Nureki Chimuo Archive

I met with Director Nakahara Rutsu at a certain location, and we discussed the bondage photo shoot for Tomoshibi.

The conversation turned to my script for “The Feel of Water,” which is scheduled to be the third photo book in the Tomoshibi series.

(Since none of the members have had the time, “The Feel of Water” has yet to be photographed. To put it in the vernacular of Edo’s lower-class neighborhoods, it’s “embarrassing beyond belief.”)

“I still have quite a few complaints about that script of yours, Nureki Sensei,” Director Nakahara said, her large eyes glaring and gleaming black. Her face was less than thirty centimeters from mine.

“Here it comes,” I thought to myself.

When it comes to bondage photography, I don’t know anyone else who’s as picky as this woman. She’s just so strict. And the problem is, she’s spot-on about every single point.

“Huh? Huh? What? What are you unhappy about? As for ‘The Feel of Water,’ I wrote a script that’s more than long enough, and in my mind it’s already been completed ages ago!” I said.

I remember writing down even the finer points of how to use the ropes during the water torture scene.

“In this ‘Talking Theater,’ I want to give the people who read the script you wrote a deeper sense of shock or emotion…”

“Hmm!” I groaned. This is tough!

Just then, Hiromi Saotome appeared and joined the conversation, nodding in agreement with Director Nakahara’s words.

At that moment, someone with no connection to Tomoshibi approached us, so the filming meeting was interrupted.

After the five hour gathering that day came to an end, the three of us, Director Nakahara, Hiromi Saotome, and I, went into a “Hidakaya” restaurant in front of a certain station on the Chiyoda Line for a light dinner.

It was a very inexpensive dinner. We ordered one serving of the Harusame Ramen Set and two plates of gyoza, which the three of us shared.

“So Harusame Ramen really means the noodles are glass noodles, hmm,” Saotome remarked with admiration.

Since I had rehearsal for my next play that day, I didn’t eat too much.

If I get too full, I can’t get my lines to stick in my head.

(To tell the truth, whether I’m full or hungry, my ability to memorize lines has gotten extremely poor. It’s because of my age.)

Next month, I have to perform on two different stages.

(For more details on my everyday life in the theater, including photos, please refer to Kyoichi Tsuzuki’s “Chin Nippon Chouroden” (Chikuma Bunko).)

Director Nakahara, Hiromi Saotome, and I were all present, but photographer Sachi Yamanouchi couldn’t make it that day due to her busy schedule.

Since we also want to use the Yamanouchi residence as a filming location for “The Feel of Water,” things won’t move forward unless she’s here.

However, we decided to go ahead and shoot at the end of next month for now.

If this date doesn’t work out due to the Yamanouchi residence’s schedule, we can just postpone it again.

“Hmm, but the night before the shoot, I have a Halloween party that goes late into the night,” Hiromi Saotome muttered, glancing at the schedule in her planner.

“I see. You’re still as busy as ever. That must be tough,” I said, looking at her face as I slurped down my harusame ramen.

Maybe it was just my imagination, but her small face seemed to have grown even smaller.

She might have lost a little weight. Her complexion doesn’t look very good either.

(Huh?)

I thought to myself. Amidst her somewhat haggard appearance, there was a strangely alluring aura.

To be honest, I’ve rarely thought of Saotome as alluring.

Maybe this was the first time, I thought.

Having aged without a break, and with her days filled with constant physical and mental busyness, her somewhat haggard expression carries a deep, profound eroticism of fatigue and loneliness that young people simply don’t possess.

In that instant, I pictured Saotome right before my eyes, bound and subjected to water torture in that bathroom at the Yamanouchi residence.

The deep, dark, and hauntingly beautiful scene of Saotome, bound with her hands behind her back with harsh ropes and having water poured over her head, was vividly etched in my mind as I viewed her from every angle.

I thought that if I could capture this very atmosphere as it was, I might achieve a profound, masochistic photograph, one that would shake the viewer’s soul, completely different from any Saotome had seen before.

That day, after finishing the play rehearsal that had started at seven in the evening and returning to my room late at night, I reread chapters 176, 177, and 178 of “Talking Theater.”

They contain the script for “The Feel of Water,” shooting notes, and my personal reflections.

I had been thinking about the words Director Nakahara had said when we met earlier that day.

“Yeah, it’s actually written quite neatly and in detail, isn’t it?” I thought to myself.

What else is there to write?

As far as I was concerned, it had been written exactly as I had envisioned.

Although filming hadn’t actually started yet, after reading it, I even felt a strange illusion that it was already over.

In my mind, the text for this “Talking Theater” was sufficient, but Director Nakahara must have had a different visual image for “The Feel of Water” and was determined to fill in those gaps.

The sense of fulfillment one feels regarding a single thematic vision, as well as the presence or absence of gaps, varies from person to person.

It’s only natural that they differ.

By filling the gaps and correcting the discrepancies in the images each person holds of the work, the final result becomes more substantial.

I plan to talk with Director Nakahara again soon to further explore the script for “The Feel of Water,” as well as the areas where my mindset during filming was lacking and my thinking was superficial.

It would be ideal if photographer Yamanouchi and Hiromi Saotome could be there, but given how busy they are right now, that’s probably not going to happen.