Films in the Flowery Land (1918) 🇺🇸
The appeal of the Japanese movie poster is not a subtle one; it comes right out and picks you off your feet. It is as large as the side of a house, and embodies every color in the artist’s paintshop, and the characters are engaged in action so violent that you are transfixed. You can literally hear those blatant chromos before your rickshaw runner wheels you into Theater Street in Yokohama, or Asakusa Park in Tokyo.
by Hi Sibley
But they are just the sort of posters that appeal to the Oriental mind; the average Japanese likes to have the story put before him graphically and forcibly. He is not content with half-tone reproductions of portions of a film, for they are too vague for his relatively immature conception. To be sure, the best theaters display more dignified lithographs put out by American producers. Although they are printed in English, which the majority of the Japanese cannot read, these invariably draw big houses, for the superior American film, despite its comparative lack of bloodcurdling action, is very popular in Japan. On the other hand, although the posters exploiting the Japanese films are vivid and thrilling in action, the films themselves are something of a disappointment to an American, for in most cases the larger part of the film is limited to a dialogue between two or three characters.
This entails the necessity of an orator at each picture house, who repeats the conversation of the silent actors, translating it from Japanese to English, or vice versa, as the case may be. Likewise, this orator explains the situations in the American films, for American customs and traditions are not yet understood by the Japanese.
Evidence of the popularity of American films and players in Japan is to be found in the picture magazines printed in Japanese. These usually have an American star, preferably a woman, attractively displayed on the front cover — or, rather, the back cover, for one begins to read the book from the back in Japan. All through these magazines — and there are a great number of them — American films are featured in excellent half tones, and much less space given to the Japanese productions. Other popular idols are featured on post cards. Beside a row of picturesque geisha girls in native costume one finds displayed post-card photos of Anita Stewart, Mary Pickford, Mabel Normand, and other stars. An attempt to copy American favorites, notably the men, is encountered in all the motion-picture districts, but they are not a dazzling success, at least from the American point of view; for, with all due respect to the artist’s skill, he leaves a distinctly Japanese expression.
This is particularly true of the ubiquitous “Charrie Chap,” [Charles Chaplin] as the Japanese call our film comedian, who is a great favorite with these fun-loving little Orientals. They have copied his likeness in posters, children’s books, on post cards, and in advertisements.
His picture is on sale at every book store and stationery shop, and the Japanese conception of him is truly amusing. For the artist has copied Charlie’s cumbersome shoes, voluminous trousers, impudent derby, and diminutive mustache, but into his expression are drawn unmistakable Asiatic features.
The Japanese are as violent movie fans as the average American. The crowds on Sunday at Asakusa Park in Tokyo, the largest motion-picture center in Japan, are so dense that one can scarcely elbow a pathway through them. Here are fifty of the most gorgeous theaters imaginable. Before them are strung long, painted banners. Multitudinous paper lanterns make the place look like a perennial festival. The spectacle is a charmingly picturesque one. The children seem like so many animated dolls in their quaint kimonos and tiny sandals; and often a string of six or more, hand in hand, patter along behind Mama-san, who likely has a sleeping baby on her back, and dad, who is carrying another youngster, for going to the movies is quite as much a family affair in Japan as in the United States.
“Ee-up! Ee-up!” comes the staccato of the bally-hoo men. the smiling little ticket choppers work busily, and a continuous stream clatters in at the inviting doors of those wonder shows which come from far-off America.
A poster depicting a sword duel, with insets of the principal actors.
Entrance to a theater in Asakusa Park, Tokyo.
One of the larger posters. Below, a Japanese conception of a “bad man of the wild west.”
A typical motion-picture theater in Yokohama, with the huge poster and cloth streamers.
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A picture of a samurai (knight) committing hari-kari.
Collection: Picture Play Magazine, July 1918
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