Nureki Chimuo Archive

At the invitation of Yamanouchi Sachi-san, the executive producer and director of the bondage drama “Hostage,” the production staff gathered at the Sanwa Publishing studio.

With filming set to begin in five days, this meeting was held to review the theme of the production.

The cameraman, Ryu, was there too.

The moment I saw Ryu’s face, I couldn’t help but exclaim in a cheerful voice, “Oh, you came!”

Ryu-kan was the cameraman for Series 1’s “Married Woman Confinement Bar.” The positive reception of that video was largely due to his filming sensibility.

Actually, due to the scheduling conflicts, it had been uncertain whether he would be able to participate in this shoot.

“Are you going to do it?”

The moment I saw his face, I asked him straight away.

“Yes,” he replied, flashing a smile.

“Weren’t you supposed to be busy?”

“Well, yeah. But I’ll do it. I want to do it.” Confirming Ryu-kun’s willingness to participate, I felt a great sense of relief.

The success or failure of a drama depends largely on the skill of the cameraman.

The reason I can trust Ryu-kun’s camera work is that I know he’s someone who breathes the air of the same “world” as we do.

So, feeling happy, I ended up talking almost exclusively to Ryu-kun from then on.

More than the technical skill of operating the camera, the fact that he shares our body temperature and can breathe in our “world,” this is the crucial point that, from my perspective, I cannot compromise on.

No matter how many state of the art devices and tools a photographer may possess, or how much they may boast of their advanced technical skills, if they cannot fundamentally understand our delicate “world,” they are, to me, of no use.

Let me say this again.

I know SM. I do a lot of SM work. So while I take pride in calling myself an SM photographer, the truth is, there are quite a few people who cannot truly understand our hearts.

Even if I work with such photographers on bondage photography projects, the result is ultimately just a superficial form. They cannot capture the passion of the heart lurking deep within.

No matter how much you know about SM in name only, you can’t possibly take photos that move, excite, and arouse enthusiasts.

Compared to those photographers who call themselves veterans, I know people who, though less experienced, take photos and videos that truly stir the hearts of enthusiasts.

In that sense, Ryu-kun is a young man I can trust. He has thoroughly mastered the basic knowledge and skills. Above all, he filmed “Married Woman Confinement Bar” exactly as I intended. And he edited that footage skillfully (editing is a task that requires tremendous effort and artistic sensibility).

Incidentally, it was Yamanouchi Sachi-san who edited that tape down even further when it was released.

“I think one reason the first film was well-received was that suffocating, closed-room atmosphere. The opening scene where she’s dragged up those narrow, steep stairs was really effective. Since it was such a small bar, the kind that’s packed just with five or six people sitting down, that’s what created that realistic sense of tension,” Ryu-kun said.

“The owner asked us to film it in a way that didn’t reveal the narrow, old-fashioned Ginza bar was actually xxxx, so the set became even more cramped and confined. That’s what created that suffocating sense of pressure. That oppressive atmosphere was definitely a plus.

Nowadays, we shoot mostly in apartment studios that are clean, spacious, and look pristine at first glance, so it’s hard to capture that kind of intense, cramped feeling where you feel like your noses are about to bump into each other,” I said.

“Compared to that bar, this studio has high ceilings and is spacious, so you can tell just how big the room is from the way sounds and voices echo. We have to be careful about that,” I was impressed by Ryu’s words. He’s so dependable.

You can tell the size of the space just from the voices and sounds.

That’s certainly true.

In a cramped, enclosed space, we have to create footage that’s as subtle and sensual as possible.

“Yeah, that’s why my script specifies that the villain, who’s kidnapped and imprisoned two women, must always speak in a low, dark, heavy voice, muttering under his breath. He has to speak lewdly, whispering his resentment into the women’s ears in a cloying, persistent manner.”

Yamanouchi-san pulled my script toward him, unfolded it, and muttered, “Ah, you’re right. There are tons of notes written all over it.”

“If my voice accidentally gets too loud, don’t worry about it, just kick me in the ass from behind,” I told Director Yamanouchi. As long as it’s from outside the frame, I don’t care what you do.

“Wait, is it really okay to do something like that?” the female director asked, sounding delighted.

“The film we’re trying to make is basically a ‘secret affair,’ so we have to make the audience feel the damp breath and body odor of the people doing something they shouldn’t be doing, hidden from the world in a cramped, closed room. We want to let that eerie, decadent scent waft through the whole thing, don’t we?”

Ryu-kun’s words made my heart race even more and filled me with joy.

“That’s right, that’s right, Ryu-kun. Ah, you say such wonderful things!”

With those words from the young cameraman, I felt confident that the filming of this “Hostage” was practically a success already.

“Since we’re kidnapping two women and the scenes are all about tormenting them in a slow, lewd way, I’m not going to do any suspension shots. I don’t think kidnappers have the kind

of playful spirit to go out of their way to suspend women in the air. They don’t have the time for that, either. What do you think of those typical suspension shots, Ryu-kun?”

“They’re… a circus,” Ryu-kun said bluntly.

He meant that suspension isn’t SM. It’s a circus, nothing more than a sideshow.

I was satisfied with those words as well.

That said, I started doing suspension shows forty years ago, and I’ve probably done them over three thousand times in magazines and video footage.

Suspension acts are, indeed, visually flashy.

When I perform a suspension act at the climax, it somehow feels like the whole production comes together. It also uses a lot of ropes.

While there is a bit of self-satisfaction involved, I always have this feeling deep down that it’s just not SM.

I perform the suspension act because I want to surprise the audience at this point.

But now, no matter how high I suspend, people aren’t all that surprised anymore. It’s no longer a rarity. You could say it’s the epitome of routine.

To be honest, when I perform the aerial suspension, I somehow start to feel rather pathetic.

Is this what SM is? Is this all I can do?

Partly to shake off those feelings, I appear in “Hostage” and play the bad guy.

Apparently, three white men from the U.S. were planning to come and observe the “Hostage” set on the day of filming, but Director Yamanouchi turned them down.

The producer and director feared that having onlookers on set would even slightly disrupt the concentration of the staff and cast.

Of course, I agree with the decision to turn them down. I’m all for it.

It’s obvious that having three foreign onlookers breathing in such a confined space would distract Shion and Fuyuki.

To put it bluntly, onlookers who have nothing to do with the filming of “Hostage” are simply a nuisance.

The day before filming, Director Yamanouchi was scheduled to travel to Morioka City for another job. He’s a busy man.

Morioka, the Tohoku Shinkansen, it’s a long way.

I hope he returns safely.

I hope he returns with his energy and stamina just as strong as they are now, no, even stronger than before.