Anxious Virgin: One More Time, I Love You (Doki Doki ヴァージン もういちど I LOVE YOU, Shun Nakahara, 1990)

A cocky young man gets hit by a truck on his way to lose his virginity, but manages to get a heavenly civil servant to give him a second chance in Shun Nakahara’s surprisingly nuanced teen sex comedy, Anxious Virgin: One More Time I Love You (Doki Doki ヴァージン もういちど I LOVE YOU, Doki Doki Virgin Mo Ichido I Love You). The second in Nikkatsu’s entry in the straight-to-video market, the title might hark back to their Roman Porno days and conjure an image of something salacious and exploitative, yet what the hero Hideki (Yasufumi Hayashi) eventually comes to realise is that there’s no rush when it comes to something like physical intimacy and that it’s important to consider the other person’s feelings along with your own emotional readiness. 

He learns this mainly because he’s abruptly forced into a female body, that of Mari who is the best friend of the innocent Sachiko (Shinobu Nakayama). Much to Hideki’s annoyance, Sachiko has a crush on his old school rival, Kakinuma. Good-looking and successful, Kakinuma is a bit of a cad but also envied by the other boys because he lives in a private annex and has a reputation for bringing girls back there to have sex. Neither Hideki nor any of his friends think much about the girls as people with thoughts and emotions of their own, but fixate solely on the action of sexual intercourse. One of the boys has a weird sexual fantasy about his sister whom he saw naked in the shower. While looking at her, her physical form became divorced from her personhood so that he forgot the taboo of incest and appreciated only the presence of a naked woman in close proximity.

The boys do something similar on coming across a girl from another school who is about to engage in outdoor sexual activity with a boy they know. After he blindfolds her as an ironic way of mitigating her embarrassment, the boys cart him off and begin digitally penetrating the girl themselves without any real thought for her personhood let alone her consent. They hear the boy repeating the phrase “I love you” and come to see it almost as a spell that makes a girl let someone have sex with her. Masao, the most lovelorn, tries this again later in trying to get Hideki in Mari’s body to kiss him, though Hideki is obviously not at all interested. 

By this point, Hideki is interested in Sachiko on an emotional as well as purely sexual level but is hampered by his female body. “Mari” appears to the audience as Hideki throughout, amusingly dressed in old-fashioned prison clothes, though the film only sort of flirts with the idea of same-sex desire. In reality, the conflict that caused Mari to lose her consciousness was that she too was in love with Kakinuma, though the problem now is that Hideki can’t support Sachiko in her romance not only because he has a rivalry with Kakinuma and knows him to be a poor romantic prospect, but because he desires her himself. When he eventually kisses Sachiko, she doesn’t quite know what to make of it. She evidently gives it some thought, but decides two girls dating each other doesn’t seem quite right to her and sets “Mari” up with a date with Masao, which is still accidentally a gay date that Hideki isn’t interested in. 

Thus the film defaults to heteronormativity, if in a sensitive and empathetic fashion. Nevertheless, through his experiences in a female body Hideki begins to come to a greater appreciation of what it’s like for girls. Despite having spent the entire film trying to lose his virginity, he tells Mari’s younger sister Riko that she won’t die if she doesn’t have sex and that he disapproves of her whirlwind romance. He understands both that Sachiko is naive and that Kakinuma is no hero but a destructive predator who just wants to have sex whether the girl wants to or not. Giving up his chance to lose his virginity and risking being dragged to hell, Hideki decides to save Sachiko from being pressured into sex and then engages with her in a conversation about the importance of consent and emotional readiness in which they both agree that “rules and timing” are important when it comes to physical intimacy. What began as a rather raucous teen sex comedy has morphed into a sweet and sensitive coming-of-age drama in which rather than obsessing over the physical act, the hero falls in love and is content to end his life having given voice to his feelings.


Screened as part of the International Film Festival Rotterdam’s Focus on V-Cinema.

The Cherry Orchard (櫻の園, Shun Nakahara, 1990)

Cherry Orchard 1990 posterChekhov’s The Cherry Orchard is more about the passing of an era and the fates of those who fail to swim the tides of history than it is about transience and the ever-present tragedy of the death of every moment, but still there is a commonality in the symbolism. Shun Nakahara’s The Cherry Orchard (櫻の園, Sakura no Sono) is not an adaptation of Chekhov’s play but of Akimi Yoshida’s popular 1980s shojo manga which centres on a drama group at an all girls high school. Alarm bells may be ringing, but Nakahara sidesteps the usual teen angst drama for a sensitively done coming of age tale as the girls face up to their liminal status and prepare to step forward into their own new era.

The annual production of The Cherry Orchard has become a firm fixture at Oka Academy – even more so this year as it marks an important anniversary for the school. Stage manager Kaori (Miho Miyazawa) has come in extra early to prep for the performance, but also because she’s enjoying a covert assignation with her boyfriend whom she is keen to get rid of before anyone else turns up and catches them at it. Hearing the door, Kaori bundles him out the back way before the show’s director, Yuko (Hiroko Nakajima), who is also playing a maid arrives looking a little different – she’s had a giant perm.

Yuko’s hair is very much against school regulations but she figures they’ll get over it. Fortunately or unfortunately, Yuko’s hairdo is the least of their problems. Another girl who is supposed to be playing a leading role, Noriko (Miho Tsumiki), has been caught smoking and hanging out with delinquents from another school. She and her parents are currently in the headmaster’s office, and everyone is suddenly worried. The girls’ teacher, Ms. Satomi (Mai Okamoto), is going in to bat for them but it sounds like the play might be cancelled at the last-minute just because the strict school board don’t think it appropriate to associate themselves with such a disappointing student.

The drama club acts as a kind of safe space for the girls. Oka Academy is, to judge by the decor and uniforms, a fairly high-class place with strict rules and ideas about the way each of the young ladies should look, feel, and act. Their ages differ, but they’re all getting towards the age when they know whether or not those ideas are necessarily ones they wish to follow. As if to bring out the rigid nature of their school life, The Cherry Orchard is preformed every single year (classic plays get funded more easily than modern drama) but at least, as one commentator puts it, Ms. Satomi’s production is one of the most “refreshing” the school has ever seen, perhaps echoing the new-found freedoms these young women are beginning to explore.

Free they are and free they aren’t as the girls find themselves experiencing the usual teenage confusions but also finding the courage to face them. Yuko’s hair was less about self-expression than it was about catching the attention of a crush – not a boy, but a fellow student, Chiyoko (Yasuyo Shirashima). Chiyoko, by contrast is pre-occupied with her leading role in the play. Last year, in a male role, she excelled but Ranevskaya is out of her comfort zone. Tall and slim, Chiyoko has extreme hangups around her own femininity and would rather have taken any other male role than the female lead.

Yuko keeps her crush to herself but unexpectedly bonds with delinquent student Noriko who has correctly guessed the direction of Yuko’s desires. Sensitively probing the issue, using and then retreating from the “lesbian” label, Noriko draws a partial confession from her classmate but it proves a bittersweet experience. Predictably enough, Noriko’s “delinquency” is foregrounded by her own more certain sexuality. Noriko’s crush on the oblivious Yuko looks set to end in heartbreak, though Nakahara is less interested in the salaciousness of a teenage love triangle than the painfulness of unrequited, unspoken love which leaves Noriko hovering on the sidelines – wiser than the other girls, but paying heavily for it.

Chekhov’s play famously ends with the sound of falling trees, heralding the toppling of an era but with a kind of sadness for the destruction of something beautiful which could not be saved. Nakahara’s film ends with cherry blossoms blowing in through an open window in an empty room. The spectre of endings hangs heavily, neatly echoed by Ms. Satomi’s argument to the promise that the play will go ahead next year with the cry that next year these girls will be gone. This is a precious time filled with fun and friendship in which the drama club affords the opportunity to figure things out away from the otherwise strict and conformist school environment. Nakahara films with sympathetic naturalism, staying mainly within the rehearsal room with brief trips to the roof or empty school corridors capturing these late ‘80s teens for all of their natural exuberance and private sorrows.


Original trailer (no subtitles)