While watching Otoko wa Tsurai yo: Shibamata Bojo, an uncanny coincidence occurred between a scene of emotional revelation and a live Olympic broadcast.
This essay reflects on acting, tears, life choices, and the nature of Japanese emotional expression.

2016-08-22
As usual, it was the conversation in the scene where Tora-san’s lost love is revealed.
Last night, I watched the recorded film Otoko wa Tsurai yo: Shibamata Bojo.
As readers know, I have watched the entire series many times.
Fortunately, I had forgotten many of the details of this work, so I was able to watch it with a fresh feeling.
It was an utterly strange coincidence, and I was left stunned by how extraordinary it was.
As usual, it was the conversation in the scene where Tora-san’s lost love becomes clear.
The actress who gave a splendid performance throughout the film is invited to Sakura’s house, and after talking with them, she tells Tora-san how she finally came to the decision to leave a life devoted to caring for her widowed father, a novelist, and to marry her lover of five years, a ceramic craftsman working in Aichi Prefecture.
At that moment, the actress says that although she is happy, tears are flowing, how strange it is.
I watch television with two sets placed one above the other.
On the upper television, an Olympic feature was being broadcast.
At the very moment when the actress was shedding tears in the scene described above, the upper television was airing that famous scene in which Ai Fukuhara was shedding tears during a table tennis match.
“Tears come even though I’m happy…”
This actress was someone I myself had loved for a long time, but as readers know, I am now the first person in Japan to have written a severe criticism of her.
That she has come to serve as a representative figure among so-called cultural elites aligned with Asahi Shimbun is, in itself, utterly foolish, but it goes without saying that this has nothing whatsoever to do with her acting in this particular work.