- The Japanese proverb Kusuriuri stumbles on when talking to Ocho in the cell is, "Iwashi no atama mo shinjin kara." Or: "Even a sardine's head becomes holy if one worships it."
(Makes a thinker wonder if he really does sell placebos? 😭 He's more of a peddler, if anything. 👀)
Moreover, the article I sourced this from attributes two meanings to the phrase:
1. '...the more a person believes in a god, the holier the god becomes in the person's mind.'
2. '...a satirical remark on human nature, ridiculing the tendency to seek something to rely on.'
And, more generally: anything is possible, or valuable, with belief.
Kusuriuri says, "Whether you cook it in miso or broil it with salt, a sardine is a sardine." The context of which this is pertaining to, however, isn't ridiculing reliance, but the Medicine Seller summarizing the bottom-line of Ocho's situation — that she's 'jailed' for familicide, method irrelevant. Evidence, too. People believe she's the killer, but that's not the entire truth, is it? Ultimately, Kusuriuri is waaaay too aware to mix up that proverb earnestly.
Or—in other words—Ocho may be believed to have gruesomely killed her in-laws, but this is not the case.
On the flip-side, though, the Medicine Seller then tells Ocho that, "If you think you're trapped, this place becomes a prison." If she stays it can be a castle.
(A sardine is still a sardine, but a jail cell can be a castle? Obviously this is deliberate, but still. Interesting, Kusuriuri.)
Imagination and belief, as concept and evidence, is further cemented here: "Providence of the illusory world is on my side!" said by the Noppera Bou. We're able to glimpse a bit into this masked figure. He is her companion and confidant, her comfort through the bars — but, frankly, complacency should have no room here.
The Noppera Bou may seem like he's handing Ocho a definitive solution to her abuse along with the nakiri knife, but in reality it's only a temporary fix to the "venom" within her heart. He practically confessed this himself. Her crime is an illusory one: the fantasy of the caged and oppressed. See: Ocho's freedom is measured by the dimensions of a square, vertically-slatted window. When she looks through it, Ocho sees the framed scene of her in-laws massacred and hung from the boughs of a plum tree.
So—the Noppera Bou comes along and puts the gun in Ocho's hand. Yes. But it's not the family that she kills.
In fact, Ocho's real crime is suppressing her own feelings and desires. Sound familiar?
Her dissociation — brought on as a coping mechanism to endure the domestic abuse — was just a stopgap. Everyone knows the temptation of a fantasy. We also know that it can be a slippery slope into inaction, delusion, and confinement. Our mind grows fat on the fast-food of dreams; but where is the substance? Instead of nourishment we become content with stagnation. The listlessness. That meaningless rush of dopamine.
(Am I making mountains out of molehills? A little. But I think it's fun to constantly make the connection of art imitating life. Life, art. After all, Mononoke has always been, at its core, about the essence of human struggle. How beautiful is it that we can look at a work so near to our own, very real suffering and, in turn, be consoled? Heard? We may not be in exact parallel to the characters' situations, but we can still understand where they come from — and from that, where we do, too.)
Although in this case, Ocho's dissociation wasn't the cause of her resignation, but a tactic to bear. It helped her endure. Besides. As a child Ocho didn't have much of a choice but to 'take it'.
And, once more, the Noppera Bou is there to spirit her out of (jail) a tricky situation: which is, ironically, the idea of escape. Whereas the Faceless constitutes the part of Ocho that craves escapism over reality, Kusuriuri is the sober voice that coaxes Ocho to reflection. His words have a subtle impact on her, which is delivered when she returns with the Noppera Bou to her in-laws' house, yet confesses her reluctance to stay.
But change isn't that easy.
She falls for the illusion the Noppera Bou constructs for her—a turnaround reflecting her current situation: a loving husband, with an extended family who praises Ocho. It's wonderful. It's a bit like relapse.
The Medicine Seller reappears, though. He's passively mocking when he applauds Ocho. In his words: "It was fake." (Notice the plum trees sticking out from above?) Ocho becomes demoralized by the Noppera Bou's deception.
If it really is his own, that is.
Ocho played the part so well she forgot it was her hand that wrote it.
Furthermore, the Mask gets antsy when Ocho begins to recall her past. If we take the Mononoke as a manifestation of her suppressed emotions, and a shield from the pain, then it's very obvious why. Memories conjure pain. Her defenses crumble. Hence the house was made "inescapable" by the Mononoke, as it actively worked to hold Ocho within that false sense of security—which facing reality and fighting for change would have shattered.
Taking it a step further, however, would bring us to the fact that it was Ocho who did this to herself, the offending Mononoke. While Ocho was groomed by her Mother to accept the fate she'd handpicked for her, it's clear she would have rather resigned herself to being unhappy and unheard for the rest of her life, than trying.
Evidently, Ocho had chained herself to that house out of loyalty to her Mother also.
But then Ocho is forced to face the facts: her Mother never cared about what she wanted; Ocho had subdued herself for her sake all this time; and the Noppera Bou was a consequence of Ocho's mental retreat to cope with the former.
It's a painful process but necessary. Necessary for change.
Therefore the Sword's three requirements are fulfilled, Ocho accepts the truth (her Mother's failings and her own), and by doing so, is set free.
-
QUESTION:
1. If the Noppera Bou is Ocho, then why does she ask the Medicine Seller the reason for him helping her, as if he were a separate entity?
- Now, I found it interesting when Kusuriuri said this: "The Mononoke manipulated that man in a Noh mask and deceived you, to make the house inescapable." Of course this could just mean that the Mononoke had taken on the form of a man to reflect Ocho's inner desires — not that it had possessed some man in a Noh mask.
But then what's even more interesting is the Medicine Seller's response to her question: "If there was a reason, I guess he fell in love... with you." Is this in some way confirming that the Faceless Man is, in fact, its own entity? Or is it commenting on Ocho's self-image?
If that's the case, why would he then say, "What a pitiful Mononoke he was." Again. Implying an individual being.
Perhaps the Noppera Bou had a more complex existence than him simply being Ocho. Maybe not.
Either way, Ocho clearly felt grateful toward him.
Notes:
- A bit bittersweet, the Noppera Bou's characteristic, colorful confetti falls from the sky after Ocho leaves the house.
- On this discussion thread, mystry08 draws attention to a particular desire Ocho may have longed for, which is love. I touched on this a bit before. Perhaps the Noppera Bou was meant to reflect the kind of "tender love" she lacked from her abusive, arranged marriage?
(I know many women can relate to turning to fiction rather than real life when men is involved. 😮💨)
It's not the root cause of her problem; but it lends an intimate perspective into Ocho's psyche, and the possibilities behind the Masked Man's form.
It has been about 10 years since I first watched Mononoke. And to say it changed my worldview is a bit of an understatement.
I've spent some time digging into theories regarding the identity of the Man in the Fox Mask. First taking it at face value, then drawing connection between him and the Medicine Seller. After a while, it hit me in the face that I might have just misled myself. Everything was stated so obviously yet I turned my eyes away from the most intriguing (and also most tragic) answer of all: the Noppera-bou is none other than Ochou.
Rare photo of AB Mishizu Herz (left) at the Rave'N.
In Satisfying Afterburn lore, The Faceless are Nopperabō ¹. The girl who Wednesday has a bad habit of crashing into, Mishizu Herz, is a half-Japanese, half-German Nopperabō whose Outcast powers are supernaturally empathetic, reflecting the heart of who she physically and mentally encounters on her face, for however long or brief (depending on the strength of the preoccupation). In Outcast society, they tend to make good law enforcement officers/work well with the investigative justice system* since their powers are objective. They can't help or manipulate who they 'face'; it's something like a temporary possession by the emotional image projected by the other person. Still, Norminal society has a deep distrust of shapeshifting Outcasts, so there are few Nopperabō at higher levels of government.
*And thus, in the future there will be some more interesting interactions between ABW and Mishizu.
Eerily beautiful modern nihonga paintings by Matsuura Shiori (she also does a lot of bijin-styled art, some hinting at wlw!). For her take on Japanese monsters, the pieces shown here are:
One of the most beautiful jorougumo depiction I’ve ever seen (the tangled butterflies in her spiderweb-hair <3)
A banquet going amok because of mischievious rokurokubi and nopperabou, and their tsukumogami (animated objects) suite
A falsely serene Otsuyu from the Peony lantern ghost story
Crokery tsukumogami and a very curious investigating cat
Make-up tsukumogami and sleeping white cat (maybe a bakeneko as hinted in the mirror)
