TOKYO IDOLS: A Glimpse Into A Culture Both Intriguing & Disturbing

Directed by Peabody Award-winning filmmaker Kyoko Miyake, Tokyo Idols is a feature-length documentary that explores the uniquely Japanese cultural obsession known as “idols.” Idols are young women and girls who perform perky pop songs – sometimes in choreographed groups, sometimes solo – for their thousands of adoring fans.

The catch? Most of their fans are middle-aged men, many of whom have thrown away the chance to form relationships with women of their own age and social status in favor of following idols from event to event, pouring all of their disposable income into meet and greets where they wait in line to pose for photos with girls young enough to be their daughters.

Why has idol culture become so big in Japan? And who are the people who devote their lives to it? These are the questions that Miyake examines throughout Tokyo Idols. From economic anxiety to the pressure of fulfilling gender roles, the answers are all intriguing, and some may even surprise you.

Her Name is Rio…

While Tokyo Idols explores the phenomenon of idol culture generally, the film’s backbone is formed by the journey of one aspiring idol. Rio is an intelligent, charismatic young woman whose performances are chock full of energy and emotion. At the age of 19 when the film begins, she is also on the older side for being an idol. (One cringes when Rio describes herself as pudgy and says she has to use her energy to succeed as a performer because she is not traditionally beautiful; rather, it’s just that she has the figure of an adult woman, not a little girl.)

Despite her age, she still dolls herself up in frilly-anime-inspired dresses and waist-length pigtails to belt out pop songs in her hyper-stylized, squeaky voice while doing dance moves reminiscent of an Eighties aerobics routine. She’s essentially a cartoon character come to life, one that will shake your hand at a meet and greet and pretend to be interested in your personal life – for a price.

Despite channeling childlike imagery in her performances, Rio approaches her career in a very mature way; she views idol culture as a means to achieving her ultimate goal of becoming a mainstream pop star. Essentially the CEO of the business that is Rio, she answers all of her fan mail and fulfills all of her fans’ merchandise orders from her stuffed-animal filled bedroom, which also boasts a state-of-the-art computer setup for livestreaming to her fans in Tokyo and beyond. Determined to make the transition from cult favorite to global star, Rio even goes so far as to bike across Japan to meet fans outside Tokyo who may only know her from the Internet, and to give them an opportunity to see her perform in person, even if it’s only a tiny gig on a makeshift stage at a record store.

While not yet super famous, Rio does have a group of devoted fans who show up at all of her gigs in their matching yellow shirts, waving glow sticks as they perform choreographed dance moves to all her songs and chime in with synchronized chants. These “brothers” are led by Koji, a 43-year-old man who left his salaried job to follow his dreams of starting his own business thanks to the inspiration of Rio.

With a round, boyish face and an awkward demeanor that only melts away when he is leading the brothers in fervent chants, his entire life revolves around Rio and the men who share his obsession with her – even going so far as to bike along behind her on her trek across Japan. Koji spends thousands of dollars a month on idol culture, whether it be CDs, live shows, meet and greets, or other merchandise. And incredibly, he’s not the only one.

A World Away From ‘American Idol’

Throughout Tokyo Idols, Miyake introduces us to other otaku – the name given to men who are obsessed with idols. Once considered outsiders, the otaku have since burst into mainstream pop culture. Their obsession with these young girls – all of whom are simultaneously infantilized and sexualized – is no longer considered borderline unacceptable; instead, it is becoming the norm for gender relations in Japanese society. Miyake interviews economists, sociologists, journalists and other cultural stakeholders who explain how the recession in Japan has made it harder for people to save enough money to settle down and start families.

Men who feel financially and emotionally incapable of taking care of a wife in the way that is traditionally expected by Japanese culture instead obsess over idols and put all of their effort into these purely transactional relationships. The men don’t have to do anything to make the idols happy apart from spend money on them; because of this, the otaku manage to avoid the responsibility that comes with a real romantic relationship.

Several of the otaku mention girlfriends who they were on the verge of marrying, before realizing that they preferred the rose-tinted fantasy of following an idol over the hard work that comes from a relationship with a real woman. It is worth noting that women do appear in the crowds throughout Tokyo Idols, though they are always in the minority; one wishes Miyake had interviewed some of them as well.

As for the idols themselves, they don’t seem terribly perturbed by the fact that their biggest fans are the same age as their fathers. Rather, they glory in the attention and speak highly of the self-confidence it gives them in a society where women have been traditionally undervalued. As one idol notes, “My dog’s always adored me, but I’m not used to that level of admiration from men.” It doesn’t seem to enter their minds that being valued solely for your fleeting youth and virginal beauty is just as bad as not being valued at all.

Most surprisingly, even their parents don’t seem to mind seeing their preteen daughters attempt to make careers out of getting dolled up to belt out pop songs, shake the hands of adult men and giggle at their jokes. Indeed, one of the most disturbing bits in Tokyo Idols is the cultural explanation for this Japanese obsession with handshake meet and greets; we’re told that historically, because touching a member of the opposite sex was forbidden, the handshake was considered a very sexual gesture. While it’s likely that handshakes appear entirely innocent in the eyes of the young idols, for the older men lining up to do it, there’s a sexual undertone that makes one shudder, to say nothing of the unpleasant power dynamics at play.

A Pop Culture Paradox

Even if you find the overall idea of idol culture to be distasteful and moderately (if not extremely) disturbing, one cannot help but root for Rio to succeed. And that’s the interesting paradox of Tokyo Idols. As a western feminist woman, I cannot help but be utterly disgusted by the notion of grown men obsessing over girls on the verge of puberty – especially the ones who freely admit that they prefer idols as young as ten, because once the girls develop more, they just aren’t interested.

Yet I found myself not only cheering for Rio as she hustled her way through underground idol competitions and conducted meet and greets in the back of cars, but also for Koji and his brothers. Seeing these awkward men find friendship and brotherhood after feeling like outsiders for so much of their lives did tug on my heartstrings, albeit against my better judgment.

Perhaps it is because Rio is older than your average idol and thus appears much more in control of her image and her destiny than the underage girls; perhaps it is because Miyake spends so much time focused on Koji that one eventually sees him as a real man – and fan – as opposed to a creep. Either way, I found myself invested in Rio and in her fanbase despite not expecting to in the slightest, which I can only credit to Miyake’s effective storytelling. She critiques idol culture generally while putting a face on it personally, forcing the audience to debate the morality of it even as we are essentially indulging in it ourselves by watching the film.

Tokyo Idols: Conclusion

No matter how you end up feeling about idol culture by the end of the film, there’s no denying that Tokyo Idols makes you think deeply about it. It’s a complex look at a cultural phenomenon that could just as easily have been glossed over as another example of Japanese oddness.

What do you think? Does idol culture sound quirky or just plain creepy? Share your thoughts in the comments.

Tokyo Idols is currently available to stream on Netflix in the U.S. You can find more international release dates here.