pen-topper available.

Tsuchinoko sightings have been around for about as long as the Japanese have been around. They're called "Nozuchi" and "Bachi-Hebi" in Akita prefecture, "Tsuchi-Hebi" in Osaka, "Koro" in Fukui, and have been sighted all over Japan save for Hokkaido and the Okinawan islands. Some even claim that there are references to them in Jomon-era (10,000 B.C. - 300 B.C.) art. A few reference sources categorize them as yokai, those ethereal monsters of premodern Japan's nights, but most fans nowadays classify them as UMA, "unidentified mysterious animals" along the lines of Bigfoot.

If you're feeling lucky, the Tsuchinoko Search Team is offering a cool one million yen to anyone who brings evidence of one of the creatures back from an expedition to Niigata prefecture in June of this year. Want to join up? The details are right here, the entry fee's a paltry 3,000 yen, and the deadline's May 31, so time's a-wasting.

Kappa Maki

Live in Tokyo? Get yourself to the National Science Museum in Ueno. There's a great new exhibition on "monster culture" -- namely, a collection of woodblock prints, scrolls, and even a handful of mummified specimens of mythical "yokai" monsters like tengu (apparently a mix of bird and squirrel bones), a kappa's amputated hand, and mermaids ("Splash" this ain't, as seen above.) It's also chock-full of helpfully detailed info on the creatures, such as the fact that a kappa has not one but three anuses. You learn something new every day.

If this sounds suspiciously like a circus sideshow to you, just remember: it's at the Science Museum, so this shit's real. Actually, it's a total must-see for anyone with even the slightest interest in classical Japanese creatures. You know, the sort of freaky guys that populate fairy tales and even the occasional modern production such as Ge Ge Ge no Kitaro. One item in particular, an Edo-era scroll documenting a group of samurai getting their asses handed to them by giant owls, catfish-headed dragons, and other monsters reads like the feudal prototype for a long-lost Toho flick. And a good chunk of the 17th century illustrated literature on display looks like something you'd find on the shelves of a modern-day manga cafe: stories of human-sized insects terrorizing townspeople, sumo wrestlers supervising bouts between kappa, squads of samurai hunting down giant-sized spiders.

The scientific connection seems tenuous at first, but here's the deal: the yokai and their ilk represent early attempts to explain natural phenomena, so they're basically Japan's first steps towards establishing what we now know as the physical sciences. Sounds a little too educational for ya? They're also widely revered as the predecessors of the Pokemon. Now get in there and get 'em all. The exhibition runs through November 12th.

Yokai-a-go-go

Last year, I fulfilled a long-standing personal ambition: to play an extra in a Japanese monster movie. My wife and I volunteered for crowd scenes in Takashi Miike's latest film, Yokai Daisenso, a.k.a. The Great Yokai War (you can read the thrilling saga of our two days on set here and here, on Patrick Macias' blog.) Yokai, for those not in the know, are mythological Japanese creatures, something like a cross between a spirit and a monster. If you've ever seen the '60s Japanese horror classic Kwaidan, you're familiar with at least one: Yuki-onna, the maiden who beckons weary travellers to their deaths in snowstorms.

No word as to an American release date yet, but the film got a brief shout-out in a recent Washington Post article on anime conventions. Anyway, the Yokai Daisenso DVD finally came out in Japanese stores last week, so we had the chance to do some screen-grabs. Our combined screen time came to about two and a half seconds... not bad for twenty-four hours of grueling physical labor in the studio. Thank god we aren't trying to make a living at this.

The film was a mixture of (really) low-tech makeup and masks combined with CG; both days were spent on a partial set in front of enormous blue sheets. Displaying her great range as a monster-actor, Hiroko portrayed both a kimono-clad frog and a purple-faced zombie farmer. Meanwhile, pause those crowd scenes and hunt for the bloke in the bug-eyed, pucker-faced mask screaming behind her (upper left in the photo). That'd be me. I've prepared my Oscar acceptance speech and am awaiting my invitation to the ceremony.

My wife's big-screen debut is as a giant frog having a conversation with a woman cradling a dead baby. Long live Japanese cinema.

More shots from behind the scenes:

A close up of Hiroko's mask.

Even Yokai wear glasses.

Some poor bastard who had to wear a huge dragon costume all day long.