Japan is such a captivating country on so many levels, which one comes to appreciate being in close proximity. Take, for instance, increments of time. In the western world sometimes we use the aphorism “the end of an era” whether a presidency is winding down or a new decade is making way for another. However, in Japan, they literally have eras represented by the ascension of each new monarch.
The most recent examples are Late Showa (1945-1989), Heisei (1989-2019), and just as of May 1st, 2019, Reiwa. I mention this very purposefully because recently I was talking about the beloved Tora-san with a work colleague who reminisced how the character was representative of the Showa era — an old way of life if you will — that many Japanese look back on with fondness.
Perhaps this is part of his charm today. Japanese has a fitting word for the feeling. It’s called “Natsukashii” — a type of nostalgia — although it runs deeper than that. Because there is a sense Tora-san was even anachronistic upon his first arrival on the silver screen. You can hardly make the claim that Japan had no part in the countercultural revolution that rocked the world in the ’60s. They had The Beatles, they had student revolts, and they had nuclear arms protests like most everyone else. This is the very same context the character was born into in 1969.
Still, somehow Tora-san is immune to this reality, existing in his own world whenever he returns to his home in Shibamata. The closest I can come for American audiences, though it is an imperfect example, is The Andy Griffith Show set in the sleepy utopia of Mayberry. It’s this evocation of so-called “simpler times” that touch on Tora-san’s enduring popularity, particularly for a Japanese audience.
Introducing Tora-san
But even then there is something uniquely conceived about the character. Because in another sense this itinerant street peddler is still at odds with the traditions he is birthed out of even as I just admitted he was reminiscent of a bygone era. How can this paradox be? A comprehensive introduction is in order.
Torajiro is not merely a lovable, pudgy-faced traveling salesman, he is a national institution in Japan. Yoji Yamada, director of all but two entries and the perennial scriptwriter, joined forces with comic Atsumi Kiyoshi to develop arguably the most beloved character ever to walk the shores of Japan.
The actor assembled a persona for himself that would not only gain him Guinness World Record status (thanks to the series’ 48 standalone films) but more importantly, the adulation of all his countrymen. If you’re keeping score, the actor-director duo easily outpaced the remarkable collaborations of Akira Kurosawa with Toshiro Mifune and Takashi Shimura by a hefty margin. For that matter, it’s more than Yasujiro Ozu ever got together with either of his favorites Setsuko Hara or Chishu Ryu.
But the important difference is Tora-san exists as a figurehead for the masses rather than an art-house icon and as such he’s been relished by generations of Japanese both young and old while getting relatively little coverage in the West. When I first set eyes on him, it’s quite natural to be turned off. Superficially he is easy to label as an asinine lout, this chubby imbecile of sorts. Still, if he is an imbecile, he’s unabashedly an imbecile of the highest order.
Like the greats, he is a singular comic figure. This is not to elevate him or denigrate others, but I am reminded, however briefly, of The Tramp, Monsieur Hulot, Mr. Bean, Inspector Clouseau, or even Louis de Funes who is highly popular in European circles. Like many of his compatriots from around the world, he is capable of bumbling and bungling his way through altogether normal situations. And like his brethren, you cannot help but fall prey to his hilarity…most of the time.
One must admit he’s constructed perfectly for Japan, a culture venerating tradition and a certain ethic in daily life. His persona and garb feel like a bit of a laughable archetype out of the old world. And he’s the antithesis of a youthful radical. However, in such a social order, Tora-san is still the perfectly orchestrated incendiary human bomb to toss into the fray of traditional Japanese society.
He can trample over it but not in a militant or overtly threatening manner meant to overturn social norms. Somehow his goofy even coarse exterior gives way to a tender and easily bruised interior. His heart is constantly broken, becoming a constant theme if not a gag, throughout the course of the films. Again, it feels like a kind of long-running archetype, the tragic-comic figure always trying and failing at love — destined to wander forever. There’s something endearing (and Chaplin-like) in his struggle. Though you would never confuse the two.
Tora-san vs. Japan
From everything I’ve gathered, each Tora-san story sticks to the same assumed pallid outline. It seems like such a blueprint would grow tiresome after 40-some entries. I’ve only seen one so I’m no judge. However, one is reminded about the adage: it’s not the destination, it’s the journey. I would hazard a guess these movies are much the same. They don’t need dynamic material because they are already working with a foolproof formula. His name is Kiyoshi Atsumi.
His origin story is simple. He returned home after being away for many years, having left his baby sister Sakura behind to be raised by his aunt and uncle. It’s a joyous if unexpected reunion. Then the opening pretenses give way to reality. They start to criticize and bicker and fall back into their normal rhythms. This is the movie’s new normal from thenceforward.
Tora-san’s doe-eyed sister (Chieko Baisho) is like a deer in the headlights opposite her abrasive older brother. Currently, she’s right in the midst of marriage arrangements only for her closest living relative to make a shambles of the agreement. His combination of shabby table manners and off-color toilet humor all but doom the proposed nuptials.
Sakura is beside herself when her suitor balks all because of the utter insensitivity of Tora-san’s actions. Now, she will never find a husband and in the world they still live in, this is the primary goal of a young woman. In one sense, her brother is countercultural, dismissing this man and his family and yet he himself, as we later find out, is a bit of a romantic.
The tale progresses thanks to an eligible young printmaker named Hiroshi (Gin Maeda) who while being estranged from his father (Takashi Shimura), is nevertheless resolute in asking Sakura for her hand, on the bullish prodding of Tora-san, that is. Meanwhile, when he’s not spending his time goofing off with American tourists, Tora-san makes the reacquaintance of a local priest (Chishu Ryu).
However, it the old man’s daughter Fuyuko (Sachiko Mitsumoto) whom he is really taken with. Because our hero is obviously smitten and she good-naturedly condones all his wacky digressions even helping smooth over his familial tensions by setting up his sister’s subsequently cringeworthy wedding ceremony. Her twinkling benevolence seems like an impeccable foil for Tora-san’s own bluntness.
Despite being so capable of trampling over social mores, Tora-san is precisely the kind of character who can be stung whole-heartedly by conventions, whether it’s local gossip or ill-fortune in love. Underneath his jocular even rough exterior, there is a heart of mochi. He’s an old softie though admittedly resilient, licking his wounds and going on the road again, beaten back but never completely down.
One gets the sense he does and says all the things Japanese society dares not while remaining irrepressible in a manner Japan deeply reveres. It’s true Tora-san would be ready for another dose, remaining chipper and overwhelmingly gleeful no matter the disappointments on his ever meandering pilgrimage. He resigns himself to this life so others don’t have to.
Conclusion: Our Lovable Tramp
The obvious tie-ins to Kurosawa and Ozu add yet another odd dimension to this film. Because even for western audiences we have a certain context for these movies and their actors. Just to reiterate, this picture is about the farthest spectrum away from Rashomon, Tokyo Story, or Ikiru you could possibly get. Still, sometimes we need artistry and technical chops to give way to something menial and downright wacky. There’s nothing wrong with this as there is a time and a place for both.
Our Lovable Tramp is the kind of goofy-faced, unapologetic comedy that has its place alongside serious “art.” I’m all for them being on a level playing field where one is not held aloft on a pedestal arbitrarily. Perhaps a change in rhetoric is in order. They are not inherently better or worse. Simply different.
Regardless, there’s no question you need to be in the mood for Tora-san as the parameters of his personality are drawn up in such a way he will no doubt put-off some viewers. One could gather that’s all part of his appeal. He’s real in that regard. The people who like him see only the best of him or the facets of his character they wish they could embody in their own lives. He gives Japanese culture a certain license to step over the boundaries, doing so with ease.
There’s also the nostalgia angle. Even for me, someone who has lived in Japan more recently for a short period of time, you remember that the train crossings and the cicadas sound the same. Some things never change, with or without rapid gentrification. Tora-san is necessitated by this longing for an old way of life even as he lived in the new for well over 20 years. If you need a secret to his lasting appeal you need not look any further. The new always changes. The old rarely does. It just matures like a fine keg of sake.
Are you familiar with the character of Tora-san? Do you have any other thoughts on why he is such a popular cultural icon in Japan? Let us know in the comments below!
The first installment of It’s Tough Being a Man (Otoko wa Tsurai yo) was released in the United States as Tora-san, Our Lovable Tramp in 1969.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?time_continue=111&v=0HoRb0ewoxQ
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