I have aired several fake documentaries on television so far. Thankfully, I have often received comments that they are "realistic and scary." This is a very gratifying comment, as I put a lot of effort into making things that look authentic.
However, there are also just as many people who think it's "not real." In other words, the impressions of "it's real" and "it's not real" coexist, even though they're looking at the exact same thing.
Last time, I thought about the reality of "killing in a fit of anger." However, that is merely my own reality (although this is self-evident and not worth mentioning), and it is not the reality for everyone. I thought that the "emotions that well up after being caught off guard for a moment by someone you unconsciously looked down on, who belittles you, are more realistic."
However, there are probably many people who think, "It's impossible for something like that to inspire murderous intent." This is a very obvious point, but it's easy to overlook.
The scenery that people see is different, and what they perceive as reality naturally differs from person to person. However, that doesn't mean there's much point in deciding which is correct. Even if you're looking at the same image, some people may see it as "real" and others may see it as "artificial."
What is at stake here is not the skill or skill of the director, but the accumulation of the scenery that person has seen, the air they have breathed, and who they have talked to and what they have talked about (often. Of course, there are also times when the cause is technical. I add this for self-reflection).
When I make fake documentaries, I always come across this "gap." Even if the moment when a cast member casually looks away feels very real, some people may think it "appears drawn out." Conversely, there are times when a scene that seems fake to me is told by many people after it has aired that it "appeared real."
In the end, reality exists only within the individual. So I try to place my own reality on the screen. It just stands there.
Now, when you're having a good time chatting at a drinking party (not only when you're bored, but even when you're having a great time), sometimes something completely different from the conversation you're having will pop into your head.
While celebrating something and eating a fairly expensive Italian restaurant in Ebisu, I sometimes recall the taste of the seaweed toast I had at a coffee shop in Kamata. The stale seaweed is toasted, and the moisture in the thin eight-slice bread is transformed, forcing the seaweed into a normal state. Even though I'm supposed to be living in reality, there are moments when I connect with a different scene. Is it because I live life in a daze? Well, if I were to conclude that, it wouldn't make sense, so most people will just assume that these moments exist.
When people talk about something, there isn't necessarily just one "truth." There is one story that flows on the surface, and another story that grows behind the scenes, and sometimes the hidden story pushes the surface aside. When you want to portray reality, you have to look at this hidden story. The moment you take your eyes off it, it immediately changes shape, like a Pallas's cat changing its position.
For example, let's say you have a boss who makes you feel bad just by facing them. It's okay if they're clearly engaging in power harassment or sexual harassment. That's a misleading term, so let me go into more detail. It's not good at all, but there are still ways to deal with it. It depends on the company culture, but you could report it internally to the HR department or externally to the appropriate agency. There's a humorous baseball analogy for sexual harassment and power harassment: "winning both the Central and Pacific Leagues." We've become adept at trivializing our anger. Whether that anger is our own or someone else's, we bottle it up in this kind of laughter. Humor as a metaphor for anger is somehow hollow, empty, transparent, beautiful, and scary.
Just meeting your boss makes you feel uncomfortable. But what if that boss is a very manipulative type? He appears to be very gentle and kind, and gets along well with both superiors and subordinates. People around him say with a hint of jealousy that he will definitely become a big shot in the future!
After finishing a project, I invite a junior colleague out for drinks and take him to a perfectly appropriate restaurant. It's quiet, delicious, and not overly flashy; it's a relaxing place. Two low ficus pots stand at the entrance, and on a handwritten chalkboard hanging on the wall, three or four of the day's menu items are written in white chalk. They must be recommended dishes. The writing is slightly angled to the right, with bits of powder scattered here and there. It's quirky, but easy to read. The lighting isn't provided by bare bulbs; instead, small shaded lamps shine low, illuminating only half of the customers' faces. The tables have a deep wood grain, and when you place your hand on them, you can feel a slight film of oil, but it's not unpleasant. The plates are plain, but the edges have a dark glaze that pools, giving the food a subtle elegance. The owner is quiet, but only says "please" softly as he sets down the dishes. His voice, strangely enough, reaches only our ears, quiet enough that the other customers can't hear it. Behind me, I can hear the pleasant rhythm of a pot boiling and the sound of a knife hitting a cutting board.
This boss would take his subordinates to such places. He wouldn't lecture or brag. He would ask them questions, make comments at the right times, get laughs, and liven up the atmosphere. He would also pay smartly, never paying the full amount. He would make his subordinates pay just the right amount so that they wouldn't feel guilty and it wouldn't hurt their wallets. The amount was exactly "amount that wouldn't cause awkwardness," as if someone had calculated it in advance. When the amount falls into that perfect spot, people seem to feel strangely reassured. I was no exception. I hated myself for feeling so reassured.
His smile was soft throughout. He didn't look back even after we left the bar. "The rest is up to the young people," he said jokingly as he quickly got into a taxi. There was something about him that I really didn't like. He didn't show any obvious malice or blatant desire to dominate. All he had was simple cleverness. It was a smooth sensation, like when you're stroking a wooden carved bear. Your fingertips naturally wanted to touch it again and again.
But only I know. Behind their smiles, the way they quietly wear down the other person, the weight of the words they say, lowering the pitch of their voice. Such people leave no evidence. If I were to speak out, I, who I believe is the victim, would come across as a bit overblown, nervous, and a nuisance who disrupts the organization. "Being a bit overblown, nervous, and a nuisance who disrupts the organization" is a graver sin in Japanese companies (Japanese Traditional Companies, or JTCs for short). More so than, for example, "repeatedly harassing employees and forcing them to quit after they joined the company."
I apologize for the length of the example. I have a habit of making examples too long. I couldn't get back to the main topic, so I'll continue next time.
