Blossay: Relationships, Acceptance, and Complexity

So I started this blossay with the idea of acceptance in society in terms of what it means and how we get to that point. That idea, after talking to Mizenko Sensei, shifted to relationships in terms of balance. In the texts we have covered over the semester, we have seen a spectrum of relationships from the harmony of Shukichi and Tomi in Tokyo Story to the distrust between the samurai and his wife in Rashomon. The way the relationship is conducted and how equal it is depends on mitigating factors including education, gender, social standing, personality, and even time. A completely harmonious relationship requires acceptance and some degree of equality while an accepting, equal relationship is not necessarily harmonious. Relationships however, like people, seldom are completely anything, tending more to fall into categories of gray instead of black or white. Relationships can exist without all three components, but fall far from the ideal balance of a good relationship as a result. Using our readings and movies, this blossay will assess character relationships and the factors that make them what they are.

Tokyo Story’s Tomi and Shukichi is an example of an ideal relationship; balanced and harmonious. In speech, movement, and thought, they almost flow together. Ozu establishes the harmony of their relationship early in the movie with his shots of the two. In the screenshots below, you can see how completely they parallel one another. Tomi and Shukichi are usually shown facing the same direction, with the same posture, positions, and even facial expressions. Comments from their children Keizo and Shige make it obvious they have changed over the years. Shukichi used to drink often and disrupted their household and Tomi, but has grown better over the years, likely a result of their growing closeness. His one relapse during the film is when he and Tomi are separated for the night. While Shukichi was reverting back, that night is also the sole time Tomi cries in the film. That their weak points come out when they are apart implies their incompleteness without one another. Their closeness is especially clear in the end of the film where we see Shukichi sitting in the same place and position, but without Tomi who has passed away. He appears lonely and even admits as much to his neighbor; “Living alone like this, the days will get very long,” (Tokyo Story). Over time, the two have grown into almost one person, or at least to the point where they are not quite whole without the other anymore. Tomi and Shukichi represent an ideal relationship in the framework of a married couple.



Our readings present many more marriages that are not so balanced for different reasons though gender imbalance is a common factor. In Rashomon, the way the samurai and his wife regard each other could not be more different from Tomi and Shukichi. In each version of the story, it is clear that the samurai and his wife have absolutely no trust in one another. Each immediately jumps to the worst conclusion about the other. In the wife’s story, she immediately assumes her husband’s look is one of hate. The samurai says his wife asked to be with the bandit and for him to kill her husband so she could avoid the “shame of belonging to two men” (Rashomon). His version depicts her as selfish and vain while making obvious his use for her does not go beyond her looks and virginity being intact. Furthermore, in contrast to Ozu’s shots, Kurosawa often has the wife lying on the ground below the samurai, the bandit Tajomaru, or both as in the screenshot below. There is no doubt that the woman is inferior even to the lowly bandit. Tajomaru and the Samurai fight a bit over her in the context of a prize merited by her looks and background. Regardless of whom she chooses, the relationship is unequal and there is no acceptance. They each will expect her to conform to their wants as power is in their hands.



Ants Swarm by Ari Taraku and Fuji by Sono Ayako also present married relationships unbalanced mainly by gender and the circumstances that tie into the common inequality of the times they were written in. Taraku wrote Ants Swarm with the intention of showing how one generation can train the next to be the same. In this case, the main character Fumiko’s discussion of a daughter represents women training the next generation of women to be submissive and uneducated. The process starts with the inequality between Fumiko and her husband Matsuda. Unlike Rashomon’s married couple, there is some degree of harmony in Fumiko’s relationship, at least on the surface. The couple appears to generally agree on most matters and Fumiko wants Matsuda to be happy. Matsuda also shows affection for Fumiko, happy to cater to her sexual needs, but controls their relationship. This point of contention becomes core of the story. Despite having previously agreed together not to have children, Matsuda decides he would like a child after all. Although Fumiko enjoys the thought of Matsuda as a father, “The very thought of giving birth and having to raise a baby repelled her,” Fumiko explains (Ants 171). The thought of being pregnant causes her great apprehension, but she agrees to have a child to please Matsuda. That Matsuda would push for a child after their previous agreement and Fumiko caves so easily despite her reservations, points to an imbalance in their relationship. As Matsuda does not fully understand how Fumiko feels, he is unable to completely accept her as she is either. Matsuda and Fumiko display a degree of harmony, but only so long as Fumiko stays submissive. Their fundamentally imbalanced relationship can work and last, but leaves a great deal to be desired.

Ayako’s Fuji uses a similarly unbalanced couple, but presented in a different manner. Education, having it or lacking of it, becomes the couple’s point of contention and misunderstanding. The lead Tamiko is a married to a businessman, Masami, who becomes interested in college and changes as he experiences it. In contrast, Tamiko was exceptionally pleased to be done schooling and did not expect more from Masami. As Masami spends more time at college, he and his wife become more distant. Tamiko laments “Even before, Masami had not been exactly overjoyed to hear her relate all these stories, but after he had started living around Fuji, the look on his face showed clearly her talk irritated him” (Fuji 22). A couple that has little in common and nothing to talk about cannot be harmonious, equal, or accepting in their partnership. By the end of the story, Tamiko is left with several options. She can end the relationship. The two can change to change the balance between them for the better and this option can go two different ways. Tamiko can continue falling into the role of mother to Masami’s father role. Or, the two can change to be more compatible; Tamiko becoming more educated for example to be on more equal footing with Masami. The latter, however, seems unlikely given Tamiko’s unabashed distaste for education. In the role of a mother, their expectations for each other can change and Masami can accept and appreciate Tamiko in that fashion because as a mother, she fulfills Japanese societal expectations such as making delicious pickles. Tamiko’s expectations of Masami would also have to meld into a mother’s rather than a lover’s. Her state of sadness at the end results from the disparity between his becoming a successful, educated business man and father, but not meeting her expectations of him as a husband. Their relationship is not necessarily doomed, but Masami and Tamiko are at a crossroad. Whether they come to accept each other and become balanced, possibly harmonious, is a matter of how they grow. Tomi and Shukichi themselves were likely at a similar crossing point at some time given it is clear they were not always so in sync. I would consider Tomi and Shukichi a successful version of Tamiko and Masami if they decide to take the route of becoming mother and father in relation to each other.



While each marriage presents a different dynamic in their relationships, I wanted to look at two other kinds of relationships for comparison. Ghost in the Shell’s example can be branched into from the marriages analyzed. Ghost in the Shell provides many fascinating ideas to contemplate and acceptance and balance in a relationship is one of them. In the film, a life form created out of the net deemed the “Puppet Master,” asks the cyborg Motoko Kusanagi to “merge” herself with it, essentially combining their mental awareness and “ghosts” (souls). Understandably, Kusanagi is a bit hesitant to accept his proposal as it will change them both permanently. It can be looked at as a technological version of marriage. In a marriage, the couple is supposed to work together as unified partners. They grow to that point together, go their separate ways, or simply manage as people are imperfect. The Puppet Master explains “We will both be slightly changed, but neither will lose anything. Afterwards, it should be impossible to distinguish one from the other,” (Ghost in the Shell). The Puppet Master’s proposal is a more complete and compressed version of marriage. Like marriage, there is no guarantee other than the Puppet Master’s word that one personality will not overwhelm the other or lose anything in the process. There is the possibility the couple will become whole together as Tomi and Shukichi. Unlike marriage, however, the process is instantaneous and utterly irreversible. Were one personality to dominate the other, neither the Puppet Master nor Kusanagi could do much about it. Kusanagi ultimately accepts and thankfully, the end of the film seems to indicate that the two were an equal joining. Kusanagi tells her close former coworker, Batou, that “Here before you is neither the program called the Puppet Master nor the woman that was called the Major,” (Ghost in the Shell). The audience is not given much evidence beyond that as the film ends, but the Major’s statement seems to indicate it was a natural joining where both changed, but for the better. Their union presents a stable, harmonious, and balanced being from what the audience can tell.





At last is the relationship I enjoyed watching develop the most as the book and movie show their meeting and gradual development into best friends. Kamikaze Girls centers around two high schools girls who could not seem more different. Momoko is a Lolita; she is into fashion resembling Rococo-era France and emulating their lifestyle as much as she can. She has no interest in experiencing hardship or exerting herself. She wishes only for “sweet things,” taking her time and getting what she wants as befits a Lolita. Ichigo is a Yanki, the high school equivalent of a yakuza (most Yankis go on to become yakuza). She puts all her pride in her scooter, her kamikaze coat, and her gang, the Ponytails. From the start, the two are baffled by one another and mock each other for their respective styles. Over time, however, they grow to accept one another for who they are even if they do not agree. Ichigo sums it up well in the book; “We aren’t into any of the same things…but we can talk for hours and it never gets to be a pain. I guess it’s because you’ve got your own policies that you stick to, even if I don’t get them,” (Kamikaze 73). As Ichigo articulates, while they conduct themselves completely different, the two share a core of independence and individuality. They express it in opposite ways, but when it comes down to it, they are honest and can respect each other for being true to who they are. By the end, their respect for each other and shared experiences build an equal and accepting relationship. Momoko never compromised who she was to become friends with Ichigo, but they became close friends anyway. Momoko may not agree with Ichigo, thus their lack of harmony at times, but she does accept her as Ichigo. In being themselves from the start and changing slightly with their experiences together, Ichigo and Momoko built a truly equal and accepting friendship.



Relationships come in all forms and there really is no formula to making one work. While there are essentials to a successful relationship, having them does not mean it will work out anymore than not having them means the relationship will not work. Personalities have an unexpected way of interacting and a couple that on paper seems ideal, perhaps Tamiko and Masami, can work out terribly. On the other hand, opposites like Ichigo and Momoko can create something deep and meaningful. In a good relationship, partners receive some kind of fulfillment from each other as did the Major and the Puppet Master as well as Tomi and Shukichi. All in all, people are unpredictable, but the happier, successful relationships tend to have some degree of balance, acceptance, and harmony.

Images courtesy of Google Images, thanks! Also, note the images. I pointed out specifically with Tomi and Shukichi, but the uniformity in direction I also saw in Ghost in the Shell and the second screenshot of Kamikaze Girls. In contrast, the Rashomon characters are more chaotic in their placing.

Also, this transcript of Ghost in the Shell was helpful; http://www.script-o-rama.com/movie_scripts/g/ghost-in-the-shell-script.html