Musical Chairs at the Pink Cinema

After the big screen entertainment of Heaven's Door last week, I suggested Tom Mes have his first pink cinemagoing experience. And so, a few nights ago we met on Ikebukuro's west side and headed for the CineRoman along the tracks (see my August 5th entry).

For the uninitiated, the one sentence definition of pinku eiga: non-hardcore one-hour sex films shot on 35mm and projected in dedicated cinemas across Japan. This is perhaps the last country where this sector of film production and exhibition still exists. Recently some of the more skillfully made titles have been making their way overseas to festivals like Nippon Connection and Austin's Fantastic Fest. Look for a new video label specializing in the genre coming out of L.A.

Out of the houses I've been to in Tokyo, the CineRoman is one of the better maintained and cleaner locations to take in celluloid sleaze. They always show a triple bill that includes one Nikkatsu roman porno and usually two Xces titles ("Xces" is Shin-Nihon Eizô's brand).

After buying our tickets at the special foreigner discount of 1,300 yen we proceed through the padded doors and into the dark. The third film on the bill is just ending and the first being threaded up. We scope the place for a couple of minutes. Salarymen? Hai. Sleeping grey-hairs? Si. No women? Non. A loud buzzer goes off, exactly like this one in Shimbashi's Roman Gekijô, and the curtains open. A couple of ojiisan awake from their slumbers.

First up is Four Devils director Satô Hisayasu's 2002 title Chikan to Nozoki: Meiki Shindan, 『痴漢と覗き　名器診断』. It's about a young woman with cancer that's treated by a twisted doctor who cures his female patients through "special treatment". Though produced in 2002, like most pink films it somehow seems mired in the late 80s. Other than some creepy lighting and music cues that suggest earlier Satô it's all hyperactive hospital humping scenes.

Everything seems "normal", and then we begin to notice that people are changing seats and walking the aisles of the cinema with alarming regularity. Men, salaried and otherwise, enter, prowl rows, cast furtive glances and finally choose their spot. Others get up and relocate to different quadrants.

There's someone in a knee-length beige skirt and black blouse. He/she flashes a leering smile at me in the dark, momentarily illuminated by a daylight scene onscreen. Remember Captain Howdy in The Exorcist? Another beauty in a white pleather jacket and copper coloured wig also makes rounds. Beige skirt cozies up to a guy in a trench coat and hat and whispers sweet nothings in his ear. No sale.

Then, a young clean-cut worker held by his briefcase hesitantly maneuvers down to the front row and cautiously sits next to an older man with a comb over who looks like a driver for Nihon Kotsu. They exchange a few words and settle in to some sub-armrest comunicazione. Young worker periodically looks over his shoulder, paranoid. A chance meeting with a colleague could spell the implosion of a career.

Satô's film wraps and the lights come up. Chunky 70s rock plays over the PA. A staff member who looks like David Proval in Mean Streets gives the aisles a cursory sweep. Being able to play his own tunes over the house system makes it worthwhile.

Another middle-aged guy walks up to taxi driver and his "passenger" and greets them. Some kind of weird dynamic. Moments later, the lights dim. Next up is 1974 Nikkatsu entry OL Nikki: Nureta Satsutaba(『ＯＬ日記　濡れた札束』), directed by Katô Akira.

As usual the production values are a cut above, with some interesting political backdrop. During a lull in the second act I go outside to use the washroom and notice beige skirt sitting in the lobby puffing on a cigarette. It's late-era Johnny Thunders in drag. Or Ron Wood, on a good day.

Back inside, the game of musical chairs intensifies. There's a method to the movement. There seem to be "magic rows", others that serve as dugouts and a blind spot behind a big pillar that functions as a batting circle. At one point there are no less than five people jockeying for positions. I laff out loud.

Here's a random Japanese language blog entry from 2001 where a guy describes a similar experience.

Two businessmen (who look like they actually do business) in their 40s wordlessly agree to close the gap of seats that separate them. They don't exchange business cards. Meanwhile, young worker leans back in his chair but taxi driver's head is nowhere to be seen. At some point the popcorn scene in Diner comes to mind. The sound of a fly zipping up was the last laugh before the whole scene became tiring. Pleather jacket leaves in a huff. No sales.

The movie ends and we vacate. Never mind popcorn, they should be selling moth balls in the lobby. Tom grabs a stamp card.

I had seen one or two mildly curious things at other shows, but it must've been a full moon. We agreed it was a movie night to remember but I definitely prefer seeing my Nikkatsu at Laputa in Asagaya (see past entries), where the only distraction are the attractive women that staff the cinema.

And what arrived in my mailbox after getting home? Jasper Sharp's magnum opus Behind The Pink Curtain. I'm sure I'll be posting about the contents of this beast at a later date, but you don't need me to tell you how impressive it is.