We all wear masks.

According to Carl Jung, "the persona is that which in reality one is not, but which oneself as well as others think one is." It is the facade we show to the external world, which is not reflective of who we actually are.

In Japan, people have two faces, which are called 本音 (hon'ne) and 建前 (tatemae). 本音 literally means true sound, and represents one's true feelings. Our internal self. 建前, on the other hand, literally means constructed front, or facade. The mask we obscure our true feelings with. Anyone, with even a cursory knowledge of Japan, is likely aware of how polite Japanese people are, but have likely never thought about the potential downside to this famed politeness.

In Japanese culture, public failure is considered to be extremely shameful. If you suffer from social anxiety, you're likely familiar with such a sentiment. In fact, one could argue that Japan is an entire country suffering from social anxiety. In order to cope with this, the language and culture have evolved in such a way that it protects against such shame, hence the concept of 建前. People are very careful, in Japan, to not step on someone's toes, socially. They project a facade of politeness and go out of their way to not call someone out. Disagreement is almost impossible because, even if someone disagrees with you, they must state their opinion in a way that sounds like agreement, so as not to cause embarrassment. If making a mistake publicly is considered shameful, it is equally shameful to point out a mistake that someone else has made.

In the West, we have certain preconceived notions about what Japan is like. We see the side of Japan that they present to the world. It's all anime and wacky gameshows. It's bustling, futuristic cities juxtaposed with old-world beauty and simplicity. It's vending machines and love hotels. It's politeness and honor. It's a rich cultural heritage. We see all of these in Japan, as well as many other things. What we don't see, because they are very careful to hide it, is the dark side of Japan. The loneliness and isolation that can come from the disconnection caused by 建前. The 引きこもり (hikikomori, or shut-in), which have withdrawn from society altogether. The epidemic of suicide plaguing the country. The fact that young people are failing to get married or have children, which is leading to a population crisis. The breakdown of the family. Everyone is essentially lying to one another. They say one thing but mean something else. It becomes difficult to trust what people say, and you're left wondering how they really feel. It can become difficult to truly connect with someone under these circumstances, even in a place like Tokyo, which is considered the largest city in the world by population. You can be surrounded by people and feel utterly alone in the world.

Just something to think about before you watch this film. It might help you to get more out of your viewing.

I've been wrestling with my feelings since I finished watching this yesterday afternoon. I absolutely love this film, but for entirely different reasons than the other two Sion Sono films I've seen. They were both very abstract and surreal films peppered with a liberal dose of gory, excessive violence. Despite the fact that this serves as both a prequel and sequel to Suicide Club, it is a different kind of film entirely. More a dark family drama than a surreal horror film, or thriller. It is a much more character-driven and thoughtful film, with a slower (almost glacial) pace, and a longer runtime (159 mins). I'm pretty sure that I like it better than Suicide Club, but I'm still struggling to decide whether I like this better than Tag (probably). It's like comparing apples and orangutans. Tag is a batshit crazy, ultra-violent fever dream, with an aesthetic that I fell completely in love with, whereas Noriko's Dinner Table is a long, slow-paced, contemplative film. A film that, despite its lengthy runtime, just flew by. A film that was chock-full of exquisitely written characters that I became extremely invested in. A film that was both breathtakingly beautiful and very ugly. A film that shows a side of Japan they'd prefer to keep hidden.