Life is often irksome, and at such times I take refuge in that which is pleasing and uplifting.
While in Kyoto last summer, I chanced, on a couple of rare occasions
when I wasn’t embroiled in extreme sightseeing or sleeping the sleep of
the exhausted, to watch a bit of television. One program in particular
intrigued me: a historical drama featuring court ladies in splendid
kimono, indulging in behavior dismally typical of people with too much
time on their hands--gossiping, scheming, maligning, betraying. Among
these craven weeds one woman stood out like a sweet, slender flower,
taking no part in the pettiness, fulfilling a higher destiny.
There were, of course, no English subtitles. I knew the period was
Tokugawa, but other than that I was lost. Once I returned home, I did
some Internet sleuthing to find out just which program it was, and with
only a little trouble learned I’d been watching Atsuhime
(Princess Atsu), a multi-segment story set in the 1850s when Commodore
Perry and his black ships were threatening a status quo unchanged for
centuries. Just the other day, to my surprise and pleasure, I stumbled
upon a site featuring English-subtitled videos of every episode. It’s heaven.
Atsuhime moves at a deliberate, almost dreamlike pace. So far I’m at Episode 11 and haven’t yet witnessed a single usually de rigeur
multi-samurai katana battle, nor any overt exertion at all save for a
great deal of carefully calibrated bowing. It’s wonderfully restful. The
beauteous young princess is admirably wise and noble, and defies
convention in various charming ways. Although she and her family exhibit
no physical affection whatsoever, the bonds of the heart are clearly
deep-rooted and unshakeable. This restraint is shown by everyone: deadly
enemies never come to blows, and desperate lovers never touch. Honor,
sacrifice, and loyalty are emphasized and exalted. The production values
are quietly stunning, and the acting topnotch; the only off note, so to
speak, is the Westernized musical score in a milieu demanding koto,
shamisen, and hyoshigi.
Elegant, informative and pleasurable Atsuhime eminently is, in
ways American television can never comprehend. Only when one stirs the
inscrutable surface of the princess' world does one remember that this
was a pivotal, terrible point in Japanese history, marking the end of
the nation’s lofty seclusion and the wholesale influx of all that now
makes the culture so uniquely strange—Shangri-La crossed with
Bartertown.
CK
(Photo was taken by me at a Kyoto shopping arcade during the visit described above. Click image for a larger view.)
