Gokiburi Tojiyuki, now 92 years old, finds himself reflecting on former actress Reiko Ohara, who lived from 1946 until 2009, as he navigates the memories of what he calls the "hot era"—a time when individual humans physically replaced emotional connections.
Ohara, who tragically died alone at the age of 62, was known for her unique personality, always searching for warmth through human contact. Her interactions were palpable, leaving strong impressions on those she met. "People touched, put their bodies together, and debated with bubbles flying from their mouths," recalls Tojiyuki, reminiscent of how intimate and lively discussions once thrived.
According to Tojiyuki, the society during Ohara's time seems starkly different from today’s, where social distancing often restricts human interaction. "People walked arm-in-arm, participated passionately in demonstrations, and shouted out against traditional norms all together," he notes.
Tojiyuki recounts his own experiences with Ohara during the early years of his writing career. He once had plans to meet her for an interview, arriving early to their designated space, impatiently waiting for nearly half-an-hour. When she finally arrived, her first words surprised him: "After all, body temperature is transmitted, which is nice." This remark came after she had just seen Tang Juro’s performance and cheekily recounted how she had sat on the lap of a university student simply to find room among the crowd.
"I had no alcohol yet, but my eyes filled up with tears due to excitement," said Tojiyuki, noticing her enchanting presence blending humor and warmth. Her words echoed with poignancy, especially now during the era of social distancing, reminding him of the deep human connections once shared.
Reflecting on this, Tojiyuki highlights the enormous shift from the once-accepted norm of close physical interaction to today’s cautionary stance. "We live in times where touching one another has been put under the scrutiny of harassment rhetoric, fundamentally altering how intimacy is perceived," he states. The recent pandemic era forced people to physically maintain their distance, spurred by the need for sanitation and health safety, and it casts shadows on the very essence of human relationships.
Tojiyuki’s memories revisit the significant cultural moments of the hot era. Gatherings would find crowds passionate about political demonstrations, legs entwined, communal jeering at movies together, and flowering dialogues conducted amid palpable physical closeness. Auditorium floors weren’t just platforms for performance—they were battlegrounds for ideas, emotions, and collective noise. Actors engaging with audiences would ignite discussions, call-and-response moments across theater settings, embodying lines separating performer and observer.
“People used to yell ‘Heterodoxy!’ from movie seats, applauding engaging performances with sincerity—something unique to our times back then,” he comments on the activism flowing through every aspect of society. People thrived on tangible interaction, kicking back against societal norms and celebrating spontaneity.
Reiko Ohara, within this vivid backdrop, exemplified the bridge between theatre and authenticity. Tojiyuki equates the actress to many who shared their life with the public, stating, “Living as an actress was not merely about acting; life itself became the stage.” The essence of her being permeated the era, which would later succumb to fears of proximity amid rising concerns of personal space and social interaction.
Ohara's portrayal encapsulates the struggle between personal freedom and collective societal expectations. Her innate desire for contact morphed from being merely accepted to becoming stigmatized—questions of where touch sits within societal norms are debated with intensity today.
Now, as humanity is more divided, it’s easy to romanticize the past—times filled with uncertainty but vibrancy, growth entwined with connection. Conversations now seem tinged with caution, where touch is often considered taboo. The pandemic thrusted the subject of human connection to the forefront of societal consciousness, invoking urgency to redefine what it means to be intimate and close.
The same zeal Ohara bore shines today as many aim to reconnect—bursting bubbles of comfort and attraction marred by fear. Tojiyuki’s repeated thoughts pierce through our current societal fabric, “Are we destined to be forever distanced, or can these chains be broken?” He highlights his earlier years, inviting reflection upon how valuable simple touches and conversations were—styles of expression providing warmth compared to modern methods steeped heavily in digital communication.
Tojiyuki hopes to inspire others to look back on the fullness of humanity—learning how to embrace warmth once more against the backdrop of our modern realities. The nostalgia not only pays tribute to those like Reiko Ohara but serves as encouragement to rethink how we interact today.
Reflecting on Ohara’s life, Tojiyuki shows the harsh truths of this new world. It's necessary to learn how comfort from human touch can enrich souls—fostering not only compassion but also imbibing intellect and culture within our daily exchanges.
What the hot era and Reiko Ohara symbolize might just be the antidote for today’s struggles, proving how we must endeavor to bridge the gap left amid altered norms. To preserve those connections, and allow ourselves to touch, to engage, and to flourish—may we learn again, against all odds, the ancient art of simple warmth.