The Origin of Man-giku Onogawa? 20 Years Since "Maison de Himiko" & Min Tanaka Documentary "A Dance That Cannot Be Named" & "On the Summer Sand"

In the movie"National Treasure", Min Tanaka played the role of Man-giku Onogawa. His overwhelming presence. His physical expression, refined down to the tips of his fingers. His chilling vocal tone.
In contrast to the lead actor Ryo Yoshizawa and supporting actor Ryusei Yokohama, who overwhelmed with the intensity of their performances, his scenes were short but left a deep, quietly eroding impression on my mind. Even weeks after watching the movie, that chilling sensation still comes back to me.

And, come to think of it, Min Tanaka played the role of Himiko, a gay bar mama who built a nursing home for gay men, in the movie from 20 years ago "Maison de Himiko"...so I remembered that and watched "Maison de Himiko" again.
And branching off from that, this is an article about my thoughts on the documentary film about Min Tanaka, "A Dance That Cannot Be Named", which was directed by Isshin Inudo, the director of "Maison de Himiko".

The Sexuality of Man-giku Onogawa

Before getting into "Maison de Himiko," a little preamble about the sexuality of Man-giku Onogawa. Some might say it's strange to connect Himiko, who is gay, with Man-giku Onogawa, an onnagata (male actor playing female roles), and that gay men and onnagata are different things, which is of course true. However, personally, I believe that in this specific case, the theory that Man-giku Onogawa is gay is quite plausible.

First, from his state on the verge of death while sleeping in a place like a simple lodging house, it didn't seem like he had any family, and above all, I personally assume that the name "Man-giku Onogawa" is a play on "Onnagata", a short story by Yukio Mishima that I learned about while writing another article, which features "Man-giku Sanogawa".

Originally, "Man-giku Sanogawa" was the name of a Kabuki actor from the Genroku era of the Edo period. Mishima featured him in his novel "Onnagata" as a peerless, true onnagata (the setting of this story is likely the Showa era?).
(He initially used the name "Kikunojo Segawa", but changed it because there was a real actor with the same name at the time of writing. Kikunojo Segawa was the lover of Gennai Hiraga in the current Taiga drama "Berabo," and that was the Second Kikunojo Segawa. He seems to be the person who performed the premiere of "Sagi Musume". The predecessor who was the foster father of this second generation was the First Kikunojo Segawa, who (created?) and danced a dance called "Momochidori Musume Dojoji" from the Noh play "Dojoji," which is said to be the origin of "Musume Dojoji" seen in the movie "National Treasure." Both the first and second generation Kikunojo seem to have been gay. It is written that when the first generation retired, "he entrusted himself to a man named Genemon in Osaka and lived with him," and also that "he dressed as a woman in his daily life." Considering his relationship with Gennai, the second generation was likely the same.)

And the person said to be the model for Man-giku Sanogawa in Mishima's novel "Onnagata" is the Sixth Utaemon Nakamura. Looking at his Wiki, it says he "eloped with his male attendant and fled to a hot spring town." I only recognized him as someone I might have seen before when looking at photos, so I learned about that episode for the first time and thought, "Oh, I see."

In the novel "Onnagata," Man-giku Sanogawa also falls in love with the male new-theater director Kawasaki, and the protagonist Masuyama, who is infatuated with Man-giku, is jealous of their relationship, depicting the love and hate between men. It's quite a homoerotic story.

So, knowing this flow, or rather, knowing various backgrounds, it's not strange that there might be a hidden setting that Man-giku Onogawa in "National Treasure" is also gay; in fact, I can't help but think that must be the case!

There was also an article like this that compares Man-giku Onogawa in "National Treasure" with Man-giku Sanogawa in "Onnagata," and writes about the Sixth Utaemon Nakamura and others.

It's an interesting piece that writes about onnagata with a focus on Utaemon Nakamura. Although there are parts that are too difficult for me to fully grasp 😅.

So, I wanted to simply compare whether the origin of the role of "Man-giku Onogawa," who is thought to be gay, lies in the role of Himiko in "Maison de Himiko." Did the Himiko played by Min Tanaka have the same overwhelming presence as Man-giku Onogawa? Or did he not? How has Min Tanaka's acting changed over these 20 years? I wanted to watch with a focus on that... out of such curiosity.

"Maison de Himiko"

The synopsis is something like this (excerpted from Wiki)

The protagonist is ultimately Saori, followed by Haruhiko. These two are the main characters, and while Himiko has a presence, his lines are few, and other gay members have more screen time, so he might not be as intensely memorable as one might think. It could also be that the other characters have such strong personalities... 😅.

The director is Isshin Inudo, and the script is by Aya Watanabe of the TV drama "Carnation."
Indeed, like "Carnation," it depicts the joys and sorrows of people's lives, sometimes humorously, sometimes seriously, and sometimes with an intensity like a blade that brings pain.

And in a review I caught a glimpse of, it was written that the original work is actually the manga Yumiko Oshima's "Tsurubara Tsurubara". Was this information announced at the time of release? There was no such information on Wiki or anything...
I think I read "Tsurubara Tsurubara" a long time ago (the collection also included "Every Day is Summer Vacation," which was also made into a movie)... but I couldn't remember it at all, so I read it again this time.

The synopsis is that a boy named Tsugio is the protagonist.
He has had the same dream since he was little: a small alley, a rose hedge, stone steps, a wooden door, and a man waiting.
He is also a person who has wanted to wear skirts since he was little, and fell in love with a boy when he was in junior high school. (← At this point, I thought, maybe he's a gay boy?)
He confesses his love to the boy he likes in front of everyone, then gets bullied, attempts suicide, and in the dream he sees between life and death, he becomes convinced that he is the reincarnation of a person named "Tayo-ko". The house that appeared in his dream was the house where Tayo-ko lived with her husband, and he comes to believe that the husband is waiting for Tayo-ko, and from then on, he spends his time searching for that house.
Then, when he goes to Tokyo for university and starts working and has money, he even gets plastic surgery to look like Tayo-ko (perhaps a sex change too?). (← Around here, it starts to sound like a story about a transgender person. But even if he says he is the reincarnation of Tayo-ko, I feel like one could distinguish or draw a line between the gender of a past life and the gender of the present life, so it feels a bit forced, or personally, I think he doesn't have to become Tayo-ko... Or maybe he wanted to be a woman in the first place and used the dream as an excuse for everything, even a sex change? ...I also thought that. But then he wouldn't have to persistently search for the house in his dream... Anyway, the touch is light, but it also feels slightly insane.)
And so, while working as Tayo-ko at a gay bar? Or a new-half bar? He continues to search for the house that appeared in his dream... that's the story (please read the main story for the rest).

"Tsurubara Tsurubara" also deals with gay and transgender themes, but it's completely different from the story of "Maison de Himiko." Why is it said to be the original work? Is it that they were inspired by it?
Is Tsugio the model for Himiko? But there shouldn't have been such an episode regarding Himiko. In the first place, Himiko married Saori's mother and had Saori, which is completely different from Tsugio.

Thoughts on "Maison de Himiko"

So, as for my thoughts on "Maison de Himiko," it was generally interesting!!
However, if I were to rate it with stars, maybe about 7/10? It felt a bit scattered.

Writing down what came to mind while watching it,

＊Ko Shibasaki is always frowning and angry. I feel like she's only ever played this type of character even after 20 years...😅.

＊Joe Odagiri's character design as a gay man who acts like a gigolo is actually better than I imagined!! This might be the biggest takeaway from watching this movie lol.
However, despite being in that environment, I didn't feel the unique sexual aura that gay men have, so I thought it was a bit too bland... Still, what's worth noting is that Joe Odagiri inserts these "cute faces" here and there. He usually plays cool or slightly eccentric roles, but here, he's doing these expressions like a puppy or a kitten, something that tickles maternal instincts and evokes a desire to protect—it was fresh to see him acting in a way that is charming without being sleazy. I've seen patterns where a woman has to take care of a deadbeat man, but just by him looking at her with those wide, sparkling eyes, it feels like, "Oh, I can't leave him alone! Let me take care of you!"—it's not derived from his uselessness, but fully dedicated to his cuteness. I thought he avoided this kind of charming acting that leverages his good looks because he disliked it or was resistant to it, so it seems he did various things early in his career.

＊The residents of "Maison de Himiko" might be former gay bar colleagues of Himiko, but the focus is mainly on the stereotypical, self-deprecating, vulgar gay/okama image, which I found a bit tiresome (I understand that movies want to choose things with strong impact, though...). Since there are characters like that gentlemanly and calm older man, they should have had them interact with Saori more evenly and carefully depicted the process of resolving prejudices against them from various angles...

＊Mr. Yamazaki, who loves making dresses. However, he doesn't wear them because they don't suit him. He says it would be fine if they dressed him in one when he dies. Saori encourages him to wear the dress, and they even go out to a dance club? dance hall like that. ← No, no, if you're going to make him cross-dress, at least put on a proper wig and do his makeup!! An old man wearing just a dress with a thinning head and almost no makeup, of course anyone, not just his former colleagues, would be surprised (though insulting him is obviously wrong). Besides, Mr. Yamazaki himself, are you okay with that? Does your aesthetic sense allow for the combination of a bald head and a dress? And the fellow gay men, say something to him! Some of you used to work in customer service while cross-dressing, don't you have any aesthetic sense either? ...That retort didn't stop running through my head. I felt like the production team was intentionally using the "bald head in a dress" image to emphasize tragedy or make it a joke, and I disliked it because it felt like there was unconscious malice.

＊The scene where everyone starts dancing. This one below.

I have mixed feelings, with parts of me thinking, "It looks fun! I want to dance with them! It's heartwarming!" and other parts thinking, "No, no, why is everyone starting to dance together? I feel a bit uncomfortable with this kind of forced feeling from the production side, like 'Look, look, isn't this interesting? Isn't it fun?', or like being shown an inside joke..."

I wonder what the origin of these movies where everyone dances is? Does it come from musicals or something? "Maison de Himiko" was 2005, and another one I remembered was "Megane" and its dance, or rather, this exercise. That was 2007.

This also gives me ambivalent, indescribable feelings where I think it's interesting but also a bit off-putting. Maybe it's because I feel the artifice of the production team too much.

I remember everyone dancing, centered around Mirai Moriyama who played the protagonist, in the 2011 movie "Moteki" as well, but

perhaps because it felt like his excitement was being expressed through dance, or his delusions were being visualized, I didn't feel that much disgust.

Thinking about it, should I just consider the dance in "Maison de Himiko" as an expression of Saori and Haruhiko's excitement...? But somehow, more than the spontaneous dancing in "Moteki," I feel a faint totalitarian pressure like, "Come on, everyone, let's dance together!!" Is it because I don't like being in groups and have a strong tendency to be a rebellious lone wolf that this bothers me...? ← Who cares, right lol

＊A gay nursing home feels like a special environment, but if you view it as a share house for elderly people living alone, it's actually news that the government just recently announced they would promote.

Even though this theme of a share house for the elderly could have been a movie on its own, they've woven in gay issues, the conflict between Saori and Himiko as parent and child, the pseudo-romantic relationship between Saori and Haruhiko, the nursing problem of Ruby who kept her gender reassignment a secret from her family, gay-bashing by local middle school boys?, gay-bashing of closeted gay Yamazaki by his former colleagues, and various other things, so it still leaves the impression that they spread the net too wide and the focus is blurred.

＊I wanted the relationship between Himiko and Haruhiko to be depicted more carefully. Why were they attracted to each other? There's no backstory, and since the strength of their bond isn't clear, what kind of feelings does Haruhiko have while taking care of Himiko? How serious was his attempt to make a move on Saori? What did Himiko think of Haruhiko? Is he afraid of losing Himiko? Or does he also have a desire to be freed from caregiving? There were too many things I didn't understand, making it hard to empathize. Haruhiko's external character design was good, but his internal character design was a bit elusive, or rather, it was hard to tell what he was thinking—or maybe he wasn't thinking anything at all, just living in the flow, faithful to his feelings at the time? Maybe I'd understand better if I watched it a few times? But it wasn't a movie that touched my heart enough to make me want to watch it over and over again...

＊Hosokawa, the executive at the painting company where Saori works. Hidetoshi Nishijima, who played him, often played these kinds of slightly annoying guys or rough men around this time. From around the time he played the cool older brother in "Yae no Sakura," he shifted more and more toward good-guy and righteous characters. I'd like to see him play these kinds of quirky roles again.

＊Since Haruhiko (Odajo) showed interest in Hosokawa (Hidetoshi Nishijima) and they went out to eat together, I wish Hosokawa had been allowed to devour not just women but also men!! It would have been interesting to casually include sexual fluidity, like breaking down the rigid values of a hetero man who thinks, "If I experience it, maybe men aren't so bad after all..." lol.
Also, by establishing the "fujoshi" dream couple of Nishijima x Odajo, "Maison de Himiko" might have become legendary in a different sense. The Japanese film industry is bad at being bold with these things. It was probably the homophobia of the production team or the upper management of the film company that couldn't give the go-ahead. 20 years later, will it change now?

The story of a straight man being eaten by a gay man has existed for a long time, but some people wake up to being gay, while others strongly reaffirm that they are straight. Conversely, some people end up thinking, "Huh? I can go both ways..." It seems like there could be a work that depicts the confusion of a straight man's sexual identity after being eaten by a gay man, and the process of the protagonist actively exploring what he truly desires from there, how much is pulled by fixed concepts, and how much can accept new concepts, in a comedy style. Japan is called a "pervert superpower" when it comes to sexuality, but in that sense, it's surprisingly one-patterned, and I feel it's been conservative lately because it's too caught up in fixed concepts. I feel like there are more works overseas that attack those boundaries. Conversely, when looking at things like Shunga from the Edo period, it's interesting to see more diverse forms of sexuality that transcend various boundaries presented than now, or rather, I'm surprised by the Japanese people's inquisitive mind toward sexuality.

＊The scene that left the biggest impression on me was after Himiko vomited a large amount of blood, when Haruhiko says, "I want desire," "I want something intense."

Being with someone who is dying makes you feel like you're being pulled into death, and you crave a sense of "life." "Living" and "having desire" are inseparable. As Saori interacts with her dying father, she changes from a plain, ordinary life where she didn't say what she wanted to say and had no stimulation, to living more faithfully to her own desires and asserting what she wants to say.And the gay people living in Maison de Himiko, which represents Himiko, are probably depicted as people who lived faithfully to that desire in a sense. The words Saori says after handing over Ruby, who needs care due to a stroke, to his son: "It really makes me sick, the ego of you homos!"—desire is always attached to living, but that desire comes with results. There are good results and bad results. How much responsibility can you take for that? Of course, you can't take responsibility for everything, but does that mean it's okay to abandon it, blame others, or keep deceiving? The correct line between desire (fulfilling your own wants without causing trouble for others) and ego (involving others and causing harm through the pursuit of your own wants) is something that seems doable but is actually quite difficult. Life is probably about moving forward while being lost, failing and getting hurt, struggling, and trying to find a balance. It was a very interesting movie in that it depicts the desire that clings to living and dying, sometimes seriously and sometimes comically. However, I can't deny that it felt a bit too packed, and there were too many things that bothered me, like the kids in the gay circle or the "piki-piki-pikki," making it hard to focus on the main theme, which is the drawback. It is interesting, though. Yeah, it is interesting. Well, life isn't logical, and it's usually chaotic, so maybe it's fine to say it's okay as it is.

Min Tanaka's performance as HimikoSo, the part I focused on most: how did Min Tanaka play the character of "Himiko"?

Hmm, to be honest, it was a bit underwhelming.
However, I feel like that might not have been the case if I had watched "Maison de Himiko" first. I watched "Kokoku" first this time, and I couldn't help but compare it to Mangiku Onogawa from "Kokoku," so naturally, it felt like something was missing. The character setup itself—abandoning his wife and daughter to become a gay bar mama and creating a home exclusively for gay men—is eccentric enough that it might be memorable, but the actual characterization just leaves an impression of someone lying in bed with an illness. It lacks the lingering resonance that makes Mangiku keep coming back to my mind and beckoning me.

There is definitely a presence as Himiko. But that feels largely dependent on the presence that Min Tanaka himself possesses. Also, Min Tanaka's voice contributes to that presence. That calm, flat tone with no flightiness. That is what gives it a sense of awe and tightens up the scenes.

I felt that the character creation, or perhaps the direction, or the production side's capability, was largely limited to only utilizing this "Min Tanaka presence."

So, I rewatched Min Tanaka's film debut, directed by Yoji Yamada,"The Twilight Samurai".

It's a film where he won the Best Supporting Actor award at the Japan Academy Film Prize right from his debut. (Actually, this film swept almost all the awards that year.)

Min Tanaka's presence is amazing in this film as well.
However, in terms of acting, perhaps because of the preconception that it's his debut, I do feel a slight awkwardness in his line delivery. But acting isn't just about line delivery. Physical expression is also important, and Min Tanaka, who has always expressed himself through his body as a dancer, excels in this area. I imagine Director Yoji Yamada offered him this role with that in mind.

Even in "The Twilight Samurai," his lines aren't that numerous. The highlights are the moment his eyes suddenly turn murderous when he realizes Seibei's sword is a bamboo blade, which gives you chills, and the final sword fight with Seibei. The sword fighting is so intense that it makes the viewer hold their breath, almost enough to make Keiko Mitamura (was it her? Sorry if it was actually Shie Iwashita-san 😅) from the Gokudō no Onna-tachi series say, "They're fighting for each other's souls!!"

And this time, I paid attention to it because I knew about it from prior information: the scene where Zenemon Yogo, played by Tanaka-san, dies. Tanaka-san says that part is "dancing." It is true that he dies as if dancing, with a tremendous sense of lingering emotion. I really thought that was a movement only a skilled actor could pull off. If you overdo it, you'd think, "Why can you move so much before you die?!" but he moves on that exquisite line where it just barely feels possible, expressing the act of dying, the tragedy, the agony, the regret, and the resignation through his body.

I think this boils down to the fact that Director Yoji Yamada's judgment was excellent.
He understood the strengths of Min Tanaka (presence and physical expression) well and utilized them to the fullest for the role. I wouldn't go so far as to say there's no point in using Min Tanaka if you don't make him express things physically, but by doing so, his presence should multiply through a synergistic effect. Yet, not making use of that feels like a waste of talent, or simply a shame.

In that sense, the casting for "Kokoku" made the most of both Min Tanaka's presence and physical expression. On the other hand, in "Maison de Himiko," since he is a terminal cancer patient, there is almost no movement to speak of.

So, wanting to know how Director Isshin Inudo came to cast Min Tanaka in "Maison de Himiko," I Googled it and found the article below.

It seems it started when he saw Tanaka-san at the Japan Academy Film Prize ceremony (likely as a presenter the year after his win for "The Twilight Samurai") and became interested, wondering, "Who is this unusual person?"

And he also said this:

"When I cast Tanaka-san in 'Maison de Himiko,' I cast him without knowing he was a dancer."

Of course, by the time he actually cast him, he must have known Tanaka-san was a dancer, but it feels like Director Inudo was so struck by the intensity of Tanaka-san's presence that he prioritized that for the casting. So, I wonder if he didn't place as much weight on having him use his physical expression—not that he ignored it, but it wasn't the main focus.

On the other hand, what were Tanaka-san's feelings when he accepted the offer? What did he find attractive about the role of "Himiko"? Even though there are no scenes where he uses physical expression as clearly as he did for Seibei.

I imagine, first of all, he wanted to challenge himself to see how far he could express a "dying human" with his own body.
Next, as a so-called gay bar mama, he had to express feminine traits—not entirely female, but male yet female—and that complex gender expression, again, how far could he express that physically? It's not just about playing a stereotypical, wriggling gay character; the role of Himiko, who possesses a dignified strength even on the verge of death, is quite difficult.
He had to express both of these at the same time, which is quite challenging. But in a way, it's an exciting challenge that makes you think, "I'm getting excited!" and it's an act that satisfies the desire to feel truly alive.

But I wonder if the director didn't place much importance on that? The scene where Himiko dies is almost skipped over, which was a letdown. I don't need the cliché where everyone gathers at the bedside, speaks to him one by one, and finally, his head slumps over... but I did want to see how Tanaka-san would express the moment of death.

Also, regarding Himiko, I didn't really feel the femininity that would seep out after living in drag for decades. But suddenly, the late Keiko Awaji came to mind, who also worked as a mama in Roppongi to pay off her husband's debts. Maybe the tone of their voices was similar? Calm, grounded, not fawning, but the part where she said "I love you" to Saori at the end included a sense of compassion, and her image overlapped.

When I thought of Mangiku Onogawa in "Kokoku," Miwa-san came to mind, though lol. Well, it wouldn't be strange for Kikuo to call him "a monster" lol.

"The Untitled"

So, Director Inudo, who seemed not to pay much attention to Min Tanaka's physical expression as a dancer during "Maison de Himiko" (← this is just my own speculation), spent 17 years and, in 2022, filmed a documentary called"The Untitled"that focused entirely on Tanaka-san's physical expression as a dancer.

I knew Min Tanaka was a dancer, probably an avant-garde one, but I didn't know his background or what kind of dance he actually performed. This film, which shows that in detail, was very interesting. And above all, it travels around the world and is filmed in a very beautiful way visually; I felt the director's commitment to the shots, such as Tanaka-san standing in the landscape, and I also felt Director Inudo's filter in the way he filmed Tanaka-san dancing, trying to make his body look beautiful.

Input and Output

“Ba-odori” (Site-specific dance) is a type of dance that Min-san frequently performs in this film.

If you Google it, this is what comes up.
“Ba-odori” is a performance where one dances improvisationally according to the characteristics and atmosphere of a location. Using various everyday locations as stages, he pursues a dance that can only be born in that specific place.

Was it near the beginning of the film? Min-san is dancing alone in a cobblestone alley in Portugal while people pass by. Watching him move slowly toward the light streaming through a gap in the buildings, I felt as if he were expressing “death.” I don’t know what intention he had in expressing it. But I think it’s assumed that it’s okay for the receiver to interpret it however they like, in as many ways as there are people. I felt “death” there. His slightly open mouth, his eyes that seemed unfocused—what flashed back and overlapped in my mind was the image of my grandmother, who passed away at 93 from old age. There was her body, like a husk with the soul drained out. A mummy-like body, drained of vitality, a size or two smaller than the version of her I remembered when she was alive. That slightly open mouth, a darkness that felt slightly terrifying, as if an abyss were peering out from deep within. The moment my ingrained image of “death” overlapped with Min-san’s physical expression.

Then he crouches down and lies on the side of the alley. Like a dead homeless person. And when the dance ends, Min-san grins broadly with a refreshed face (the photo on the bottom right of this article’s title image). It’s as if he has returned from the brink of death.

Seeing this, I thought that Min Tanaka’s dance is about taking all the “movements” expressed by humans in the world—from the movements of a newborn baby to the movements of an old person nearing death—no, not just humans, but animals, plants, everything living and moving in the world—inputting those motions into his body, and outputting them as they are, following his inspiration on the stage where he performs “Ba-odori”… that must be the kind of dance it is.

In the second half, he visits an empty house in Fukushima and starts dancing by imitating the movements of a spider that was there. He immediately imitates movements he finds interesting or that give him inspiration and incorporates them into himself. And then he brings them out again in a place where he feels a different inspiration. And he does it improvisationally, too. That work must be difficult at times, but I also feel that it must be tremendously fun. He can keep taking the world into himself. Everything in the world must look fascinating to him, and I imagine he must find observing it to be endlessly enjoyable.

In the film, Min-san refers to his childhood as “my child”. The film expresses that part, his childhood memories, through animation. What I found intense was that his father, who was a police officer, would frequently take young Min-san to crime scenes where there were corpses, such as drowning victims, and try to show them to him.

Corpses, of course, do not move, but what kind of physical expression does a corpse have? The state of limbs after rigor mortis, the various ways they stiffen—I think young Min-san must have observed them while unable to look away. At first, it might have just been scary. But gradually, he began to observe them calmly, noticing differences like, “This is different from the previous corpse,” and he began to incorporate those differences into himself. It’s the nature of an artist; once you start caring about that, curiosity and desire begin to outweigh fear and sadness.
Incorporating various deaths also becomes a trigger for turning one’s interest toward various “lives.” Min-san was born on March 10, 1945, in Tokyo. It seems it was the day of the Great Tokyo Air Raid. He was born on a day when it is said 100,000 people died. “Life thought of from death”—that might be the origin of Min-san’s dance.

Another thing I found interesting is that he does farming in Yamanashi. He named his own farm? Or the house he lives in? “Toka-son” (Peach Blossom Village) after a 1964 essay “Toka-son” by the poet Kazunori Yoshida.

And he says he doesn’t do any gym training for his dance at all; he moves and trains his body entirely through farm work. Gym training isn’t directly connected to the movements needed for living. Farm work involves living nature and the earth; you grow living things to survive, harvest them, pick them, watch them wither—you are surrounded by various movements within the cycle of life and death. That is where living movements must be, and where movements that give inspiration to living humans must exist.

“The Dancing That Cannot Be Named” is a title that was given to Min-san’s dance by the French sociologist and philosopher whom Min-san revered, Roger Caillois, when Min-san went to meet him in his youth because he desperately wanted him to see his dance.

Caillois’s works such as “Man, Play and Games” and “Warfare” were introduced. Among them, when I read the reviews for “Man, Play and Games,” they are all highly rated and it seems very interesting. Perhaps there is a “play”-like element, as Caillois calls it, in the essence of Min-san’s dance as well.

And during a performance in France, Min-san visits Caillois’s grave. A reunion after decades. Upon learning that Caillois is buried in something like a communal grave rather than a private one, he smiles happily, saying it’s just like him.

At this moment, I expected that, like the protagonist of François Ozon’s “Summer of 85,” he might dance on the grave—though he’d get arrested—or perhaps dance in front of the grave to show Caillois one more time, but he didn’t dance 😅.

After that, Min-san stands in front of a large cherry tree in Fukushima. I thought, maybe he’ll start dancing to express the surge of emotion toward the cherry blossoms in full bloom? But… he didn’t dance this time either 😅.

Then I suddenly wondered: How commercial is this, really?

Desire and Reality

The film “The Dancing That Cannot Be Named” has beautiful imagery, and it shows Min-san’s stoic attitude toward dance and his way of life endlessly, so it’s a film that just makes you think, “Min Tanaka is so cool!!”

But since I’m a cynical person, I started to think, isn’t it a little too cool? (^^ゞ

He lives in the countryside, does farming, and seems to devote everything to dancing, giving the illusion that he lives a life of voluntary poverty. And in the film, there is a story about Kagura at a local festival that Min-san visited long ago. They dance for themselves at their own festival (for a good harvest, etc.). It’s true that some places do it to attract tourists now, but originally, they weren’t dancing for tourism or to make money, but to offer feelings of gratitude to the gods.

So, I had an image in my head that Min-san’s body would naturally start moving, overflowing with the desire to express himself using his body, welling up from within…
But I realized that was just my own wishful thinking. As proof, as I wrote earlier, he didn’t start dancing in places like in front of Caillois’s grave or in front of the giant cherry tree, even though his inner thoughts seemed like they might overflow.

Of course, he must have the desire to express himself using his body, but he’s more calculating than I thought—calculating where to dance—and he’s probably not just dancing around like a fool who only knows one trick (bitter laugh).

I suppose it was back in my 30s, wasn't it? I decided to go out into the world alone and dance. Dancing in the world doesn't mean dancing on my own in front of the pyramids, but rather being invited to proper venues and performing dance in front of various audiences. That implies a desire to be recognized by the world, and a strong confidence that my dance should be accepted globally! It's not about being happy just to be dancing whether people are watching or not; in the film, I am constantly dancing in front of an audience. Even when I was dancing alone, I think I was performing with the awareness of an audience watching through the camera lens.

If I continue to dance and try to make a living solely from dancing, I have to make it somewhat profitable to survive. That made me wonder, as an artist, how calculating should I be about making money in my art activities?

Even for painters, if they are happy just painting, that's fine if they have the financial means to live on that alone, but if not, they have no choice but to sell their paintings to survive. In that case, how calculating should one be when creating works?

With Takashi Murakami's art, he only provides the original concept and instructions, while the actual production is mostly handled by his staff. In his case, the joy of creating a work from start to finish with his own hands is not the priority. I get the impression that the joy of creating something amazing through teamwork and division of labor—like everyone working together on a school festival project—and the joy of gaining recognition in the art business are more important.

Thinking about it that way, in the music industry, even if an artist writes the lyrics and music, an arranger makes it sound cooler, and music videos are created to visually express and supplement the world of the work, constantly and calculatingly creating music that sells to increase the perfection and appeal of the work. But no one complains that they aren't doing it all by themselves, so if you consider Mr. Murakami's method the same, it's not strange at all. However, emotionally, I sometimes feel a bit uneasy about works that weren't made by the artist's own hands.

At first, I thought Min-san should also discard all calculations and just start dancing based on his emotional surges in any place... but I reflected that this was just me imposing my own desires.

Having said that, I don't think he is dancing in a wildly calculating way just to make money either.

So, where does Min-san dance? What drives him to dance?

In the film, Min-san said something like, 'Dance existed before language was born.' It is one of the more primitive methods of human communication that existed long before words.

And after performing a dance in an old French castle or church, he sat on the floor with the audience and carefully answered their questions.

So his dance is something that requires an audience. It is an art piece that is only completed when someone sees what he has expressed. Min-san is 80 years old. About 10 years older than him, in their 90s, were pioneers like Yoko Ono and Yayoi Kusama who went abroad to do conceptual art and performing art, and their art also gained meaning only when the audience participated or when they performed in front of an audience. I think Min Tanaka's 'dance,' an art piece using his own body, is something that inherits that lineage.

Just taking in the various movements from around the world into myself is quite exciting. Furthermore, outputting that improvisationally like jazz and expressing it in the form of dance is also challenging and exciting. And then, that expression creates some kind of thought or idea in the hearts of people around the world who see it, without any verbal explanation. That non-verbal communication. When that is achieved, I would of course be happy if what I intended was conveyed, and even if completely different emotions were born in the audience, that is also very interesting. Even if they don't give me direct feedback on their impressions, I am happy if I can tell that the audience is feeling something. That's why I can't stop dancing, and why I say my true calling is a dancer, not an actor. Although I participate in the form of an actor, what I am doing is the same approach as when I am dancing: how to express a role with my body rather than lines, and how to convey something to the audience or make them think.

Min-san might look scary or cold at first glance, but the fact that he loves communicating with people this much means he must be a person who truly loves 'people'.

It has been a little over 20 years since Min Tanaka started his acting career. I felt that while maintaining the base of expressing through his body, he has increased his repertoire as an actor and has become more polished.

He is 80 years old this year. In the film 'The Dancing Homeless,' he is in his late 70s. But what surprised me was that his legs, especially his calves, were firm; looking just at them, they looked as young as someone in their 40s or 50s, and I couldn't take my eyes off them. His upper body is also younger than the average 80-year-old, but you could still see some sagging skin. However, his legs had no sagging at all, and I didn't see any bulging veins like varicose veins. Thinking that aging starts from the legs... it seems he can continue to dance for a long time, and I'm sure he will continue to dance, and I want him to keep dancing.

The 'Hobonichi' interview at the time of the film's release is also interesting, so please be sure to read it.

This one too.

'On the Summer Sand'

I focused on the evolution of Min Tanaka's acting over 20 years, but after watching 'Maison de Himiko,' the film starring Joe Odagiri titled 'On the Summer Sand' was released, so I went to see it to enjoy the difference in his acting over 20 years.

It seems the original work was a play. Since this is a film adaptation, it's unclear how much of the stage atmosphere was successfully recreated. I heard that the role played by Joe Odagiri was performed by the recently controversial Kei Tanaka in the stage version, but... huh? He usually plays lighthearted roles, so could he really pull off such a serious character? This auntie is worried! ...That's how out of place the casting felt to me😅. But it must have been well-received enough to warrant a film adaptation.

The synopsis goes something like this.

Anyway, the cast is gorgeous!!

But seeing Joe Odagiri and Takako Matsu playing a married couple, I couldn't help but think of the drama "Omameda Towako and Her Three Ex-husbands". Since that drama was a comedy, seeing the two of them acting seriously felt a bit awkward... (bitter laugh).

As for my impressions, personally, it didn't really resonate with me. Unfortunately.
(Since there are quite a few harsh opinions, please skip this if you don't want to see that kind of thing.)

I think I share a similar sentiment with the person in this review & commentary video.

I wouldn't go so far as to call it the director's ego, but I did find myself wondering if there wasn't a better way to structure the story or convey it more effectively. I think this film would have been a success if, during the climactic scene where the rain finally falls, the audience could feel a sense of catharsis, as if our own parched hearts were being moistened, but I didn't feel that strongly. I felt a sense of distance between what was happening on screen and myself.

After that, an accident occurs where the protagonist loses something while at work. As a result, he ends up unemployed again, and his future job prospects will likely be limited, making it highly probable that he can never return to the shipbuilding industry he took pride in. He might have reached some sort of closure regarding the grief over his son's death, but I can't imagine a hopeful future for him...😫. Yuko, the niece played by Akari Takaishi, ends up leaving (and since she's going to Canada, it's unclear if they'll ever meet again), Ken Mitsuishi, his former colleague and drinking buddy, dies, and Naotaro Moriyama, another former colleague, steals his ex-wife and leaves Nagasaki with her. All the characters who were around Osamu disappear, leaving him completely isolated. There's no one left but the owner of the nearest tobacco shop... I thought.

The promotional copy on the official website says:
"A precious, bittersweet, and warm story that depicts aray of hope that soaks into a heart as dry as summer sand."
But a ray of hope... huh? Which part is that? Being the slow person I am, it didn't resonate with me at all... Is it about his relationship with his niece, Yuko?
A man in his late 40s? In this situation, it wouldn't be strange if he committed suicide. He couldn't heal from his son's death together with his wife, so he carried it alone, broke down himself, and the marriage fell apart. And if the ending felt like some kind of rebirth, that would be one thing, but there doesn't seem to be anything like that, and I'm left wondering if I'm just being incredibly dense.

My own family also lost my older brother in an accident when he was a child. It was similar to these characters—the type of accident where, if the parents had been watching closely, he might not have died. I feel that this was the cause of our parents' marriage gradually falling apart. Once, when I visited my aunt's house and we were talking about my parents, the words she said are burned into my memory: "Couples who lose a child tend to have a hard time..." There are times when you blame your partner, times when you blame yourself and shut yourself off, sometimes both, sometimes one or the other, and when one person's heart begins to break, the marriage itself likely breaks down as well.

My mother turned to religion, and my father drowned himself in work, play, women, and alcohol. Neither faced what was important; they just lashed out with their emotions in the moment and were unable to rebuild the family—a dysfunctional household. My mother has passed away now, but I can't help but think that her end was a kind of slow death. Now that I think about it, she must have noticed her physical ailments much earlier, but perhaps she chose not to go to the hospital and waited for it to get worse.
When I complained about the pain of living, her answer was, "It can't be helped. You just have to live..." After my brother's death, she wanted to die but couldn't, so she was just living because she had to—that answer conveyed that feeling painfully. I understand that despair, and while I sympathize with it, the fact that as a parent, the only thing she could tell her living child was "it can't be helped" felt so irresponsible, offered no hope, and was so lonely that it made me angry.

But thinking about it now, I believe my mother was already broken beyond repair. When my brother died, a part of my mother died too. And that never returned to normal. Perhaps because I've experienced this, I couldn't see where the ray of hope was for Osamu in 'On Summer Sand,' and I could only get the impression that, perhaps not immediately, he would slowly rot and decay along with the summer heat.

Joe Odagiri participated in this film as a producer. I thought he must have had extraordinary feelings about it. After all, he himself has lost a child, and I thought that was a major factor in why he wanted to be deeply involved in this work.

So, I watched with great interest to see how he would play a parent who lost a child. Of course, in the film, several scenes like a battlefield occur in the scorching, rainless Nagasaki. But from the perspective of someone like me who has seen the battlefields and hell that parents who lose children experience firsthand, it felt like it was all being wrapped up too neatly. I suppose he has that stubble and long hair because he's unemployed and drifting, but I couldn't help but think, "That's just the usual Joe Odagiri." It's just stylish stubble and stylish long hair. A man who worked at a shipyard—presumably, he wouldn't have had long hair like that and would have worked with a normal hairstyle like Mr. Mitsuishi or Naotaro—there was a "neatness" that was a far cry from the feeling of someone who had despaired and become disheveled. Isn't the approach to character building a bit weak? Having been an actor for over 20 years, I even felt that Haruhiko in 'Maison de Himiko' was more particular about the details of character building.

Since the cast is incredibly luxurious this time, I thought the director had the power to gather people, but looking at these interviews and his background, he is still a relatively up-and-coming young director, and Director Tamada says that the reason the luxurious cast gathered was due to the achievements of Joe Odagiri, who got involved as a producer.

He is a director who does both stage production and film work, isn't he?

I wonder if he hasn't yet reached the level of Director Sang-il Lee of 'Kokuhaku' (Confessions), who can pull a story together and make the audience truly understand the parts he wants to convey through film. Of course, I'm not saying he should make it easy to understand with explanatory dialogue. A film like 'Aftersun' doesn't explicitly state anything, but it uses various pieces of imagery to make the audience think deeply, feel a sense of imaginative progression, and stir up various emotions. 'On Summer Sand' makes me think because I don't understand, but it feels like there's no path for my imagination. So, I end up feeling confused and hitting a dead end.

I am fully aware that this is just a selfish wish, but I would like Joe Odagiri to get involved in—even if it's painful—and produce or star in a work that looks more directly at the suffering of parents who have lost children. Patterns like my family's, where they get hooked on religion, or patterns where they get hooked on suspicious political groups or multi-level marketing, or the sight of parents who lost children to crime victims' support meetings and counseling to somehow keep their sanity. Furthermore, the existence of children left behind by those broken parents, or children who are expected to be strange replacements for the dead child, or children who are suffering from being overprotected and feeling suffocated. People who have become monster parents who are borderline insane. While depicting such various hells, if Joe Odagiri and his wife Yuu Kashii have found some light of hope and overcome their suffering, I wish they would show a path that could save those who are suffering even a little...

Having built up a solid track record as an actor, he is one of the few at the forefront who can headline movies and dramas. He also has the charm and popularity to gather such a talented cast. I really hope he utilizes the platform he has built.

***

Personally, the best cast member was Naotaro Moriyama. At first, I thought, 'Huh? He looks like Naotaro, but is he a different, minor actor?' He had so little aura that I didn't recognize him lol. In contrast to Joe Odagiri, he had the most realistic feel of someone who actually lives and works in a rural area.

I suppose it's questionable to say that someone who isn't a professional actor was the best, but that's how I felt, so it can't be helped.

I felt Mitsushima Hikari's energetic voice didn't quite fit the role, and it felt off the whole time. In something like 'First Love,' where she's resilient and trying to stay positive, that voice is great, but it doesn't sound like someone working in the nightlife industry. It would have been better if she sounded more raspy from drinking or lethargic, but she was too crisp and energetic—it felt like she was about to lecture me while drinking 😅. The acting itself wasn't bad, as she did convey a sense of being annoying, but... I felt it didn't have to be Mitsushima Hikari. I understand that age-wise it's plausible for Akari Takaishi to be her daughter, but she looks youthful enough to pass for someone in her 20s, so it was a bit disappointing that they looked more like sisters than mother and daughter.

There were moments where I thought Takako Matsu's Nagasaki dialect was just a little... 'hmm?' It felt like she wasn't used to using it, or rather, there was no conviction that she had grown up and lived with that language. The same goes for Joe Odagiri, though he spoke the Kyushu dialect in 'Tokyo Tower,' so he felt a bit more accustomed to it. Perhaps this isn't the first time for Matsu-san either, given her long career. The most natural one was, as expected, Mr. Mitsuishi, who is from Kyushu (obviously).

I didn't feel the pain of a mother who lost her son at all from that character, but is that okay? The suffering and frustration over her broken marriage were at the forefront, and the pain over her child's death felt like an afterthought. Her husband is still hung up on it, after all. No matter how much she has a new man, that's a separate issue. I think that pain was at the root of her breaking down and running to Naotaro, but that sense of breaking down didn't really come across. Or rather, the couple of Naotaro and Takako Matsu didn't really click for me. Instead of Naotaro wrapping her in his embrace, it felt like Takako Matsu was pulling him along, holding the initiative, with Naotaro desperately trying to keep up.

I had high expectations for Akari Takaishi because she's playing the heroine in the morning drama 'Bakebake' and I've heard rumors lately that she's a good actress. Hmm, is she a good actress...? She's not bad, but I wasn't intensely drawn to her. It felt like I've seen young actresses act like that before. But did she look 16? 17? I didn't think so. She looked about 26 (sorry <(_ _)>). She is actually 22, apparently. I feel like if she played Mitsushima Hikari's role after gaining some years, it would be a perfect fit. She really suits the atmosphere of the nightlife industry. As for Yuko, the character she played, and Koura, played by Joe Odagiri, they were so inconsistent depending on the scene—sometimes good people, sometimes jerks—that I didn't know how to interpret them (this is a script issue, not an acting one). If you say they were both unstable and borderline schizophrenic due to sadness or frustration, that's one thing, but can a person who has that kind of kindness toward others suddenly do something like that (like suddenly attacking his ex-wife)? And conversely, can a person who is in a state where they can't face others suddenly show that kindness or passion to someone else? ...I couldn't shake that sense of discomfort. If there were some piece that explained the transition, I could follow along, but there were too many abrupt moments.

Fumiya Takahashi is also playing the role of Ken-chan, who speaks the Kyushu dialect, in the morning drama 'Anpan,' so it felt like they overlapped and it was weird lol.
I feel like I might be the only one in Japan, but when Fumiya Takahashi-kun is in the role of Ken-chan in 'Anpan,' is it the shape of his lips that's similar? Or is it because he has a sweet, slightly lisping way of speaking? Sometimes Ryo Kato flashes through my mind 😅. He's in the 'handsome' category, but I wonder if he might surprisingly fit into a gag comedy route if he tried it lol.

Everyone's acting wasn't particularly bad, but I wonder if the problem was the script, which didn't properly prepare highlights for the actors, and the direction, which couldn't draw that out... So, my personal rating is about 6.5 to 7 out of 10.