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Essays 2006-2007
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“The Royal Tenenbaums” (2001); Directed by Wes Anderson
Steve Balsarini
One would think that at this point, I would learn to keep my big mouth shut.
I have received more than my share of grief from friends, family members, and coworkers alike for my taste in movies. Most of the time I just remind them that at least I have some. My punishments are usually mild; being gently chided for rolling my eyes while overhearing a female colleague gush about whatever mindless, formulaic “chick flick” she and her girlfriends saw the previous evening on their “Girls’ Night Out”. Sometimes, though, the penalties are more severe, escalating to near fisticuffs and accusations of disloyalty to the state (“What are you, a commie?!”) as the result of stating my dislike for “World Trade Center”, and dismissing it as ham-handed propaganda.
It seems, however, that if I ever needed to be careful about what I criticized, I especially need to be careful about what I praise as well. The consequences can often be as, if not more, dangerous.
I recently sat down at a local coffee house with several friends and acquaintances, and the topic of movies once again reared its ugly head. After a little good-natured banter over who was the better Bond (Sean Connery, of course), we started talking about our “All-Time-Favorites”. When it came to my turn, I paused, looked thoughtfully up toward the coffee bar menu, and said, “You know, I really liked ‘The Royal Tenenbaums.’”
The rest of the table froze. They seemed to slowly recoil, looking at each other with silent dismay. They then turned back to me, and then back again at each other, stupefied. It was as if they had actually heard me say, “You know, I really liked that ‘Mein Kampf.’”
Kellie, the aforementioned chick-flick addict, seemed to be the most upset among them by my statement. She was the first to speak.
“Yeah, I saw it. I didn’t get it.” She said, in a derisively challenging tone.
The others, in silent agreement, all seemed to nod almost imperceptibly to each other as they turned toward me in unison, awaiting my response.
Common sense and decorum would normally have caused me to simply demur mildly at that moment with a passive chuckle and feign interest the rest of the evening as the table discussed the relative merits of gravity-defying light-saber fights versus the poignant and moving love soliloquy Keanu Reeves delivers to finally win the heart of the heroic, strong-willed, modern woman. Unfortunately, this would not be the course of events that this particular evening would take.
Inexplicably, I chose to throw caution to the wind that night, and decided to defend my choice with all of the ferocity with which it had been assailed.
If I had ever felt any ambivalence toward “The Royal Tenenbaums” before that moment, that ambivalence was now gone. I now LOVED this movie, and I would be damned if I was going to sit there and let anybody, least of all “Chick Flick Kellie”, malign what might now be, to me, the greatest motion picture ever made. Kellie had made a terrible miscalculation, and it was now time for her to pay.
First, I would describe how, from the beginning, the very structure of the film, organizing the story into chapters, punctuated by the narration of Alec Baldwin (ironically, probably his finest work), makes it possible for us to appreciate fully the odyssey of Royal, the patriarch of the Tenenbaum family, and his exceptional, albeit presently troubled children: Chas, a financial genius; Margot, a highly praised playwright; and Ritchie, a tennis superstar, all fallen upon hard times. We see them struggle, fail, struggle again, and finally find some sort of fulfillment. It is an epic journey.
I would then describe how painfully well written and developed the characters are, each with his or her own distinct talents, terrible weaknesses, and difficult challenges; how the cast, a group of freakishly talented actors, breathe life into these characters while allowing their own celebrity personas to disappear completely within them.
The script’s themes – early promise and unfulfilled potential, loneliness, shame, unrequited love, regret, redemption, and acceptance– are universally accessible and speak directly to the heart. At various times in all of our lives, we have felt as these people have felt, and we ought to be fascinated when the mirror is held up before us so uniquely.
I could already hear her sneering her complaints. “People don’t act like that; People don’t talk like that! Nothing happens! They don’t do anything!” To that I would only need to say that it is that very restraint and formality in the action and dialogue that makes the story so effective. We are allowed to be moved by the power of the words; they are never diminished by any ridiculous “over-the-top” performance. Jim Carrey would never get within twenty miles of a Wes Anderson set. Add to that the amazing cinematography, replete with montages and slow zooms, the marvelous sets and costumes, the quirky New York City landscapes, and top it all off with an incredible music soundtrack, and only a Neanderthal could miss all of the beauty and charm in this film.
I thought briefly about that car insurance commercial with the cavemen, and for just a moment pictured Kellie, with a gigantic unibrow, protruding teeth, and a bone through her nose. Hmmm. The time for her come-uppance was now at hand.
I never did get to defend “The Royal Tenenbaums” to these people. Rather than going directly into my arguments, as I should have done, I decided to start with a vaguely glib insult, saying something about “Pearls before swine”, making sure to say the word swine just as my eyes locked with Kellie’s. Understanding my intent perfectly, her eyes flashed with rage, and she shrieked, “Did you just call me a pig?!” Cursing like a sailor, she then flung the entire contents of her Grande Mocha Frappucino all over my face and chest.
I remember as I sheepishly walked out the door, amid the jeering and laughter of the entire room, covered in coffee, chocolate and milk, hearing a pleading voice in the back exclaim desperately, “Oh, come on, don’t you get it?! They’re snakes…ON A PLANE!”
History of Japanese Music
Dan Stanton
Japanese culture is popular worldwide (Faiola). Japanese movies, video games, and television programming often use current Japanese music. Because the music is in the background, it is easier to miss what a Japanese listener hears automatically. A study of traditional Japanese music informs the non-Japanese listener of the influences on Japanese composers that he or she would not have otherwise known about. If these influences seem strange to the American listener, he or she may be inclined to think that Japanese music is strange because of those influences, without realizing that the musical tradition of Japan is as valid as any other musical tradition. For those who have grown up in America, music means rock, pop, country, soul, funk, jazz, classical, electronic, or another genre. Each person has his or her own taste. Most of the time, Americans export music rather than import it. Even imported music is often stylistically similar to American and Western music. Listening to this kind of music can give an impression that all music has a steady and regular tempo, a main melody, and a sound that is "pure," separate from the day-to-day noise of life. There are exceptions to these generalizations even among some music artists of America, but, most often, the people that choose not to listen to the music artists that "break the rules" believe that their choices in music are more refined. The generalizations about American music, after considering all of Japanese music, seem to be arbitrary constraints rather than universal rules. A new perspective is gained after studying something as foreign as Japanese traditional music.
Some of popular Japanese music sounds like music of the USA, except, perhaps, that the voices are singing in Japanese. What a casual American listener may not realize is that some Japanese music artists try to emulate American and Western music and have been doing so for about the last fifty years. The presence of American soldiers in Japan after World War II left some Japanese with a taste for modern American music (Fujie 205). After the war was over in Japan, many Japanese believed Western music was better than Japanese music. Nationalism had dominated Japan's culture previous to and during the war so much that being defeated in war was a defeat for their culture. Japanese musicians then studied American music for its underlying spirit and, through dedicated practice, learned to imitate it (Galliano 8-9).
Other pieces of popular Japanese music might sound strange to American listeners because a particularly Japanese tone of voice or chord is used, but the underlying musicality is still very similar to American music. Since the late 1950s, Japanese music artists have combined what they know of American music with a Japanese sound, creating a new genre called Japanese pops, now just J-pop. This music is still a major influence on Japanese popular music today (Fujie 207). Another Japanese music genre called enka can sound rough and overdramatic to an ear that is used to Western music. The genre was a way of returning to the musical traditions of Japan from before Western influence. Now, the Japanese accept enka as a musical genre on its own (Fujie 207). Though it may sound like the music of a bygone era, it only happens to be the music that currently sounds the most like traditional Japanese music.
To the Japanese, all sound can be considered musical (Galliano 7). In contrast to Western music, environmental sounds can be considered to be part of a musical performance rather than superfluous and interfering noise. Music is sound that originates with the intention to convey meaning. This attitude is drawn from the idea that all sound carries meaning. For example, in ritualized archery, the teacher pays close attention to the sounds that the student makes while standing, drawing the bowstring, and releasing the arrow (Sukiyaki). Every change in timbre can relate the artist's feelings to the listener. This explains why proper use of tone, sound, and silence through the concentration of the artist is considered to be necessary to good music.
Being "clean" does not make a sound good. For example, one string instrument, the shamisen, has a string that is set to rattle against the neck, making the sound noisy on purpose. Silence used in music is not just the absence of sound; it fills the gap between notes with meaning and relates what comes before with what comes after (Galliano 14-15). Silence is not used just to have a little rest between phrases. The silence is part of giving an impression just as the tone is a part. The ideal performer is single-minded in his or her playing or singing. Focused sound production is what makes music, giving expression to feeling and thought of the music artist. The ideal listener is also focused on the sound, following every shading and nuance. Whatever interpretation of the music that there is occurs as the music is heard, according to the style of the music. Each style has a customary way in which ideas and thoughts are expressed, and knowing a style allows one to experience them in the moment of listening to it.
For an average American, Japanese traditional music is a long way from home, and knowledge of it is not necessary for the appreciation of modern Japanese music. Regardless, this history is still valuable. The history of traditional Japanese music reflects on the Japanese themselves by showing them to have been at times disciplined, respectful, insightful, and adaptable. Modern Japanese music seen in the context of its history gains a new dimension. Granted that not all Japanese music is good, an understanding of its history will help to explain the musician's motivations in making the music, giving it more meaning.
Japanese music that was free of the influence of Western nations was known as zokuyo (Fisher). Even this music probably had some extra-national influences, but they were from the other direction. Influences on Japanese music from China and Korea existed in Japan since the third century AD (Fisher). Most music at this time would have been minyo, the folk songs that were only popular in their own specific region of Japan (Fisher). They would be sung non-professionally, as a part of life. The songs would often be about work or love or they would be such that they could be sung in accompaniment to work or games (Fujie 202). The songs could have been about farming rice, drawing fish nets, or they could have just been lullabies (Fisher). Minyo was the music most closely involved with the common people.
Over time, minyo has changed with the introduction of new instruments, the appearance of larger cities, and the Meiji revolution of the mid-nineteenth century. Once the sanshin, qin, and shikyoshi (a lute, zither, and end-blown flute, respectively) were introduced into Japan from China, they were gradually incorporated into minyo along with drums and bamboo flutes. Eventually, the instruments would be modified and become known as Japanese instruments (Fisher). Minyo would adapt to the available instruments, even if the only instrument was a human voice (Fujie 202). During the Nara period (710-794), minyo continued to develop through dance and local festivals (Fisher). The songs would spread with the people, so they would naturally be found at ports and stations ("Japanese"). After people moved away from their respective regions, being able to hear minyo from where they grew up would induce a feeling of nostalgia (Fujie 202). Also, song could be spread from town to countryside to become associated with the rural area even as the townsfolk move on to new music ("Japanese"). The music was closely tied to the lives of the people, so it had to change with them.
For as long as the Japanese have been keeping written records, there has been evidence of a musical tradition in the Imperial Court (Galliano 6). These records predate the Nara period (710-794) (Fisher). They come from the court of the dominant clan of that time, the Yamato clan ("Japanese"). Concurrently, China's culture was growing under the well-established Tang Dynasty (618-907) (Galliano 5). The Chinese music culture was strong enough to reach the Japanese Imperial Court near the beginning of the seventh century (Fujie 201), and the Court adopted it (Galliano 6). At first, Chinese musicians played this new music on Chinese instruments (Fisher). Similar music came from the nations of the Korean peninsula and another country from the area where Vietnam is now. Afterward, for a time, Japan was secluded from influences of the world outside. During this time, the Japanese learned to play gagaku, the orchestral music of the Imperial Court. During the ninth century, the music from China and the Vietnam region became known as "pieces of the left" and music of the Korean peninsula became known as "pieces of the right." Distinctions between the two included different instruments and other more subtle differences such as entering the stage from different sides ("Japanese"). Time apart from outside influences during the Heian period (794-1184) also allowed the Japanese to modify and experiment with this new music. After that, the music was considered Japanese, but, even so, it was remembered that the music was originally foreign (Galliano 6).
During the Nara period, Buddhist ritual songs and chants became known among the Buddhist priests (Fisher). Buddhism itself had existed in Japan since the mid sixth century ("Japanese"). However, it wasn't until the eleventh and twelfth centuries that Buddhism gained enough of a following among the high class for its music to be entered into Japanese culture so much that its chanting was developed formally. By this time, Japan was entering the Kamakura period (1185-1333) (Fisher). This Buddhist chant would be known as shomyo (Fujie 201). The chant would be used to recite religious texts. There were three types depending on what language the chant was in: Bonsan for Sanskrit, Kansan for Chinese, and Wasan for Japanese ("Japanese"). In the Kamakura period, gagaku became less popular and shomyo gained a place in Japanese culture. Overall, the most popular songs of this time were sung dramatic narratives (Fisher). During this time, there were not any major stylistic changes in any kind of music ("Japanese"). This leads directly to the Muromachi period (1333-1568) (Fisher).
The Noh theater known widely today was developed at the beginning of the Muromachi period ("Japanese"). Before then, it was known as sarugaku, a popular form of comic acting; "saru" means "monkey," in this case ("Japanese"). Kan'ami Kiyotsugu and Ze'ami Motokiyo, a father and son that both perform ed sarugaku, added a shortened form of shomyo, called imayo, and a type of dance of professional female dancers, called kusemai, to sarugaku. This new form was known as sarugaku noh, and is currently known as just noh. It flourished under the support of shogun Ashikaga Yoshimitsu, but in the Edo period, new shoguns believed the noh drama to be overly simple and dramatic. Then, it was adopted by the samurai as their entertainment because many plays involved the samurai code of ethics ("Japanese").
Noh itself is a masked drama ("What is"). The hayashi is the ensemble that makes the music for noh. It generally consists of the nohkan (a flute), kotsuzumi (a handheld drum), taiko (mounted drum), and ji (chorus). The musical style of noh theater is known as yokyoku, and shomyo strongly influenced its vocal style (Fujie 201). In general, noh uses eight beat patterns without equal divisions (Fujie 200). The percussionists may also make theatrical yells, called kakegoe, to signal emotion and theme in the story and to control the rhythm, helping other musicians to keep their places (Emmert).
For a time, Japan existed in a state of civil war, but the efforts of Oda Nobunaga, Toyotomi Hideyoshi, and Tokugawa Ieyasu brought Japan together under one government ("Japanese"). The different classes of citizen were then strictly defined and members of each class could only interact with its own members (Galliano 16). Because of that, each class upheld its own music and its own customs. Commoners could hold on to their minyo, and they might entertain themselves with puppet theater, known as bunraku. Merchants had kabuki, a very unique and extraordinary dramatic performance. Noh, as it was already noted, was the music of the samurai and military aristocracy. The highest class kept the tradition of gagaku music. The two forms of entertainment that were still developing were bunraku and kabuki, both of which rely on joruri, the style used when voice is used to tell a story ("Japanese"). Therefore, they both rely somewhat on the musical principles established by noh, rakugo (a way of voicing comedy), and kodan (a way of voicing history).
The Edo period lasted from 1615 to 1867, and during this time Japanese music flourished (Fujie 202). Kabuki theater was the popular entertainment for a rising merchant class; Noh was the preferred performance of the samurai. The common people had songs to accompany some times of their lives, classified as minyo, but they might also enjoy the drama of bunraku puppetry. The Buddhist monks were generally satisfied with shomyo with which they would recite their texts. The upper class adhered to the traditional music of the royal court: gagaku. Different classes had different entertainment. This distinction stems from the idea of shi-no-ko-sho, that different classes should be separate. Each class would live, work, and entertain itself as separately as possible from any others. An encounter between classes had to follow the rules of social etiquette. The member of a lower class had to be humble and honor the higher, even if the person of the lower class was more powerful in wealth or strength than the other. Meaningful interaction between classes was discouraged (Galliano 17). This separation allowed different musical styles to develop in different directions simultaneously.
During the Edo period, there were also specific types of music that became widely known. The people of Japan could travel unrestricted once it was unified. Unification brought peace, and so, many samurai no longer had a job nor masters that would employ them. By definition, this made the samurai into ronin. They lost their way of life, and some of them became Buddhist monks ("Interview"). As monks, they could become komuso, wanderers that would wear baskets over their heads and play the shakuhachi (Fujie 202). They would play music that was believed to aid in healing. The basket would hide their face from sight, helping the monks to lose attachment to their self-concept. However, this same anonymity was valuable to the government ("Interview"). Spies would dress as komuso (Fujie 202). Some of these would play a shakuhachi large enough to double as a weapon ("Japanese"). Also, blind biwa players would travel from town to town retelling parts of "Heike Monogatari" ("The Tales of the Heike [Clan]") to make their living. This music was known as Heike biwa, and the players dressed as Buddhist monks though they probably had no personal nor special connection to the religion ("Japanese"). Once the shamisen was introduced, there were also blind shamisen players. Their music was known as tsugaru shamisen (Fisher). Much development on the shakuhachi and shamisen can be credited to these groups of travelers. The influence of the blind musicians was strong because they became the teachers of the shamisen. So strong was their influence that the shamisen lacked precise musical notation until the twentieth century (Malm 6).
For the koto, there were two new types of music: jiuta and shirabemono. In jiuta, the music would alternate between vocal and instrumental sections. During the vocal sections, the koto would become accompaniment. In shirabemono, the music generally followed a pattern: a basic theme would be presented, followed by variations in that theme; after a number of variations, a new theme would follow, and the song would end (Fujie 202). The komuso, Heike biwa, and tsugaru shamisen were all widely known in Japan, but sankyoku was more popular than any of those. Sankyoku is a three-piece ensemble ("san" means "three") consisting of the koto, shamisen, and shakuhachi (Fujie 202). Another popular new style of music among the common people was the kouta or "short song." In it, the vocalist employed a nasal singing voice, called hanagoe, to sing about someone or something that they had strong feelings for, often a lover or their hometown (Fujie 203).
Kabuki theater is dramatic, esoteric, extravagant, and demanding of the performers. The music of it, called nagauta, has been often overlooked as a part of Japanese musical history (Malm xiii). Essential to kabuki is the jōruri narrative form. Around the thirteenth century, a style called sekkyō-bushi formed, in which Buddhist parables were retold as ballads with accompaniment from a biwa. This would be an early ancestor of narratives with shamisen. It would eventually come to be known as sekkyō-jōruri, but not before the appearance of a narrated romance named Jōruri-hime Monogatari Funidan Zōshi in the sixteenth century. This is what establishes jōruri. There would also be oku-jōruri in which the narrator would keep rhythm by beating a fan against his or her hand. Shamisen-jōruri later develops out of both sekkyō-jōruri and oku-jōruri. These styles were the precedents for the new kabuki. The musical instruments for kabuki were, at first, taken directly from noh. Early acting troupes for kabuki were made up of prostitutes of both genders that would act as the opposite sex. This was onna (women's) kabuki. The content of the shows was suggestive; the name "kabuki" appears to have its origin in the word "kabuku" or "to incline." Wakashū-kabuki was intended for homosexuals. In the first half of the seventeenth century, both women and homosexuals were officially banned from the kabuki stage. After that, male actors would play the female roles in yarō-kabuki (men's kabuki). Then, fewer of actors were prostitutes, but the subject of the performances was still often related to the business of selling sex. However, it gradually became less so, and in the eighteenth century, kabuki was aided by the skilled writing of Chikamatsu Monzaemon, who had originally written plays for puppet theater. Also, the dances that were already part of kabuki were lengthened, and it was here that nagauta ("long song") is first used. Kabuki gains the chobo, which is the shamisen and narrator as a pair. The meriyasu (interlude) is also added. In the nineteenth century, excellent music was written as nagauta. Eventually, concerts were held just for this music. That type of performance is called ozashiki nagauta. After this, improvements to kabuki slowed almost to a halt. The Japanese government decided to try to become more Western (and therefore more modern, by their logic) in order to avoid becoming a colony, so the traditional art forms were modified or repressed (Malm 4-18).
Bunraku is Japanese puppet theater, and its music is a narrative jōruri form ("Japanese"). Bunraku does not require puppeteers to be hidden from view. This means that two and three puppeteers can operate one puppet that has moving arms, legs, hands, head, and eyes. In bunraku, the accompaniment is similar to Kabuki; it is a narrator and shamisen player as a pair. They, too, are visible, seated in a kneeling position at an area right of the stage. The narrator is the voice for every character and alternates among three styles throughout the show. The first style is ji, a lyrical style, emphasizing the rhythm, tone, and melody as well as the words. The second style is ji-iro, which is similar to singing with a speaking voice. As such, what is said is more important than it was in the ji style. The third style is kotoba. Used for normal speaking parts, it is more regular than ji or ji-iro. It does allow for emotion, but the enunciation is straight. During the show, the narrator reads from the yukahon, "reciting book." In it is the entire text of the play interspersed with markings in the ji and ji-iro sections for describing the way in which the speech is lyrical. This means the markings are for rhythm, pitch, and tone. However, the notation for pitch is relative, not exact; meaning the base pitch for any performance depends upon the choice of the narrator. The shamisen player, on the other hand, has the music memorized. There are generally no running melodic themes in the shamisen. Instead, the music is tied to the action of the play, but it is also somewhat free because it is not following a melodic theme. The pitch is important here. There is a range of pitches that is felt to be a comfort zone, and playing notes above or below this range expresses that the situation is more troublesome (Music).
The most important historical figures of bunraku theater are Chikamatsu Monzaemon (1653-1724) and Takemoto Gidayu (1651-1714), a playwright and narrator/composer, respectively. Chikamatsu Monzaemon was a famous playwright, even in his day. The skill of Monzaemon is often compared to that of Shakespeare. Monzaemon first wrote Kabuki plays, and he later used the same plays for bunraku theater. However, he also wrote new plays for bunraku theater, enjoying the increased freedom with puppets rather than people ("Japanese"). Takemoto Chikugo-no-Jo, who later changed his name to Takemoto Gidayu, was also a master of his trade, making popular the style of Gidayū-bushi. He took what he liked from the singers and narrators of his time in order to make his new style, and it was so popular that all previous styles of jōruri became known as "ko [old] jōruri" ("Japanese").
Each musical style mentioned here has its own rich history, and the history of music becomes much more involved as it is affected by the Meiji Revolution, when the government would try to make Japan more Western. There are more styles of modern Japanese music, as well. However, with just this short history, further research on modern Japanese music is much more accessible, and Japanese culture feels more familiar. Just this much about Japanese music would help an average American to begin to rise above the confines of standard Western musical styles.
Works Cited
Emmert, Richard. "Noh Preview: Kakegoe Drum Calls." Mainichi Daily News 22 Apr. 1986. 21 Feb. 2006
Faiola, Anthony. "Japan's Empire of Cool." The Washington Post 27 Dec. 2003. 3 Apr. 2006
Fisher, Paul. “The Music of Japan.” Far Side Music. Jan. 2005. 18 Feb. 2006
Fujie, Linda. "Popular Music." Handbook of Japanese Popular Culture. Ed. Richard G. Powers and Hidetoshi Kato. New York: Greenwood P, 1989. 197-220.
Galliano, Luciana. Yōgaku : Japanese Music in the Twentieth Century. Trans. Martin Mayes. Lanham: Scarecrow P, 2002.
"Interview: Blowing Meditation." Nyogetsu. 20 Mar. 2006 http://www.nygogetsu.com/blowingmeditation.htm.
“Japanese Traditional Music.” 2002. Columbia Music Entertainment. 20 Feb. 2006 http://jtrad.columbia.jp/.
Malm, William P. Nagauta : the Heart of Kabuki Music. Tokyo: Tuttle Co, 1963.
Music of Bunraku. Dirs. Eugene Enrico and Dave Smeal. Videocassette. Early Music Television, 1991.
Sukiyaki and Chips : the Japanese Sounds of Music. Dir. Jeremy Marre. Videocassette. Shanachie Entertainment, 1994.
"What is Noh & Kyogen." Noh & Kyogen : An Introduction to Noh & Kyogen. 2004. Japan Arts Council. 28 Feb. 2006 http://www2.ntj.jac.go.jp/unesco/noh/en/nohgaku.html.
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