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made one part of Japan different from another.

      The in-person appeal to local theater owners also made the owners more likely to keep playing the film longer than was normal in the industry. Japanese theater owners were small businessmen with a tough business to run. The expenses of operating a theater were incurred seven days a week, but for the most part the customers only came in on weekends. If a theater was running a film, what the owner wanted to know was, would the film continue to be supported with advertising and publicity as long as it was running?

      They success of a film also depended on which theaters it was shown in as well as how long it continued playing. In Japan, which has relatively few theaters and fewer per-capita movie screens than most countries, a theater owner always had the option of dumping a film after only two weeks, even one that was playing well. There were always brand-new releases that common wisdom dictated were likely to play better, and the theater owners knew they could always dump your film for one of those. But they also resented the pressure tactics of the Hollywood studios that tried use their mega-hits for leverage in getting their less popular films into theaters. Suzuki used this to his advantage.

      The conventional wisdom among Hollywood studios was that the more movie theaters your movie played in, the more money you would make. Suzuki conceded that in America that might be true, but in Japan it wasn’t. Suzuki’s strategy was to limit the number of theaters his films played in. The theater owners who played Princess Mononoke appreciated this, because that meant there was less competition among theaters playing the same film, and your theater could therefore afford to give the film a longer run.

      Americans doing business in Japan would always hear that Japan is different. Savvy American businessmen almost always chose not to believe it. The Hollywood studios releasing their blockbuster films at the same time as Princess Mononoke (such as Jurassic Park) followed conventional wisdom and urged their local offices to book as many theaters as possible. Suzuki kept his distributor from booking too many theaters, even turning a number of them down.

      In the days before digital media, when an entertainment industry reporter in Japan wanted to get an early read on how a big a highly touted new film had opened, he/she got up on a Saturday morning—the day new films are released in Japan—and drove around to look at the bigger movie theaters in Tokyo or Nagoya or Osaka. He/she wanted to see if lines were forming at the box office. If there were lines, the film was a hit. If there were long lines the film was a big hit. A reporter would do this for the first two shows of the day and then write his/her article based on that.

      This was another reason that Suzuki made sure Ghibli’s films opened in fewer theaters. If the publicity for the film had been successful, there would be many more people wanting to see the film as soon as it opened than there were seats in the theaters showing it. Fewer theaters showing the film made it more likely this would happen. Japanese people have infinite patience for waiting in line. They even seem to enjoy it. For a film that they really want to see, Japanese people are perfectly happy to stand and wait.

      For the first showings of Princess Mononoke, Suzuki brought in Miyazaki, the film’s director, and the famous actors who had voiced the film’s characters for live stage appearances. This took place either before or after the film played. The first few audiences for Princess Mononoke were treated to appearances of the famous director and their favorite actors. They were also given small souvenirs to mark the event. This increased the desire among fans to attend the very first showings of the film at the big Ginza theaters in downtown Tokyo where these first-day events usually took place.

      The TV, radio, and print media reporters covering the film’s opening and celebrity appearances and the other reporters driving by to assess the opening box office results would see very long lines of people waiting to see Princess Mononoke and conclude, and report, that the film was a huge hit.

      In Japan, the film that a Japanese audience most wants to see is the one that they can’t see because it’s already sold out. If it’s sold out, it’s popular. If it’s popular, everyone is seeing it. If everyone is seeing it, no one wants to be the only one not seeing it. If waiting in line is what you have to do to see it, fine. If you’re Japanese, waiting in line is no big deal.

      The Walt Disney Company was frequently praised in the entertainment press for having the foresight to acquire the rights to the films of Hayao Miyazaki and Studio Ghibli before the release of Princess Mononoke. The Disney executive responsible for the acquisition, Michael O. Johnson, then the head of Disney’s Home Video International Division, had extensive business experience outside the US and understood the value of the Ghibli films that had been released prior to 1997.

      But neither MOJ (as Johnson was known to his staff) nor anyone at Disney, nor anyone in Japan for that matter, had any idea of exactly what kind of film Hayao Miyazaki was making at the time the Disney agreement to distribute Ghibli films was made.

      In early April of 1997, MOJ was in Tokyo and came over to Tokuma Hall in Shinbashi. Toshio Suzuki, the film’s producer, had arranged for a screening of the first trailer that had been made for the still uncompleted Princess Mononoke. The trailer had not yet been shown to the public, but it was already extremely controversial among the film’s coproducers who had seen it. Some of Ghibli’s production partners insisted that Suzuki rethink his ideas. MOJ did not know any of this as the lights in the theater dimmed and he settled in to watch the first footage he would see of the film he had persuaded his company to acquire.

      Arms were sliced off. A head was shot off with an arrow. Writhing slimy guts spilled out of a rampaging giant boar. The dainty heroine of the film was shown wiping blood from her mouth with the back of her hand. When the lights came up in the theater, MOJ was speechless. He was very careful not to show too much in front of the other people in the room, which included an entourage from Disney Japan, Ghibli production staff, Tokuma PR people, and a camera crew that was filming a long documentary on the making of Princess Mononoke.

      Only later at dinner with Suzuki and Koji Hoshino, the head of Disney’s Home Entertainment business in Japan, did MOJ beg Suzuki to PLEASE get Miyazaki to add something to the film to at least balance the violence. A romantic scene between the hero and heroine would be nice, or a kiss. Johnson went on to explain that Miyazaki was a great artist whom he respected enormously. He said he understood that an artist such as Miyazaki should not have to entertain suggestions from a mere businessman, and certainly not be seriously asked to make changes to his film. But PLEASE couldn’t Suzuki pass along the suggestion and ask him to make just this small change?

      Suzuki merely nodded, looking pensive. To MOJ, as to most Americans, the nodding looked like understanding and agreement. To everyone else in the room it just meant that he was thinking. Probably thinking what form his rejection of the request would take.

      The trailer that MOJ had seen was actually a work in progress. About a month later when I visited Burbank together with Hoshino, we brought with us the final version of the trailer that would run in theaters and on TV. There was now a line of dialogue in it: “Release the girl, she’s human!” To MOJ, that seemed to be a positive addition. MOJ took that to mean that the hero, Ashitaka, was rescuing the heroine, San. This wasn’t true, but Hoshino and I didn’t disagree.

      In a later scene, San is seen bending over Ashitaka and planting what looks like a kiss on his mouth. Wonderful, MOJ said. Now we also have some romance. He looked relieved and asked us to be sure to thank Suzuki and Miyazaki for him. We didn’t tell him that it wasn’t exactly a kiss.

      In the scene in the trailer Ashitaka is near death and barely conscious. San had been chewing up dried meat for him, because he’s too weak to even chew it for himself, and she transfers it to his mouth directly from hers. MOJ was happy and we didn’t want to spoil the mood. We preferred to let him find out the truth after the film was released. By that time the film had broken every conceivable Japanese box office record, and whatever his concerns had been, nothing says “forget about it” better than a historically record-breaking blockbuster box office release and all of the positive worldwide press that would follow.

      The film did prove too edgy for the Walt Disney Company

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