The Japanese Carpet of Bagdad (1922) 🇺🇸
“The Japanese Carpet of Bagdad” is the fourth article in Film play’s series, “Around the WorId with the Movies.” Philip Kerby, the author, who is well known to readers of Filmplay through former contributions, is at present in the Philippines, and writes that he is completing an article on motion pictures in the provincial districts of the islands.
by Philip Kerby
“Buddha! Buddha! Buddha! Most worshipful Gotama Buddha — Overlord of Earth, Air and Sky — Pray, I beseech thee, let not my worthless body be turned into a fish in my next incarnation! Hear the supplications of the shades of dear departed ancestors in my behalf — and be merciful!”
The penitent, a youth of eighteen years, knelt alone within the dim recesses of the Magnificent Chioin Temple in Kyoto and begged for mercy, before the gleaming golden shrine.
In order to attract Buddha’s attention he tapped on a hollow gourd with a small teak mallet. The ensuing sound resembled the beating of a tomtom by our own North American Indians. It was the first day of Thanksgiving for New Rice, and in order to save his soul he would beat a thousand times a day for a hundred days on the gourd — and then return to his little rice paddy secure in the knowledge that he was safe from becoming a fish. The faith of his ancestors handed down for thousands of years — written records show that the Emperor Jimuu ascended the throne in 660 B. C. — was good enough for him, and for many others of his class.
Foreign visitors to Japan are too prone to judge the entire Empire from a cursory examination of the hurrying, bustling commerce in the seaports. New York is no more representative of the United States than Yokohama is of Nippon.
To see the life of the country one must travel inland to Kyoto, where civilization has been but little affected by outside influences. It has been called by many the heart of the Empire, since here one finds all the wonderful ateliers of the cloisonné pottery, and the Damascene engraving on metal, an art which was brought to Japan in the second century by artisans traveling by camel caravan from Damascus. Japan as a whole is in a curious state of transition. The old is warring with the new. The conservative element cannot understand the new-fangled ideas of the rising generation. The progress along all lines during the last three score years is amazing, when one remembers that it was only that long ago that Admiral Perry sailed into Yokohama harbor — now christened Mississippi Bay in his honor — and inserted the virus of American “pep” into the dormant monster.
Japanese diplomats refuse to admit the fact that the government borrowed educational methods from America, banking from England, and the army system from Germany. In order to awaken the country at large the people must receive a stimulus toward education. The realization of their deficiencies must be brought home to them, and what better way is there than showing the different modes of life of other countries, and particularly America? Thus reasoned the bigwigs in the government. Through what agency could the spirit of competition be aroused? How could the people as a whole be awakened to their responsibilities of taking the lead among oriental nations in world affairs? The solution was found in the cinema. The light in the projection machine was more wonderful than Aladdin’s lamp!
The silver screen was in very truth the magical carpet from Bagdad. The prophecy of the ancients had come true. One had but to light the lamp and behold the wonders of the world unfold before the eyes. Diplomat and coolie, schoolboy and philosopher, merchant prince and pauper, had the lesson brought home to them the lesson of progress.
The government was quick to note the wonderful opportunities of offering sugar-coated education to the masses and stimulated the interest of the people by giving financial aid to various movie houses. The four theatres established in 1910 have grown to nearly four thousand in little more than a decade. Since America was the cinema capital of the world, it was only natural that American films and American methods of exploitation should be adopted.
Throughout the day the repentant Japanese attends to his devotions or business (both are in many respects synonymous) and as soon as the first lanterns are lit, puts up the shutters on his windows, or says his thousandth Buddha, and hies himself to Theatre Street — and to the movies.
The foreigner, in passing from the deep silence of the temple to the noisy, blatant, shouting excitement of Theatre Street in Kyoto, with its myriad electric signs all blinking the excellences of the attractions inside — in curious Japanese ideographs — transcends a thousand years in about as many seconds.
The artist who spends an entire day chiseling a single blossom on a cloisonné vase rubs shoulders with the rickshaw coolie as both struggle to obtain seats to see Pauline Frederick in “The Loves of Letty.” The student, who has passed his first matriculation in “The Wheel of Life” and has started on his mental voyage of discovery along the “Eight Fold Paths to Nirvana,” laughs as uproariously as his neighbor — the smelly fisherman — at Charlie Chaplin’s antics in “The Tramp.” The merchant prince and the beggar both enjoy the long news reels, the former wondering how he can capture a little more of the commerce of the far-off empires and the latter marveling that there seems to be employment for all. The insidious germs of capturing more foreign trade and emigration thus fall on fertile fields.
In passing, it might be well to recount the fact that Chaplin is by all odds the favorite comedian, Mary Pickford the “dream heroine,” Douglas Fairbanks the hero of the “Bushido” (the society which numbers 4,000,000 members in every village and hamlet, and is organized ostensibly for the purpose of learning the manly arts of self-defense), while Pauline Frederick and Norma Talmadge are about equal favorites in dramatic roles.
Whether a Japanese belongs to the Samurai (the nobility) or to one of the lesser castes, he takes particular pride in being up on all the latest movie news. He dazzles one with statistics anent the private life of his particular favorite, and in the most exclusive clubs there are oftentimes hot arguments over the intricacies of certain productions.
The argument occasionally waxes so hot, various members taking sides with the principals, that in order to settle the question without bloodshed a search is made for an impartial arbiter — one who has not seen the picture in question (this, too, is somewhat of a task since, unless the arbiter was sick in bed at the time the picture was shown he has little excuse for not seeing it), and the whole club attends in a body, or makes arrangements through the releasing company to have a special presentation at the club.
The Japanese government also realizes the value of moving pictures as a medium of propaganda. Seated in a loge originally built to hold six comfortably, I, together with sixteen other occupants, witnessed five reels depicting the visit of His Imperial Excellency Crown Prince Hirohito to Europe. Not the smallest detail in the daily life of the Crown Prince was omitted. After watching him enter and leave limousines some thirty-seven times, and board and leave various warships eighteen times, I lost count. Each time troops or a warship was shown the audience went wild with enthusiasm.
This enthusiasm was aroused not only by the long subtitles in Japanese, but also by the sing-song voice of the Japanese interpreter occupying a diminutive pulpit at one side of the stage. The latter acted out, both by voice and gesture, every phase of the picture and maintained a continuous running comment on each scene which, translated, ran something like this:
“Now the Imperial One is alighting from his glorious limousine. See the four rows of decorations across his left breast which he wears as testimony of his great bravery. (Cheers.) Now he is condescending to address the President of France; now he is walking with the President and members of the latter’s supreme council toward the monument where he will lay the decoration — the greatest honor which the Land of Nippon can bestow on a foreigner — on the grave of an unknown French soldier! See, now he places the decoration. (More cheers.) Let us trust that the ancestors of the soldier are duly grateful for the supreme honor conferred upon their representative by Our Mighty One!
(Tremendous applause.) Now he is going to the harbor. There in the distance are the mighty dreadnaughts of the Japanese fleet. Are you not proud of them? See how their guns gleam in the sun — they reflect the glories of our flag. Three cheers for the flag! (They are given.) How fitting it is that our battleships should be in a foreign port; are you not proud?” (So on ad lib. for nearly two hours.)
Not to be outdone by the Western World, there are two Japanese producing companies located in a suburb of Tokyo. Their pictures, however, lack the narrative qualities of our productions and are more or less illustrated subtitles. Their camera work is not as fine, but attention to detail much superior. The Japanese public’s taste has been whetted by the fast moving drama (fast in comparison to their own productions) and therefore have not merited the success they deserved at the hands of their own people. Another great factor in the success of the American pictures is the foreign locale. The Japanese know their own country, and therefore, unlike Americans, rejoice in new scenery, new life, new customs, and a new people. If they wish their own drama or a historical pageant they prefer attending the legitimate theatres or a “recitative”’ of history, acted out in one of the large multi-colored tents found in nearly every large city.
The “Little Brown Brother” is certainly a movie “fan” raised to the nth degree. He is greatly encouraged by his government, who realizes how greatly he is benefiting thereby. The land of Lafcadio Hearn is swiftly passing into the oblivion of the years, giving place to a keen, wide-awake, progressive nation.
The cry of “Buddha! Buddha! Let not my spirit become a fish!” is the one link that binds the past and present together.
A theatre street in a Japanese town
The posters are swung like banners before the theatres
How American motion pictures are advertised in Japan.
Left: A poster announcing Jack Pickford in “Just Out of College.”
Center: In announcement of “The Last of the Mohicans.”
Right: A poster for an Anita Stewart production
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Next month Janet Planner, who has returned to Europe, will write of pictures and picture audiences in Rome, in a delightful article called “Thumbs Down on the Roman Movies”
Collection: Filmplay Magazine, June 1922
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