As February...and another winter of my discontent (my 23rd in Olde Nagoyaland) winds down, I'm finding it harder than usual to shake myself out of the funk that's beset me for the better part of the last month. Feels like a middling bout of depression around the edges...listlessness, a general lack of interest or enthusiasm for just about anything. Lethargy. Everything seems like a monumental task. A huge effort. Hopefully the recently longer hours of sunlight and slightly more life-friendly temperatures will do something to help me shake this off. My eyes have started itching, and the sneezing and runny nose have kicked in...meaning that the change of season is nigh upon us. I'm rather counting on this Thursday's jaunt to the neighboring metropolis of Osaka to see The Damned on their 40th Anniversary Tour to be the kick in the arse I need to make the seasonal transition. Just over a month ago, we were there for the Guns'n'Roses show at the dome stadium...and I knew it would be a hard slog through to our return in March. February has always been a bucket of cold piss as far as I'm concerned. The month where winter wears out its welcome, and everything fucking sucks.
Looking back on February in this here Olde Nagoyaland, the darkness, purgatorial cold, and consistently patience-testing daily antics of the local J-natives have actually been punctuated by a few events of note.
I attended the 'Naked Man Festival' (Hadaka Matsuri) out at Konomiya with my wife on Feb. 9th...in lieu of the friend that she goes with every year, who came down with a dose of influenza the day before. Owing to my anemic work schedule, I was free by noon, and fortunately the rain that had been forecast for days prior failed to materialize...so off we went to witness what can only be described as hard-boiled testosterone fest, thinly-veiled as an age old cultural event. In a nutshell, teams of unruly, boisterous (drunk) men clad only in loin cloths, (despite the balmy 4C afternoon temperature) hoist what appear to be long bamboo trees wrapped in cloth, and strips of fabric down a prescribed route in the precincts of the local shrine, shouting, chanting, and swigging sake from paper cartons and containers, whilst being cheered on by throngs of onlookers taking in the festival atmosphere street-side, where countless vendors have set up shop, hawking the usual array of Japanese street foods, beer and sake to a seemingly endless stream of punters, participants, tourists and casual lookey-loos. I guess the object is for said 'teams' of loin-cloth wearing, drunken barbarians to rally these long 'phallic' looking bundles through the numerous main gates of the shrine as boisterously as humanly possible, with the aim of depositing them in the inner sanctum of the shrine, where there are priests doing whatever the priests do at these events. Oh...and police. Everywhere. I suppose that could have something to do with the fairly obvious presence of a surprising number of heavily tattooed yakuza gangsters, perhaps taking advantage of a rare opportunity to strip off their skivvies and strut their stuff in front of the public at large, and let everyone know who they are. This lent a definite tension to the proceedings, as numerous sake-fueled scuffles broke out between rival 'teams' vying to impress the public, or judges, and push their phallic looking bundles through the shrine gates more auspiciously. As each pushing, shouting and swearing confrontation escalated, the police wasted no time in rushing to join the fray, attempting to pull apart the feuding participants and cool tempers. This would naturally lead to spectator congestion, as people crowded around, craning their necks and jockeying for position to watch the drama unfold. From our vantage point, it all seemed rather controlled...like some kind of ritual dance. For all the macho posturing, pushing and shouting, no blows were thrown, no one was carried off in cuffs, and no cops were clocked in the kisser, or thrown to the ground. In fact, upon closer inspection, there actually seemed to be friendly recognition, and even a kind of atmosphere of camaraderie between the police and their yakuza 'adversaries'. As most people over here acknowledge, there is a fine line that separates the police and the mafia in Japan...and sometimes it's hard to distinguish where that actually begins, or ends. The grey area seems to be significant.
What does it all mean? All this exuberant chanting and shouting, and the loin cloth wearing displays of male exuberance and machismo? I suppose there are different takes on it. I've been to a few of these spring-time fertility type festivals in my years over here, and while this one is marked by a distinct roughness, and show of testosterone and male energy, all of them seem to deal with the procession of a large 'phallus' type of object being carried down a mapped out route to cheering crowds, and ultimately (after crossing several ceremonial thresholds) being 'deposited' in the inner sanctum of the main shrine. The 'holiest of holies', as one Samuel Jackson once so eloquently said. In other words, it's all about 'sticking it in', as I surmised to my wife. Of course, she countered with some specifics to this particular festival, which has something to do with disposing of 'bad luck', or something to that effect. This may well be the case. After all, it's only the luckiest phallus that can breach all of the sacred gates and reach it's goal in the inner sanctum. Right? I suppose, all the fancy cultural trappings aside...that's what springtime has always meant to these folks. Whether it's planting the seeds for a crop, or pushing that phallus through to the inner sanctum...it's always been about sticking it in the 'holiest of holies'...then reaping the harvest. The circle of life.
Onward, on the 'low culture' front, another 3D Marvel spectacle was taken in at the local IMAX emporium...albeit about three months after it's initial run in the rest of the world. Somehow Japan seems to the lowest priority for a lot of major movie releases...which might have something to do with the fact that the local audiences, by-and-large, don't really give a shit about anything but anime. Dr. Strange didn't disappoint, Well paced, well casted, visually arresting... and just a bit different from the standard superhero fare. Of course, the thing with these films is that they all inter-connect, and play into a larger, more all encompassing story. This is something new; I'm not aware of any studio ever attempting anything quite like what Marvel is doing...and that they've done it so consistently well over more than a dozen films in is quite remarkable. Fingers crossed that they're able to continue producing films at this level as their 'Phase 3' arc continues over the next couple of years. I'm not sure how much these movies really actually benefit from the 3D treatment, though. I seem to forget that it's even a factor 5 minutes into the show. The last movie that I saw where I thought that the 3D experience actually merited the higher ticket price was Gravity. Anyways, I like the IMAX, and I suppose I'll keep shelling out the extra cash for the glasses, anyways. Being 50 in Japan qualifies us for a senior's discount at the movie house. One fringe benefit to my encroaching dotage.
Rounding off February's event calendar was a trip to the Aichi Prefectural Art Gallery to take in the big Van Gogh/Gauguin show...which was (surprisingly) really packed out for a cold, overcast Wednesday afternoon. I hardly expected to have to queue up, or jockey for position to get a close look at Vincent's brushwork and considerable surface textures. The show was well curated, and featured a nice over-view of the work of both artists, and the interplay (friendship/rivalry) between these two rather tragic late 19th century contemporaries. It's nice to see that these types of shows are well attended. It was rare-to-never that a show of this caliber would be mounted in my old hometown. Fortunately, there seems to be a healthy gallery culture here in Japan...thus more abundant opportunities to see a range of major road shows that would absolutely bypass places like Vancouver.
That's February, in a nutshell. One more day, and it's March...off to the doctor's to get my allergy meds replenished on Wednesday...then to Osaka for some old fashioned English punk rock from Captain Sensible, Dave Vanian, and whoever else they've hired on to fill out this year's line-up of The Damned. Never been to the live house it's being put on at. Apparently a new place, right in the central, sweaty armpit of town. March 22nd, The Specials will be making a detour to actually play a show in Olde Nagoyaland - a rare local occurrence these days, indeed. This will be a display not to be missed, between all the sneezing, wheezing, and itching. Of course, details will follow in our next installment.
Until then, remember..."No matter where you go - there you are."
