Alone at the movies
5月23日 (日ー月) 1:23 am JST
I had a fairly Japanese day yesterday. First, I went to the sports festival at the Deaf school, which was reasonably Japanese. Where it got really Japanese was when I had to spend an hour and a half going from the Deaf school back to F* High, all in order to spend the last 10 minutes of the day before quittin’ time at my desk, before turning around and getting back on the train to go home.
After work, I took a bus out to the mall to look for a gift for the former host mom’s birthday. At the bus stop, two of my students were also there, humming the theme to Full House. Natsukashii. One of them told me that she had heard Stephanie was killed by a stalker sometime. I looked it up though, and it’s not true.
At the Mall, I moved on my real goal, which was to buy tickets for “Love is 5-7-5” (Koi wa go shichi go), then went to the food court. The other day, I realized that even though I’ve always assumed that I hate om-rice, I don’t actually have any proof that I hate om-rice, having never eaten it. To test the waters, I got om-soba (omelette covered lo mein). To my chagrin, I liked even the omelette part. It’s entirely possible that I secretly like om-rice as well. If so, I can only be betraying my younger self and my once passionate hatred for eggs, and thus denying my own existence as a unified essence. Though the doctrine of [1] has always rung true to me, it’s disappointing to learn that I may not exist.
After the movie, I ended up not having enough cash to take the bus back, so I trundled back under the waxed moon, full of omelette, haiku, and potential non-being.
5月25日 (火ー水) 1:16 am JST
恋は五・七・五: ★ ★ of ★ ★
Thanks to the movie Love is 5–7−5, I totally know how to make English club into the best club at school: have everyone fall in love with everyone else.
The climax of the movie is right before the fat ex-cheerleader, Mako, attempts suicide (ah, comedy) for the second time. The English club teacher is about to go after her as she runs off bawling, but Haruko, the take-charge Japanese raised abroad (not really though, her English blows), tells Tsuchi, the hunky photography buff/bad-ass, to do it instead.
“Why me?”
“Haven’t you realized? Mako is in love with you!”
“Haruko… Haven’t you realized?”
“What?”
“I’m in love with you!”
Causing ukulele pixie P-chan to interject, “But don’t you realize P-chan loves her senior Haruko?” and thrust herself between them.
Naturally, Yamagishi, the former baseball club bench warmer, comes out with, “I’ve thought P-chan was cute since we met!”
When at last the haiku teacher protests his love for another teacher, everyone snaps out of it and sets off to save their friend.
Yes, it’s a big ol’ knot of love. With all this love going around, it’s only natural that the audience is drawn in and made to fall in love too. Which as we learn from the final poem of the movie is totally 5–7−5. Two stars!
5月29日 (土ー日) 2:59 am JST
More computer problems, ugh.
I watched the movie again on Thursday evening. It was still thoroughly enjoyable, though there were slight, unexpected problems. Essentially, I ran into a reverse “Meet the Parents” phenomenon.
The first time you see wince-inducing, how-can-it-get-worse?-but-oh-it-just-did! comedies, you feel bad, because, though you know things will work out since it’s a Hollywood movie, you don’t know how things will work out. So, the tension of seeing the continually increased torrent of Ben Stiller is somewhat impeded in its guffaws as you await the cathartic resolution of tension. However, the second time you see such a movie, you’re relaxed, because you know what will happen, and being already catharted, you actually look forward to increased agony of the protagonists and relish their misfortune.
For Koi though, I had the opposite feeling. Knowing the plot as I did, I knew the tribulations in store for the characters, but loving them as I do, it pained me to think of their suffering, however short lived. I longed to see the carefree ease of the Gentle Devil hula dancing scene, but dreaded the devastating initial showdown with fearsome Furuike Senior High or the emotional breakdown on the ramparts of Matsuyama Castle.
Of course, part of the problem stems from the persistent Japanese confusion of drama and comedy, but the point is, the characters are so believable, if humorously exaggerated, that the knowledge of eventual triumph and glory does not wipe away the tears in the valley of the shadow of death.
“Jesus wept.”
6月20日 (日ー月) 1:33 am JST
I saw “Tony Takitani” on Thursday. It was essentially identical to its source. Not bad, but at some point in the production, I realized I had come alone to see a movie about a dude who becomes eaten away by a hideous loneliness after losing his love.
On Friday night, I wandered around the city alone, and when I got back, I was shocked to find a message on my machine. It seems that in his intoxication, D--- was calling at random from S---’s phone. Nevertheless, I went out to meet them at the Zen for a drink. I talked to S--- about my weight loss and the Fuji Rock festival, while D--- and C--- embarked on a scheme to annoy Filipina sex workers. I left around the time, C--- pretended to be hit by a cab.
I went to the charity show alone on Saturday afternoon. S--- was supposed to go with me, but (predictably) oversleep came into play. H-sensei was in the audience, so I sat with her. It’s sad, but in a way, I do find her more companionable than my ethnic and chronological peers. Still, when the show ended, I slunk off alone to a Lotteria Deluxe burger and a solo train ride back home.
My love of middle aged Japanese women not withstanding, there is comfort in solitude.