From the moment “Home On The Range” became the defining song of the American West, accusations of plagiarism over its lyrics cast a shadow over its success. Dr. Brewster Higley was eventually credited with the poem that became the eternal hit, and while it’s now the state song of Kansas, there was a time when Arizona, Colorado, and New Mexico all made claims for the tune as their own. When New York rocker Wendy (Carrie Hamilton) arrives in Tokyo, she winds up working as a hostess in a karaoke bar, despondently singing that very tune to a room full of enthusiastic (and drunk) Japanese salarymen. What does authenticity matter when the spirit is so pure that a song can capture the hearts of an audience, even if they’re on the other side of the world? In Fran Rubel Kuzui’s newly restored 1988 feature debut “Tokyo Pop” that question takes root at the center of a charming tale of two dreamers trying to find their own home on the range.
“Wish you were here.” Those four words on a postcard with a picture of Mt. Fuji, from her friend Jane, are all the incentives Wendy needs to get the hell out of New York. “Tired of singing backup for creeps” and spurred by reports that American singers can make it big in Japan, she’s on the next plane to Tokyo. But when she lands, Jane has moved to Bangkok, and Wendy finds herself quickly low on money and nearly out of options. That’s when she meets a dynamic kindred spirit in Hiro (Diamond Yukai), a Japanese rock ‘n roll obsessive. Following a fumbling meet cute nearly foiled by their language barrier, they fall for each other, and eventually Wendy joins his band. Her determination to succeed shakes Hiro and his group out of their rut but also presents new challenges and complications as they try to navigate the machinery of the music industry.
Fuelled by a lively, ever-present soundtrack, “Tokyo Pop” unspools as an utterly endearing and romantic mixtape travelogue as Hiro guides Wendy across the city to a series of memorable locations, strengthening their affection for each other. In turn, as their romance blooms, Wendy encourages Hiro to prioritize his own original songs over the covers that they sing together that start to get them noticed. The friction that develops isn’t about their relationship, but the battle between spirit and authenticity. When they score a hit with their cover of The Lovin’ Spoonful’s “Do You Believe In Magic” it’s as much a credit to their musicianship as the mystique around Wendy, a tall, beautiful, bleach blonde gaijin who joins Hiro behind the microphone. It’s the classic conundrum any band faces when they start tasting the fruit of their labors: do you keep trying to replicate the hit and style everyone knows or follow your next creative instinct that would be more fulfilling? (Call it the Radiohead “Creep” Paradox).
Kuzui, who co-wrote the screenplay with Lynn Grossman, is careful never to exoticize Japanese culture, while gently highlighting some curious attachments to American living, thanks to terrific on-the-ground work by cinematographer James Hayman. Wendy’s first stay in Tokyo is at the Mickey House, a hostel that’s lined wall-to-wall with plushes and toys of Disney’s iconic character. The camera gently lingers by fast food chains like Kentucky Fried Chicken (a favorite in Hiro’s household), McDonald’s, and Dunkin’ Donuts. And then there’s the colorful rockabilly subculture, as Kuzui captures the energy of Sundays in Tokyo’s Yoyogi Park where groups gather to dance, preen, perform, and simply celebrate their embrace of ‘50s Americana.
Initially, finding a familiar scene with her fellow rock ‘n roll freaks is enough to keep Wendy grounded. But eventually her presence as a foreigner — and particularly being made to feel exotic in a way she hadn’t anticipated — starts to become wearying. The longer she stays in Japan, the more she feels like an outsider. While Hiro can be his wholly creative self if he chooses, Wendy would always be framed by her status as a gaijin, and the expectation and projection of the audience that comes with that. “I got the style but not the grace / I got the clothes but not the face / I got the bread but not the butter / I got the window but not the shutter / But I’m big in Japan” sings Tom Waits in his appropriately titled “Big In Japan.” In many ways, this perfectly describes Wendy’s feeling of dislocation, and one can only imagine her reaction if she heard that song come on the radio over a decade later in 1999.
Carried by an absolutely sparkling and spiky performance by Hamilton, who shares an easy chemistry with the delightful Yukai in his first film role, “Tokyo Pop” always remains light on its feet even as it circles bigger questions about the choices we make in pursuing art and love. With its story and concerns heavily echoed in Sofia Coppola’s “Lost In Translation” (she also cast Diamond Yukai, giving him the role of the Suntory commercial director), the key difference is where that film’s crisis is more existential, Wendy is never in doubt about what she wants to do, it’s just a question of where she can do it most truthfully. The answer turns out to be quite simple: sometimes you need to go away to find your way home again. And as the credits roll, with Wendy in the studio belting out the sensationally soaring “Never Forget,” you’re confident she’ll hit the top of the charts on her own terms. [B+]
The 35th anniversary, 4K restoration of “Tokyo Pop” opens in theatres on August 4.
