As part of the Hidden Japan season of movies and documentaries on BBC4 (which coincidentally is being broadcast a matter of weeks before I fly out there myself. Handy or what?) there was a fascinating piece from writer/journalist Marcel Theroux that examines the concept of 侘寂 (wabi-sabi) in contemporary Japanese culture. It was an excellent documentary for a number of reasons, not just because it connects to the idea that forms the namesake of this very blog, but more importantly because it was explained from the point of view of a curious and relatively impartial outsider who was prepared to speak to a variety of people and visit numerous places along the way with candid commentary and an open mind.
iPlayer sadly doesn’t let me take screenies, which I’m guessing is for copyright reasons. It beats plugging in a TV and having to pay the licence fee though
I’m familiar with his younger brother Louis but Marcel Theroux has a more laid-back and, how shall I say, quintessentially British approach to his work that makes it all come across really well to the viewer; even the Wikipedia entry for wabi-sabi is a bit vague and esoteric to my untrained eyes so it was refreshing to see someone start exploring the idea from scratch. Needless to say there’s plenty of stunning photography on show too but it was also Theroux’s style as a presenter and the context in which he was approaching the subject matter that made it such a winner for me. Sorry if it’s region-locked for you or if the link has already expired but this is the full version.
Theroux takes things back to first principles with a flick through some texts on the subject (which he admits the usefulness of which are a bit limited since none of them are actually written by Japanese people) before jetting over to Toyko. He sheepishly admits that he’s never been there before but bravely sets out to find some locals who 1. speak English and 2. are willing to explain what wabi-sabi is to an inquisitive gaijin who has a camera crew in tow.
My first thought is that Japanese people are unfailingly polite and especially among the younger generation many have a respectable grasp of English (which to me is a blessed relief!). My second thought was that, susprisingly, not many Japanese people can explain wabi-sabi either! Whether this is because it’s difficult to convey in a concise definition or whether it’s a concept vanishing in the rat-race of twenty-first century society was the question that formed the core of Theroux’s journey from that point on.
He visits karaoke bars, maid cafés, tea houses, art galleries and even a Buddhist monastery in search of someone, or something, that points him in the direction of his elusive wabi-sabi. I actually shared Theroux’s discomfort and bemusement at the maid café actually – yeah, I know, I’m a closet otaku so I’m supposed to dig that sort of stuff but, in all honesty, I didn’t really get it either. Theroux suspected it’s part of the diversion from the fast-paced lifestyle and lack of personal space that Tokyo inflicts on its inhabitants, much like the karaoke bar he visited with one of his hosts and their friends; I didn’t see any more wabi-sabi in those two places than he did, but I must admit that the karaoke did look like a lot of fun.
The tour of Tokyo and Kyoto highlighted to me how a society that values tradition and modernity simultanously can appear full of contradictions and come across as, perhaps, a little lost and unsure of its identity. What I found telling was how Theroux highlighted how our (a UK-centric view here guys) society isn’t all that dissimilar: we both value our history, like a good cup of tea and don’t mind a bit of rain but have a heightened sense of identity, or at least try to maintain one. I also detected a culture of courtesy similar to our penchant for orderly queueing in public and that subconscious habit of bloody apologising all the time which I see as odd when I think about it but at the same time is normally accepted behaviour. Could this little island be the same as that one in many ways? Watch this space.
Back on-topic, Theroux continued to interview the people he stayed with, passers-by in the street and those he considered experts, with interesting results. Haiku clubs seem to offer a casual easing into Japanese literature but after speaking to a university lecturer and later a master of the tea ceremony it eventually becomes evident that the concept is so ingrained in everyday life that it cannot be explained with a catchy phrase or neat distionary-style definition at all.
After the segment at the end where Theroux spends an eye-opening if uncomfortable twenty-four hour stint at a Zen Buddhist monastery I came to realise that the message of this documentary wasn’t to directly inform the viewer. Theroux seemed to find his wabi-sabi, or the next best thing; ultimately I guess it comes back to the idea that a hundred travel guides aren’t worth the trip. I didn’t really get a handle on why Japan is so different to here, and I suspect Theroux didn’t either. I did however detect some hints that we’re not as different as I suspected in some areas. Perhaps.
Most importantly this documentary proves that wabi-sabi is alive and well but is something that you have to search for, in the tradition of a good traveller. I found Theroux to be a great ambassador for British tourism: he was respectful, slow to judge but conveyed his impressions, both positive and negative, with honesty and was willing to see and do new things, however uneasy it may have felt for him at the time. I suppose that’s the best way, really. Keep an open mind, don’t be afraid to explore, be courteous to the people you meet and they’ll return the favour. I can see some appeal in a wonky teacup but the appeal of maid cafés still eludes me…at least for now.
I’m sorry but you won’t find many Japanese, including younger generation, willing to speak English :)
The degree of politeness in Japan is almost disturbing. Someone commented that there’s sort of barrier that separates Japanese and people of other culture, and it’s very difficult to penetrate that barrier and mingle with Japanese people in an honest manner.
Anyway, I believe one does not have to travel to Japan in a quest to find his wabi-sabi. If one is willing there is plenty to be found nearby!
I seem to remember Hige pointing out some similarities between British and Japanese culture before. Picking up on gaguri’s comment, I might add that you won’t find many Brits willing to speak to tourists in a foreign language — though in our case, usually because of ignorance rather than because of a conscious choice! — and that we have all sorts of barriers too. I once heard an Australian expat describe Brits as ‘socially arctic’. This might be a particular feature of the south-east of England, though.
Anyway, I’m sure we could come up with lots of things that make Britain and Japan seem very unlike if we tried.
I’m not normally one for television documentaries — I was rather put off by the BBC’s use of the stock phrase ‘challenging, funny and ultimately moving’ to describe this one — but it still sounds like it might be worth watching.
I was really compelled by this, but only when Marcel wasn’t doing his rather tedious ‘diary cam’ reflections. As a documentary it had a refreshing realisim to it, like you were actually following someone on holiday, but Marcel just doesn’t have the rigid charisma of his brother – more a sort of awkward, bumbling honesty that took a long time to warm to (but I did, eventually).
There were a few Brit-Colonial moments that made me facepalm – particularly when he refers to spotting a working geisha like, ‘seeing a rare bird in the jungle’. It reminded me of the Victorian travel logs we read in university and made me cringe quite badly (as did his visit to the maid cafe, but that wasn’t his fault). To his credit, though, he never reaches Michael Palin levels of pomposity.
But I agree it was a excellent documentary. It had a subtly clever structure without resorting to snappy editing and Marcel gradually becomes rather likeable in his complete lack of affectation/pretension. Definitely worth watching for those after some authenticity in their portrayal of Japan (it feels like I’m writing that Tokyo Sonata review again!).
@Gaguri: I can’t say I’m surprised actually! I’m guessing that once you travel away from the large cities and tourist spots where there are plenty of students and businesspeople the numbers of English-speakers diminishes. Who knows how many people Theroux had to approach before meeting enough bilingual locals to interview? Fortunately two of the guys I’m travelling with have visited Japan before and know enough of the language to get by.
The documentary gave me an impression of ‘forced politeness’ too. Everyone was eager to help but there was a sense of…guardedness? that was evident at point. Theroux questioned the sincerity of it as well, since it’s more noticeable than even here in the UK. But yeah, another point raised that wabi-sabi as a term is very Japanese but the concept is more universal.
@IKnight: it’s interesting that even within a country there are huge differences in how people react to outsiders and each other. I find northern England to be quite cold and ‘socially arctic’, yet Scots are very outgoing towards tourists. The south-east and especially London in contrast are more of a rat-race but people aren’t so much rude as more inclined to keep themselves to themselves. Just my impression, anyway.
@Hige: I did cringe a bit at Marcel’s occasionally eccentric turns of phrase – he seems quite upper-middle class but I found that ‘lack of affectation/pretension’ refreshing too. It seemed a really honest documentary to me; the sort of thing I wish the BBC made more often. Tokyo Sonata’s preordered BTW, although it won’t be released for some weeks yet.
…..it served its purpose: a bit of self-promotion, a junket and a cheque for the participants, with an hour killed for the schedulers, and a bit of distraction for the viewers. As for the program itself, for the most part it was embarrassing rubbish, as everybody involved is only too well aware……I hope.
I’m afraid I had my toes curled with embarrassment for most of this documentary, but it was an interesting insight into how even the most ‘open minded’ visitors insist in superimposing the preconceptions of Japanese culture they arrived with onto what they find there. The lady with the black and white hair did not describe transience in nature when she was explaining the ‘sabi’ part of wabi sabi, she suggested instead that it was what was immutable within transience that mattered (Remember her saying “I get older, but I’m still me”?). A comment that was then totally ignored as it didn’t fit into his own idea of wabi sabi.
He mused at the beginning that wabi sabi might have become a brand or fashion/lifestyle statement and so mutated horribly away from its original meaning and sensibility. As a few hundred years have passed since its introduction as a word/phrase, and wabi sabi being so interlinked with politics (venerating the old and imperfect surging at a time when a capital city lost its money and power – coincidence?) I think, there, Marcel was certainly onto something.
And strangely enough, the Maid cafe gave a wonderful example of how words describing concepts shift and change – ‘Moe’, when first introduced, meant one thing. Now that the word has been absorbed into popular culture it is now a ‘brand’ and it is something completely different.
Many of Marcel’s questions about wabi sabi could have been answered just as well in the Maid cafe as they were in the monastery – there are parallels between wabi sabi and moe. I’ll try and explain
When moe first emerged as a concept it was used to describe the undescribable, a form of eroticism and aesthetic (erotic) appreciation that couldn’t be categorised or compartmentalised. Moe was not fetishism, nor could it be faked. Moe was innocent, non aggressive and, perhaps above all, unintentional. An example of moe in Western culture might be the glove scene in Scorsese’s “Age of Innocence”. Just substitute Daniel Day-Lewis for someone Michelle Pfeiffer found repulsive (it has creepy connotations too).
With moe being absorbed into popular culture it is no longer what it was, moe is now categorised and compartamentalised, it is even regarded as cute by society.
One could argue that Mr Theroux found an element of wabi sabi in the Maid Cafe. Going back to the idea of immutability – Mr, let’s say, Sato, despite getting older, will always be Mr Sato, and that immutable Mr Sato will always feel satisfaction eating the food from his childhood, in this case ‘omu rice’. It’s simple, unpretentious food that satisfies his soul.
Elements of wabi sabi were everywhere, Marcel ran into it at every turn. But he doggedly pursued his own vision of what he imagined it would be and remained closed off from the “Japanese Heart”, the true home of wabi sabi – where it is kept safest (and purest) as an unspoken, somewhat vague concept, transient but immutable.