Nebulous Morality. Interview with Sion Sono
Sion Sono talks about the accusations towards him, the trial of the case, Shuji Terayama and his career and childhood
Let's go back in time to your childhood, so important in the light of your early films. What was it like?
I was born and grew up in Toyokawa, Aichi Prefecture. My grandfather was part of the upper bourgeoisie class, but he became so enthralled by the production of local theater plays that he sold the land and squandered all his fortune. In my early childhood, I remember we still had a maidservant, however that was the twilight of our prosperity. Hardly had I noticed when we were finding ourselves on the brink of poverty. My parents were both teachers, thus the drill was ubiquitous. They didn't bother trying to understand me or support my passion for cinema, in any way. I haven't been particularly praised by them and I'm still somewhat traumatized by it, so as to speak. They approved merely of my school achievements and sometimes, as a reward, they would take me to the theater in Toyohashi to watch a show. My childhood undoubtedly left its mark on the reels of my films, although I don't really know whether it's for good or for bad.
On the one hand, strict upbringing, on the other, theater. What influence had Shuji Terayama on you?
When I was young, I was truly fascinated by Terayama. Had I seen his “Throw Away Your Books, Rally in the Streets” earlier, I would have had more courage to put my hand on the knee of my beloved girl in the semi-darkness of the cinema hall and confess my love to her. On the other hand, then maybe my life would have turned out differently and I would never have become a director. Terayama came to me a little later, but his films and performances by Tenjō Sajiki, as well as the acclaimed essay “Iede no susume” (In praise of running away from home) ,undoubtedly had a huge influence and major impact on my entire career.
Note by author: Tenjō Sajiki was a Laboratory Theatre company founded by Terayama in 1967. The first premiere was The Hunchback of Aomori with Miwa Akihiro in the leading role. The name is a deliberate reference to the famous French film masterpiece Les Enfants du Paradis (Children of Paradises, 1945), directed by Marcel Carne. The film title has been translated into Japanese as Tenjō sajiki no hitobito. The name of Terayama's theater in English is being literally translated as Children of Paradise, though with a double-meaning, since the French word paradis can mean not only the heavens, but also the theatrical peanut gallery, thus the highest and most forward part of the auditorium in the theater, where the cheapest admission tickets are available. Terayama made a pun that his theater was intended to be underground, so the name was absurd from the outset.
I can't get rid of the impression that running away from home is symptomatic of many characters in your films, starting with “Bicycle Sighs”.
As a teenager, I was hovering between Terayama and The Beatles. Upon reading “In praise of running away from home”, I knew I had to leave the village and go to Tokyo at the age of eighteen. And so my fight began.
Back then, the bible for every aspiring director was “Film Making” by Akira Hoshino. You mentioned that you've never read it?
I always went against the grain. When a teacher asked to draw a particular picture at school, the whole class listened, and I deliberately drew something different. To be perfectly honest, I haven't read “Film Making”, but – on the other hand – in my youth I saw Makoto Tezuka's independent 8 mm films at a night screening, which I was fascinated by. I was shaped by the novels of Henry Miller and Jack Kerouac. Literature in general seemed more obvious to me than cinema. Perhaps I was led astray and should have become a writer?
And the growing fascination with Terayama undoubtedly contributed to the creation of the Tokyo Gagaga collective?
The idea of Tokyo Gagaga naturally refers to the (in)famous Terayama's happening-play “Nokku” (Knock, 1975). Less than a decade after making my debut, “I Am Sono Sion!” I was tired of cinema and wanted to break up with it, which actually happened for quite a few years when we were forming the collective. According to Terayama, we did not want a revolution based on political power, but to enter the city and shake its walls. Within a year, many people from both right-wing and left-wing positions joined us, suggesting that we should become a new political force. I was definitely against it because, for me, Tokyo Gagaga, from the very beginning of its existence, was intended to appeal to intrinsic human nature.
Note by author: Tokyo Gagaga refers to the (in)-famous, topsy-turvy happening by Terayama Shūji, Nokku (Knock, 1975), which has gone down in history as one of the most original street performances of the period. It was made up of a series of smaller plays set in Tokyo's Suginami district (the Kōenji and Asagaya quarters) and together lasting nearly thirty hours, until police intervention. Spectators (un)-willingly participating in the performance were given a map in place of a normal ticket. Knock consisted of various sub-plots that were staged in multiple places at the same time. One of the most controversial parts of the play was titled Hyūman bokushingu (Human Boxing), and involved volunteers being packed into large, coffin-like boxes and shipped out to various districts of Tokyo to disorient them. In the section Minna ga atsumatta (Everyone to the Collection Point), 50 randomly selected people were sent information about the loss of an object, requesting that they report to a particular place to collect it. Slightly bewildered random people gathered, however the actors did not come to greet them, rather observing them from a distance instead. Confused citizens started to talk amongst themselves, effectively becoming the observed actors. Plucked out of their hardworking daily lives, they could finally find a little time to forge contact with others. The improvisation of actors in another part of the performance, being played out in a Tokyo bathhouse, ended in a social scandal. They recited various lines, performed gymnastic exercises, and poured water over random people. Irritated people who did not want to become guinea pigs of the theatrical experiment, called the police, therefore preventing Terayama's fictional world from invading reality.
Looking back twenty years at the dylogy “Suicide Club” and “Noriko's Dinner Table”, you perform a brutal vivisection of Japanese society. What is Japan like today?
With the advent of the 21st century, the development of technology, including the Internet and social media, contributed to the distortion of reality and desensitization of society. Both “Suicide Club” (2001) and “Noriko's Dinner Table” (2005) foreshadow an inevitable phenomenon that is now even more intensified. The Internet has become a breeding ground for evil. Slander, libel and pure demagogy are now on a daily agenda.
Has Japan been stuffed like a gecko in a Coca-Cola bottle, then?
Absolutely! I would go even further and say it's a gecko next to a cell phone. Young people live in their own bubble and dig up remnants of knowledge from websites, thinking that they have got to know all the angles, while not knowing what has been written in the constitution. A gecko appears in one scene of “Antiporno”. Perhaps it's not accidental after all…
I suppose that what you are talking about is connected with your concept of nebulous morality which you already mentioned. What do you mean by that term?
A morality in which there is nothing constructive and that is based only on what others dictate. Most Japanese are so dependent on rules and conventions that instead of thinking by themselves and drawing conclusions, they rely on what the general public thinks. In other words, they are all in fog.
“Love Exposure” has served as a slogan throughout your career. Can you tell us about the essence of love and the chosen style in your films?
I've always been fascinated by the Japanese word ai (love) in certain movie titles. For example, we have “Ai to kibō no machi” (City of Hope and Love, 1959) or “Ai no Korīda” (“Empire of the Senses”, 1976) by Nagisa Oshima. Such a lofty word it is, but as it turns out, in both cases there is a lot of anticipation, but not much promise or delivery. When, as a teenager, I listened to the songs of Lennon, who sang paeans to love, I felt shame and embarrassment. I didn't meet my first girlfriend until I was in my twenties and I made a film about her called (nomen omen!) “Ai” (Love, 1986) on 8mm. I named it that thinking out of the box, as no one else would name a film like that in Japan, anyway. Love is meant to be exposed, sometimes even at all costs, and this is what the characters in my films do. In “Love Exposure” (2008), through fast camera movement, sudden cuts and sharp close-ups, I pay tribute at the same time to the old cinema of Hong Kong and Japan, full of emotions and frenetic desire, in particular the series “Battles Without Honor and Humanity” directed by Kinji Fukasaku. After all there is nothing more beautiful than the violent Bunta Sugawara brutally confessing his love. “Love Exposure” was a kind of experiment in how far you can push the boundaries of sudden cuts. Similar style was adapted in the later “Himizu”, but I came to the conclusion that this technique had simply worn out. Thus, in subsequent “Why Don't You Play in Hell?” and “The Whispering Star” I gradually changed the direction and in result completely negated it.
I have the impression that you did not only go upstream against the established conventions, but also the Japanese Eirin censorship system.
It is sheer absurdity when the censorship dictates that two stripes on the collar of a student's uniform evoke erotic connotations, but a single one does not. In addition, it most often depends on the whim of a minor official (usually a police chief relegated to the role of an ordinary clerk). Such was also thee case of “Suicide Club” (2002). Death scenes of youth were taboo at that time, due to a scandalous case when a teenager from Kobe slit a child's throat. Just a few years back, in “Antiporno” (2016) full frontal nudity was finally allowed, but only outside scenes of sexual acts. Officials generally show a lack of understanding and a shallow approach to culture, putting most of the money into sports and recreation, which is probably a phenomenon on a global scale, only possible in Japan.
Speaking of pink cinema, were you influenced by such directors as Tatsumi Kumashiro or Noboru Tanaka?
The aforementioned masters of Nikkatsu Roman Porno in the 60-70s, were pioneers in experimenting with both content and form. I believe that their legacy should be accepted with the full benefit of the inventory in terms of continuing the spirit of the avant-garde. Avant-garde tailored to modern times, however not simply as another rehashed product bred out of a sense of nostalgia. When I said that during the Nikkatsu Roman Porno Reboot press conference in 2016, other directors said I was blaspheming.
Why do you put so much stress on S/M and violence?
When I was a teenager, cutting oneself with razor blades or self-harm was unthinkable.. I could never understand it, and I guess those scenes are there, paradoxically, for that reason. On the other hand, S/M threads are a reference to Fassbinder's masterpiece “The Bitter Tears of Petra von Kant”. I believe that sex is closely related to S/M, where one party is always dominant and the other is submissive.
Those brutal scenes are often juxtaposed with classic pieces by Beethoven, Mahler, Mozart and Offenbach. Why?
Fassbinder effect. One might have thought that Mahler's Fifth Symphony had already been utterly exploited in Visconti's “Death in Venice', but the German director used it extensively at all costs. I deliberately chose classical pieces that anyone has heard, using them in an innovative way, because this type of Verfremdungseffekt was appealing to me.
Perhaps the presence of those shocking scenes in which the characters are women makes some of the audience try to label you as either a feminist or a misogynist. On the other hand, you often mention that you don't accept any -isms?
I am by no means a feminist or a misogynist. However, I have some unpleasant memories from my childhood at school, when girls bullied me and the angry teacher would hit me on the head as if I was the one who had been picking up the fight. I have had gynophobia issues since I was a child, but it's not a topic I'd like to brood over.
Shuji Terayama wrote that human species are incomplete cadavers and will eventually die as complete. Quo Vadis, Sion Sono?
I would really like to make a film abroad, even in your home country, Poland, which I admire. I don't feel connected to Japan in any way at the moment. In a hundred years I will be erased completely, so that I will no longer exist in anyone's consciousness or memory. My heroes will disappear with me. Therefore, I enjoy the moment and create art that can bring me a bit of joy while I am still alive.
The interview has been conducted by courtesy of InlanDimensions International Arts Festival Network and The Bridges Foundation
TagsAmanojaku - heavenly evil spirit Antiporno Battles Without Honor and Humanity Bicycle Sighs Bunta Sugawara Himizu I am Sono Sion! Kinji Fukasaku Love Exposure Makoto Tezuka Nagisa Oshima Noboru Tanaka Nokku Noriko's Dinner Table Roman porno Shuji Terayama Suicide Club Tatsumi Kumashiro The Whispering Star Tokyo Gagaga Why Don’t You Play in Hell?
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