Wholphin

In 2000, seeking new markets for their products, western pharmaceutical companies began a massive campaign to introduce a new concept to the good people of Japan; the concept of depression. Before 2000, the good people of Japan apparently did not even have a word to describe sadness as a biological illness. So the companies had to coin a new word, “Utsu,� and create a catchy ad slogan, “Does Your Soul Have A Cold?� Suffice it to say the marketing campaign was a success and anti-depressant sales have quintupled.

Mike Mills, director of Thumbsucker, has made an incredibly intimate film documenting the human effects of America’s latest cultural export to Japan.

“Does Your Soul Have A Cold� will air on IFC Monday October 29th at 9 PM EDT. Watch the trailer here.

Until then, here is an interview with Mike to get you in the mood.

INTERVIEW WITH MIKE MILLS, DIRECTOR of DOES YOUR SOUL HAVE A COLD?

1. How did you feel after making this film?

Mike Mills: After the first trip I got pretty depressed. Or, it became clear to me that part of my attraction to this subject was a desire to face the depression I’m susceptible to and that’s been around me since my childhood. It turned out to be quite therapeutic in the long run. I learned to separate my experience, my spirits, from other people’s depression. But after my first splash of hanging out with these people I got sort of a vertigo about being sad - I became terrified of falling as far as some of them have. By the time the film was really done I was mostly grateful to the subjects of the film (my rule was that I could only interview people who were taking anti-depressants), because they were so honest and willing to share the hardest parts of their life with me. Especially in a culture like Japan, which rewards harmony and avoids complaining, this was quite a generous gift to me, essentially a stranger.

2. You know, the stereotype is that Japanese are particularly adept at adopting foreign trends and turning them into cultural lifestyle obsessions. Is that what this is? Did they really not know about depression before we began marketing anti-depressants to them? And if so, what can we do to make amends for convincing they aren’t as happy as they thought they were?

MM: It’s fair to say that the concept of depression was only known to professionals and people who were really suffering from it, and even then it seems to have been shrouded in the shame and mystery which surrounds all mental illness in Japan. It seems that the difference between depression and schizophrenia was blurry to many people, both just were just as taboo and scary. From what I learned from the subjects we interviewed, depression did get a little trendy. After these campaigns, books, websites, and magazine articles about depression shot up. The ads did create a sort of new class of people suffering from light depression who began asking for anti-depressants. I heard people in my film call this “Petit Utsu” -”little depression”. I often heard people say something like, yeah, that’s what women who work at magazines get. Truth is, with a suicide rate around 32,000 per year (about the same as America but with half the population), light and heavy depression has been in Japan for a long time. Most of the people I interviewed were very happy to see these campaigns because they “outed” depression. Just to see anybody on mainstream TV talk about depression, in a culture that historically erased it’s presence, was radical and helpful to them. They had little inclination to critique western corporate influence on their brain chemistry. In general, all things western, especially in the terrain of mental health, are perceived as being more progressive than in Japan.

3. How many people did you interview for the film and how did you find them?

MM: The bulk of the research was done online by my Japanese producer, Takuo Yasuda, and his team. Everything in Japan, from leiderhosen to BMX, has a huge online community with blogs and chat rooms etc. So the depression community has many sites that we announced our project on. We interviewed about 40 people from that and word of mouth was spread from there. I went to Tokyo and met about 15 of these people, and narrowed it down to 8. We actually began shooting 8 people, but then worked it down to the 5 that are in the film. The three that were cut were either because we couldn’t see enough of their lives- they had kids and didn’t want to expose them to the film so we were limited with the stuff we could shoot- or they had more than just depression so their stories got too complicated.

4. The fact that that we are actively exporting depression to other countries seems seriously chikusho, (which I think is Japanese for “not cool.�) You’d think congress would have to approve something like that first. I mean they do make all our cars and electronics. Anyway, what countries could/should we sell bummer to next?

MM: I think we have covered it by now. There was a New York Times article about how the Cambodian government has subsidized the prescription of Prozac to Khmer-Rouge refugees. I’ve also read things about vets giving anti-depressants to animals with depressive symptoms- parakeets that habitually pluck all their feathers out, baboons that have become reclusive. I keep thinking about all the mental disorders that have yet to be identified that will come with their own new medical cures. In the future pharmacology may be much more like taking vitamins today - a little of this, a little of that.

5. We organized a crying competition once for a film and the first attempt was a disaster because none of the guys could cry. (SEE BELOW) We think it was because they were all taking anti-depressants. Do you, like President Bush, “do tears?�

MM: Oh yes. More and more as I get older.

6. I remember my friend telling me about a Japanese company that sells Kidsbeer, a non-alcoholic “beer” geared specifically to children. It’s like a soda but they remove the sugar, color it dark brown, make it frothy, and put it in beer bottles. And it is apparently a huge seller. Their slogan? “Even kids cannot stand life unless they have a drink.” Did you see that? While you were making the film did you come across any other Utsu-themed and
marketed products?

MM: I didn’t see that beer stuff, but that sounds true. I didn’t bump into any other Utsu products. I think only because the market return doesn’t seem that big yet.

7. One of my favorite moments from DYSHAC is that long slow pan from the living room to Ken, the masochist’s, bedroom where he is sleeping. Wong Kar Wai and his DP Christopher Doyle would have spent an entire day getting shot that set up. It’s amazing. Did you pre-plan that or do these visual metaphors just sort of happen for you?

MM: The film is a series of portraits. We wanted to capture as much of their life as we could, and not just portray these people as depression victims. So we basically went where we were allowed to go, and caught what we could catch. I don’t know if it’s because we have all internalized the stories we share as a culture, all the arcs and metaphors that we learn through fiction and then project them back out onto everything we see, but it seems easy to find poetic meaning and metaphors and story arcs in “real” peoples lives. The best part of making a documentary for me is that I get to write on the spot, with what’s in front of me, with a camera and not words. The funny thing about narrative filmmaking is that you do spend a lot of time and energy trying to re-create a sense of surprise, serendipity, and the accidental which is happening every second with natural light, non-actors, non-controlled settings.

8. Have you screened DYSHAC in Japan? What was the reaction?

MM: I haven’t yet, and I’m very nervous about that. Especially for the people in the film, they gave so much, you gotta hope they like it.