Review: 20th Century Boys Movie Trilogy

Japan’s wide-ranging stable of comics, known as manga, are often adapted into other mediums. Many will become anime, some will become TV shows, and a few will become movies. Given the long story arcs of some manga, some film adaptations span multiple releases. However, multiple releases, particularly trilogies, are hard to handle.

First, they are typically released over the span of a couple of years and thus must hold the audience’s interest for that period and re-immerse them into plot even though months have passed since they saw the last entry.

Second, they must be complete films in themselves, i.e. they must have a complete three-act structure. The first film cannot be an introduction alone without any climax, nor can the middle simply connect the other two. Typically, while most trilogies nail the first film, they struggle in the follow-ups:

• Star Wars – Classic first and second parts, but Return of the Jedi is clearly the weakest film of the three original movies (because of the Ewoks!).
• The Matrix - The first film was an instant classic, but unable to recapture the right balance of action, plot and style, and with the story becoming over-complex, the sequels disappointed everyone.
• Lord of the Rings – Unlike the others, this trilogy came from strong source material, but for me. Fellowship of the Ring was excellent, but The Two Towers and Return of the King seemed to lack the completeness as individual films that the first so successfully managed.
• Back to the Future – A great series of films using cliff-hangers to keep the audience wanting more, but the third film felt much weaker, to me, than the rest (although I believe that this might be the best trilogy listed here).20th Century Boys is one such example.

Finally, they must deal with the accumulating plotlines in a manner that satisfy an audience forced to wait months for a conclusion. The Matrix, for example, ended up so complicated that it became simply preposterous.

20th Century Boys grappled with these problems, but ultimately failed to rein them in. The first film was excellent. The plot escalated nicely and by the end, the viewer was itching for more. However, with each film, the focus changed. Set in the future, the second film’s lead character is the niece of the protagonist of the first film. The third film has no clear stand out characters, and ultimately lost my interest as a result.

The greatest thing about 20th Century Boys was its unravelling plot. Spanning 50 years or so, we are constantly looking back to the past for answers in the present. The plot twists are excellent and surprising right up until the end. Yet, even after the film’s big reveal, the identity of the evil masked mastermind, Tomodachi, remains unclear. A little research revealed that the manga and movies differ in their handling of the ending (which was supposedly very unexpected in the manga). The movie leaves unfulfilled questions as the credits roll; not unfulfilled in the Blade Runner sense, but rather unfulfilled in that they leave the viewer confused and frustrated.

Adding to my fury was the musical plot device. I cannot describe how jarring this terrible music is. In the film, it is the saviour of humanity, a rallying call to the masses to overthrow Tomodachi’s oppression. Yet the song, reminiscent of the Hindi chant (“Jai guru devra”) in Across the Universe by the Beatles, just does not live up to this billing. Especially in the absolutely idiotically handled ending in which this song plays a central role. As the credits roll and your blood boils, sit down and count to 60 (10 just won’t cut it) – the film isn’t over yet.

The epilogue of the film tries to reconcile the untied threads and bring completion to the main character, however, it doesn’t answer any questions that you want it to. Moreover, it is a fantasy setting and remains completely irrelevant as a result. While it was nice that it attempted to fill in the blanks, it should have occurred before you felt the urge to set fire to the screen.

I wanted to love this film, and I really enjoyed the first two parts, but ultimately the story asked too many questions and left them unanswered. The characters were well portrayed and the imagery was superb; I imagine fans of the manga would love it. However, having waited over a year for the resolution, I cannot help but feel disappointed that it ended so poorly. Rent it, try it, but don’t expect too much from Part III.

Unnoticed Progress

I recently noticed that my Japanese has improved considerably since I arrived here 18 months ago. I can understand a majority of what I hear now and, even if I don’t completely understand it, I usually get the gist of it. I’m not sure what hit me first: the fact that I can chat with shop staff with few major problems, or the fact that I can get by pretty well here.

I’ve still got a long way to go, but it’s heartening to have cleared my most immediate goals (e.g. to understand the people I have to interact with daily, or be able to chat with Keiko’s family on a basic level). Now I have to concrete and reinforce my knowledge with further practice and study.

I’m still undecided as to how I’ll do that, but this year I decided to try to get something to show for my effort. As a New Year’s resolution, I promised myself that I would take N5 (most basic level) of the Japanese Language Proficiency Test as a crutch upon which to build my flakey confidence. I would certainly pass it, and I’d like to think I could do it without much trouble either. However, my teacher is pushing me to take the next level up. It’s a challenge, but it’s exactly what I need to get out of my current study rut (as the only good thing about the JLPT is that I forces you to study; practically it lacks the spoken and written elements of a more useful test of one’s proficiency).

Anyway, besides the personal implications, of finally recognising my progress, it has struck me how difficult it might be to pick up on the gradual progression of my students. I have a number of students who have made swift progress through the levels, but one of the dangers of the eikaiwa teaching environment (i.e. hour-long weekly lessons) is that you quickly begin to believe that your students aren’t going anywhere. I will certainly admit to feeling that way about housewives, who I suspect feel that simply being in an (semi-) English-speaking environment once a week is enough to push one’s abilities up without major work behind the scenes. This revelation makes me realise that maybe I am short-changing my students. Seeing them week in, week out, perhaps I have missed their improving language skills much like I missed my own. Professional food for thought.

iPhone App Review: iKanji Touch

Full Disclosure: I am friends with the developer of this app, and he is a commenter here at this blog. I will nevertheless give you as fair a review as possible!

If you’ve ever tried to study Japanese, you’ll know that kanji are infuriatingly difficult to remember. These Chinese characters represent several readings, all of which you are incapable of knowing without a lot of study and a lot of memorising. They are an essential if you want to live in Japan, and the iPhone presents an excellent alternatives to pencil and paper. Among the many kanji learning apps, nothing can challenge iKanji Touch for its depth.

iKanji Touch filled the gap I was left with after studying with vocabulary learning tools like Smart.fm. It allows learners to focus on the readings of the kanji as well as their stroke order and appearance. As I can power through 20-40 on the train to work,  it’s helped solidify the basic kanji in my mind through its simple 3-stage testing and spaced-repetitive learning system.

Teach Me mode

The basic learning method provided by iKanji is the ‘Teach me ‘ mode. If you are unlucky or unprepared enough to fail in any of its three stages, you will progress to the next stage, but you won’t have completed that character. Instead you’ll be retested on that kanji at the end of the test, along with any other characters you failed on, until you eventually get it right.

The first stage of the testing concerns meaning. You are presented with kanji and have to choose the English meaning from four options. This section is pretty straight forward and there should be no surprises.

The second stage tests focuses on readings. You must select all the correct readings out of a set of ten, all presented in hiragana (kun’yomi) or katakana (on’yomi). To complete this stage of the test you must select all the correct answers and none of the incorrect ones.

Unfortunately, you’ll soon notice the unnecessary repetition. For instance, 一 (1) can be read as イツ, イチ, ひと- or ひと.つ. The latter two readings for the kanji are the same (ひと), the つ at the end of the last one denotes its usage, in this case: counting. (It’s worth noting that つい as in 一日 is not mentioned.) This is common to all the number kanji.

Similarly, 入 (enter/insert) can be read as い.る, -い.る, い.れる, はい.る, and ニュウ. In this case, the first three are all the same reading (い): the first is the plain form, the second is for use in compounds, and the last one is the potential form (i.e. can be entered). This is again a common feature to all verb kanji.

When faced with a set of readings like the ones on the screenshot above, it is pretty easy to guess three of them due to their similarity. The only one that really takes any effort is ロク, but that’s the easiest one. This repetition takes the challenge out of the test. The fault lies with the source data (EDICT), not the programmer (who I’ve discussed it at length with), but it’s a shame regardless.

The final stage showcases iKanji Touch’s most original feature. You are presented with a series of circles and faded lines, all you have to do is draw the lines in the correct stroke order from point to point. The current release has made the hit points easier to hit consistently and reduced the attrition caused by a jostling train or random hiccup. Now everything works incredibly smoothly.

It is comparable to the system from Kanji Kentei on the DS, a product designed for Japanese kanji learners (and rather inaccessible to low-level Japanese learners). Their system for testing your understanding of the stroke order is to ask you to number a given stroke. However, by comparison Kanji Kentei really fails to give the learner any practice in seeing the strokes unfold, or getting a feel for the kanji itself.

In this stage of iKanji Touch, it’s hard to some of the kanji being held up as examples of the ‘exemplary handwriting’ learners should strive for, and there is also no real distinction between the types of stroke endings. However, given the sheer amount of kanji offered (over 2000), and the limitations of the hardware, these minor details by no means impact the successful intuitiveness of the app’s writing system.

This whole stage is excellent and it is the reason I keep coming back to iKanji Touch after trying other apps. While tracing the kanji with your finger isn’t the same as writing it down with a pen, nor will it give you the ability to do so, it is nevertheless a very helpful aide-mémoire that beats simply looking at a character on the screen. If you don’t like it, or if you can’t do it, then there’s even a toggle to switch it off in the settings.

‘Teach me’ mode is designed to slowly build up your knowledge of the kanji. Each kanji entry is given a completion level depending on how many times you have completed the character in the ‘Teach me’ mode. You’ll feel a small sense of pride as your sets begin to fill up with green circles, and even more when you realise you’re being tested on some the kanji far less frequently as a result of mastering them.

Further Learning

In addition to ‘Teach me’ mode, there are other test modes. Although these have no bearing on your completion level, you can attempt any of the above stages individually, and you can also test yourself on each character’s appearance in compound words. Unfortunately this latter test doesn’t appear in the ‘Teach me’ mode, as it would be useful for solidifying the learner’s understanding, but I can also see why it’s left out: the compounds are often very difficult for lower-level learners (the app’s target market, I’d imagine) and they are vocabulary- (rather than character) specific.

To help you decide where to start, the kanji come ready-ordered. By default, you are given two different orderings: JLPT 1-4 (although I expect there’ll be an update once the new JLPT 1-5 system has settled in), and by the grade in which they would be taught at school (1-6). Which one you use will depend on your style and goals, but I would suggest a mixed approach (some very basic kanji are left out of the JLPT 4 set, for instance, but can be found in the Grade 1 set).

Each of these large groupings are divided into sets of 20 kanji, which is a decent size to concentrate on. There is no option to break these down into sets of 10 or 5, but that never really becomes necessary: if you can’t complete a test because there are too many kanji and you have to get off the train or run off to class, then you can stop the test or close the app without losing your completed progress (although you will have to take that last kanji again next time).

In addition to the basic groups, you can create your own practice sets by selecting individual kanji. A less tap-strenuous means would have been welcome, such as being able to select whole groups of kanji as well, but it really depends on what you want from the practice sets: while I’ve had no use for them, they are perfect for someone who wants to test themselves on a small variety of kanji. You can also add items from searches.

The final arrangement of kanji is the revision set. Here you will find kanji that you failed to answer correctly in the individual tests (that is, not the ‘Teach me’ mode). Again, this is something I never really used due to the intuitiveness and progression of the JLPT/school grade groupings, as well as the convenience of the ‘Teach me’ mode over the individual tests, although it would certainly be a valuable tool to anyone looking to nail down hard-to-remember characters.

In addition to the learning side of the app is the reference side. If you want to know more about any kanji you can search for it (through stroke count, meaning, or reading), or just browse for it. Clicking on a kanji entry will open its flashcard showing you the meanings, readings and completion of the individual kanji. It also shows you the radical of the kanji (useful when you progress into harder and harder characters). Tapping on the card will flip it over to show an animation demonstrating how to write the character, and at the bottom of both screens is a button to view further compounds. As a reference tool, however, other apps have iKanji Touch beat with a range of extra features (such as the amazingly detailed ‘Japanese’ by codefromtokyo).

If you’re a learner of Japanese, you really should buy this app. Unlike many other apps, it doesn’t rely on your honesty to decide whether you knew a word or not, it tests you honestly and fairly. It’s the most well-considered, joined up and original kanji learning tool that you can buy. It’s full of lots of nice touches: the excellent graphics, clear presentation and little mascot (Tsutsune) all add character to the app. With clear and intuitive beginner’s guide, it’s readily accessible to all levels of learners. Plus, at ¥1,200 ($9.99), it’s affordable too.

Ignored in Translation

It has occurred to me on a number of occasions that in my day-to-day life I have completely forgotten that I live in Japan. I’m not sure if this was gradual, or whether I ever even felt that way, but I thought it was worthwhile commenting on, after all, how can you not remember you’re in a country where you barely speak the language?

The language is something more easily ignored than people give credit for. I am beginning to understand why ex-pats frequently have terrible ability in the language of their new home countries, at least in the modern age. From the moment I step out of the door, to the moment I arrive at work, I have my iPod blasting away into my ear. With my new in-ear headphones, I cannot hear a thing (great for those times when freight trains pass by on the Nambu line). At work I speak English, at home I speak English, and the rare occasions where I’m doing something other than work, relaxing at home, or riding the train are the only times I’m actually exposed to the need to speak Japanese. I hear it plenty, my listening is fine, but its the production that’s lacking. 4 hours of lessons a month are hardly going to make up the difference, but they at least help.

Weird things have happened on several occasions, the weirdest being that I thought people were speaking with Irish accents for a couple of days, except they were actually speaking Japanese. I’ve always had difficulties with strong accents, but there is nothing like the feeling of being surrounded by Asian Irishmen. At other times, I watch TV but remain oblivious to the fact that it’s a foreign language. I understand maybe 50% of what I hear on TV, and I can catch some of the jokes, but it is very strange to be watching, or even just listening to something and then suddenly realise, ‘Wait, this isn’t English!’

I feel at home here. It’s a strange feeling when I reflect on it, but it might be said that I’m more comfortable here than anywhere: even after a crazy old drunk guy hurled abuse at me on the way here, and even after a woman point-blank refused to even attempt to help me when I was looking for a shop yesterday (not even wanting to try and listen to my attempts to ask in Japanese – much to my chagrin).

Of course, it works in bad ways too: a couple of weeks ago, I said ‘Thank you’ instead of speaking Japanese, but I said it with the same intonation and sustain as I would have used in Japanese. I blame Keiko for talking to me at the same time as I talking to the waiter.

Worse though, at least for me, is how I am frequently addressed in English. I’m noticing that people say ‘Thank you’ in English when I hold doors for them, despite the fact that I could be a German-Romanian-Israeli for all they know. Worse still, in my favourite restaurant (CoCo Ichiban Curryhouse), I am always pushed to use the English menu, despite the fact that it doesn’t help them at all. I feel guilty for rejecting, particularly when one of them musters the courage to speak in English to me. I happens there, in Starbucks, and countless other places… some people get angry, but I understand that they are only trying to help. However, Japan needs to get over itself in some ways. The large eikaiwa industry has bred a large army of people capable of basic conversation, but that is not meant to replace the need for foreigners to assimilate.

Were I German or French, I imagine I’d be more annoyed that I was being spoken to in a completely superfluous third language. If anything, it betrays an underlying premise that I’ve often heard: white guys = American. Even the 7 year olds I have been teaching for 7 months are barely aware that I’m not American (when they saw the size of my shoe, one said: ‘Wow, Americans have big feet!’). Keiko has been asked what it’s like being married to an American (because of her surname). It is analogous with the frequent mistaking of East Asians in the UK with Chinese (simply because ‘they all look the same’ – which is a downright lie). Furthermore, it’s a good guess, after all, Americans form the largest block of the white men here… but it doesn’t stop it from being annoying.

Despite all that, it’s home for me, at least for the time being, and right now I don’t want to be anywhere else.

Okuribito

Yesterday, Keiko and I watched Okuribito at last. We had actually planned to see Quantum of Solace but I looked at the previous day’s timetable and completely messed it up. So, anyway, Okuribito. For those who haven’t heard of it, Okuribito is the Japanese film making a stir at international film festivals. It is directed by Yojiro Takita, director of one of my favourite movies Mibu Gishi Den (When the Last Sword is Drawn, 2003), and stars Masahiro Motoki (a minor celebrity) and Tsutomu Yamazaki (most famous, perhaps, for his role in Tampopo, 1985). The music is provided by Ghibli favourite Joe Hisashi.

It’s difficult to pigeonhole the movie into a particular category, but for now, let’s call it a drama. It has that pace very typical of Japanese dramas, slow moving with a fascination with the Japanese countryside, the seasons, and incidental comedy. It is best summed up, for me, as a celebration and exploration of Japanese society’s relationship with death. That is not to make it a documentary or to over-aggrandise its accomplishments, but the story speaks for itself.

Daigo Kobayashi (Motoki) loses his job as an orchestral cellist in Tokyo when his orchestra goes bust and so he returns to his hometown in Yamagata Prefecture. His mother had died two years prior and left behind her snack bar-cum-home, into which Daigo and his wife (played by the awkwardly cute Ryoko Hirosue) move in. Spotting a well-paid job at what he thinks is a travel agency, Daigo becomes the assistant of Iikue Sasaki (Yamazaki), a noukanshi (a professional who cleans and clothes corpses before placing them in a coffin). Like many elements of Japanese culture, this act as been reduced into a kata, a set of actions that smoothly and beautifully fit together. Yet it comes with its own stigmas. Those who handle the dead traditionally formed part of the Japanese underclasses, the Burakumin. While class-based social immobility has emancipated the Burakumin (even if discrimination against them remains) and made work handling the dead somewhat ‘normal’, society at home and in Japan has compartmentalised the death experience. I have never seen a corpse, at least not first-hand, and I imagine that this is hardly unique. Death has become impersonal, something we want to be detached from, and those people who spend their working lives around the dead and the grief that follows risk becoming persona non-grata in our lives.

There is only really one film guaranteed to make me cry and that’s Old Yeller (Disney, 1957). However, Okuribito tugged hard at my heartstrings. The cinema devolved into a cacophony of sniffles, and not just because its flu season. It is a beautiful and emotional movie that I can recommend to anyone. It shows the grief alongside the more light-hearted moments in Japan’s equivalent of a wake. However, don’t expect any unique societal insight, while set in Japan, I think the story could be equally well played out in the UK or US (and indeed, in elements, it has been). It has been released as ‘Departures’ abroad and is up for the Best Foreign Language Film Oscar. It sincerely deserves it.