A Single Man is aesthetically, an exceedingly gorgeous film. Every aspect feels as if it has been painstakingly considered and polished; from how a shot is framed, to the use of colour and filter, the choice of luxe actors and actresses, the clothes they wear, and how it all comes together and flows in such a deliberate motion. This is initially surprising as Tom Ford, lauded fashion designer, is the director of the film – though after further consideration makes perfect sense. A film as a grand and ambitious fashion spread in motion.

Colin Firth’s brilliant performance as George was highly empathetic and a world away from his usual fair. Julianne Moore comes through with a fine portrayal of a fragile and aging romantic that is unable to accept that her relationship with George will never be more than very close friends; for it is not that George prefers men, but rather that his heart belongs to another man.

The story at times seemed a touch too overwrought and unrealistic; accentuated by the extreme beauty of the film. George’s encounter outside a liquor store with a young insanely good-looking Spaniard exemplified this (though on further reflection was likely a fabrication due to George’s state of mind). Saying this, it was minor against the film’s other achievements.

A Single Man was an affecting experience of visuals that linger – of a mind of a broken man at the edge, and ultimately, release.

Dining at The Buffalo Club is an experience that challenges your sensibilities towards food and its creative possibilities. It isn’t a meal to relieve hunger. It’s experimentation – and we, the willing participants.

Our nearly four hour journey began as we settled in at the chef’s table – intimately designed so that they could serve and introduce every dish.

An envelope contained a menu, made up of simple words listing the ingredients, but none to describe they way in which they were to be prepared. Designed as a memento, they were beautifully formed and marked with the day’s date – perhaps hinting at the transient nature of the creations but not the experience.

Our table adjoined the open kitchen where we could observe the chef’s at work. They were methodical and quick, preparing dish after dish with precision. Hands would sift through ingredients stored in all manner of receptacles, and most were preprepared except most meats. It was fascinating to watch and instead of detracting from the mystery, it deepened our appreciation of this stage of the process.

For fear of repeating myself, each dish was a combination of highly considered visuals, textures and taste. Often you couldn’t tell which component was which ingredient, even when it hit the tongue, but it was always exciting and each dish was highly anticipated.

They were delicious and surprising, hitting on all senses. Not everyone at the table loved every dish, but all could appreciate the love and care in each experiment.

And I’ll leave it at that…

Taster – Manchego

Hickory – Wild Rice, Garlic, Tomato, Onion, Shallots, Basil, Pollen

Smoked Beef Jerky – Lime, Chili, Cilantro, Onion, Peppers, Avocado

Opah – Soy, Honey

Ocean Trout – Nasturtium, Smoked Roe, Fennel, Kettles, Onion, Yolk

Iberico – Olive, Treviso, Walnut, Pawpaw, Endive, Beetroot, Sunchoke, Roquette

Duck – Honeydew, Mandarin, Cashew, Aubergine, Yuzu

Rib – Celeriac, Vanilla, Pumpkin, Pinenut, Pea

Passion – Grapefruit, Blood Orange, Concord

Goats Curd – Strawberry, Goats Milk, Pistachio, Millet, Olive Oil

Buffalo Yoghurt – Date, Citrus Rind, Apricot, Sour Meyer, Carrot

Coconut – Chocolate, Caramel, Custard

Chocolate, Edible Sherbert Filled Sachets

Buffalo Club
1/234 Wickham Street
Fortitude Valley, Queensland, Australia

Vote and more after the jump...

This plate is further evidence that money can’t buy creativity. At least it colour matches the rims. Thanks to Kay for sending it in.

This poll will run for a week and result in this plate being tagged as shame, fame, or tie.

There doesn’t seem to be a preloader so please be patient. That’s all.

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Saying anymore would ruin it.

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…

Damn

“I think this is the place.” she said.

It didn’t matter. We needed to escape the heat.

“Yes, this is the place.”

High ceilings, an Arctic breeze, and a friendly smile. Such friendly people… That’s how you welcome a stranger in.

We sought a refuge. We found a heaven.

All woes were forgotten as our eyes fixated upon and devoured their treats. Two glass cabinets of delicious creations; both heart stopping and mouth watering.

We ordered what we could reasonably consume. We dined on iced chocolates and colourful hemispheres. Their signature, the Shocolate, was especially divine. A miniature chocolate sandwich that one just has to experience.

But eventually it was time to leave. We didn’t wish to, but it was too dangerous to stay. Heavens were not meant for the living.

As a parting gift they let us close to their more artistic sculptural creations.

Claimed to be made entirely of chocolate. No tricks. No wires.

And here the same. Befitting to my personal desires.

And again… except the jug. Understandable, as it already defied gravity; a rule on our blue world.

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We wandered back into the blinding heat. Plotting when we would return.

I hope it’ll still be there when we do.

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Shocolate
3/296 Brunswick Street
Fitzroy, Victoria, Australia

True, anyone who ranks being “progressive” highly on their list of criteria for admiring a band would have written this pop-rock trio off albums ago. Since their major label debut, Sakura Saku Machi Monogatari in 2007, their output has consisted almost entirely of the same material – if you’re not a fan of fist-clenching ballads, sunny pop tunes or catchy rock songs, then this group definitely isn’t for you. I suppose the only thing that has changed between albums is the scale of the production – the soaring orchestration and sweeping piano accompaniments seem to get more and more elaborate and layered each time around, to the point where one wonders if it really is still fair to attribute all the music heard on the record to just three people who are only ever seen playing guitars, the harmonica and singing. Whether or not this is due to an ever-increasing production budget (thanks to their skyrocketing popularity) or down their own musical initiative is something I’m not sure of. It’s probably a bit of both. But again, the question remains – if it’s just more of the same, why bother with it at all?

The answer, simply, is this: they write good songs. And if you’re a fan of this kind of pop, you could even say that they write great songs. It is perhaps the curse of the band that sets the bar so highly on their debut that the prospect of topping it appears improbable at best, and that to deviate from what they have already declared themselves to be may result in a sudden reversal of their initial successes. In light of this, it can then be argued that the act of maintaining the same high level of quality, as opposed to falling short of it, may not be such a bad way to handle things if going above and beyond appears too lofty a goal. And as generations of bands in the past have proven, coming up with consistently good, albeit familiar material is not always as easy as it sounds.

YELL (3rd Single, with translations)

It should be clear by this stage that if you’re already a fan of ikimono-gakari, then Hajimari no Uta will do nothing to change that. The aforementioned fist-clenching ballads are present (YELL, Nakumonka, Futari), as are the sunny pop tunes (Yumemidai, Tenohira no Oto) and catchy rock songs (Joyful, HOTARU NO HIKARI, How to make it). And as they’ve done on a number of their previous albums, they’ve dusted off and included a re-recorded version of a song from their first indie release, the formidably-titled Makoto ni Senetsu Nagara First Album wo Koshiraemashita…, complete with all the fancy production that the modern-day ikimono-gakari listener expects. This time, it’s Akizakura that gets the makeover, and fortunately it doesn’t lose much of its original charm in the process. Hotaka’s searing harmonica remains intact and thankfully the song’s original bluesy urgency can still be felt under its shiny new coat. This, if anything, demonstrates the point made earlier about the consistent quality in their songwriting – here is a band that has been writing solid tunes since their indie days, back when they were little more than two guitars, a harmonica and a vocalist – all the expensive production that’s been added on since is merely the icing on what was already a very tasty cake.

HOTARU NO HIKARI (2nd Single)

But even the most well-formed songs with the most expert production can come off as unlistenable with a poor vocal track, and in that sense, the credit for much of ikimono-gakari’s success must lie squarely at the feet of its talented lead vocalist, Yoshioka Kiyoe. I still remember the first time I heard her sing – it was just over a year ago, a live performance on TV of their gorgeous breakthrough single Sakura. My initial impression was that of a high school girl giving it her all at a singing audition. Her voice lacked that easily-identifiable, professionally-trained warble – it was, in many regards, plain, but it was strong, very strong, and it really felt like the voice of someone, as clichéd as it may sound, singing their heart out. Her performance on this album is no less potent, though sometimes it’s potent to a fault – there are moments that would benefit from a more delicate voice, yet hers seems permanently stuck on maximum strength the whole way through even when she’s taking it slow. But I guess that kind of raw enthusiasm and unbridled feeling is part of what makes her singing so appealing… and a right pain to imitate at karaoke.

Futari (1st Single, Live)

Hajimari no Uta begins as most of its kind would end – with a lengthy, 6-minute title-track ballad that’s got enough emotion and sentimentality packed into it to make even the most hardened cynic recall some long lost memory of standing in the pouring rain, staring after an estranged lover, heartbroken, yet hopeful… or some other overly melodramatic scene like that which, in all likelihood, probably never happened, but for some reason or another, as you listen to the music, feels like it did. And that’s why, after four albums of the same stuff, the ikimono-gakari brand of pop still “works”. They’ve got a knack for weeding out emotions and images, even if it’s done with the subtlety of a blunt pitchfork. Those who don’t mind such blatant manipulation will relish in the well-crafted tales found on Hajimaru no Uta; everyone else, you have been warned.

Tracklist
ハジマリノウタ (Hajimari no Uta)
Epic Records (Sony Music Entertainment), 23/12/09

01. ハジマリノウタ ～遠い空澄んで～ (Hajimari no Uta ~Tōi Sora Sunde~ · The First Song ~Clearing the Faraway Sky~)
02. 夢見台 (Yumemidai · Dream Stage)
03. じょいふる (Joifuru · Joyful)
04. YELL
05. なくもんか (Nakumonka · I Won’t Cry)
06. 真昼の月 (Mahiru no Tsuki · Midday Moon)
07. ホタルノヒカリ (HOTARU NO HIKARI · Light of the Fireflies)
08. 秋桜 (Akizakura · Cosmos [Flower])
09. ふたり -Album Version- (Futari -Album Version- · The Two of Us -Album Version-)
10. てのひらの音 (Tenohira no Oto · Palm Sounds)
11. How to make it
12. 未来惑星 (Mirai Wakusei · Future Planet)
13. 明日へ向かう帰り道 (Ashita e Mukau Kaerimichi · The Return Path Facing Tomorrow)

Band

L-R:
水野 良樹 (Mizuno Yoshiki) – Guitar, Vocals
吉岡 聖恵 (Yoshioka Kiyoe) – Vocals
山下 穂尊 (Yamashita Hotaka) – Guitar, Harmonica

ikimono-gakari – Official Website

Anyone who has been to a run-of-the-mill izakaya will know what this beloved Japanese institution is all about about — cheap food, cheap drinks, a lively atmosphere and permission to forget about all of life’s problems for a few hours with friends and, if you’re at a more traditional establishment, the old lady / old man who runs the place. There are an uncountable number of izakaya in Japan and in this modern age one can find many variations on the basic theme that cater to all manner of budgets and occassions. Perched atop the 52nd floor of the triangular Shinjuku Sumitomo Building, Yuian is one of the ever-growing number of classier izakaya that’s not only equipped with a healthy respect for its humble origins, but also a keen eye for looking very, very sexy.

As you exit the elevator, one can peer into the central abyss of the Sumitomo Building. That’s 52 floors, straight down. Acrophobics might want to give this a miss.

Outside Yuian, you would be forgiven for thinking that this was the entrance to some posh nightclub, or at least somewhere far more expensive.

The genkan, where you take off your shoes before entering the main dining area. The staff take your shoes and stow them away while you dine, and bring them back out for you when you leave. And no, that’s not me. I can’t pose like that.

The modern, beautifully-lit interiors that combine traditional wooden and tatami textures with stone and glass are a joy to dine in.

The dining space is one long passage that wraps around the building’s triangular shape. We were seated in the first section, which accomodates a series of long tables set against tall windows overlooking Tokyo, and a counter bar area where you can watch the chefs slice and dice. Further along the passage are a kotatsu area and a number of decorated private rooms nestled into the corners.

We ordered the “Yuian Course”, as detailed above. Many izakaya automatically impose a small seating charge (Yuian’s clocks in at just over 500yen per person), but at Yuian, you can waive it by ordering a course meal like the one above instead of going à la carte. This one was one of the mid-range courses — the cheapest (excluding tax) was 3500yen and the most expensive, seafood and crab-laden one was somewhere around 7500yen. Prices are per head and there is a minimum 2 people per course and 1 course per table. A somewhat outdated menu, with relevant ballpark prices, can be found here.

So without further ado, the course in photos.

The appetizers.

Tuna and whelk sashimi. Whelk, as I was informed by my scientifically-minded friend, is a kind of sea snail.

Fried shrimp and vegetable chips.

A small fillet of grilled sweet soy sauce-marinated salmon.

Green tea tofu. Looks like green tea ice cream, but unfortunately it just tasted like tofu.

Our nabe (hot pot) simmering away.

Chicken and assorted vegetables stewing in one very tasty soup that, by virtue of it being a hot pot, got tastier by the second.

After we’d finished our hot pot, the same pot and leftover broth was used to cook these udon and spring onions.

To cap it all off, a small dollop of sorbet which tasted surprisingly like sake. It was good.

With our bellies full from the course meal, drinks and the complimentary hot green tea, we relaxed and enjoyed each other’s company in the presence of one of what was undoubtedly one of the best dining views in town.

If you’re lucky enough to be seated at the window edge of the table, as I was, this is literally what you see when you turn your head to look outside. A constellation of lights as far as the eye can see. Dazzling.

Everything we were served went down well. Almost all of it was Japanese-style comfort food — very simple and undeniably satisfying. After all, despite what the fine dining-esque surroundings may lead you to believe, Yuian is still an izakaya at heart.

Service was polite and friendly enough. Our smiling young waitress was attentive and patient with our group’s combined lack of Japanese ability, although she didn’t seem to be aware of a few of the restaurant’s basic ordering rules — such as the “one course per table” rule — until after we’d finished placing our carefully selected individual course orders. Either that, or one of her introductory menu explanations went completely over our heads (quite likely).

English-only speakers will be pleased to know that there is, to my knowledge, at least one English-speaking staff member on hand (a wonderful thing when placing reservations over the phone), and furthermore, the menu is also conveniently available in English. I suppose they must get their fair share of foreigners, or at least locals entertaining foreigners.

And rightly so. Yuian is a top contender for anyone without a bubble-era budget wanting to impress for a special occassion. The stunning views are undoubtedly the restaurant’s biggest draw, but even without them, the sophisticated interiors really do elevate the ambience above that of the average izakaya. In fact, when we first arrived, the windows were all big panels of fogged-up grey due to the recent rain… but that didn’t stop us from gushing at how nice the place looked on the inside. As for the food, our course consisted of largely familiar fare but sometimes that’s all one needs to wind down and forget about all the troubles, headaches and pressures left behind in the world far, far below.

Yuian
52F Shinjuku Sumitomo Bldg.
2-6-1 Nishi-Shinjuku
Shinjuku-ku
Tokyo
東京都新宿区西新宿2-6-1 新宿住友ビル52F

I’m not even sure where to begin with describing what’s wrong with this film. So I guess I’ll try starting with what was done right. Firstly, the special effects were very nice. But how many big budget films these days, especially ones bearing the Terminator name, can you honestly say have bad special effects?  Yeah, that’s right. Second of all, um, well… that’s it. Sorry. I tried.

Now, the bad. The direction by McG has no… direction. Even the action is a bore (this is bad for a Terminator film). The story, which in hindsight had enough meat on it to make it worthwhile, instead plays out as if the writers were making it up as they went along. Most characters exist with literally no purpose whatsoever, unless they were written in to please fans who know more about the Terminator universe than the cinemagoer like myself who has only seen the films. Every single plot turn is so predictable that the accompanying flashbacks that are supposed to help the audience connect the dots will seem nothing less than patronising to anyone who hadn’t fallen asleep from the start of the film.

And there’s too many “new” Terminators. In my opinion the previous films worked so well (okay, maybe not so much the third one) partly because there was only one menace, one threat, one hunter that was so fearsomely powerful, so thoughtlessly determined and seemingly unstoppable that you couldn’t help but get a thrill out of watching the Connors try and outrun and outsmart such a nightmarish foe. The despair and fear was concentrated in one villain, one symbol of a horrifying future. Now that the film puts us in the future, there’s all sorts of Terminators — massive ones as tall as skyscrapers, smaller “scout” ones, silly motorbike ones and even fish ones that live underwater — and we are no longer scared, because now it’s just a bad videogame where every enemy has a weak point and where destroying them is more of a chore than an something bordering on the impossible. And since nearly all the characters — human and machine — are so one-dimensional, we no longer care who “wins the war”, either (not that we’d ever expect Hollywood to let the machines win).

And if that wasn’t bad enough, the film’s ending does nothing to save you from feeling like you just wasted your time. In fact, it more or less tells you that you have.

This is going to be one of those series’ that I’m sure will get a “reboot” a bit further down the line, if any more even get made after this, though I’m not sure how successful any re-imagining of the series could be without transporting us all back to the 80s and 90s when Arnie was still fit and legally able to fill what is essentially his role, and when the idea of a vast, world wide computer network was still new enough to frighten a population who hadn’t yet warmed to it thanks to fun things like social networking and watching videos on YouTube. But it’s 2009 now, and The Matrix has already done a fine job of updating this cautionary tale of man vs. machine for modern audiences. It may very well be time to terminate this saga before it gets any more stale.

Now to the “Sony Building” part of this article’s title. I caught this film showing there this afternoon. For those unaware, the Sony Building is located in Ginza, Tokyo, and exhibits all the latest Sony gear from cameras to laptops to videogames to music players, and so on and so forth, most of which you can get hands-on with. On Level 8 of this spiralling building, however, is the “Communication Zone OPUS”, which is used to showcase the company’s latest audio and visual technology. It presently boasts a colossal 200 inch “4K” screen (4,096 x 2,160 resolution, four times higher than full HD) and 7.1 channel surround sound speakers. But the best thing about it are the free shows that Sony puts on to demonstrate its power, such as the Terminator Salvation Blu-Ray they’d been screening until today (the last day for this particular movie). That’s right, they’re free! Simply check the theatre schedule outside and turn up on time. Though be warned that seats are limited, not only in number but in terms of the amount of comfort and back support they provide, and the room and seating itself is set up in such a way that anyone who is not in the first row will most likely have some bottom part of the screen obscured by the people in front of them. This will be of particular concern to you if you are bringing a Japanese friend who cannot understand English, as getting a bad seat will mean that they probably won’t be able to read the subtitles. I suppose the opposite will also be true for non-Japanese speakers if the show is in Japanese with English subtitles…

And because you all probably just ignored what I wrote and scrolled down to see if there were any pictures, here are some photos of a big T-600 that was on display on the ground floor.

No high-fives? Aw.

Say cheese!

OPUS – Sony Building

I heard about this festival purely by chance. Teaching as usual one early Saturday afternoon, the bread-and-butter question of English conversation teaching — “So what are you doing this weekend?” — prompted one of my students to mention that she was going to her daughter’s university festival later in the day. Incidentally, I had just been to my first Japanese university festival not one week earlier at Bunka University in Shinjuku (which, amongst other fun things, put on some great fashion shows). After extracting more information, I discovered that my student’s daughter attended Waseda University, which so happened to be a short bicycle ride from my house. Furthermore, celebrities like singer/actress Mika Nakashima and gravure idol Aki Hoshino were scheduled to make appearances, so, having nothing better to do after work, I quickly penciled it in.

As fate would have it, certain things came up that prevented me from going later that day. Fortunately, though, the festival was running over the whole weekend, so I managed to catch a full day on Sunday. For one reason or another, it didn’t even cross my mind to write a post about it later, so I didn’t take many great photos to document it. Apologies. The best of what I’ve got is here, but I almost wrote this without including them because there’s just so much I didn’t capture.

There were lots of people.

There was an eating competition.

There was a big stage out at the front of the Okuma Memorial Hall, named after the university’s founder (a statue of whom can be seen in this article’s cover image).

There was cosplay.

There were shows that made no sense to me.

And there was music.

To say that I was blown away is an understatement. From what I gather, the festival is largely organised by the students themselves. They construct the food stalls, and later, after it’s over, they tear it all down. They cook the food and prepare the drinks. They decorate the campus and paint the signage. They create the printed festival guide. They hang their own artwork on the walls. They bring their own flotsam to sell at the flea market (which was labelled, misleadingly, though probably unintentionally, as the “Free Market”). And they put on their own shows.

And what shows they were. Everyday university life may be a drag, but clearly these students make the most of their extra-curricular time, joining any number of the staggering 400 or more uni clubs on offer, and at the festival, they put their talents on show for all to see. Students showing off their skills in a-capella singing, beatboxing, traditional dancing, martial arts, stage shows, cheerleading and street performance could be found entertaining crowds of peers and visitors alike. Crazies dressed (and cross-dressed) in all manner of costumes added dashes of humour to the already vibrant scene. There was even a nunchaku battle. Don’t believe me? Behold!

My personal highlight, however, was unquestionably the discovery of “Building #7″, or “the music building” as it were on that day. This was a building, perhaps 4 or 5 floors high, with no distinguishing external features, packed with student bands performing in almost every second room all day. Rooms that ordinarily existed as dull classrooms were transformed into colourful disco dancehalls and insulated concert venues, complete with appropriate ambient lighting and hand-made decorations, each with a full day’s lineup of student musicians ready to have some fun.

Perhaps more than the sheer number of bands was the number of styles to choose from. Each room typically catered to a particular musical genre, whether it be rock, soul, pop, jazz, classical, punk, ska, heavy metal, or, more often than not, delightful combinations of these. I felt like I was in some kind of fantastic music factory, running up and down the corridors past rockers in their leather jackets, ragtime girls with ukeleles and grungy guys in 90s flannel as an eclectic melange of sounds pounded at and seeped through the walls on both sides. It was quite a surreal experience, and very dream-like, opening each of the nondescript doors to discover what new musical worlds lay behind them. The rooms were arenas; and backstage was in the hallways. I couldn’t believe that such a marvellous place could exist, and despite being thrilled at the find, was saddened by the fact that it would only last for a little more than the afternoon I was there. After stumbling upon this place, I didn’t leave until it was all over, many hours later.

Bands typically played 20 minute sets before hastily unplugging for the next band to set up, so overstayed welcomes were nonexistant. After a tour of the entire building, I settled on a room on the ground floor that played host to, as I later found out, “The Naleio”, otherwise known as “The Waseda University Official Circle”. This isn’t one band, but a group of bands that I suppose are “good enough” to represent the university under such an official-sounding banner. They’re billed as purveyors of soul, blues, funk and R&B, which is more or less right up my alley. All the bands that I saw put on great shows.

One particularly memorable performance was by a band called “The Fenders”, fronted by a sweaty fellow who did a mighty fine chanelling of James Brown. He was supported by a drummer, guitarist, bassist, keyboardist, two backup singers and three brass players (yes, a bit more fleshed out than your average student garage band). The talent was undeniable. I caught up with him after the show, as his English on stage was excellent to the point that I (and other Japanese in the crowd) thought he was actually an international student, and I was curious to find out where he was from. Turns out he was Japanese and had never lived abroad, despite what his English skills suggested.

I asked him what he was studying, and he replied “political science and economics”. Then, something disheartening occurred to me. All the office drones I see on the trains and streets every day, grinding away like robots, all the wearied salarymen and decorative OLs (office ladies) settled into the most predictable lifestyle in Japan… a good deal of them were probably once part of energetic bands just like this guys’, or talented performance troupes like the one that was entertaining the masses outside. They may even have shed an emotional tear as their audiences begged them for an encore performance after their last song, as did one girl I saw at the day’s end. Well, that’s life, I thought, but it was also sad to think how such vibrant colours should flourish for such short periods of time before being muted and packed away.

Which leads me to the point of this article, if there ever was one, for those still reading. Do get along to one of these university festivals if you can. Before these kids go on to become the next political leaders, or the founders of obscenely successful companies, or famous entertainers or sports figures, or even something humble and anonymous, this is your fleeting chance to see them at play. I obviously can’t vouch that every university festival will be on the scale of Waseda-sai — certainly, Bunka-sai the week before was nowhere near as mammoth — and such events might not make it into every festival listing and tourist calendar, but in my opinion they all exist in a plane of their own. Whereas “traditional” Japanese festivals often have deep cultural roots that stretch back for hundreds of years, these university festivals are very much rooted in the now and offer a unique glimpse into the lives and talent of the modern youth of Japan. There is a certain appeal, especially to the under-30s I’d imagine, of attending a festival that is more or less like a giant cross-campus university party (in this case the festivities also extended to the nearby Toyama campus). And it is giant — here is a quick scene from the closing party at the end of the day:

Shortly afterwards, a number of giant blue balloon balls were deployed into the crowd. Then, shortly after that, a man in a Winnie the Pooh outfit came on stage, with a rather large bright blue bazooka, and after some moments of dancing, fired a huge volley of golden streamers into the air. It was a fittingly oddball end to a raucous weekend, but it also signalled the beginning of what lies at the end of all great parties — the big, big clean-up.

Waseda-sai — Official Website (Japanese Only)
Waseda University – Wikipedia
The Naleio – Official Website

If the cover video above was your first encounter with Mameshiba, you’ll no doubt still be wondering what on earth is going on (understanding the Japanese doesn’t really help). But that’s just an introduction. The meat of the Mameshiba… thing (for want of a better word) are the following 30-second animated shorts, complete with annotated English translations. Watch them and see if you’re any wiser by the end.

I first encountered these videos playing at variety stores like Tokyu Hands early on in the year. Surrounded by Mameshiba plush toys, keychains and other such products bearing the image of the cute critters, it appeared to be simply another set of promotional videos for yet another range of wacky characters vying for the attention of a population who must surely be long de-sensitised to this kind of thing by now. At the time, I didn’t understand the majority of what was being said, but it soon became clear that whatever news these cute creatures were imparting in their impossibly sweet voices were (literally) casting dark shadows on the activities of their hapless human acquaintances. I’m not sure whether it was the simple, hand-drawn presentation, or the hilarious heavenly music that marked each character’s appearance, or merely the sheer bizareness of the entire concept that sucked me in. It was probably all of those things. In any case, it wasn’t long until I found myself watching them at every opportunity, even when I’d already seen them all an embarassing number of times before.

But it’s moot to point out that Japan is no stranger to cute characters, armies of which have been created to promote nigh-on everything under the sun – material and abstract – for decades. So what makes Mameshiba any different?

Well, what I didn’t find out until much later was that the bulk of these promotional videos came out before any of the now-ubiquitous merchandise was even conceived. That’s why it’s impossible to tell what they’re trying to sell, because at the time of their release, there weren’t any products to sell. The only thing being promoted (quite heavily, and across a wide spectrum of media) was the Mameshiba brand itself.

The company behind the campaign is Dentsu, the largest advertising agency in Japan and one of the biggest in the world. Their idea, which I find fascinating, was simple. Instead of creating a brand around an existing product, they reversed the paradigm and created the brand first, blanketed the media with it and then waited for other companies – those that would actually manufacture the yet-to-be-decided products – to approach them. And if you’ve ever set foot into a Japanese toy or novelty store this year, you’d be hard pressed to deny that the idea paid off. Big time. (How big? Have a skip through the following video by a fellow Mameshiba fan taken at a Mameshiba event in Odaiba and you’ll soon get an idea of how many products this brand has spawned).

I’m not an advertising guru by any stretch, so I’m not sure if this kind of thing has been done before. If you know of any similar campaigns, please share them in the comments below. Otherwise, good luck getting that Mameshiba theme tune out of your head.

Mameshiba – Curiosite
mameshibavideo’s Channel – YouTube
Dentsu – Wikipedia
Mameshiba – Official Website (Japanese)