Is there a point at which you should accept your artistic dreams won’t come true, cut your losses, and try to transition into a more conventional life? That’s the dilemma the heroes of Daisuke Ono’s Tsujiura Renbo (辻占恋慕) find themselves contending with while wondering if it’s better to compromise your artistic integrity and surrender to the realities of the contemporary entertainment industry or resign yourself to the idea of your art becoming merely a side gig rather than a full-time occupation.
The dilemma is all the more acute for Shinta (Daisuke Ono) because he’s recently turned 30 and is experiencing a moment of existential crisis. The band he’s been in since college has never really got anywhere, and this particular evening his guitarist, Naoya, hasn’t even bothered to turn up. Luckily for him, a sullen young female folksinger, Emi (Saori), offers to accompany him for just the one track so that he can still try and rustle up some interest in a few CDs but it’s clear during their set that Emi has real star power effortlessly outshining him vocalising on his own song. Shinta thinks the gig is up, eventually deciding his efforts might be better placed in helping Emi receive the recognition she deserves becoming her manager after spending a weird night in her apartment which is also the office of her record label which has only one other artist and is essentially the last hurrah of an ancient retiree.
Part of Emi’s problem is that she’s an old school folksy singer-songwriter with intense Meiko Kaji energy. Even those who support her worry her music’s too old-fashioned for a chart-obsessed industry while her tsundere personality is distinctly at odds with the traditional ways in which female artists are marketed in what is still an incredibly sexist environment. Emi had complained that the club at which she first met Shinta was populated largely by slightly creepy middle-aged men there to see the main act, underground idol star Azuki (Rena Kato) who specialises in upbeat yet bland pop and makes the majority of her money through meet and greet sessions with her top fans who are perhaps sometimes dangerously obsessed with her star persona. These kinds of fans aren’t generally interested in folk music, but even so Emi is repeatedly advised to go down the same path of selling handshakes and autographs to ticket buyers more interested in the fan experience than hearing anything she has to say.
To that extent, it’s odd that neither Shinta nor anyone considers harnessing her tsundere energy to hook a different kind of audience that might be attracted to her defiance rather than the bland cuteness represented by Azuki. Azuki meanwhile may be cynical but perhaps she’s also sensible, explaining to Shinta that after hearing he and the others earnestly discussing music she decided it was better to go in a different direction realising she’d soon age out of the underground idol demographic in which the average career might last only a few months, deciding to turn her idol persona into a marketable brand and more or less ignoring the musical part of her act altogether. Shinta begins to wonder if he’s been marketing her wrong, that he shouldn’t have tried to push Emi towards the mainstream but focus on her unique talent as an old school live act.
Then again, each 30 years old and already exhausting their budget perhaps it’s simply too late to move beyond the live house circuit. A visit from a colleague of Emi’s at the callcentre where she works to make ends meet, herself an aspiring actress, warns him that Emi may be at her limit but unable to quit in part in fear of letting him down even as their relationship is constantly eroded by the pressures of trying to make their musical dream come true. She has real talent, but doing what it would take to become successful might kill it and her, a music critic from a big paper bluntly telling Shinta that though he can see her newer album is more “commercial” that’s only made it “bland” robbing it of everything that once made it interesting. If playing to crowds of weird old men who’ve only come because Azuki told them to is as good as it gets, maybe it’s best to accept defeat rather than watch Emi tear herself apart. As it turns out the reason Naoya never turned up to the gig was that he won big on pachinko and realised he had much more chance of making a life for himself on that than he ever had with music. Maybe it doesn’t work out in the end and all you have is “nostalgic love” for a period in time, but that might not be so bad in and of itself and the music will always be there for you whether anyone’s listening or not.
Original trailer (no subtitles)
Windows on Worlds 