Film director Shinya Tsukamoto's car life: Small cars and movies that can take you far

Film director Shinya Tsukamoto's partner is a Rover Mini. He takes it with him wherever he goes, whether it's to work or out with his family, and he says he rides it like a bicycle. 2024 will mark his fifth year with his partner, and we talk about his encounter with the car and his life so far.

photo: Masaru Tatsuki / text: Izumi Karashima

It's best to run slowly just above the ground.

Tsukamoto Shinya slowly drove to the meeting place in his small white car. Upon arriving, he was very humble and said, "It's rare for me to be interviewed for something other than a movie. I don't know much about cars, so I'm embarrassed to say this." He continued, "I had to clean my car anyway, so my wife and I cleaned it yesterday."

As you know, Tsukamoto is a solitary filmmaker who has enthralled creators and cinephiles around the world, including Quentin Tarantino and Guillermo del Toro. We first learned that his favorite car is a Rover Mini when we interviewed him about his latest directorial work, "Hokaage," which was released in 2023. We were a bit taken aback when he showed up for the interview in a classic Mini, a stark contrast to the intense "Tsukamoto world."

"Who am I to talk about cars? (laughs) I didn't get my driver's license until I was 42, so my debut was quite late."

However, Tsukamoto says he had been fascinated by cars since he was in elementary school. "My father, who was a commercial designer, was a big car enthusiast and drove cars like a Volkswagen Beetle and a Karmann Ghia. I think that influenced me too. I even had plans to get my driver's license when I turned 18 and go on a trip in a van with my friends."

However, he gradually became absorbed in film, and after he started shooting 8mm, he poured all of his pocket money, part-time earnings, and other money into independent film production, and no longer had time to think about getting a driver's license. After graduating from university, he got a job at a commercial production company, and his boss was amazed, saying, "It's impossible to join this industry without a driver's license," but Tsukamoto laughs, "I was always comfortable relying on someone else to drive."

"Then I entered my 40s. I had a child at 42, and at the same time my mother became ill and I had to take her to and from the hospital. I realized I needed a car. I had to get a license."

I love small things no matter what.

And the first car he chose was a Nissan Pike car, the Pao. Coincidentally, it was a 1989 model, the same year that Tsukamoto's debut film, "Tetsuo," was released.

"It had a light blue body, white handlebars and a canvas top. It was cheap and beat up, but it was cute! It had a sense of openness! I fell in love at first sight. But it leaked in the rain, so the seats were always damp. It had been hit before, had a flat tire, and had been in a wreck, so the axles were wobbly and the car was crooked (laughs).

I experienced all sorts of crappy things with it, and because it was so difficult, I grew very attached to it. I rode it for seven years, but because I was with it as my children grew up, it feels like we've been together for about ten years."

In the end, black smoke started coming out and the robot was beyond repair, bringing the end. "It was like our cute little robot had finally stopped working. It was towed away, but the day before, my son climbed onto the yurt and begged them not to take it. We all saw it off as a family, with tears in our eyes."

His second car was a BMW Mini, a 2009 convertible with a top. He was able to purchase a test drive car from the dealer at a discount.

"I was 49 at the time. I was feeling a growing sense of urgency at work, and I wanted to drive something that wasn't a piece of junk, age-appropriate car. The body was a deep navy blue, and the top was a burnt brown. It looked cool, and it drove smoothly and with agility. But somehow I felt uncomfortable. I felt a bit guilty about driving such an ambitious car, even though I'd only made small films (laughs).

In the end, I ended up displaying it on my family altar, and even though I owned it longer than the Pao, I didn't have much contact with it. I realized that opening a window by turning it around with my hands suits me better."

And then he came across the 1998 Rover Mini he currently owns, the final model of the classic Mini. "The truth is, ever since I was a child, I'd always wanted to drive an old Mini. But I didn't think I could handle it. My father told me, 'You'll never be able to do it,' and my friends and acquaintances also said, 'It'll be a pain if it breaks down, so you'd better not do it.' I was heartbroken (laughs). But I'm 60 now, so I thought it was about time."

Rather than a perfectly restored, shiny car, he searched for one that could be used until it was a mess, and he found a white Rover Mini. It was a Paul Smith-style car, a highly sought-after rare car, but "I only realized it was a rare car after I bought it. Maybe because it wasn't a specialist store, it was very cheap. It was cheap and in good condition, and that was the deciding factor."

2024 will be our fifth year together. Initially, we thought it would be a good way to practice before buying a proper Mini, but now we want to stay together for as long as possible.

"It's the same as when you pick up a ragged stray cat and grow attached to it. Small things are best. They're nice and easy to ride, close to the ground, and can go to all kinds of places. In fact, I like small things in everything. The same goes for the style of my films. I feel a dynamism in how far something made on a small scale with a small formation can fly. I think it's the same with cars."

Rover Mini in collaboration with Paul Smith, film director Shinya Tsukamoto
At Yanaka Cemetery, where I often visit with Mini, a foreign tourist strolling by said, "Nice!"
Light truck
Load your homemade tiny house onto a light truck.

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