Cool Japan: Alcohol

 ◆Cool Japan: Alcohol

This episode explored Japan’s unique drinking culture.

Japan is a rare alcohol paradise where you can buy drinks 24/7, 365 days a year, and where falling asleep drunk in public carries virtually no stigma. The society is incredibly tolerant of alcohol and remarkably safe for those who indulge. But how do foreigners view this?

■The History of Nightlife

Historically, it was said that Kyoto was a city for fine clothing, Osaka for fine food, and Edo (ancient Tokyo) for heavy drinking. Because old Edo had a massive population of single working men, an incredibly vibrant outdoor drinking culture developed. Today, Tokyo still maintains a ratio of one izakaya for every 550 residents—virtually identical to the numbers from 200 years ago. Data even suggests that the average modern Tokyoite drinks roughly the same amount as their Edo ancestors. Back then, people drank from dawn, and the women drank just as heavily as the men.

Sake is brewed from rice, making it deeply intertwined with Shinto rituals and Japan's spiritual foundation. Even when the pandemic disrupted traditional drinking parties, the culture adapted seamlessly through remote drinking sessions and wellness routines.

■Beer and Whiskey

While Japanese whiskey took a century to achieve its current world-class reputation, Japanese beer underwent an equally impressive evolution. It is rich, crisp, and refreshing. Uniquely Japanese innovations focus heavily on texture—such as the obsession with achieving the perfect, creamy head of foam and maximizing "smoothness" (nodogoshi).

■Sake Temperature Culture

Oden, hot pot, and hot sake (atsukan) are staples of a Japanese winter, though they are now enjoyed year-round. Sake is unique globally because its flavor profile shifts dramatically depending on whether it is served ice-cold, at room temperature, or warmed. The fact that the industry features dedicated certified professionals (kan-sake-shi) who specialize solely in mastering serving temperatures demonstrates the incredible depth of the culture. 

While chilled sake has exploded in popularity overseas alongside Japanese cuisine, the global appreciation for warm sake is the next great frontier.

Read More

Why NHK's "Cool Japan" Has Served Its Purpose

◆Why NHK's "Cool Japan" Has Served Its Purpose

NHK’s Cool Japan ran for 17 years starting in 2006. The premise was simple yet fascinating: foreigners living in Japan gathered to debate what makes the country truly "cool." It was a consistent ratings hit for the BS1 channel, but due to NHK consolidating its satellite broadcasts, my run as a monthly semi-regular panelist is coming to an end.

Appearing in roughly 80 episodes was an incredible education. Seeing Japan through foreign eyes acted as a mirror, forcing me to reexamine my own culture.

In our very first episode in 2006, the theme was "Sound." The panel pointed out how chatty and noisy Japanese elevators and vending machines are, yet our vacuum cleaners are engineered to be incredibly quiet. They noted how the sound of cicadas is perceived as a natural "voice" in Japan, but heard as mere background noise overseas (which is why it's often scrubbed when anime is exported). I still remember how eye-opening those early discussions were.

Initially, the topics stuck to pop culture staples like manga, anime, and video games. Over time, the scope exploded. Food naturally followed—ramen, rice bowls, and noodles. I personally pitched and produced episodes centered on Japanese coffee and gyoza culture.

What shocked me most was how highly our foreign guests praised aspects of Japanese society we take for granted: our sense of community, childcare systems, and volunteer culture. Thanks to the show, I learned that Japan has the highest density of public aquariums in the world, that no other country has so much heavy snowfall in heavily populated urban areas, and that Bukatsu (school club activities) has become an internationally recognized concept.

The Izakaya dining style—where everyone orders small plates at their own pace to share—is a completely novel form of culinary communication for Westerners. 

Even Japanese emojis reflect our culture; they use eye shapes to convey emotion whereas Western emojis rely on the mouth. This explains why the widespread use of face masks during the pandemic never hindered communication in Japan.

Once, we took a karaoke machine out onto the streets to prove that Japanese people are inherently shy. Ironically, the foreigners walked right past, while local Japanese people immediately grabbed the mic and started singing and dancing.

When asked what Japanese concept they wanted to export to their home countries, a Chinese panelist answered: Kyusyoku-toban (school lunch duty). In most countries, school meals are served by adults, but Japan's system teaches children accountability and hospitality from a young age. A Brazilian panelist answered: the KOBAN (neighborhood police box) system. 

In Brazil, police interactions can be tense and high-stakes; in Japan, the KOBAN is a safe haven where children and the elderly can drop by just to ask for directions.

Japan is a country full of hidden layers. Given our national tendency for low self-esteem, we should continue to let outsiders help us discover what makes this country great.

Read More

iU President Gachon:Mr. Nobuyuki Hoshino

◆iU President Gachon:Mr. Nobuyuki Hoshino

Mr.Nobuyuki Hoshino is a baseball legend. As the ace pitcher for the Hankyu Braves (and later the Hanshin Tigers), he achieved double-digit wins for 11 consecutive years. He was famous for his incredibly slow, looping curveball—so slow that catchers reportedly caught it with their bare hands, and the return throw to the mound looked faster than the pitch itself. Yet, because of this extreme speed differential, his standard fastball felt blindingly fast to top hitters.

Watch his highlights here

■On Pitching

I didn't start out throwing slow pitches. Early on, I focused entirely on pinpoint control, hitting the outside edges of the strike zone where batters struggled. The slow curveball came later. Once I turned pro, I mastered the art of keeping hitters off-balance by constantly disrupting their timing.

■Making it to the Pros

When I was 18, I had zero confidence that I could make it in the professional leagues. I had never played in the prestigious Koshien tournament and came from a relatively low-profile baseball region in Hokkaido. At the time, very few players successfully made the jump straight from high school to the pros, so I initially turned down the draft offer.

■Seizing the Opportunity

After joining the minors, I got a sudden call-up to start a game because the team ran out of pitchers. The coach told me to just give it my best for two or three innings before they replaced me. I ended up throwing three scoreless innings, then kept going all the way through the ninth for a complete-game shutout. That single game secured my spot in the rotation and fast-tracked me to the majors.

■Avoiding Injury

During my rookie year, the brutal pro training regimen left me constantly injured. I quickly realized that overtraining was unsustainable, so I learned to listen to my body and rest when needed. By my second year, I could accurately gauge my limits and adjust my training volume to stay healthy.

■Learning Through Imitation

I spent my early days watching the veteran pitchers, trying to copy their mechanics and mental approaches. I focused entirely on my day-to-day progress. By focusing on taking things one step at a time, I looked up one day and realized I had become a mainstay of the first-string team.

■The Global Stage

When I traveled to the Seattle Mariners with Ichiro, I was asked if I wanted to try playing in Major League Baseball. However, playing abroad had never been a goal of mine. More importantly, the official MLB baseballs had slippery leather, meaning my signature curveball wouldn't break at all. While I was honored by the interest, the equipment just didn't suit my style. Looking back, though, maybe I should have given it a shot.

■A Message for You

Today’s young generation is incredibly talented. Be confident and don't hesitate to venture abroad. You live in an era where you can freely express your opinions and where making a mistake isn't the end of the world. Always look forward, and when you're stuck, don't be afraid to listen to advice. It’s a fantastic time to be alive. Good luck!

Read More

Book Review: "I Started M-1" by Mr.Ryoichi Tani

◆Book Review: "I Started M-1" by Mr.Ryoichi Tani

Though Mr.Ryoichi Tani’s book was published last year, I wanted to share my review of it again.

It’s that time of year again for the M-1 Grand Prix—the ultimate stand-up comedy (manzai) competition. This year, an astonishing 8,540 duos entered, all vying for a spot in the finals on Christmas Eve. The grueling knockout process spans from August through the semi-finals until only 10 duos remain to compete for the championship. Launched in 2001, this marks the 19th tournament (following a four-year hiatus). It is a spectacular cultural invention of 21st-century Japan.

This book is a documentary chronicle of how M-1 was built from scratch by Tani, a former director at Yoshimoto Kogyo. I am incredibly jealous that he got to be a part of such a project. M-1 isn't just a TV show or a yearly event; it is cultural infrastructure. It turned manzai into a cutting-edge art form and created a pinnacle platform for aspiring young comedians nationwide.

What began 22 years ago as a single project has evolved into a historic cultural phenomenon. At the time, manzai was widely considered a dead medium, with the previous boom having fizzled out in just a few years. Yet today, "M-1" is a household name, and comedians dominate Japanese television. It is a monumental achievement by everyone involved.

Manzai is a remarkably primitive form of entertainment: just two people, a single vintage Type-38 microphone, and an original script. Yet, it can make millions of people roar with laughter. While stand-up and sketch comedy exist in the West and China, Japan has refined the two-person dialogue into a highly sophisticated, lightning-fast art form.

M-1 gives comedy duos just four minutes to showcase their meticulously crafted routines. Most of the 8,540 competing groups (who must be within their first 15 years of formation) struggle to make a living, grinding away at part-time jobs. But winning—or even just making the finals—changes their lives overnight. It is a stoic, high-stakes battlefield.

In the past, young creative geniuses poured their souls into writing novels, staging plays, filming indie movies, or screaming over guitars. Today, that top tier of raw creative talent is flocking to manzai. You don't need instruments, cameras, or computers. All you need is a microphone and two bodies to move an audience. It’s incredibly cool.

Comedians used to be viewed as the underclass of show business, but M-1 elevated them to cultural icons. Those who were once laughed at are now admired. Many were troubled kids with nowhere else to fit in—though recently, we are seeing a massive influx of highly educated competitors as well. Background, lineage, and IQ don't matter on the M-1 stage; the only metric is whether you are funny.

The book also serves as a masterclass in project management. This isn’t the clean, intellectual theory you learn in business school; it’s a gritty, real-world story of how pure legwork, sweat, and relentless persuasion get things done. On the cover, legendary comedian Shinsuke Shimada notes: "M-1 is a treasure that Tani and I built together... Tani took my rough proposal and brought it to life entirely on his own."

They started by interviewing comedians one by one, clashing with TV executives, pitching to sponsors, and even appealing to local shopping districts when funding was tight. They simply refused to give up. Twenty years later, it is a magnificent cultural monument. It’s a classic sign of a successful project when old detractors step forward today to claim credit for its success.

As a massive comedy fan, I go to live shows constantly and have been lucky enough to secure finals tickets through my work with Yoshimoto. This book beautifully captures the backstage tension. I’ve personally wept seeing top-tier artists pacing the corridors of TV Asahi, frantically practicing their lines against a wall right before going live. I have the utmost respect for these performers as artists, and for the visionaries who built this stage for them.

The book highlights the raw, edgy atmosphere of the very first tournament—something television broadcasts can never fully capture. A pivotal moment occurred when Shinsuke Shimada broke agency rivalries to praise the duo American Crayfish (from Shochiku Geino), establishing M-1 as a fair, merit-based battlefield.

Every champion—from the Nakagawa Family to Football Hour, Black Mayonnaise, Tutorial, and Chidori—has a unique story. They chose this battlefield and shaped the entertainment landscape for the next two decades.

Ultimately, this book is a first-class treatise on manzai. Tani traces the evolution of the craft, naming historic reformers like Entatsu & Achako all the way down to Downtown and Warai Meshi. Today’s comedians don't rely on broadcast writers; they are singer-songwriters of comedy who rise purely on their own material. This keeps the medium evolving, preventing it from becoming a rigid, formulaic classic art like rakugo.

Yet, Tani notes a heartwarming truth: comedy isn't truly funny unless the duo genuinely likes each other, which explains the unique strength of real-life brothers like the Nakagawa Family.

I want modern students to study manzai to build real-world communication skills, especially in our hyper-digital era. That’s why, as chairman of the Kyoto International Film Festival, I host the "President's Recommended Stand-up Comedy" showcase for students. We’ve featured incredible, avant-garde lineups like Dr. Heinrich, Kinzoku Bat, and Tensai Pianist. I want to keep doing this every year.

What about me? I still have plenty to learn. My next bucket-list goal is to actually enter M-1 and make it past the first round. I might just have to ask Mr. Tani to coach me.

Read More