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A while ago, I had briefly mentioned my undying affection for Fred Schepisi's 1992 film "Mr. Baseball," which featured Tom Selleck and Takakura Ken. Now, it may be more a case of nostalgia than anything else - after all, I had never seen it while in the US, but had first watched it on video after arriving in Japan - but I think that this film has something valuable to offer a person contemplating a move to Japan. It may not be considered "great cinema," but I think that it even has something to say to long-term foreign residents, and it is well worth seeking out and watching.
On a side note, I had thought of entitling this entry, "Everything you always wanted to know about Japan, but were afraid to ask 'Mr. Baseball.'" Or, perhaps worse still, "All I really needed to know about living in Japan I learned from 'Mr. Baseball.'" But neither title rang true, nor did they really catch the spirit of what I would like to say about this film and its insights into life in Japan for a foreign resident.
That being said, this isn't a perfect film - in many ways it is a formulaic sports film, with an "exotic" setting, or perhaps we should view it as a rather predictable "fish out of water" scenario - but I don't think it deserves the bad press it has received, which tends to lump it together with most of the Orientalist fantasies that Hollywood has indulged in whenever it gets around to making films about "Japan." So, please bear with me. Though I admit that the film has its flaws, let's begin from the premise that "Mr. Baseball" has some "lessons" for us. Well then, what might they be?
First, and the most obvious "moral" of the story, is that in Japan the group comes before the individual. I have read volumes on this aspect of Japanese society - most of it not worth the paper on which it is printed - but any way that you approach it, I must say that it is a hard fact to avoid. I don't think it has anything to do with the "Japanese spirit" or "tradition" or anything dubious like that, but rather it seems to have come about through centuries of life lived in close quarters, under very rigid social, political, economic and even agricultural constraints. Let's leave it at that, and get back to the film itself.
In "Mr. Baseball," the protagonist - an aging baseball star, past his prime but in denial - is basically an adolescent, a sort of "Peter Pan," who has never had to grow up, since he is a wealthy and famous sports hero. However, he suffers an abrupt reversal of fortune, and finds himself traded to the only team that will take him, the Chunichi Dragons of Nagoya. After he arrives, he is pushed to his limits even as he is forced to look at himself in the mirror, as it were - not only are his early, on-field triumphs duly chronicled in the mass media, but his increasing bad behavior and childishness, including a mid-season hitting slump that serves as the central conflict of the narrative, are also examined in excruciating detail. Anyone who has followed the recent fortunes of Grand Champion Sumo wrestler Asashoryu will be able to understand the intensity of the, at times, withering media gaze in Japan.
At any rate, what "Mr. Baseball" Jack Elliot (portrayed by Selleck) learns is that he is not a one-man team, and what he says and does affects others around him - including the woman he falls in love with, who is Japanese. That might sound simple, or a rehashing of the old "Wa" (Harmony) cliché, but I think that in the context of this film, it conveys a deep sense of meaning. Jack has, up to this point in his life, only lived for himself, and only cared about himself; life in Japan changes all of that. It could have occurred nowhere else, really - the Dragons are the only team to give him this chance, and they are counting on him. If he had stayed somewhere in the US, for example, he would have been demoted to the minor league, or perhaps he would have simply retired and sank into a bottle. One can easily imagine any number of depressing scenarios for the aging star, since we are all-too-familiar with this type of sad ending from real life celebrities.
But Jack is taught to "accept," which brings us to our second lesson. His Japanese girlfriend teaches him this valuable lesson. It basically means to accept change and difference - be it a matter of one's own limitations or, in this case, cultural difference. He learns that "Jack's way" is not the only way in life - that there are other ways, and other values that he has not considered. Some critics that I have read, or viewers that I spoken with, have said that the "love interest" angle is too formulaic, too predictable, and too detached from reality. But I disagree: without this woman's love, he would not understand the necessity of changing his attitude and behavior, his way of looking at the world. He most probably would have continued making trouble, and then by season's end he would have been sent home on the first plane available. After all, he had no real reason to come to Japan in the first place, besides the one-year contract and the money it promised (which might sound awfully familiar to many of us) and no other connection to the country.
Yet he changes. It doesn't happen overnight, but it does happen. And this brings me to my third point, and our third lesson from the film - humility. At the beginning of the film, Jack is - let's admit it - a real jerk. He's too proud, he's vain, he's self-absorbed and he is immature in the extreme. His cocky attitude extends so far as to make his rather slimy business agent, "Doc," look good by comparison. He finds himself abandoned by "Doc," and then eventually ostracized (with a mixture of pity and fear) by his teammates in Japan. Even his girlfriend and his once-cheerful and loyal interpreter, Yoji, abandon him. He ends up with no one to turn to but the one man he despises - coach Uchiyama, a sort of Oh Sadaharu-like figure played by Takakura Ken. I won't give away too many details for those of you who have yet to watch this film, but let's just say that Jack is humbled - with a vengeance.
(Let me end here for this entry, and then conclude my discussion in the next.)
Lessons from "Mr. Baseball," Part I
A while ago, I had briefly mentioned my undying affection for Fred Schepisi's 1992 film "Mr. Baseball," which featured Tom Selleck and Takakura Ken. Now, it may be more a case of nostalgia than anything else - after all, I had never seen it while in the US, but had first watched it on video after arriving in Japan - but I think that this film has something valuable to offer a person contemplating a move to Japan. It may not be considered "great cinema," but I think that it even has something to say to long-term foreign residents, and it is well worth seeking out and watching.
On a side note, I had thought of entitling this entry, "Everything you always wanted to know about Japan, but were afraid to ask 'Mr. Baseball.'" Or, perhaps worse still, "All I really needed to know about living in Japan I learned from 'Mr. Baseball.'" But neither title rang true, nor did they really catch the spirit of what I would like to say about this film and its insights into life in Japan for a foreign resident.
That being said, this isn't a perfect film - in many ways it is a formulaic sports film, with an "exotic" setting, or perhaps we should view it as a rather predictable "fish out of water" scenario - but I don't think it deserves the bad press it has received, which tends to lump it together with most of the Orientalist fantasies that Hollywood has indulged in whenever it gets around to making films about "Japan." So, please bear with me. Though I admit that the film has its flaws, let's begin from the premise that "Mr. Baseball" has some "lessons" for us. Well then, what might they be?
First, and the most obvious "moral" of the story, is that in Japan the group comes before the individual. I have read volumes on this aspect of Japanese society - most of it not worth the paper on which it is printed - but any way that you approach it, I must say that it is a hard fact to avoid. I don't think it has anything to do with the "Japanese spirit" or "tradition" or anything dubious like that, but rather it seems to have come about through centuries of life lived in close quarters, under very rigid social, political, economic and even agricultural constraints. Let's leave it at that, and get back to the film itself.
In "Mr. Baseball," the protagonist - an aging baseball star, past his prime but in denial - is basically an adolescent, a sort of "Peter Pan," who has never had to grow up, since he is a wealthy and famous sports hero. However, he suffers an abrupt reversal of fortune, and finds himself traded to the only team that will take him, the Chunichi Dragons of Nagoya. After he arrives, he is pushed to his limits even as he is forced to look at himself in the mirror, as it were - not only are his early, on-field triumphs duly chronicled in the mass media, but his increasing bad behavior and childishness, including a mid-season hitting slump that serves as the central conflict of the narrative, are also examined in excruciating detail. Anyone who has followed the recent fortunes of Grand Champion Sumo wrestler Asashoryu will be able to understand the intensity of the, at times, withering media gaze in Japan.
At any rate, what "Mr. Baseball" Jack Elliot (portrayed by Selleck) learns is that he is not a one-man team, and what he says and does affects others around him - including the woman he falls in love with, who is Japanese. That might sound simple, or a rehashing of the old "Wa" (Harmony) cliché, but I think that in the context of this film, it conveys a deep sense of meaning. Jack has, up to this point in his life, only lived for himself, and only cared about himself; life in Japan changes all of that. It could have occurred nowhere else, really - the Dragons are the only team to give him this chance, and they are counting on him. If he had stayed somewhere in the US, for example, he would have been demoted to the minor league, or perhaps he would have simply retired and sank into a bottle. One can easily imagine any number of depressing scenarios for the aging star, since we are all-too-familiar with this type of sad ending from real life celebrities.
But Jack is taught to "accept," which brings us to our second lesson. His Japanese girlfriend teaches him this valuable lesson. It basically means to accept change and difference - be it a matter of one's own limitations or, in this case, cultural difference. He learns that "Jack's way" is not the only way in life - that there are other ways, and other values that he has not considered. Some critics that I have read, or viewers that I spoken with, have said that the "love interest" angle is too formulaic, too predictable, and too detached from reality. But I disagree: without this woman's love, he would not understand the necessity of changing his attitude and behavior, his way of looking at the world. He most probably would have continued making trouble, and then by season's end he would have been sent home on the first plane available. After all, he had no real reason to come to Japan in the first place, besides the one-year contract and the money it promised (which might sound awfully familiar to many of us) and no other connection to the country.
Yet he changes. It doesn't happen overnight, but it does happen. And this brings me to my third point, and our third lesson from the film - humility. At the beginning of the film, Jack is - let's admit it - a real jerk. He's too proud, he's vain, he's self-absorbed and he is immature in the extreme. His cocky attitude extends so far as to make his rather slimy business agent, "Doc," look good by comparison. He finds himself abandoned by "Doc," and then eventually ostracized (with a mixture of pity and fear) by his teammates in Japan. Even his girlfriend and his once-cheerful and loyal interpreter, Yoji, abandon him. He ends up with no one to turn to but the one man he despises - coach Uchiyama, a sort of Oh Sadaharu-like figure played by Takakura Ken. I won't give away too many details for those of you who have yet to watch this film, but let's just say that Jack is humbled - with a vengeance.
(Let me end here for this entry, and then conclude my discussion in the next.)
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