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I was supposedly on my mother’s lap in front of the television watching the events of September 11, 2001 unfold. I would’ve been three years old and barely conscious of anything around me, so I have no direct memory of what happened. What I do remember shortly afterward is being constantly reminded that 9/11 was the worst day in American history. As a zillennial cusper (too young to be a core millennial, but too old to be a complete zoomer), I’m perhaps among the last generation of young people who grew up being fully aware that al-Qaeda’s terrorist attacks on U.S. soil opened the new century and changed the world forever.

Today is, unbelievably, the 25th anniversary of 9/11. It is naturally a day of somber remembrance for the nearly 3,000 people who were murdered. The tragedy has continued with thousands more dying of related illnesses in the ensuing years. For the 24th anniversary, I visited the 9/11 Memorial & Museum. As I wrote last year, you will paradoxically never find a more peaceful location in all of New York City. Despite once being the horrific site of people being forced to jump out of the Twin Towers and those buildings ultimately collapsing into rubble, the utmost effort has been put into crafting a pensive space that honors the victims and tells their stories.

Anyone who travels to New York should take an afternoon to be where the One World Trade Center rises out of the ashes of its predecessor. And yet, it is difficult to ignore a painful truth: living memory of 9/11 is fading into history. America is already long past the milestone where everyone born before September 11, 2001 is now an adult. Young men and women who came into the world that year were old enough to serve in Afghanistan before the disastrous withdrawal of U.S. troops two decades later. According to Gallup, only 16 percent of Gen Z believes that their lives had changed because of 9/11, but that shouldn’t be surprising. How could they have a concept of life before it?

Important events will naturally become less relevant to later generations. What is unbelievable with 9/11 is the speed in which everything has become memory-holed. In 1966, most Americans still understood the gravity of the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor even though it had taken place 25 years previously. World War II was baked into the cultural ether through novels, films, songs, and other media. Younger adults who did not fight overseas remembered growing up with the domestic war effort as part of their childhoods. WWII veterans were also around to remind everyone. The New York Times reported that hundreds of survivors traveled to Honolulu and that there was no shortage of commemoration. People were not going to forget anytime soon.

But perhaps the biggest difference between 1966 and 2026 is what kind of war Americans are living after. Afghanistan, which the United States initially invaded with good justification to eradicate the terrorist cells which trained al-Qaeda, ended in disarray because it turned into a failed nation-building enterprise. Iraq, while slowly improving since the removal of Saddam Hussein, has suffered through years of regional instability and civilian casualties. It was hardly a glorious win and veterans have very mixed feelings toward their role in the conflict. The decisive Allied victory over the Axis powers in 1945, on the other hand, was an essential part of what made Americans believe that their country was a great nation. There is no longer a WWII-like mythology for people of all generations to get behind.

The briefest moments after 9/11 probably marked the last time when such unity was still possible. George W. Bush saw a record-high 90 percent approval rating in early October amid his initial words of reassurance to the American people. Four years and one unpopular war later, however, and public sentiment turned against the president. I believe that this shift in national mood would have eventually happened even without Iraq. The last quarter of a century has been defined by rapid advancements in technology, which in turn has radically transformed how information is distributed.

There were no smartphones or social media when 9/11 happened. While it is often referred to as the most photographed event in American history, no public images inside the Twin Towers above the impact zone where the planes hit are known to exist. Relatively little footage of American Airlines Flight 77 smashing into the Pentagon was recorded and the United Airlines Flight 93 crash site in Shanksville, PA was essentially in the middle of nowhere. Most at the World Trade Center who shot footage of people jumping to their deaths made a conscious effort to not capture them hitting the ground. The Falling Man photograph was highly controversial upon its release despite its lack of explicit gore. The implication alone was gruesome enough.

I mention all this because 9/11 arguably marked the last time when there was restraint with how a major tragedy of this scale was covered, but also when traditional media still controlled what was shown to the public. News outlets and professional journalists largely stuck to the facts while respecting the dignity of the victims. The worst imagery of that day either remains locked away in private collections or was never put to film in the first place. If 9/11 happened today, nothing would be left to the imagination and there would be no shortage of endless carnage livestreamed to the internet.

For better or worse, we are all now cameramen and self-proclaimed reporters because of the supercomputers in our pockets. Virtually every moment of daily life is recorded and then discussed 24/7 on social media where there is simply too much information for our minds to adequately process. Human beings did not interact with each other on this scale in 2001. 9/11 conspiracy theories of course existed 25 years ago, but they were mostly relegated to niche circles of nuts who few took seriously. Today, the conspiracies quickly overtake the facts as the dominant narrative because they attract the mosts clicks and views.

At the same time, distrust of institutions and experts did not come out of nowhere. The dubious justifications for the Iraq War are why large swaths of the American public refused to ever trust their government again. And while the political right bears considerable responsibility for the erosion of the public’s confidence, it was not just their doing. Left-leaning journalists and academics have constantly downplayed the existential threat of radical Islam, instead choosing to frame all criticism of the Muslim world as racism or xenophobia. Even after 9/11, many privileged Westerners still cannot wrap their heads around the idea that certain religious beliefs are incompatible with Western society.

You cannot compel young people to “never forget” 9/11 when they are in no position to remember. Gen Z was raised in a environment far more politically polarized than during the Bush years. Their defining generational moment was not al-Qaeda’s attacks on the United States, but living through a pandemic which forced everyone indoors, upended their lives, destroyed their social interactions, and ruined their already shaky economic prospects. While worried if they’ll ever get onto the housing ladder or live as securely as their parents, a thousand things on social media are competing for their attention. Being terminally online has indoctrinated a worrying number of zoomers into antisemitic conspiracy theories and siding with the late Osama bin Laden himself.

25 years later, what truly is the legacy of 9/11? It must be accepted that the event has transitioned away from living memory and into old history much faster than any of us could have ever predicted. The best we can hope for now is that those who do care continue to prioritize educating others. Against my own expectations, many of the people online working to preserve the lost media around 9/11 are actually Gen Z users. The 9/11 archive on Reddit is an valuable treasure trove of crucial information. Its admins have reached out to survivors for their stories, and there are active efforts underway to recover unseen footage which is stuck on decaying analog media.

For as easy as it is to be pessimistic that 9/11 will be forgotten, I don’t think that all hope is lost. Young people in this age are no less capable of empathy and appreciating the past. It is only the new challenges of their generation which are preventing them from understanding the full context. A curious mind with a genuine drive to learn, however, has no limitations regardless of age. The amount of Gen Z archivists dedicated to documenting 9/11, even its most esoteric aspects like the muzak which played in the plaza of the Twin Towers before the very end, is proof of that. Perhaps “never forget” is no longer an adequate phrase. How we record history for those who read about 9/11 a century from now is the bigger problem to tackle.

Foreign Perspectives is a reader-supported Substack. If you like my work and have come this far, consider opting for a paid subscription so I can continue writing in-depth articles such as these on a regular basis. Your support is greatly appreciated!

Foreign Perspectives is a mix of free and paid content. Articles such as these are exclusively for paid subscribers, so if you enjoy the work I do, please consider upgrading to a monthly or yearly subscription. Your support is greatly appreciated and ensures that this Substack can continue to deliver high quality pieces.

Take 20% off all paid subscriptions to Foreign Perspectives via my end of summer sale here!

No country attracts the level of discussion, interest, speculation, jokes, parodies, and outright fake news quite like North Korea. There are of course plenty of other places that receive a ton of attention because of their economic influence or soft power, but the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea is fascinating because it appears frozen in an entirely different era away from everywhere else.

The DPRK’s existence is a direct result of Cold War geopolitics causing the division of the Korean Peninsula and that conflict never seeing a true resolution. In contrast to Germany with the fall of the Berlin Wall, the demilitarized zone has kept both Koreas permanently split. While South Korea later became a liberalized society after decades of military rule, North Korea is still run by a tinpot dictatorship that continues to lead with an iron fist after three successive generations. Unlike Iran, the North Korean people are not in a position to protest their leadership and there is little evidence of any real mobilized internal dissent that could create such conditions.

For over a decade, I dedicated my life to being a student of everything related to North Korea. The stories I heard growing up of my family’s experiences with the Chinese Cultural Revolution originally sparked my interest because the DPRK is the only society left on earth which remains comparable to the Communist Bloc. In high school, I began seriously reading every book I could get on the subject. The gravity of the human rights violations under the Kims and the tragedy of so many families separated by the Korean War are still chilling to think about long after I first learned about them. North Korea later became the central pillar of my life when I entered graduate school fully intending to specialize in geopolitical issues between Japan and the Korean Peninsula.

In part one of this column series, I wrote about dropping out of academia. In part two, I further explained why international relations couldn’t provide me a career in Japan. In this third and final part, I will now provide a debriefing on why I had to finally give up North Korean studies as well. This one especially saddens me because my work reporting on the DPRK was a big reason why I have a readership to begin with. This niche, but fascinating world introduced me to so many incredible people and allowed me to gain bylines as a geopolitical commentator at several respected outlets.

Like I wrote about IR, however, being a North Korea specialist unfortunately did not translate into something I could earn a living from. I tried my best to expand my scope to general East Asia topics and seriously considered my other options as I withdrew from academia, but to no avail. What was once a topic that truly made me feel passionate about being a journalist and researcher for almost the entirety of my 20s is now something I have to regrettably put away and move on from.

There are no jobs and I met all the experts

For a country that’s as fascinating as North Korea, you may be surprised to learn that there are relatively few specialists relative to other geopolitical conflicts. Compared to the Middle East and Russia, the pool of researchers and journalists who have spent their entire careers studying the Korean Peninsula is shockingly small.

George Bush famously included North Korea in his January 2002 State of the Union speech where he referred to the country as part of the “Axis of Evil” with Iraq and Iran. Yet in retrospect, this was mostly a throwaway line. The DPRK has largely been secondary or tertiary to other ongoing wars and conflicts the United States finds itself involved with. Sure, it definitely matters, but there are almost always bigger fish to fry. The DPRK is often subsumed by issues related to its bigger brother China, which occupies much more global airtime and focus.

North Korea is, unsurprisingly, a far greater immediate concern to South Korea due to their shared border and the fact that the Korean War itself is technically not over. Japan is also affected due to Pyongyang’s frequent missile tests and the decades-long unresolved issue of the DPRK kidnapping Japanese citizens, but these are mostly localized problems that few outside this region really think about. If you recall what I wrote in my previous two columns about academia and international relations, long-term job prospects for reporting on North Korea full-time are similarly very limited.

Even within a university environment, it’s rare for someone to specialize only in DPRK studies and you generally need to have a wider purview. With me having quit academia, I ran into the same problems I had with trying to find a sustainable occupation related to international relations. Virtually all policy and journalism positions connected to North Korea are in Seoul or to a lesser extent Washington D.C., and that’s not an option for me as someone who has chosen to live in Japan permanently.

The closest I got was a remote job for NK News, an independent organization that’s largely considered the most respected outlet specializing in Korean Peninsula affairs. As both a freelance writer and manager of their social media accounts, I had to closely observe the latest headlines and state media around North Korea. It paid much better than most jobs graduate students typically get and it was something directly related to what I was researching. I wound up frequently visiting Seoul because of the friends and colleagues I made through NK News.

Unfortunately, that eventually came to an end after two-and-a-half years. The direction NK News wanted to take their social media in required working in person at their Seoul office along with additional responsibilities far beyond the scope of a remote role. While they were kind enough to offer relocating me, I was still convinced I wanted to continue with my Ph.D and I had no desire to leave Japan. I thought that academia around Korean Peninsula issues would be the basis of my actual career, not knowing at the time that this too wouldn’t pan out.

The other issue was that throughout the years I researched North Korean topics, I gradually realized how difficult it is to make an original contribution to the field. I met experts like Andrei Lankov, defectors like Hyun-Seung Lee, and top diplomats like Stephen Biegun. Peter Ward, one of the top specialists on the DPRK’s economy, is a dear friend. Bradley Martin, author of one of the best books ever written about North Korea, is a reader of this Substack. I’m indebted to NK News founder Chad O’Carroll for hiring me and putting me in a position to make all these connections in the first place. What they all have in common is marketable skills or qualifications in other areas while being in the right place to have a career in North Korean studies.

Based on my location and educational background, I tried to position myself as a writer on Japan-DPRK relations. I appeared on podcasts, YouTube videos, and international television while I worked on my Ph.D. In the end, though, it wasn’t enough to land me a full-time job that could provide a livable salary. It’s a bit of an amusing contradiction; there are few real experts on North Korea, but there are also plenty of people who can do what I attempted much better.

I’ll likely never visit North Korea

This one specifically affects me as an American citizen. Following the tragic death of student Otto Warmbier in 2017, the U.S. Department of State imposed an official travel ban to North Korea. This rule has been in place for nearly a decade and shows no signs of being repealed. Any U.S. citizen who is found out to have visited the DPRK risks getting their passport revoked and other steep legal penalties.

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Foreign Perspectives is a mix of free and paid content. Articles such as these are exclusively for paid subscribers, so if you enjoy the work I do, please consider upgrading to a monthly or yearly subscription. Your support is greatly appreciated and ensures that this Substack can continue to deliver high quality pieces.

Take 20% off all paid subscriptions to Foreign Perspectives via my end of summer sale here!

International relations, what are they good for? If you mean the interactions and foreign policies among countries, then quite a lot. If you mean the academic discipline of studying such relations and future job prospects, well, that’s a different story.

In my last column, I went into detail about how I ended up dropping out of my doctoral program in IR at Ritsumeikan University after navigating the pitfalls of academia for nearly five years. It surprisingly became one of the most-viewed articles on this Substack, so it must have resonated with enough people who are familiar with postgraduate education or perhaps have even gone through it themselves.

But what about international relations as a subject? While I wasn’t able to get my Ph.D, I’ve had a master’s in it since 2021. It’s something, right? Unfortunately, that piece of paper on my shelf has about as much use in Japan as a bicycle does on the frozen tundras of Siberia. Sure, it technically could help you navigate the desolate landscape if you’re lucky, but why would you choose such an inefficient means of transportation in a largely unsuitable environment? That’s basically what my IR degree is here when it comes to career advancement.

I previously explained why I wasn’t suited for the academic world of international relations. In this second part, I’ll dive into the main reasons why being an IR major is unlikely to help me outside of it, either. While IR may have some application overseas, it’s a very small field that few are really aware of in Japan. In the past, I’ve spoken to other foreigners who thought that studying IR might help them avoid the typical bottom-of-the-barrel English teaching route which pays peanuts. Let me be the one to burst that bubble: unless you have other qualifications or an existing path to employment with the right connections, it probably isn’t.

There really aren’t many IR jobs in Japan

In a vacuum, international relations is a fascinating field which plays an important role in explaining the major geopolitical problems of our time. If you’ve ever wondered why some countries are close allies and why some countries are seemingly eternal enemies, then you already have some familiarity with IR. Scholars have dedicated their entire lives toward studying various conflicts across the world, and a handful of them like Henry Kissinger and Condoleezza Rice even went on to occupy considerably high positions of political power. As I elucidated last time, however, the academic track was a dead end for me and you won’t see me advising the President of the United States anytime soon.

To begin with, there are actually relatively few international relations departments at Japanese universities. The one I was admitted to at Ritsumeikan University here in Kyoto is considered among the best, while Waseda University in Tokyo is the other most notable one. You might find a political science program at a handful institutions throughout the country, but it’s not a popular major among Japanese students. Ritsumeikan’s own website reporting where its IR undergraduates go to even lists that the majority of them enter manufacturing, services, IT, finances, or trading companies. You obviously don’t need an IR degree for those. What’s more useful is demonstrating marketable skills.

Additionally, few Japanese undergrads move on to graduate school unless they want to specialize in academia or research. When my original plan was to finish my Ph.D., hopefully do a postdoc, and move on to becoming a full-time professor, then sure, my plan made sense. Now that I’m an ex-academic in the wilderness, all I have is a piece of paper which proves I could do two years of slightly advanced research on Japan’s North Korea policy under the Shinzo Abe administration. The name of the school I graduated from holds far more value than what I actually studied since a university like Ritsumiekan has some prestige among Japanese employers.

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Foreign Perspectives is a mix of free and paid content. Certain columns such as these are free for all subscribers, but other articles will be exclusive for paid subscribers. If you enjoy the work I do, please consider upgrading to a monthly or yearly subscription. Your support is greatly appreciated and ensures that this Substack can continue to deliver high quality pieces.

I am now just another statistic. Specifically, you can count me as part of the data point often cited which estimates that almost half of graduate students do not finish their Ph.Ds. Some may doubt that number, but given the state of academia these days and the limited long-term job prospects for those even with a degree, I’m inclined to believe that it’s closer to reality than not.

Earlier this year, I finally decided to drop out of my doctorate course at the Ritsumeikan Graduate School of International Relations. I had already known that I would be abandoning a career in academia since summer 2025 to look for greener pastures elsewhere. At the very least, though, I figured that I could finish the degree just to say that I had done it. After all, I successfully completed a master’s in IR and spent nearly half a decade toward a Ph.D. Why put all that to waste?

As it turns out, several factors outside of my control prevented me from completing my doctorate. The amount of years it would have taken to continue was not a realistic prospect given my age and future plans, so it was time to call a spade a spade. I’m now at a major crossroads as I begin the process of transitioning into the next stage of my life in starting a business while writing books on the side. I’ve been fortunate to have a life few foreigners in Japan get to experience, but my previous trajectory was simply not sustainable.

In this first entry of a three-part column series, I will chronicle what went wrong in my odyssey through academia and why I chose to move on. The second part will go into the difficulty of making international relations a full-time career, which is why I had to let it go. The third part will dive into why I left North Korean studies, a topic I spent over a decade following.

Why I wanted to be an academic

Having studied abroad in Japan from 2017 to 2018 in my third year of undergrad, I had to consider what my future would be after returning to the United States and graduating. I initially planned to do a dual-major in Japanese and Business, but the latter did not pan out because I couldn’t fulfill the math requirements beyond algebra. Business Calculus to this day remains the only course I’ve ever completely failed, and no amount of remediation could help me.1 That unfortunately cut me off from high-paying STEM fields, so I had to settle with a major in Japanese and a minor in English.

You’re free to make your jokes about useless humanities degrees — and I wouldn’t blame you — but I had some promising opportunities in front of me. I was fortunate enough to learn Japanese through the University of Pittsburgh’s East Asian Studies department, which is one of the best in America. I received multiple scholarships to take intensive summer language courses, work a summer internship in Yamaguchi Prefecture at a glass company, and do a homestay in Kobe, so the momentum for me to continue was there. I knew that I wanted to return to Japan and I was truly passionate about further education, so I believed that graduate school would allow me to fulfill both goals.

As cliched as it may sound, I became a graduate student because I wanted to pursue knowledge as a researcher and hopefully become an academic myself one day. International relations was the perfect field that aligned with my interests at the time. Japan is right in the center of important geopolitical events that unfold in East Asia, and regional tensions with North Korea were at a boiling point when I first moved to Japan in 2017. Given my Chinese family’s history of surviving the Cultural Revolution, I had an existing interest in the DPRK and its associated human rights issues. This was also when Donald Trump was engaging in his diplomacy with Kim Jong Un, while the tragic issue of Japanese nationals abducted by North Korea was the topic of my capstone thesis.

I discovered the MEXT scholarship, a grant provided by the Japanese government which waives tuition, includes a monthly stipend, and even includes a free plane ticket to Japan. This is one of the most competitive scholarships in the world, but against all odds I was somehow able to secure it to enroll in the international relations master’s program at Ritsumeikan University from fall 2019. The next two years taught me how to do research and think like an academic.

While undergoing my studies at Ritsumeikan, I became an employee of NK News, one of the most well-regarded outlets reporting the Korean Peninsula. With a completed master’s under the MEXT scholarship and a part-time job at a respected website directly related to my field, I could not have asked for anything better. If that wasn’t enough, I was able to make lightning strike twice by successfully re-applying for the MEXT scholarship to cover the next step of my journey: a Ph.D. Getting MEXT the first time around was a challenge, but being able to extend it another three years for a doctoral degree is something that almost never happens.

Part of me believes it was because 2021 was when Japan was still closed off to most would-be graduate students during the pandemic, but another part hopes that it was also because I submitted a strong application. Regardless, I was confident that I could continue building upon what I had accomplished during my master’s. By 2024, I would be Dr. Oliver Jia on his way to a teaching job! Or so I thought.

The publishing requirements got to me

While finishing my previous thesis was all I needed to graduate from my master’s program, Ritsumeikan’s requirements for receiving a doctoral degree are far stricter. In addition to the dissertation, you need a minimum of at least three academic publications. No problem, I thought. While working on my doctoral degree, I could easily hammer out these papers. I was already writing about North Korea for NK News and expanding my bylines as a freelance journalist to other outlets, so this would be a piece of cake.

And in the beginning, things seemed to be going ok. For my first academic paper, I decided to find a publisher for my master’s thesis. An analysis of the late Japanese Prime Minister Shinzo Abe administration’s policy toward North Korea, I edited it down into a concise paper for the journal North Korean Review. My submission was accepted and published in spring 2023. But if you’re keeping up with the timeline, you’ll notice that it took nearly two full years to go from finishing my master’s thesis to getting it published — nearly the same amount of time the actual master’s course itself took.

While that was somewhat of an extreme case, academic publishing is often a slow process. Undeterred, I immediately got to work writing my second article. I decided to focus on the Pyongyang Declaration, a historic agreement brokered between Japan and North Korea in 2002. I wanted to explain why despite initial hopes, diplomacy ultimately collapsed and how virtually all pieces of paper signed with the Kim regime suffer from the same problems. I even presented my article at a 2022 academic conference sponsored by North Korean Review in Seoul to good reception.

I must have easily gotten my paper published soon afterward, right? Nope. I spent the next four years pitching the article to publication after publication, including my university’s student journal. I was told that it didn’t offer a new contribution to the field of DPRK studies and that I lacked a solid theoretical framework. It was disappointing to hear, especially after I had spent so much time constantly re-editing the material. And remember, I still had to publish a third article on top of that. To make matters worse, I was informed by the department that my doctoral thesis wouldn’t even be looked at if I didn’t have all three papers published in advance.

This doctorate program, which was initially supposed to have lasted for three years, had gone on for nearly five years. While it is common for Ph.Ds to take longer than advertised, this was beyond the scholarship period MEXT offered. Tuition for additional semesters was thankfully low-cost enough for me to pay out of pocket after the scholarship period ended, but there was no way I could continue on any longer while waiting for academic publications to get back to me. Even if these extra papers were not an issue, my actual doctoral thesis was proving to be its own challenge as well.

Academic writing became the bane of my existence

Have you ever heard of neoclassical realism? To put it in layman’s terms, it’s a school of thought in international relations which argues that leaders are constrained by domestic factors when deciding official foreign policy in response to external pressures. Straightforward, right? Now read how IR scholar Norman Ripsman describes it:

Neoclassical realism is an approach to foreign policy analysis that seeks to understand international politics by taking into account the nature of the international system—the political environment within which states interact. Taking neorealism as their point of departure, neoclassical realists argue that states respond in large part to the constraints and opportunities of the international system when they conduct their foreign and security policies, but that their responses are shaped by unit-level factors such as state–society relations, the nature of their domestic political regimes, strategic culture, and leader perceptions. Neoclassical realists have identified a number of important limitations to the neorealist model—for example, states do not always perceive systemic stimuli correctly, or the international system does not always present clear signals about threats and opportunities.

Are you still awake? Believe it or not, that wall of text is actually just three sentences and it’s only half of what’s supposed to be a brief abstract. Welcome to the world of academic writing! Ripsman isn’t even considered a particularly dense or complicated scholar and his work is usually on entry-level syllabi for new students of international relations. But the deeper into the weeds you get with such theories, the harder it becomes to keep up. If you found your concentration trailing off while trying to read up on neoclassical realism, congratulations. You’ve realized in five seconds what it took nearly five years for me to admit: academic writing is an abomination.

Non-academic outsiders often chalk this up to academics trying to sound fancy to hide weak ideas. On the other hand, some academics themselves may argue that their fields are too complicated for anything but convoluted language to suffice. There is a grain of truth to both claims, but the reality is more nuanced. As Steven Pinker wrote in his 2014 essay, “Why Academics Stink at Writing,” the real root cause is that those who have mastered a topic often forget the perspectives of people who don’t share the same level of knowledge.

International relations occupies a weird gray zone between the humanities and social sciences. It is technically part of the latter with economics and sociology, but it often touches upon history, literature, and philosophy. With that said, it is still heavily theory-based. I would be here all day if I tried to describe every IR theory from liberalism to the different types of realism, but every student in this field will inevitably encounter them. While some IR scholars care more about theory than others, academic publishers and reviewers will often be less than enthused if you don’t provide some kind of framework that references the accepted literature.

My doctoral thesis intended to cover the complicated relations between Japan and South Korea and their contrasting responses to mutual threats from North Korea. The research question analyzed this contradiction: Why do both countries not show full cooperation despite being democratic societies allied with the United States who all have a common enemy in the Kim regime? The obvious reason is their long-standing historical issues, but I wanted to explore what conditions created unavoidable tensions and what conditions allowed for solidarity to appear. I needed a theoretical framework as a mechanism for the thesis, so this is where the domestic pressures as outlined in neoclassical realism were most obvious to me.2

However, this is where the practical side of my dissertation began conflicting with the theoretical portion. As a journalist who previously tried to make a complex topic like the history of Japan and the Koreas as understandable as possible to the public, I don’t think you “need” a theory like neoclassical realism to explain geopolitics. If anything, it just makes things even more obscure to the average person. My editors for the outlets I wrote for would eliminate as much needless jargon as possible, but my advising professors insisted I show a robust understanding and application of IR theory.

To the best of my ability, I aimed to incorporate neoclassical realism with my research and the case studies I chose. I even tried to utilize the theory with that paper on the Pyongyang Declaration I spent literal years submitting to academic journals. Yet I was told that my attempted use of the theory was inadequate even after multiple revisions. And fair enough, perhaps it was. At the same time, it also made me realize that my writing is really that of a journalist or columnist who produces work for as wide of a readership as possible instead of a circle of academics obsessed with theoretical paradigms. The idea of trying to force myself to write like an academic for the rest of my life was the equivalent of asking me to eat glass as my only source of food.

Academics live in a brutally competitive world. As was demonstrated in my experience, the publish or perish model is the only way anyone can get ahead when there are more Ph.Ds than available jobs. You need to sound like you know what you’re talking about, especially when it comes to something as abstract as theory. This leads to an extremely self-conscious mentality where no one wants to come across as lacking in knowledge compared to the next guy. If the way I described neoclassical realism wasn’t good enough for a handful of reviewers looking at a short paper, that gave me little confidence that my doctoral dissertation of well over 70,000 words would be accepted.3

Facing the music

With publication requirements I would never meet, academic writing I couldn’t stand, and the prior knowledge that nothing I was doing would lead to a career anyways, I realistically had no other choice but to call it quits. My bylines as a journalist also didn’t mean anything here, either. In fact, most academics inevitably look down on “non-academic” sources. I was once told by a professor a couple of years ago that I couldn’t use Max Hastings, the author of one of the most acclaimed books on the Korean War, as a source on the Korean War. In retrospect, I should have realized then that I didn’t belong in this world.

Still, I can’t say that everything I did was a complete waste of time. Graduate school had been my entry back into Japan and it gave me a springboard to network with other people. I earned a scholarship to study what I genuinely cared about. Knowing how to do proper research is a skill I use in other aspects of my life. I met some incredible people along the way and made a few friends. Ritsumeikan is a well-regarded school, so having a master’s from there gives me some clout when I submit my CV. Many Japanese employers care more about the school you went to than what you studied. I suppose that isn’t nothing. And if I had never moved to Kyoto, I would have never met my wife. That alone is the biggest reason why I don’t regret the entire experience.

I should also emphasize that just because academia didn’t work out for me, that doesn’t mean it won’t work out for you. If you’re someone who has the fortitude to master the lingo, enjoys studying theory, and can figure out how to get multiple publications to build your credentials, then you’ll probably have much more success than I did. It saddens me that my path with postgraduate education had to end here, but I now have to reposition my life toward something that can actually provide a living.

In the next part of this column series, I will go into more detail on why international relations unfortunately did not pan out as a career, Ph.D or not.

Foreign Perspectives is a reader-supported Substack. If you like my work and have come this far, consider opting for a paid subscription so I can continue writing in-depth articles such as these on a regular basis. Your support is greatly appreciated!

Foreign Perspectives is a mix of free and paid content. Certain columns such as these are free for all subscribers, but other articles will be exclusive for paid subscribers. If you enjoy the work I do, please consider upgrading to a monthly or yearly subscription. Your support is greatly appreciated and ensures that this Substack can continue to deliver high quality pieces.

Expect this to be one of many columns from me over the next few years lamenting the declining state of consumer rights and digital ownership. The catalyst for my melancholy happened last month when Sony announced that they would be ending production of physical PlayStation discs for new video game releases from January 2028. You can read my piece on that bit of devastating news here, but we now have more gasoline to pour onto the ever-burning dumpster fire.

In what can only be described as one of the most out-of-touch statements I’ve ever heard from a sitting CEO, the boss of Rockstar Games’ holding company Take-Two has only confirmed my worst fears. During an earnings call with investors on Aug. 7, Strauss Zelnick, who I must stress does not play video games, reiterated Sony’s decision that physical discs “don’t really make sense for the consumer.” His longer statement as quoted by IGN is as follows:

Our business is well over 90% digitally distributed. It’s already a digital business. So in certain instances, especially if it’s a big game, discs just — and note I said discs — don’t really make sense for the consumer.

Also, most instances you have to register online to play anyhow. So if you’re already connected, who cares if you download digitally? It’s all the same and it’s much more convenient.

So that’s where the world is going in our opinion and I think Sony understands that. We certainly understand that. It doesn’t mean that we won’t have physical additions now and then, I’m sure we will in the same way that there’s still vinyl in the recorded music business. But in other instances, it just won’t make sense.

If you were wondering what that sound was, it was my head repeatedly banging the table I’m writing this article on.

Before I blow another gasket, let’s get the obvious out of the way. I know that Zelnick is a businessman whose first priority is pleasing his shareholders. I’m not in doubt that he knows how to generate revenue as the head of a holdings company that has a market cap of over $46 billion. Grand Theft Auto is arguably the most successful media franchise of all time and one doesn’t necessarily need to be a gamer to make the financial decisions which got the brand there. In fact, I’m well aware that my side of the argument is the losing one. The stuff that I advocate for — namely physical media, one-time purchases instead of endless subscriptions, owning what you buy in perpetuity, and some basic semblance of digital ownership rights for consumers — are all things that I’m pessimistic about existing in the long-term to varying degrees.

The aim of this piece and future ones like it is to chart the enshittification of the world we’re seeing in real time. I’m drawing my line in the sand both for the public record and because I think enough of my readership feels strongly about these issues to be of similar mind. Personally, I have more than enough media in my backlog to last me for decades. The inevitable externalities of an “all-digital future” are things I can largely avoid because I already built my own library of video games, films, books, and music from when I was a child. In short, I’m already prepared for the end times.

Back to the subject at hand, let’s break down the sheer hubris and ignorance of what Zelnick is saying. He is blatantly wrong that discs “don’t really make sense for the consumer.” Physical discs are how many gamers, particularly those from low-income backgrounds, get into the hobby in the first place. Not everyone can afford the latest release at full price, so waiting a few months for a discount set by individual retailers or finding secondhand elsewhere is often the only option. A robust, truly free market based around the first sale doctrine makes complete sense to the consumer, but someone in Zelnick’s position will of course never admit that. The eventual goal of these companies is to control all sales with no middleman and to eliminate the concept of used games. That has nothing to do with what is beneficial for the consumer.

With that said, there is a grain of truth to Zelnick’s remarks. Specifically, the so-called “gun and ball gamers” who only play around two games a year such as the latest Call of Duty or Madden. This crowd almost certainly does not care about deeper issues like physical media or true ownership of the digital content they buy because gaming is more of a social activity they partake in with friends or during their limited hours of leisure time. Grand Theft Auto VI is primarily aimed at this audience, and it’s why Grand Theft Auto Online has been such a cash cow for over a decade with its endless microtransactions.

However, this leads into the second part of his statement about needing to register to play online. Not every video game should require online registration to begin with. There are plenty of big single-player titles which are meant to be offline experiences, and permanently tying them to a remote server is awful for long-term preservation. Look at the countless games which have been permanently delisted from digital storefronts. My Xbox 360 copy of Spec Ops: The Line is the only way I can lend it to a friend because it’s no longer available for purchase anywhere. Expect this to be the fate of most digital video games that have any kind of licensed music or brands, because those rights eventually expire.

Zelnick suggests that there could be physical media “in the same way that there’s still vinyl in the recorded music business,” but this is an ignorant throwaway remark for two reasons. First, Sony will no longer be producing physical discs after 2028 and Microsoft is very unlikely to pick up the slack due to the rapidly shrinking optical disc manufacturing sector. Second, vinyl is an apple to oranges comparison. Sales for the vinyl format hit over $1 billion last year, so it is hardly some secondary niche for the music industry. There is still strong infrastructure for the production of physical records, which is something video games won’t have after 2028 apart from perhaps Nintendo.

In other remarks reported by the press, Zelnick went on to make even more concerning comments about the future of how we play video games:

With the advent of streaming — which we really do believe is around the corner in terms of having something that’s low latency, and really works well for consumers — machines that weren’t game machines before will become game machines.

So, without regard to what happens in the console business, which is of consequence to us, of course, we see the overall install base as a practical matter growing materially. And if you believe in streaming, we really do — and I’m happy to put a timeline on it.

His prediction is that in three years, online streaming of games will be low latency enough for the vast majority of consumers to take advantage of with “minimal barriers.” And there you have it, folks. This is what these corporations really want: for you to pay indefinitely for subscriptions to content you don’t own and never will. Funny how the timing perfectly coincides with RAM and memory prices soaring because of AI data centers. No need for hardware if you can’t even buy the hardware to begin with!

If it isn’t obvious to most readers, there are a ton of problems with this proposed model for video games. Many will point to the reality that many parts of the world still suffer from inconsistent online connections, but this isn’t just an issue for underdeveloped or developing countries. Despite living in Japan, there have been plenty of occasions where my internet has temporarily cut out or servers necessary to operate aspects of PlayStation 5 games simply go offline. Imagine how all of this would be made even worse in a world where video games are only available through streaming.

Titles requiring inputs down to the millisecond such as fighting and rhythm games would be essentially unplayable due to the latency. “Cloud” video games which operate on this streaming model have been delisted. Google Stadia was notorious for crashing and burning into the realm of discarded technology only just a few years after its emissaries were acting like it was the future. Zelnick is either unaware of all this because he isn’t a gamer or more likely he simply doesn’t care. Someone in his position only considers short-term profit instead of long-term consequences.

As much as I want to believe that there’s a chance for consumers to fight back through movements like Stop Killing Games and DoesItPlay?, I can’t help but view this as a futile Sisyphean task. If Grand Theft Auto VI is successful — and we all know it will be — then it will give Take Two and these other publishers carte blanche to do whatever anti-consumer practices they want. No more physical games, always online single-player games, and eventually full-priced games that are glorified rentals locked to streaming all portend a dark future.

Sadly, it wasn’t just CEOs like Strauss Zelnick who are responsible for the gradual erosion of everything that once made video games enjoyable. The online microtransactions market was estimated to be worth over $62.5 billion in 2025. Blame the corporations as much as you want for introducing the free-to-play and always online “forever game” models, sure, but it was the consumer side that ultimately decided to embrace them. And as much as I’m a staunch advocate for physical media, the numbers cannot be ignored. Even if though the ratio isn’t as drastic as Zelnick suggests when you consider other factors, the reality is that more people are choosing digital over discs.

I know that old school fogies like me are a dying breed. The last 20 years of video games and consumer technology have made it abundantly clear that perceived convenience is gradually overtaking any semblance of true ownership. One bright side is that at least for books, movies, and music, a decent portion of Gen Z appears to be actively embracing physical media in an attempt to get away from the slop being pushed onto them. When it comes to video games, though, I’m already bracing for a world I have no interest in being part of.

Foreign Perspectives is a reader-supported Substack. If you like my work and have come this far, consider opting for a paid subscription so I can continue writing in-depth articles such as these on a regular basis. Your support is greatly appreciated!

Foreign Perspectives is a mix of free and paid content. Certain columns such as these are free for all subscribers, but other articles will be exclusive for paid subscribers. If you enjoy the work I do, please consider upgrading to a monthly or yearly subscription. Your support is greatly appreciated and ensures that this Substack can continue to deliver high quality pieces.

Note: This review is spoiler-free.

The Marvel Cinematic Universe is roughly at where American superhero comic books were at in the 1990s. Namely, it suffers from needlessly complex plots, multiple series you need to keep up with like homework in order to understand what’s going on, pointless retcons, and the film equivalent to their uneven artwork with CGI ranging from fine to atrociously amateur. But as with all eras of comics, sometimes you can pick up a random issue off the shelf and be pleasantly surprised at what you’re reading even if not everything is perfect.

Spider-Man: Brand New Day best fits that description, and it’s probably the closest any live-action film has gotten to capturing the earnest humanism of the character since Sam Raimi achieved the perfect balance with Spider-Man 2 in 2004. It’s notable for being the last big screen MCU entry before Avengers: Doomsday hits cinemas at the end of the year, but director Destin Daniel Cretton thankfully doesn’t hit audiences over the head with nonstop easter eggs. Less concerned with reminding you that a crossover of galactic proportions is just around the corner, Brand New Day is instead a smaller-scale story that fully embraces what makes Spider-Man such a relatable superhero and beloved pop culture icon.

After the events of Spider-Man: No Way Home, the world has not only forgotten that Peter Parker is Spider-Man, no one has any memory that Peter himself ever existed. In a rather heartbreaking early montage, we see that life has gone on for Peter’s former love interest Mary Jane and best friend Ned Leeds. Through social media, he observes them going through four years of university milestones without him. Meanwhile, things ironically couldn’t be better for Spider-Man as a superhero. New York City absolutely loves him, which contributes to Peter’s only real meaning in life being his dedication toward fighting crime on a near 24/7 basis.

This is Spider-Man back to his essential elements, which is what I appreciated the most out of Brand New Day. It bears little in common with the 2008 Dan Slott comic book storyline of the same name, but that’s a good thing. In the aftermath of the widely lambasted One More Day storyline, the Brand New Day issues tried to make things fresh by restarting the status quo, but the rotation of writers and artists led to very mixed results. In contrast, Brand New Day the film is earned melancholy and Peter’s loneliness doesn’t come across as misery for the sake of it.

Without Tony Stark’s technology or the support of the Avengers, Peter is once again Spider-Man on his own terms. Granted, he isn’t completely without help. Peter’s superb intelligence and resourcefulness allows him to create his own gadgets, while he’s in regular contact with NYPD detective Jean DeWolff. It becomes apparent, however, that none of this can substitute a truly meaningful life. Unlike other superheroes, Peter Parker and Spider-Man are both essential aspects to the character. Batman uses Bruce Wayne as his mask and Superman adapts the persona of Clark Kent to integrate with humanity, but Spider-Man can’t totally divorce himself from his civilian identity no matter hard he tries.

As such, this is why Brand New Day feels like a true spiritual successor to the Raimi trilogy. Peter’s loneliness, visits to Aunt May’s grave, and slipping control over his superpowers the more his life spirals out of balance are likely homages to the best moments of Tobey Maguire’s Spider-Man. Post-Avengers: Endgame, much of the MCU has frequently struggled to recapture what made us care about these heroes in the first place. Brand New Day finally gets it by going back to the storytelling approach of being a nuanced character study.

At the same time, the appearances of other Marvel characters actually enhance the world of Spider-Man instead of being distracting cameos. The first issue of The Amazing Spider-Man centered around our broke protagonist trying to join the Fantastic Four as a paid gig, so it was clear from the get-go that Stan Lee and Steve Ditko intended for him to be well-integrated with their larger universe. While I’m not the biggest fan of Mark Ruffalo, this is one of his strongest appearances as the Hulk. The underlying conflict of Peter’s superpowers becoming even more spider-like over time are a clear parallel to Bruce Banner’s own struggles with his monstrous half. Florence Pugh’s Yelena, who was surprisingly moving in the underrated Thunderbolts from last year, also reminds Peter that his mental health can’t be ignored.

Special praise must be given to Jon Bernthal as The Punisher. I’ve long been a huge fan of the character and have even used the cover of his debut appearance in The Amazing Spider-Man #129 as my phone wallpaper for months at a time. As of this writing, I’m currently going through the Defenders saga television shows, which are notably much darker than typical MCU fare. Frank Castle being a cold-blooded killer who massacres criminals without mercy was appropriate there, but Brand New Day naturally had to tone him down for a PG-13 rating. The Punisher’s often exasperated interactions with Spider-Man are especially hilarious if you’ve seen his brutal actions in Daredevil and his own series. At the same time, Peter partially fills the empty void Castle has after losing his family. I certainly hope this isn’t the only time they appear on screen together because they work off one another well.

Relying more on practical effects than the preceding trilogy, Brand New Day’s action and stunts are among the most thrilling ever seen in a live-action Spider-Man film. Cretton clearly applied the same lessons he learned from Shang-Chi: Legend of the Ten Rings in crafting a combat-heavy picture that flows with kinetic energy, while Tom Holland himself is in top athletic shape. The rich color grading is a welcome step away from the MCU’s recent tendency to go drab, and Michael Giacchino once again proves himself as among the best composers working in Hollywood with the evocative score. There is also obvious inspiration from Insomniac’s PlayStation video games with how Spider-Man moves and web-swings through New York. Don’t be surprised if you end up picking up a controller after the credits are over.

Yet for all the praise I’ve lavished on Brand New Day, there are some notable flaws that prevent it from taking the throne away from Spider-Man 2. First, the main villain will be a controversial choice. This was apparently one of the film’s worst-kept secrets in the lead up to its release, but I was able to avoid spoilers and be surprised during the reveal. Without giving too much away, I found this aspect to be the story’s weakest element. It unfortunately falls into the MCU (and greater Disney) trope of a someone who does heinous things up to murder being given a forced redemption arc that doesn’t quite land. At worst, the resolution is almost like a retread of Thunderbolts and likely could have been handled better with a few more script revisions.

Other aspects are less developed due to either time constraints or the consequences of slightly overstuffing a film that’s less than two-and-a-half hours long. The Hand is undoubtedly cool, but mostly irrelevant to the plot. I’d wager that the majority of audiences likely haven’t watched the Defenders saga, so their importance to the greater MCU mythos won’t be properly understood. This problem also extends to The Punisher and how he’s seemingly able to walk into public buildings without running into trouble with the authorities. A deleted scene featuring Rosario Dawson’s nurse character Claire Temple could have actually helped explain a couple of plot holes in the last act.

Despite being featured heavily in the marketing, the subplot around Peter’s enhanced spider abilities doesn’t have a satisfying conclusion and isn’t clear if this aspect of himself will ever be fully explored again. Don’t expect Man-Spider to appear despite the initial online speculation, either. More disappointing is the lack of screen time given to Mary Jane and Ned. Holland and Zendaya’s few scenes together are genuinely heartfelt, but there evidently needs to be another film or two to properly resolve their estranged relationship. Also, how the hell does Peter pay the bills? Living in an asbestos-ridden apartment may drive down costs and Spider-Man is a genius dumpster-diving inventor, sure, but with nary a J. Jonah Jameson in sight we get no indication if he’s working part-time. One or two additional lines could’ve easily explained it.

While I’m sure there will eventually be a live-action Miles Morales, Holland is in no hurry to pass the torch just yet. It’s pretty much all but confirmed that he’ll be back in one or both of the two upcoming Avengers movies. The Alien Costume Saga introduced the symbiote during the Secret Wars storyline, and Holland has yet to meet Tom Hardy’s Venom. Perhaps a future solo film will address Gwen Stacy and her eventual death, a major turning point in Spider-Man’s career that the short-lived Andrew Garfield franchise only hinted at. At the same time, I’d probably be more interested in the wealth of unexplored material from the comics that has yet to be adapted on the silver screen.

Like its title suggests, Brand New Day marks a reborn era for Spider-Man. Despite some plot weaknesses, this is the sort of film adaptation of the character I’ve always wanted. Spider-Noir from a few months ago is another take I lavished praise on, that television series being a successful example of how to integrate Spider-Man into a different category of genre fiction. Brand New Day, on the other hand, returns to the best of Spider-Man’s classic comic book roots and cinematic history to deliver a sweet crowd-pleaser. There must be something in the air this year because it and Project Hail Mary are the most uplifting experiences I’ve had watching a major Hollywood studio production in a long time.

Foreign Perspectives is a reader-supported Substack. If you like my work and have come this far, consider opting for a paid subscription so I can continue writing in-depth articles such as these on a regular basis. Your support is greatly appreciated!

Foreign Perspectives is a mix of free and paid content. Certain columns such as these are free for all subscribers, but other articles will be exclusive for paid subscribers. If you enjoy the work I do, please consider upgrading to a monthly or yearly subscription. Your support is greatly appreciated and ensures that this Substack can continue to deliver high quality pieces.

Foreign Perspectives has finally hit 100 posts with this column!

My Substack newsletter began in 2023 to serve as an assemblage of writing which was too esoteric or niche for most of the outlets I submitted freelance pieces to. It has provided me with a space to wax on long-form about the topics which matter the most to me and deliver those thoughts to the inboxes of likeminded readers. I wanted to escape the noise of social media where nuance goes to die and contribute some clarity in a sea of chaos. It was more for myself than anyone else, but I’m pleased to see that over 1200 subscribers are still interested in what I have to say three years later.

Before I get into the meat and potatoes of this piece which contains several major life updates, I would be remiss if I didn’t state the most important point first: Foreign Perspectives continues to exist entirely because of my readership. Whether you are a free or paid subscriber, your support has given me the motivation to keep this operation going. As someone who has done social media management before, I can assure you that many of the pieces here do better numbers than some articles on professional outlets with far larger audiences.

Most of my readers are free subscribers, but some of you are generous VIP founding members, some of you have gone for a yearly subscription, and some of you pay for the monthly tier whenever your personal situation permits. I can’t describe myself as being anything other than profoundly grateful for all of the patronage thrown my way, whether it’s financial or simply just opening your email when my updates hit your inbox. So once again, thank you from the bottom of my heart.

This column commemorating 100 posts on Foreign Perspectives has a lot to cover, so I’ve divided it into three sections: one announcing my upcoming book, one providing updates around what’s currently happening to me behind the scenes, and one giving a retrospective on how this Substack has changed over time. 2026 is shaping up to be the most transformative year of my life so far, and there is admittedly more uncertainty than I’m usually comfortable with, but I fully intend to keep Foreign Perspectives around for the foreseeable future.

Foreign Perspectives is being turned into a book!

I can now finally announce something that has been in the works for quite some time: a self-published book! It will be a compilation of writing from this Substack covering my time living in Japan for nearly a decade. So please look forward to Foreign Perspectives: Esoteric Essays on Life and Travel in Japan, which will hopefully hit Amazon Kindle worldwide by Christmas of this year.

A lot has changed for both me and Japan since I first arrived on its shores in 2017. Part-travelogue, part-memoir, Esoteric Essays covers underrated travel destinations off the beaten path, moments of tragedy during the pandemic, common challenges long-term foreign residents learn to overcome, a bit of romance, and much more. This book, however, is no mere collection of old stuff you’ve already read on this Substack. Across roughly 20 essays, half are significantly updated reprints and half are completely brand new. Given that Esoteric Essays is basically telling the story of my first decade in Japan, everything will be carefully edited for flow and to be in general chronological order.

Plenty of foreigners have written books about their experiences living in Japan, but everyone always contributes a new perspective. This one follows a similar tradition from authors like Ian Buruma, Edwin O. Reischauer, and Donald Keene who entwined their own personal journeys with the changing Japan around them. In fact, one of the included essays will be an edited piece I wrote about Dr. Keene many years ago with an interview I conducted with him over email before he passed away. I’m certainly looking forward to sharing this material and other anecdotes with all of you.

Foreign Perspectives: Esoteric Essays on Life and Travel in Japan will technically be my first book, though I personally consider it more of an exercise to see if I can actually complete and sell one to begin with. I have plans to write more books which will take considerably more planning and research by comparison. Esoteric Essays is already about 60% done since it draws upon existing pieces, but the process of drafting a reasonably coherent narrative and the extensive editing involved are important skills I need to practice. It’s essentially training wheels for future literature to come.

Amazon KDP will allow me to quickly self-publish Esoteric Essays in eBook and paperback formats, but I will also look into seeing if hardcover and color images are possible depending on final costs. Be on the look out for more precise details on cover art, content, purchasing links, and more later this year.

From failed academic to failing upwards businessman

Next comes a few important updates. You’ve probably noticed that 2026 has been a less active year for Foreign Perspectives compared to previous ones, and that’s sadly been unavoidable to a series of big changes going on in my life. Those who follow me on Twitter are probably aware of most of these developments, but I’ll bring my readers here up to speed.

I’ve dropped out of my international relations doctoral program. After nearly five years of being a Ph.D candidate, I decided in April to suspend my studies at Ritsumeikan University. I’m currently writing a three-part column detailing everything that led to me quitting academia, but long story short, I wasn’t going to meet the graduation requirements anytime soon.

While the doctoral dissertation was progressing decently enough, my department mandates that you have at least three academic publications at the time of submission. Without them, they won’t even look at your thesis. I only had one publication and the second kept getting rejected by my university’s student journal despite multiple revisions. Submitting to another journal, writing a third academic article from scratch, and finishing my dissertation on top of that would have taken me another 1-2 years at minimum.

That’s time I simply don’t have to burn, especially when I already decided last summer that I would be giving up my plan of becoming a professor. I’m a competent enough freelance journalist, but I’ve realized that I’m not suited for the world of academic writing and dedicating decades of my life toward producing largely thankless research only a select few people will ever read. I was a graduate student for far too long and with me turning 30 next year, it is long past time I had a real career.

I’m effectively retired from geopolitical commentary. With me leaving international relations as an academic discipline, it makes little sense to continue writing about global affairs and politics when it no longer aligns with my long-term plans. While I do have a master’s in IR and bylines in widely-read outlets like The Spectator, neither are going to pay the bills. Even if I had trudged through my Ph.D., trying to find an academic position related to geopolitics in Japan is already slim pickings. Outside of The Japan Times, you have a snowball’s chance in hell of being a full-time journalist who gets paid to write in English.

The other reason is that it quickly becomes difficult to find a “normal” job if you’re constantly in the world of contentious political subjects. I’m far from the most controversial talking head out there, but my opinions tied to my real name and face have been easily searchable for years. There was recently a potential opportunity for me running the Japanese branch of a foreign friend’s company, so being an outspoken political commentator is the last thing you want when representing a public-facing commentary.

For various reasons unrelated to politics, this position ended up being shelved indefinitely and I’m instead pursuing my own self-run business venture. That technically gives me more intellectual freedom than most, but as someone who is hoping to sell products and services to the public, being embroiled in any form of online controversy is the last thing I want. I should be clear, however, that I don’t regret any article I’ve published. I’m only moving on to the next chapter of my life because career paths and priorities change.

Of course, this doesn’t mean I’ll never touch upon anything political in my writing ever again. I now primarily write about cultural and big picture topics, but politics are always around the corner to some degree. I’d just rather write about subjects like being an advocate for physical media and consumer digital rights, which I assume most across the political spectrum would be in broad agreement on. The books and novels I hope to eventually write will almost certainly cover heavy subject matter as well. No matter what, I’ll be a writer until my dying day.

I’ve decided to leave personal social media behind. This is a major lifestyle change coming from a Twitter user who was active every day for over 13 years with 50,000 followers, but it had to be done. My reasons range from disliking the overall direction of the site to wanting to reduce all negative distractions. Last month I finally deleted the app from my phone, and it’s already boosted my productivity, attention span, and overall happiness. I’ll dive more into this subject in a future column once enough time has passed for the positive effects to fully sink in. From this point forward, I’m only using my main account on desktop to post updates related to this Substack and my company. Speaking of which…

I’ve started a business. This is easily the most important new development. With an academic career no longer in the cards, I’ve spent the last year planning the next stage of my life. In March, I officially established a holdings company registered in Kyoto with a Canadian partner who I’ve known as a good friend for years. We’re still in the early stages of getting our business plans off the ground, but I can now formally introduce myself as the CEO of Smith & Jia Holdings.

Our first venture will be selling vinyl records, retro video games, toys, figures, and other nostalgic items domestically in Japan and to foreign customers abroad. Instead of starting completely from scratch, we have been scouting businesses run by owners of retirement age who have no immediate successor. By continuing where they left off through a full M&A purchase, the intention is to maintain their existing connections to the local community while expanding overseas. We have already narrowed the search down to a few candidates for a physical retail location and will be launching an international e-commerce site in tandem.

After a lengthy application process, we finally received our permit to sell used goods last month. There is still a ton of work to do in acquiring inventory, securing loans, establishing retail space, and building the website, but things are progressing reasonably well. Since a secondhand goods store on the independent mom and pop business model in Japan can only generate so much revenue, especially when split between the two of us and at least one part-time employee, we will be aggressively pursuing foreign sales and already have an export partner lined up. I’ve even gotten some DMs about individual custom orders, so I have some optimism that we have a good idea on our hands.

This store is just the beginning of what we hope to do with our company. Once we have one successful location going, we will look into setting up others. Our holdings company is additionally poised to help other foreign clients set up their own business ventures in Japan as the language and bureaucracy are notoriously difficult for outsiders to navigate through. Much of this is new to me as someone freshly removed from the world of academia, but my partner and other friends with more experience are thankfully here to show me the ropes of business.

Look forward to future announcements once we have our retail location decided and our e-commerce site launched.

A (reasonably) brief history of this Substack

Still with me? Well, thanks for reading this far. To close things off and to celebrate 100 posts, I thought I’d take a trip down memory lane in showing how much Foreign Perspectives has evolved over time. Just as my career path has taken many twists and turns, so has the overall format and direction of this Substack.

My debut post for Foreign Perspectives was published on May 3, 2023. It’s a piece recounting my visit to Nagasaki’s Dejima Island the previous year and represents my lifelong affinity for travelogues. In addition to whatever fascinating historical context exists, I do my best to put readers in my shoes with detailed recollections of what I felt when I visit particular locations that mean something to me. I’m also someone who constantly photographs everything, so I like for the images I include to do most of the talking. Though the article itself is rather brief, it’ll always hold a special place as my Substack’s maiden voyage and you can expect an expanded version in Esoteric Essays.

The rest of 2023 set the tone for most of what Foreign Perspectives would typically cover. I wrote about Professor Layton and the Eternal Diva being my favorite film adaptation of a video game, provided a lengthy deep-dive into the criminally underrated The Young Indiana Jones Chronicles television series, and gave my thoughts on the ups and downs of life in Japan. My most popular piece from this year was the one on Yasuke, which explored the controversy around a 16th century African who may or may not have been a samurai in the service of Oda Nobunaga.

The piece from 2023 I wish had gotten more attention was about Abel Gance’s 1927 silent film Napoleon, but that’s the trade-off when you choose more obscure topics. Regardless of what subject I write about, I aim to explore as many nuances as I can and try to get to the bottom of why something turned out the way it did. An event is controversial or a film is underrated for some reason, so I task myself with trying to recreate the chronology of events. Most of my articles usually end up telling a story, which is a skill I imagine will come in handy when I eventually expand into fiction.

In 2024, I introduced two columns to Foreign Perspectives: Bonus Perspectives and A Bit of Film and War. The former was intended to cover one piece of international news, one piece of Japanese news, and my thoughts on whatever media I was consuming that week. The latter was intended to be a review and breakdown of war movies, my favorite cinema genre. I did my best to keep up with both in addition to the regular columns, but it ended up being too much trying to keep up with. While Bonus Perspectives is retired, A Bit of Film and War will likely come back on an infrequent basis because there are still plenty of war pictures I want to write about.

2025, particularly the latter half, is when I felt that Foreign Perspectives finally hit its stride as a more focused newsletter. Despite still being under the impression that I would be finishing my doctoral thesis, I continued to put aside time to write detailed columns on topics that I felt deserved more coverage. I gushed about Andor, went semi-viral on Substack writing about why Japanese people don’t speak English, and wrote an obituary for Tatsuya Nakadai.

2026 has been quieter by comparison and I no longer write about geopolitics for the reasons previously detailed, but I’m still here. Probably the most important piece I’ve written so far this year is my lament about Sony’s plan to end production of physical PlayStation discs in 2028. This will no doubt provide material for future columns as we’re entering some very concerning territory for long-term consumer ownership of media. Through my writing and business ventures, I’ll do my best to extol the virtues of physical media and media preservation for as long as I can.

Thank you for being a part of Foreign Perspectives. Our journey into foreign places continues.

Foreign Perspectives is a reader-supported Substack. If you like my work and have come this far, consider opting for a paid subscription so I can continue writing in-depth articles such as these on a regular basis. Your support is greatly appreciated!

Foreign Perspectives is a mix of free and paid content. Certain columns such as these are free for all subscribers, but other articles will be exclusive for paid subscribers. If you enjoy the work I do, please consider upgrading to a monthly or yearly subscription. Your support is greatly appreciated and ensures that this Substack can continue to deliver high quality pieces.

By this point, everyone and their mother will have seen or at least heard about Obsession. If you’re wondering why I’m late to the party, it’s because Curry Barker’s sleeper hit horror film took until this month to reach Japan. Yet even long after its wide theatrical release in the United States and other countries, people are still talking about Obsession with enough memes to shake a One Wish Willow at.

Despite having a shoestring budget of just $750,000, Obsession has grossed over $400 million worldwide. For context, it beat the latest Star Wars movie and is now the most successful film produced by Focus Features. Another horror picture in this conversation is Backrooms (which I won’t be able to see until September, again due to Japanese release delays), based on the creepypasta which became an internet meme in the 2010s. Both were directed by young twenty-something YouTubers turned aspiring filmmakers and both went on to set new box office records. I’d say that everyone’s expectations were exceeded, but no one really expected any of this to happen at all.

For the longest time, I was under the impression that Gen Z was losing interest in film. Video games long overtook them as young people’s preferred media due to the interactivity and breadth of content. The majority of Hollywood is still run by boomers, Gen X, and millennials, which leads to regular accusations that the film industry is out of touch with current trends. The phones aren’t helping, either. We all know how much of a problem endless doomscrolling is for all of our attention spans, though this is arguably a problem with all age demographics in our always online world. Yet the undisputed success of Obsession and Backrooms appears to suggest that a turning point is happening for cinema.

While a plethora of things are fighting for Gen Z’s time and focus, it is clear to me that cinema is not dying. In fact, it now has the potential to enter a period of rebirth it desperately needs. This coincides with an increasing number of zoomers rejecting the empty promises of AI and even returning to the old traditions of physical media. They want genuine experiences amid the decaying world of inauthentic bullshit being sold to them. The director of Obsession put it simply in an interview with The Hollywood Reporter: “I wish [the studios] understood that we’re tired of slop. We want good movies back. People are still hungry for movies that are original without some big IP, as long as the story is good.”

Indeed, Obsession works because it trusts the audience to be engaged and follow the rules of its world without any need for pointless handholding. The story follows a shy music store employee named Bear who pines for the affection of his co-worker Nikki. After acquiring a novelty toy called a One Wish Willow which advertises itself as being able to grant the deepest desires of its owner, Bear wishes for Nikki to fall madly in love with him and breaks the wood in half. What starts off as all his dreams coming true quickly devolves into the living hell as suggested by the film’s eponymous title.

What I believe will make Obsession last well beyond its current online trendiness is how it tells a universal tale of human folly that can be applicable to all eras. Bear being somewhat of a wishy-washy jellyfish who can’t properly confess his feelings to a girl he likes is the setup for every unrequited love story we’ve seen in a million teen drama films. Humans wishing for something and getting far more than they bargained for is also one of the oldest storytelling tropes. Barker, however, applies clever twists on familiar territory by showing how most wishes are inherently selfish since they infringe on the free will of others.

The most obvious inspiration is the horror short story “The Monkey’s Paw” by W. W. Jacobs, which centers on how wishes can come with disastrous consequences. This in turn was popularized by The Simpsons in “Treehouse of Horror II,” an episode of the show that Barker himself cites as an influence on his film. As Obsession depicts, matters of the heart are likely among the the most dangerous wishes. In reality, true love between two people is something that takes years to foster and cannot be created through shortcuts. Being young, Bear lacks the life experience to understand that and instead tries to jump to the finish line with Nikki. What happens next is something I won’t spoil because that’s where the real fun of Obsession lies.

Horror is generally not my go-to genre because most of these flicks deliver little more than cheap exploitation and thrills. On the other hand, it is arguably the most populist category of film for aspiring artists because of its general inexpensiveness. A good director who knows what he’s doing can occasionally produce some real moments of fear without resorting to just shock value. Thankfully, Obsession is shot with confidence and economy, while the surgical editing brings everything together. The majority of YouTubers find this the most tedious part of their creations, but Barker evidently had a ball bringing his footage together into something that aims to genuinely thrill audiences.

My near-full house screening in Kyoto was the first time in quite a while that I truly felt on the edge of my seat in a cinema. Every moment of tension feels terrifying because Barker keeps you guessing without devolving into tired cliches. True on-screen gore doesn’t really appear until the end, but it feels earned by the time we get there. The soft filtering of the muted colors and ambient electronic score by Rock Burwell effectively carry the material, which in turn is superbly performed by the film’s cast of young actors. Special praise must be given to Inde Navarrette’s chilling take on Nikki, and one only has to view her viral “date scene” from midway through to be assured that these people are destined for great things.

Despite only being 26, Barker has created a compelling piece of cinema that demonstrates creative wisdom years beyond the director’s age. In both narrative and craftsmanship, Obsession is anything but the work of an unsure amateur. The youthful energy Barker brings to the table with his cast of peers gives audiences something purely imaginative they haven’t felt in quite some time. It echos the likes of other early debuts such as Christopher Nolan with Following, George Lucas with THX 1138, Steven Spielberg with Duel, and, yes, even Orson Welles with Citizen Kane.

It is far too early to know if Barker will become one of the greats we speak of decades from now, but Obsession at least channels the same creative spark that leads to eventual greatness. He’s already slated to direct A24’s planned remake of Texas Chainsaw Massacre, which is a fitting choice given the similarly limited resources Tobe Hooper had at his disposal in 1974. His other film in the works, Anything But Ghosts, will take things in a slightly more humorous direction. It’s actually set to take place in the same universe of Obsession, and Barker believes that there’s potential for an anthology television series around other characters encountering the One Wish Willow.

Obsession itself won’t be to everyone’s taste given the grim material that some could argue borders on nihilistic and you should not expect anything close to a neat, happy ending. Personal preferences aside, however, few would question its overall quality as a well-paced horror thriller and an exceptional feature film debut from an artist who hopefully signals the arrival of new kids on the block. It has been a long time since Hollywood actually gave directors around Barker’s age a shot, but the risk has paid off. The industry now ought to heed his advice that Gen Z wants to see good films. With enough of a push, they will soon be the ones making them, too.

Foreign Perspectives is a reader-supported Substack. If you like my work and have come this far, consider opting for a paid subscription so I can continue writing in-depth articles such as these on a regular basis. Your support is greatly appreciated!

Foreign Perspectives is a mix of free and paid content. Certain columns such as these are free for all subscribers, but other articles will be exclusive for paid subscribers. If you enjoy the work I do, please consider upgrading to a monthly or yearly subscription. Your support is greatly appreciated and ensures that this Substack can continue to deliver high quality pieces.

Over a decade ago, I remember picking up my pre-ordered copy of Metal Gear Solid V: The Phantom Pain at GameStop and eagerly waiting to play Hideo Kojima’s final entry in his stealth action series while I commuted home from university as a newly admitted freshman.

A few years before that, my late father bought me The Legend of Zelda: Skyward Sword at Best Buy for Christmas. He didn’t like my brother and I playing so many video games instead of studying, but he understood that they were important to us. Dad bought most of the Nintendo Wii games that we begged him for and he even played with us occasionally.

Winding the clock back even further, I will never forget when my mother got me a Game Boy Advance SP for Christmas in 2004, which started my lifelong journey as a gamer. She had kept her NES and original Game Boy in pristine condition with a handful of cartridges complete with their boxes and manuals. This further introduced me to the concept of owning a software library one could return to again and again.

To quote Roy Batty from Blade Runner, “All those moments will be lost in time, like tears in rain.”

I didn’t think I would be writing the obituary for physical video games this soon and on such short notice, yet here we are. On July 1, Sony announced via their official blog that in addition to a gradual shutdown of digital storefronts for the aging PlayStation 3 and PlayStation Vita, they would be suspending physical disc production for all games on PlayStation consoles starting from January 2028 onward. Once doomsday for discs happens some 18 months from now, consumers will only be able to download new PlayStation 5 titles digitally from the PlayStation Store.

Despite Sony’s dubious claims that this reflects a preference desired by consumers (no one ever demands for the removal of an option to buy something), the backlash has been nothing short of explosive. The original blog post containing the announcement as of this writing has over 8,000 comments largely slamming the company for its decision. A poll conducted by IGN reported that over 90 percent of their audience do not want the future of video games to be all-digital. Even my initial response to the news garnered over 400 retweets and 2,600 likes on X, while later posts of mine have drawn in similar numbers.

Sony’s plan to axe physical media is currently the most-discussed topic in the video game industry because practically everyone with a working cerebral cortex knows that the consequences for both consumers and sellers will be disastrous. It should be emphasized that the end of disc production applies not just to Sony’s own in-house titles, but to all games developed and published by third parties. Anyone who wishes to sell a physical PlayStation game won’t be able to after January 2028 no matter how much they beg on their hands and knees. Billy Basso, developer of the indie title Animal Well, wrote that it “kills” his desire to ever develop for the platform ever again.

While it has yet to be confirmed, Microsoft’s Xbox Series X successor is rumored to be shipping with no disc drive as well. That leaves Nintendo as our only chance for video games on physical media sticking around beyond 2028, though this too comes with significant caveats. At present, the Switch 2’s library is mostly on Game-Key Cards which contain no actual data. Hopefully the Big N will pull through in providing devs with cheaper and smaller capacity cartridges since the present author refuses to buy any Switch 2 title on Game-Key Cards out of principle.

When it comes to disc-based video games, the writing is on the wall. Sony controls all Blu-ray production and they are already shutting down a factory in Austria which makes 600,000 blank discs every day. This is something they have obviously planned for years and it seems very unlikely that they will reverse course. Despite the strong online opposition, Sony likely believes that they can withstand the controversy. Losing tens of thousands of customers is a small price to pay if millions will still stay in their closed ecosystem. As much as I hate to admit it, this is also a problem the majority of consumers have created by choosing convenience over ownership.

Yet stop for a minute and consider how much this will radically change everything we’ve experienced with video games for the entirety of their existence. Whether an old Atari 2600 cartridge or a brand new PS5 disc, there has always been a market for a physical item you can buy, sell, trade, lend, or give to others. The anecdotes I opened this column with are things my children and their children will likely never be able to experience because there will be nothing for them to hold in their hands. Beyond just sentimental value, the deal until now was that whatever you bought was yours to keep essentially forever barring some physical accident or theft.

It is the likes of Sony who are now the thieves. Just last month, the company announced that digital purchases of StudioCanal movies would be removed from all user libraries due to the rights expiring. No refunds, of course. That’s digital purchases being deleted, not rentals. In this day and age, is there really a difference? From a legal standpoint, these were always meant to be licenses a user only had temporary access to before the rights holder pulled the plug whenever they saw fit. The amount of video games, movies, and TV shows which have been pulled from digital storefronts is too numerous to quantify.

A disc, too, is also technically meant to be a temporary license. The notable difference is that its physical nature and the existence of the first sale exception to copyright means that it can be owned or sold by a consumer for as long as the object itself remains intact. Make no mistake, the greediest corporations despise this fact. Before the internet became woven into the fabric of our society, selling media to the masses was always a problem of distribution. While many parts of the world and even large rural segments of developed countries struggle with strong enough online connections, Sony now believes the time has come to cut out the middleman.

Sony is transitioning from being the popularizers of optical media to being its executioner. Physical media going away is only half the problem; there should be robust legal protections in place to ensure the consumer ownership of digital content. Sadly, we have never lived in that kind of environment and Sony is fully aware of that. By exclusively distributing PS5 and eventual PS6 games through the PlayStation Store, it no longer has to give a cut to brick-and-mortar stores or worry about shipping costs. In a just world, this would at least alleviate some of the financial burden on the consumer side, but remember, we live in 2026. With the all-digital Grand Theft Auto VI slated to retail for $80 and the PS6 likely to cost over $1000 due to parts shortages courtesy of AI data centers, the future looks bleak.

It will especially be bad in Japan. Having long pivoted to focusing on the North American and European markets, Sony has essentially forsaken players on its home turf who can’t afford the already eye-watering expensive PS5 Pro due to the extremely weak yen and rising costs of living. Gamers in Japan, myself included, heavily rely on the used market to find good deals on video games. This is one major reason why there is still a strong affinity for physical media here. With no discs available for sale from 2028, the PS6 will only be an option for the wealthiest of consumers.

Why would I want to drop over a grand on an always online console locked to one ecosystem where Sony sets all the software prices, there’s no market competition, and games can be unceremoniously delisted when the rights expire? This is why PC will likely be the only viable option moving forward, but that’s a topic for another day.

On the seller side, it’s no exaggeration to say that some people will lose their livelihoods or at the very least see a significant drop in revenue. The import-export company I’m currently starting with a partner is aiming to have contracts with suppliers so we can get a regular flow of new stock. By the time we are fully set up, Nintendo will likely be the only ones in town if they still plan on continuing with physical media for the long-term at all. Anticipating these changing market conditions, we should be ok since we plan to sell plenty of retro video games and non-gaming products. On the other hand, boutique companies like Limited Run will have to seriously rethink their operations or risk going out of business entirely.

It was a good run, folks. I’ll be turning 30 at the end of 2027, so the effective end of most physical video games comes at a poetically bittersweet time for me. Being able to experience video games throughout my teens and 20s by building a library of software I actually owned was truly wonderful. The Nintendo Switch 2 and my RTX 5060 gaming laptop will be enough for the occasional new release, but my interest in the future of the video game industry is more or less over. I’ve reached my limit of enshittification. As I pursue my career and have children with my wife who is just as devastated by this news as I am, the next few decades will be spent playing what we’ve amassed together. My backlog is enough to last a lifetime. To Sony, I say sayonara.

Foreign Perspectives is a reader-supported Substack. If you like my work and have come this far, consider opting for a paid subscription so I can continue writing in-depth articles such as these on a regular basis. Your support is greatly appreciated!

Foreign Perspectives is a mix of free and paid content. Certain columns such as these are free for all subscribers, but other articles will be exclusive for paid subscribers. If you enjoy the work I do, please consider upgrading to a monthly or yearly subscription. Your support is greatly appreciated and ensures that this Substack can continue to deliver high quality pieces.

Since he debuted in Amazing Fantasy #15 almost 65 years ago, Spider-Man has seen no shortage of adaptations to film and other media. Whether it’s the imperfect, but classic Sam Raimi movie trilogy or the recent video game series by Insomniac with its immensely satisfying web-swinging, creators have found seemingly endless possibilities to interpret the colorful comic book world created by Stan Lee and Steve Ditko. The character is an integral part American pop culture, never leaving the zeitgeist.

Spider-Man: Brand New Day will be out next month, but it’s not even the most interesting recent project featuring the wall crawler. It turns out that the smartest move Spider-Man could have taken was backwards, not forwards. Unapologetically old school, Spider-Noir is easily among the best things you’ll watch this year. This streaming television series features Nicolas Cage playing a version of the character that harkens back to the hard boiled protagonists of film noir portrayed by Humphrey Bogart and James Cagney. Across eight tightly-written episodes, viewers are treated to a compelling show which draws upon existing Spider-Man lore and manages to be accessible even for audiences who have never seen a black and white film in their lives.

And how glorious Spider-Noir is for embracing monochrome! The show is available with the option of “Authentic Black & White” or “True-Hue Full Color,” but I strongly recommend springing for the former on your first watch. Many 21st century films from Logan to Godzilla Minus One have received black and white versions after the fact, but to mixed results. Spider-Noir, however, was shot from the get-go with both color schemes in mind and the results are simply breathtaking. As anyone decently familiar with composition and lighting will know, you can’t just zap the color out of the image and call it a day. Orson Welles famously, and stubbornly, refused to bring color to most of his works as a conscious creative choice even after it became a widespread part of film.

The team behind Spider-Noir clearly did their homework because the cinematography and effective use of light and shadow are convincing tributes to the classic works which inspired this series. When viewed in black and white, it feels like a natural extension of something like The Maltese Falcon or The Third Man. Its colorful counterpart, in contrast, comes across as a bright homage to the pulpy comic books of early Marvel and is more reminicent of L.A. Confidential. The use of low and Dutch angles accent the noirish elements, while the larger outdoor scenes never make you forget that this is still a Spider-Man story.

In 2009, Marvel launched their Noir limited run of comic books which featured the likes of Spider-Man, Iron Man, and Daredevil during the Great Depression fighting crime decades before their mainstream counterparts. I read the original Spider-Man Noir storylines earlier this year, but came away somewhat disappointed that they didn’t really take full advantage of their intended setting. Spider-Noir is thankfully not a direct adaptation and opts to go for an original story instead. Nicolas Cage previously voiced a version of the character in 2018’s Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse, but the one in this series is yet again a different incarnation.

Don’t worry about complicated continuity or timelines, though. Spider-Noir establishes from Cage’s opening monologue that this show is its own thing with seemingly little interest in crossing over to other universes. For one thing, its protagonist is named Ben Reilly, a reference to Peter Parker’s clone of the same name. A canonical reason is later given for the name change, but I won’t spoil it here. His superhero alter-ego is also called “The Spider” in reference to classic pulp heroes, not Spider-Man. Another odd naming quirk is the series going with the obscure villain Megawatt instead of the more famous Electro. I’m sure there will be endless debates as to whether these are legitimate creative choices or just Sony trying to avoid too much crossover with existing Spidey stuff in the MCU.

Regardless, Ben Reilly is certainly no Peter Parker. He shares the similar down on one’s luck life situation that’s common in most Spider-Man stories, but he has little interest in being a hero for heroism’s sake. Reilly blames himself for the death of his fiancée Ruby Williams and retired as The Spider years ago. Now an aging private detective who drinks too much, he’s just trying to get by amid the dismal economic situation around him. In contrast to the famous words from Uncle Ben, “With no power comes no responsibility” is his mantra. But after a new client brings him a case, Reilly is thrust into a greater conspiracy of criminals with superpowers who threaten the safety of New York.

While he has been the butt of many jokes and memes for decades, Nicolas Cage’s performance sells Spider-Noir. A noted comic book fan himself, Cage was infamously slated to play Superman in an unproduced Tim Burton film back in the late 1990s. He later went on to be in the Ghost Rider and Kick-Ass films, but this series is his best superhero role yet. Channeling Humphrey Bogart and Bugs Bunny with his old timey cadence, Cage is a convincing 1930s Spider-Man and the 62-year-old actor apparently performed most of the stunts himself. Spidey is also supposed to be a funny hero, and we see that in spades when Cage is given room to be his naturally bizarre self.

The rest of the cast successfully delivers the desired film noir vibes whether it’s Li Jun Li as the femme fatale love interest modeled after Black Cat or English actor Jack Huston’s impeccable working class American accent for his sympathetic take on Sandman. The most delightful performance is Brendan Gleeson as the main antagonist Silvermane. From the moment this character appears, we see that he’s an excellent menacing foil for Cage. Many top tier actors of Gleeson’s caliber wind up being constrained by studio decisions in superhero projects, but he’s given full reign to play a nuanced and classically evil villain who steals practically every scene he’s in.

For as much praise as I can lavish onto Spider-Noir, there are some minor quibbles which prevent it from being a full masterpiece. While I enjoyed most of the villains, a lot of the scenes with Megawatt stretch on to the point where the character becomes slightly grating. More distracting is the amount of anachronisms which remind you that this was written by people living in the 2020s. Sure, I can accept some elements necessary for the sake of the story such as genetic engineering even if that kind of science wouldn’t appear until decades later. You sort of need those things in a Spider-Man story, so I’ll give this alternate universe leeway.

Less forgiving is the dialogue which contains slang and turns of phrase that certainly would not have been used nearly a century ago. It’s a bit of an odd middle ground where Cage and the actors will strive to be decently period accurate in some scenes, while in others you can hear the modernity slipping through. Easily my biggest disappointment is with Spider-Noir’s music. Akin to Chinatown or L.A. Noire, I would have loved to hear a traditional jazz score with lush orchestral elements. We simply don’t get that here. It’s instead a soundscape that relies on low key modern electronic synths and strings which work decently to propel the action, but it’s all forgettable. A damn shame they couldn’t bring in a more melodic-driven composer like Michael Giacchino.

That aside, Spider-Noir is worth your time from start to finish. Unlike so many superhero shows and films we’ve had to deal with over the years which reduce interesting ideas into disposable content, this truly is something special. It pays respect to the long tradition of both film noir and Spider-Man as a character with the result being something surprisingly fresh despite familiar ground. Above all, you can tell it was made by people who cared. Without revealing too much, I appreciated the way this season concluded. Like many classic film noirs, it’s not the happiest of endings tied up with a neat bow, but it does leaves the door open for future adventures and our hero keeps his head high. I would certainly like to see more of Cage’s Spider-Man one day.

Foreign Perspectives is a reader-supported Substack. If you like my work and have come this far, consider opting for a paid subscription so I can continue writing in-depth articles such as these on a regular basis. Your support is greatly appreciated!

Foreign Perspectives is a mix of free and paid content. Articles such as these are exclusively for paid subscribers, so if you enjoy the work I do, please consider upgrading to a monthly or yearly subscription. Your support is greatly appreciated and ensures that this Substack can continue to deliver high quality pieces.

Take advantage of my Welcome Back Spring Sale and get 20% off yearly subscriptions here!

The Super Mario Galaxy Movie finally hit Japan at the end of April after being delayed from the rest of the world to tie in with the country’s Golden Week vacation season. As a dutiful fan of Nintendo’s iconic video games starring the portly plumber, I went to my local cinema to see what the sequel to 2023’s The Super Mario Bros. Movie had in store. If you believe the critics, it’s apparently a travesty “worse than AI,” a dull cosmic ride that’s “rock-stupid,” and I suppose just one of the many other crimes being committed on the silver screen when a true sci-fi masterpiece like Project Hail Mary exists by comparison.

But is it actually that bad? Eh, let’s just say that I’ve seen far worse. Remembering what the the last film was like, my expectations were essentially met. The Super Mario Galaxy Movie is a visually scrumptious take on Shigeru Miyamoto’s colorful characters, the music is immaculate, and the nostalgia is back again in spades, but viewers expecting a deep story or anything beyond what the games have established as a baseline are bound to be disappointed. That’s probably why the majority of non-gamer film critics are not happy, while even a decent amount of gamers are up in arms over the final product.

While watching The Super Mario Galaxy Movie, another thought occurred to me that had little to do with the film’s actual quality. I asked myself a more relevant question: Can Mario truly work outside of being a video game? Like most of my late millennial generation, I started playing the franchise pretty much as soon as I could hold a controller. Growing up, Mario himself was synonymous with what the majority of the public envisages as the default concept of a video game. Specifically, you go from Point A to Point B across multiple stages for a simple objective like rescuing a princess from a dastardly villain, each level gets progressively harder, there are a plethora of power-up items which aid you on your quest, heart-pumping music plays in the background, and, of course, you’re on a time limit.

Since its inception, the Mario franchise has always prioritized gameplay over any kind of story. That goes back to the 1980s with arcade titles like Donkey Kong and Mario Bros. being intentionally designed to burn through your quarters as you tried to clear each stage and reach a higher score. When Super Mario Bros. hit the Japanese Famicom and the equivalent North American Nintendo Entertainment System in 1985, the objective to reach the end was still pretty much the same. The game’s manual included a brief one-page synopsis explaining the basic lore around the Mushroom Kingdom setting, but that was about it. Most kids in 1985 probably didn’t bother reading this information as they were too busy stomping on Goombas and figuring out the correct order to clear the final stage. No one back then thought that any of this would lead to a particularly interesting film.

Well, except Nintendo themselves. Just one year later, an anime feature film entitled Super Mario Bros.: The Great Mission to Rescue Princess Peach!  hit Japanese cinemas. At just an hour long, it does an admirable job of trying to turn the game’s very simple story into a reasonably entertaining adventure with its comedy and spirited performances from the voice actors. With that said, it was basically just another marketing tool for the original Famicom game and its just-released sequel. As much as people want to criticize the recent Illumination movies for being cashgrabs, Great Mission was really no different 40 years ago. Nintendo pushed the film quite hard and released a plethora of associated merchandise from phone cards to instant ramen noodles. Many of these are collector’s items now.

Despite all the initial marketing hype, Great Mission was never officially released outside of Japan and Nintendo rarely acknowledges its existence today. Having previously only been available through poor quality VHS tape rips, the fan group Kineko Video moved mountains to secure a raw 16 mm scan and painstakingly restored it in 4K a few years ago.1 Many fans don’t like certain aspects such as the ending or Luigi’s Wario-like greedy personality, but one has to remember that the “rules” of Mario as we know them today had yet to be established back in 1986. In retrospect, I consider Great Mission to be my favorite film adaptation of the original game even if it’s more interesting as an obscure curiosity and fascinating moment in Nintendo history than anything else.

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Foreign Perspectives is a mix of free and paid content. Certain columns such as these are free for all subscribers, but other articles will be exclusive for paid subscribers. If you enjoy the work I do, please consider upgrading to a monthly or yearly subscription. Your support is greatly appreciated and ensures that this Substack can continue to deliver high quality pieces.

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This weekend, I visited the Kyoto Aquarium with my wife Minori for the first time in six years. Despite the happy atmosphere of all the sea creatures and friendly staff, it was somewhat of a bittersweet experience for me.

The Kyoto Aquarium was one of our first date spots, but around the time we went in 2020 coincided with me receiving the news of my father’s health getting progressively worse. I’ve discussed these sad events at length before, but long story short, Dad would pass away six months later of colon cancer.

Coming back made me feel more emotional than I thought it would because it reminded me of what was a very different time in my life. Namely, those first couple months Minori and I were together were some of our happiest memories. It was right before I had to deal with so much heavy and important stuff, as well as when I was completely sure I’d be pursuing an academic career.

In 2026, Dad is no longer with us and I’ve dropped out of my PhD program because it wasn’t working out for me. I’ll get into that whole ordeal of quitting academia another time, but I’m now trying to start my own import-export business with a good friend. Instead of having what I thought was a set path in life, there are now a lot of unknowns to navigate though ahead. It’s both an exciting and terrifying time, to put it lightly.

Despite all these uncertainties, Minori and I are now happily married. Our second wedding anniversary is this week, but it also marks six years since we’ve been together in total. She has truly been my anchor through thick and thin. I can’t even begin to express how grateful I am for her support because I wouldn’t have been able to go through everything that’s happened alone.

My own personal connections aside, the Kyoto Aquarium is indeed a wonderful place to spend an afternoon. It’s home to multiple specimens of the Japanese giant salamander, one of the city’s beloved historic symbols. I had a good laugh watching a sea lion that looked like it was posing for visitors as it had a stretch on dry land. The hall of jellyfish was newly renovated from the last time we were here. The penguins were expectedly adorable, and they were actually the source of an internationally viral post of mine back in 2020. We arrived too late to see the dolphin show, but I remember it being thoroughly entertaining the last time and that’s just another justification to come back.

The Kyoto Aquarium isn’t particularly large compared to other aquariums I’ve been to in Japan, but you get a nice selection of sea life to learn about. The layout is straightforward and the building itself is within short walkable distance from Kyoto Station. There were naturally far more people now compared to the pandemic era, but it didn’t feel overcrowded despite us being there on a Saturday. Passing through the various exhibits again felt comforting as I contemplated both past and future.

It’s also located in Umekoji Park, a beautiful spot with lots of colorful flowers in bloom at this time of year. Kyoto always bears the brunt of Japan’s brutal summers, but the weather in April is still just right. Minori and I had a nice afternoon together strolling through the area. Students from local schools practiced sports and hung out with friends, while the overall atmosphere felt surprisingly relaxing.

Kyoto has a reputation of being made worse by hordes of tourists who turn the city into what’s essentially an amusement park. While that’s sadly true in a few places and the post-COVID overtourism phenomenon can’t be ignored, you can still find good spots as a local. My wife and I enjoy taking long walks on Kyoto’s backroads, while parks like Umekoji have some great scenery. We’re past peak sakura season, but the flora we saw still made for some stunning photos. Later in the evening we walked over to one of my favorite restaurants for some excellent Vietnamese food.

Despite this only being my second visit, the Kyoto Aquarium and surrounding area will always mean a lot to me. The last time I was here coincided with one important turning point of my life, and I’m once again at a similar crossroads. Amid an afternoon of charming animals and gorgeous flowers, I remembered more innocent salad days while I contemplated on what the future may hold.

As best as I could though, I also treasured the present because my personality has always made it difficult to just sit back and enjoy the moment. Depending on where I end up setting up my business, we may no longer be living in Kyoto this time next year. It will be sad if we have to leave, but we hope to stay in or relatively close to Kansai. In any case, the Kyoto Aquarium will always be a memorable place for us. I’m glad we could spend another day there again.

Foreign Perspectives is a reader-supported Substack. If you like my work and have come this far, consider opting for a paid subscription so I can continue writing in-depth articles such as these on a regular basis. Your support is greatly appreciated!

Foreign Perspectives is a mix of free and paid content. Articles such as these are exclusively for paid subscribers, so if you enjoy the work I do, please consider upgrading to a monthly or yearly subscription. Your support is greatly appreciated and ensures that this Substack can continue to deliver high quality pieces.

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If you told me last year that one of the best films of 2025 was Rental Family, I wouldn’t have believed you. It took me awhile to get this one due to a late February release in Japan and some other writing projects that took up my time, but I’ve finally seen it. My opinion now could not be more different. When I first heard about its premise featuring an American actor working for a family rental agency in Tokyo, the only thing that really caught my interest was that it starred Brendan Fraser in the lead role. I consider him to be among the best actors alive and knew that his performance would at least provide some entertainment. Rental Family’s titular subject, however, gave me some pause.

The story follows Phillip Vanderploeg, an American actor who has been living in Tokyo for a few years. Phillip is no celebrity, but he makes an irregular living as the token foreigner needed for commercials and background bit parts on television shows. One of these day jobs eventually gets him working at a company which aims to provide temporary companionship for the countless lonely souls living in Japan’s exhausting capital city. It’s almost like prostitution, but instead of sex, people in the “rental family” industry work to fill a lacking emotional or social absence. Phillip naturally has serious reservations about his new occupation, but he soon begins to realize there may be more to it than just fakeness.

Hiring who are essentially paid actors to play family members, friends, lovers, or other roles to keep up social appearances is indeed a real service in Japan, but it’s often something that Western media uses to portray the country as “weird” for the sake of entertainment. The exaggerated urban legends around used panty vending machines or the misconception that Japan has more adultery than other countries come to mind as other similar clickbait stories. In reality, rental families are a very niche business that most Japanese people would likely not be comfortable using or find rather sad.

This, however, is where Rental Family truly surprised me. Pretty much every fear I had about this film exoticizing Japan vanished during the first act when it became clear that this would be an intelligent screenplay about believable human drama. Phillip is naturally our audience surrogate, but he isn’t a clueless foreigner. He’s lived long enough in Japan to speak the language at a reasonably conversational level, and the code-switching with Japanese people who speak fluent English will be familiar to anyone who has lived here in a similar situation. Brendan Fraser’s performance is fantastic and despite having only phonetically memorized Japanese for his role, he could pass fine for your average expat.

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Foreign Perspectives is a mix of free and paid content. Certain columns such as these are free for all subscribers, but other articles will be exclusive for paid subscribers. If you enjoy the work I do, please consider upgrading to a monthly or yearly subscription. Your support is greatly appreciated and ensures that this Substack can continue to deliver high quality pieces.

My late father was a violinist for the Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra, so music was naturally an integral part of my own life growing up. I was raised (reluctantly) learning how to play the piano and violin, the latter of which I took up until the end of high school. Having lived through the entirety of the Chinese Cultural Revolution, Dad didn’t come from an educated background. He survived that tumultuous world by getting a job with the Peking Opera as a violinist, which eventually allowed him to get a scholarship to leave China, study in Switzerland under the tutelage of Yehudi Menuhin, and make his way to the United States where I was born.

With that in mind, you can imagine how it was essentially impossible for someone from my kind of familial background to not have regular encounters with The Sound of Music. Dad ensured it was one of the first films my younger brother and I watched when we were old enough to understand the basic plot. Pretty much all of my Chinese musician relatives know the main melodies of the songs even if they don’t fully understand the words. If you were brought up on classical music, good luck trying to avoid Rodgers and Hammerstein’s most famous musical.

To be frank, I long resisted The Sound of Music. As a kid I thought it was long, boring, and hardly befitting of my attention which could have been spent on more exciting films for a six-year-old. Like Stairway to Heaven, the songs themselves were so ingrained into America society to the point of nausea. Why would I want to watch the film when my mandatory elementary school music classes insisted on drilling “Do-Re-Mi” into our heads for the billion time while the children’s concerts at Heinz Hall that Dad dragged me to inevitably went ham on The Sound of Music?

Fast forward to 2015 and much had changed. I was now in the last year of high school, had more appreciation for classical music, and was spending the better part of that period religiously practicing John Williams’ theme from Schindler’s List for my senior solo performance. I was in a better state of mind to watch The Sound of Music and as luck would have it, the Hollywood Theater in Dormont was showing the film again for its 50th anniversary. A bit older and wiser (as much as a high school kid thinks he can be), I was able to drop my prejudices and appreciate the musical for what it was — a completely uncynical crowd-pleaser deserving of its classic status.

Jump ahead another ten years for the 60th anniversary, and things are once again very different. I’m married, living in Japan, my student musician days are long behind me, and Dad has sadly passed away. When I saw that The Sound of Music was being reissued on a 4K UHD Blu-ray boasting a brand new restoration, I decided to watch it again for old time’s sake. After loading the disc, the sweeping mountains of Salzburg and Julie Andrews’ dulcet tones once again greeted me like old friends. I was completely hooked.

Perhaps it’s because I’ve grown so disillusioned with the lack of seriousness Hollywood treats most of its tentpole releases in the last decade, but rewatching The Sound of Music reminded me of when going to the movies was an event. The best ones remained with you for the rest of your life, especially if it was a family affair when everyone took the time to get together for an evening to see the magic on screen. Apart from that, the sheer color, life, and beauty to The Sound of Music immediately resonate because they’re no longer modern conventions in movies anymore. Are the songs still schmaltzy and a bit lame if you actually sit down to contemplate their lyrics? Sure, but you never doubt for a second that this is a film which proudly wears its heart on its sleeve.

In fairness, many film critics even in 1965 thought that The Sound of Music was overly sentimental, sickeningly saccharine, and an old fashioned relic out of touch with the polarized social climate of the world (has that really changed?). Read reviews by writers like Pauline Kael and you’ll walk away with the impression that this film was some kind of horrible war crime that pushed the art of cinema back decades. Kael called it a “sugar-coated lie that people seem to want to eat” in a scathing piece that supposedly got her fired from her job at McCall’s magazine, though her former editor denied this. It wasn’t just the notoriously grouchy Kael who felt this way, either. Joan Didion was less vicious, but criticized The Sound of Music as “more embarrassing than most, if only because of its suggestion that history need not happen to people … Just whistle a happy tune, and leave the Anschluss behind.”

60 years later, however, and I’d argue that we need the optimism of The Sound of Music more than ever. Yes, the story does border on manipulative with how it draws emotion out of the audience, but you’d have to be the most cynical person on the planet to believe that its intentions were ignoble. Julie Andrews and Christopher Plummer carry the picture thanks to their raw talent, but also because their interactions with the child actors are so undeniably charming. Andrews in her prime was truly a once-in-a-generation voice, while Plummer was simply one of the greatest actors who ever lived. When you pair them with kids who were perfectly cast and directed, I’m not sure how you couldn’t be enthralled.

As an adult viewer more familiar with the history of World War II, I now have a better understanding of the film’s anti-Nazi themes. Somewhat similar to Casablanca, there are undertones of resisting tyranny at a time when the world is content to do nothing. The sudden tone shift after the intermission from a whimsical musical to an anti-fascist picture is admittedly somewhat jarring, but with context it’s clear to me that The Sound of Music is about the last days of innocence in the 1930s before the world went to hell in a hand basket. It’s loosely based on the 1949 memoir about the actual von Trapp family, though emphasis really has to be placed on the “loose” part as director Robert Wise freely admitted to wanting to create an entertaining film over something that accurately documented history.

Now that I’ve seen The Sound of Music on multiple occasions, I don’t think you can dismiss its emotional pull as naive sentimentality. “Edelweiss” when we hear it the first time is about a father trying to reconnect with his children after shutting them out, but its reprise is when things really get powerful. Knowing that complete Nazi rule of Austria cannot be stopped at this point, Captain von Trapp refuses to cede his principles and instead chooses to leave his homeland with a mournful farewell. The lyrics take on a new meaning that things will be better one day and that the light can shine through the darkness. Given the world that we live in now, it’s a message we all need to hear.

And of course, The Sound of Music remains an everlasting technical marvel. Its latest release is a textbook example on how studios should treat old films with the proper 4K restorations they deserve. The breathtaking outdoor vistas look better than ever, and some of my favorite moments are actually the more intimate closeup scenes. Like many classic Hollywood movies of the era, the cinematography relies on soft focus to create a warm or “waxy” effect that elevates the emotions on screen. It’s the sort of natural visual flair that can only be done to this kind of effect on actual celluloid film. While a lot of things are possible today via digital manipulation in post, the old fashioned analogue techniques are basically a lost art now. I’m not saying that the industry should or even can go back, but rewatching these works restored to their full glory reminds us of what the best of the best once looked like.

So yes, I’ve finally come around to accepting The Sound of Music as part of the canon of great films. My Fair Lady and Singin’ in the Rain rank slightly higher for me when it comes to musicals, but The Sound of Music likely has the most universal appeal. Despite the very different cultural background my father originally came from, it having been one of his favorite films is a testament to how it reaches people worldwide. That also holds true here in Japan where the film is a beloved classic. It’s a bittersweet feeling knowing that Dad is no longer around, but I was happy to create new memories watching it with my wife this time. We certainly plan on showing it to our own eventual children one day. That’s the true beauty of The Sound of Music — it’s meant for every generation.

Foreign Perspectives is a reader-supported Substack. If you like my work and have come this far, consider opting for a paid subscription so I can continue writing in-depth articles such as these on a regular basis. Your support is greatly appreciated!

Foreign Perspectives is a mix of free and paid content. Certain columns such as these are free for all subscribers, but other articles will be exclusive for paid subscribers. If you enjoy the work I do, please consider upgrading to a monthly or yearly subscription. Your support is greatly appreciated and ensures that this Substack can continue to deliver high quality pieces.

Note: This review is spoiler free.

Polished white tile floors and ceiling. Walls lined with posters advertising an assortment of jobs and services. A hallway that appears to go on forever. Unnerving ambiance. Wandering middle-aged salarymen. This mundane setting could describe any one of Japan’s hundreds of underground metro stations, but most today would associate it with The Exit 8.

This viral indie video game took millions of players by storm both at home and abroad ever since it hit Steam in 2023 with a simple, yet ingenious concept. Via the first-person perspective of an unnamed commuter, players are trapped in station passageway that has no end. To escape, you must spot “anomalies” each time you maneuver through the very brief stretch of walkable space which loops to the beginning again after turning a couple of corners. These anomalies can be as small as an out-of-place advertisement or as large as a literal tsunami heading in your direction. You turn back if you spot these curious differences, but keep going if nothing seems amiss. Master the right order and you’re home free out Exit 8.

Emerging from its humble origins as a solo project by a developer named Kotake Create, The Exit 8 quickly went on to become one of the most profitable indie games of all time. Its success was so massive, it spawned a sequel, manga adaptation, a light novel, and now a film of the same name. I was out of the country when Exit 8 opened in Japanese cinemas last August, but finally got around to it this week after it was made available for rental on Amazon. It was just announced for release in the United States on April 10, so I expect there to be renewed discussion pretty soon.

I confess to missing most of the initial hype around The Exit 8 and only played it for the first time earlier this year, though you can chalk that up to my habit of being late to the party for most things. I was already aware of all the memes and parodies spawned by the game, so the concept of a cinematic take on what amounts to a walking simulator that can be cleared in about 45 minutes left me quite skeptical. Against all odds, however, Exit 8 is not only one of the best film adaptations of a video game ever made, it even enhances the interactive source material it came from.

I’ve long believed that video games and films should typically stay as separate mediums without trying to ape each other too much. As interactive entertainment, the best games use that unique element to their advantage and tell immersive narratives via player control. Films, on the other hand, are passive media and come from over a century of tradition in photography, acting, and sound design to attract audiences to their worlds. Rarely do the two mix successfully. Video games that attempt to be like movies often end up as pretentious imitators at the expense of their actual gameplay, while movies that try to adapt games are usually made by people who don’t understand or respect the medium. Even if some cinematic aspects are competent, the interactivity no longer being present can destroy what made the video game worth playing in the first place.

Exit 8 avoids these pitfalls by telling an original story set in the game’s familiar setting while being clear from the start that this intended to be a film which stands on its own. Those who know the game will appreciate a few references such as the protagonist initially doing the same things as first-time players; he tries to open locked doors, takes pictures of his surroundings to remember the anomalies, and makes mental notes to himself. That’s really where the cheeky nods end, though. With a runtime of 95 minutes, there clearly needed to be more substance than what could be found in a standard YouTube Let’s Play video.

Director Genki Kawamura wisely chooses to focus on the inner psychology of his characters. The nameless protagonist, referred to as The Lost Man, initially could be a stand-in for the millions of Japanese commuters who take the subway every morning. The opening track is Maurice Ravel’s Boléro, one of the most famously recursive compositions in musical history. The ad nauseam repetition of doing the same monotonous routine each day between a dull job and lifeless home is the obvious initial theme of Exit 8. Much could be said on how that applies to Japan in particular, but the film’s story adds effective emotional tension by establishing the central conflict as being between The Lost Man and his estranged ex-girlfriend who finds out she’s pregnant right after their breakup. Exit 8 then becomes something more introspective about unwanted fatherhood, responsibility, and societal pressure.

The Lost Man’s journey through the infinite corridors of the metro station can be viewed as him literally being stuck in a time loop, but the more interesting interpretation to me is viewing the whole thing as a metaphor for his own spiritual and emotional journey. Perhaps less obvious to Western viewers are the subtle Buddhist themes. The religion, which plays a large role in Japanese society alongside Shinto, has the concept of samsara or the never-ending cycle of birth, death, and rebirth. Beings trapped in this dynamic are perpetually suffering, while the chosen few who manage to escape it achieve a state of enlightenment known as nirvana.

To reach nirvana, one has to undergo the Noble Eightfold Path. This centers around following the Buddha’s teachings in the following eight areas: right understanding, right thought, right speech, right action, right livelihood, right effort, right mindfulness, and right concentration. An eternally repeating cycle of suffering and mastering eight principles to exit out of it? While no one behind the original game or film has explicitly confirmed the Buddhism connection as far as I’m aware, the similarities are too striking for it to be a coincidence. Exit 8’s short runtime means that things have to move ahead at a certain place, but pretty much all of these themes feature at some point throughout the film.

I won’t spoil how other characters play into these events or what visual surprises Kawamura includes. With that said, Exit 8 is a more thought-provoking film than your average cinematic adaptation of a video game. It even keeps much of the game’s visual language intact by going for an unbroken “one-shot” style of cinematography similar to Alfred Hitchock’s Rope and Sam Mendes’ 1917. There are obvious cuts and scene changes, but you never feel taken out of the illusion. Everything comes together smoothly by the end, and I walked away with the impression that Exit 8 was evidently made by people who cared. Kazunari Ninomiya, who plays the protagonist, is a gamer himself and actively worked with the director to ensure that everything players enjoyed was maintained.

With that said, Exit 8 isn’t perfect. Despite the intriguing themes, the characters themselves aren’t particularly interesting on their own. While the protagonist’s ordeal is palpable, I would have liked to see a tad more insight into his backstory beyond what was shown and the other characters get even fewer details. Some viewers may just find the whole thing too pretentious for its own good and the premise as more experimental rather than a baseline for a compelling film. Indeed, those who were more reserved with their assessment of the video game believed it was closer to a solid proof of concept and too brief to satisfy as a standalone work.

Still, Exit 8 regardless of medium is about audience patience and open interpretation. It’s admirable that Kotake Create attempted to do something few games apart from perhaps Hideo Kojima’s cancelled Silent Hill teaser P.T. ever explored with its creeping atmosphere of psychological horror in liminal spaces. Exit 8 as a movie expands upon that base with an engaging story, impressive cinematography, and effective sound design. Even with the interaction removed, it all largely works because the game and film are meant to be companion pieces to one another instead of the latter being a cheap pastiche of the former. With video game movies likely to replace superhero movies as the next big thing, Hollywood should take notes from Exit 8 on how to honor the source material.

Foreign Perspectives is a reader-supported Substack. If you like my work and have come this far, consider opting for a paid subscription so I can continue writing in-depth articles such as these on a regular basis. Your support is greatly appreciated!

Foreign Perspectives is a mix of free and paid content. Certain columns such as these are free for all subscribers, but other articles will be exclusive for paid subscribers. If you enjoy the work I do, please consider upgrading to a monthly or yearly subscription. Your support is greatly appreciated and ensures that this Substack can continue to deliver high quality pieces.

It may surprise you what game I’ve been playing the most over half a year on since the Nintendo Switch 2 launched. It isn’t Mario Kart World, though I’ve been getting decent mileage (pun intended) out of it. It isn’t the system’s current killer app Donkey Kong Bananza either because I have a backlog of the great ape’s other games to get through. Ditto for Metroid Prime 4 as I’m still at the beginning of that series. My long-standing backlog gaps are what I intend to address this year instead of playing most new releases, but that’s easier said than done considering how little else currently interests me.

Instead of anything Nintendo themselves has actually made, I’ve recently sunk most of my gaming hours into Rockstar’s updated port of the original Red Dead Redemption. I breezed through John Marston’s Wild West adventure back in high school, but never really stopped to smell the roses, er, cacti of its open world. Thanks to this brand new Switch 2 version released late last year, however, I’ve been doing all the side missions, all the challenges, and all the collectibles that RDR has to offer in glorious 60 frames per second at 1080p in the palm of my hand. I achieved 100% completion last week and am currently playing through its excellent DLC expansion Undead Nightmare with the same goal in mind.

But why Red Dead Redemption specifically? I already had it for my older Switch OLED model when it hit the platform in 2023. I got about 60 percent through before putting it down to play other games. It was a perfectly serviceable port back then, but being able to experience it on upgraded hardware was enough motivation for me to get back in. Truth be told though, my original Switch is still getting considerable mileage. I dedicated most of last summer and fall to finally beating Super Mario Sunshine to 100% completion on that stupidly out-of-print Super Mario 3D-Stars collection. With the Switch 2 having returned to an LCD screen, many games still look more visually stunning on Nintendo’s older system with its vibrant OLED panel.

Red Dead Redemption on the Switch 2, however, offers noticeable technical improvements so I was willing to deal with the trade-offs. In the absence of many exclusive Switch 2 games, my choice of which platform to play really comes down to if there are any real upgrades with older Switch titles. If it’s something with retro pixel art or a lot of dark colors, then the previous Switch is still a no-brainer for me because OLED panels are more capable of displaying true blacks. There’s also the whole controversy around Nintendo’s frustrating approach to physical media, but put a pin in that because I’ll get to that whole can of worms later.

My greater point here is that the Switch 2 currently doesn’t have many games it can truly call its own. I’m sure that will inevitably change as the system isn’t even a year old yet, but this is the first time I’m playing a new Nintendo console without that feeling of magic around launch. Similar to how the PlayStation 5 is memed to eternity for having “no games” due to its lack of true exclusives, Nintendo’s latest is more or less just an incremental upgrade of what came before. Of course, it’s in the name itself. Nintendo has long resisted the Sony route of simply adding a number, but not this time. No Super Switch, no brand new name, and thankfully no Switch U. It’s just the Nintendo Switch 2, exactly what it is says on the tin.

On the actual hardware, I don’t have much to say. It’s what you’d expect from a Switch successor. The device is sturdily built like any Nintendo handheld should be, the ergonomics are a bit better (though I always use rubber grips so my hands don’t cramp), and the screen is noticeably bigger. As I mentioned already, it’s also unfortunately an LCD panel instead of an OLED one. The display is capable of running at 120 frames per second and HDR, though to what degree games utilize these features will vary. Sadly, the battery life has taken a considerable cut due to the increased energy consumption. After just two hours with Red Dead Redemption, I had to reach for the charger.

The detachable Joy-Con controllers use an improved locking mechanism, but teardown reports show that they’re more difficult to repair. Joystick drift was a notorious problem with the previous Switch, so I expect to run into similar issues down the road. The video games industry stubbornly refuses to use the more reliable Hall Effect joysticks and Nintendo is no exception. On a more positive note, the new Joy-Cons introduce mouse controls. Slide them across a flat surface and you get an experience quite similar to being on a PC. This comes in handy for simulation games like Civilization VII and first-person action titles like Cyberpunk 2077, but whether or not such features will be used is once again all down to the devs. While it’s certainly a nice thing to have, I wouldn’t buy a Switch 2 purely on the expectation that you’ll always have a PC-like experience with your favorite games.

If the lifespan of the original Switch is any indication, we can expect the Switch 2 to also last for another eight years. I’m sure in the interim we’ll inevitably see a Switch 2 Lite (the current model is indeed a bit of a unit) and a souped up OLED Switch 2 which addresses everyone’s issues with the screen, but those are just minor mid-generation upgrades. The Switch 2 itself isn’t particularly innovative or showing us anything we haven’t seen before. By the time 2033 rolls around, what’s Nintendo going to do then? The Switch 3? Will my grandchildren one day be playing with the Nintendo Switch 10?

I know I’m being glib, but the very concept of the Switch 2 as Nintendo’s next big thing moving forward is more or less a sign that they’ve innovated themselves into a corner. To varying degrees of success, the Big N has always tried to be different from their competition. Whether that was introducing two screens with the Nintendo DS or blurring the line between home consoles and handhelds with the original Switch being a hybrid system, each hardware announcement was a surprise in some way. For better or worse, there are no surprises with the Switch 2.

Naturally, the ace up Nintendo’s sleeve has always been their IP. There will no doubt be a new Legend of Zelda, a new Super Mario, and a new Super Smash Brothers over the next few years. Hell has seemingly frozen over with Microsoft bringing Halo to PlayStation and Sony slowly trickling out their premiere titles to PC, but unless the planets align on a celestial equinox, you won’t be exploring Hyrule on another console anytime soon. That will be the biggest motivation for buying a Nintendo Switch 2 even if it’s a rather boring piece of kit compared to what the company has done in the past. Regarding third party titles, it may not be as powerful as a Steam Deck or handheld PC, but it is objectively more portable and can generally run most games around base PS4 performance.

Buying a Switch 2 is also thankfully not a Sisyphean task like the original Switch was during its first year on the market. Most places worldwide have it in stock, so scalpers can’t pay off their mortgages through hoarded consoles this time. Things in Japan, however, are a bit different. Due to how weak the yen is compared to other currencies, Nintendo faced a serious dilemma around what to charge their domestic consumers. The Switch 2 as of this writing costs $450 in the United States, but that would be over ¥68,000 in Japan when converted directly. Charging closer to ¥45,000 yen would make it easy for foreign scalpers to simply buy and resell all the Japanese systems.

To address this problem, Nintendo released two versions of the Switch 2 in Japan. The model widely available to everyone here costs ¥49,980, but the catch is that it’s only compatible with the Japanese language and Japanese eShop accounts. The other model without these restrictions costs ¥69,980, but isn’t sold in general retail stores and can only be bought from Nintendo’s website if you fulfill certain qualifications such as over 50 hours of playtime connected to your account. As an American living in Japan with two eShop accounts, this put me in a bind. Do I go for the cheaper system and lose access to all the Switch games I’ve bought from my U.S. account over the years or bite the bullet and pay what is essentially a tax for foreign Nintendo gamers?

Luckily, I didn’t have to choose. A Foreign Perspectives subscriber who shall remain nameless, but goes by the handle Shadow of a Doubt on X, took the considerable time and money to ship me a Nintendo Switch 2 all the way from Canada. The process to get the package to Japan was long and convoluted, with it even being sent back by customs at one point due to containing lithium ion batteries. After a few weeks of back and forth, it arrived with a kind letter expressing appreciation for my writing. I repaid Mr. Doubt’s kindness by giving him a lifetime subscription to this Substack, which was the least I could do. This was undoubtedly the greatest gift from someone online I’ve ever received, so I thank him for his extreme generosity.

While digitally region locked consoles shouldn’t have to exist in this decade, it’s the result of economic factors outside of anyone’s control. Sony is currently producing a Japan-only PlayStation 5 model with the same mentality in mind. I was fortunate enough to have someone send me a region free Switch 2 from overseas, but I can’t begin to imagine the difficulties other foreigners in Japan will face if they want one. Not to mention that if Nintendo decides to do an upgraded OLED model eventually, or even the Switch 3, chances are high that I’ll find myself in a similar situation yet again if the weak yen doesn’t improve. Either way, I’m definitely not selling any of my old Nintendo consoles even with the promises of backward compatibility.

Less excusable is how Nintendo is approaching physical media with this generation. In contrast to the previous Switch, the vast majority of Switch 2 games are being released on “Game-Key Cards.” These are cartridges that contain no data, but instead interact with online servers to download the entire game to your system. You need the cartridge every time you want to play these games, acting as a “check” of sorts. This is problematic for two reasons: 1). You don’t actually own the game and 2). The huge size of most major titles means your Switch 2 will quickly run out of storage space. Only Nintendo’s first-party games and a handful of others have been released on actual cartridges, but this may change this year if recent industry rumors are to be believed.

This once again brings me back to my main complaint of the Switch 2 currently having few games worth playing. If the majority of these titles can be found on PS5 or PC for far cheaper and you can exercise greater ownership control over them, why would I want to pay the Nintendo Switch 2 tax? Portability is perhaps the one legitimate reason, but the trade-offs don’t compel me to shill out more money for games that are already in my library or can be found heavily discounted elsewhere. With subscriptions galore and the “you’ll own nothing and be happy” mentality becoming increasingly widespread in the tech industry, Game-Key Cards are complete anathema to my belief in media preservation. It’s currently very easy to curate what I play on this system when there is a paucity of games you can own for real.

Let me be clear, the Nintendo Switch 2 is not a bad console. It’s the natural evolution of what Nintendo started in 2017 and will probably come out as a more worthwhile platform than whatever Sony and Microsoft do over the next decade. With AI having shot RAM prices through the roof, you won’t be seeing the PlayStation 6 or the next Xbox for quite some time. I was able to snag a pretty decent mid-level gaming laptop before all this happened, but my return to playing games on PC is a topic for another day. That leaves Nintendo as having the newest and cheapest console compared to the competition. If for some reason you never got on the Switch train until now, you also have thousands of backwards compatible games. Not a bad prospect for Nintendo neophytes, all things considered.

Still, you really don’t need a Switch 2 now if money is tight and you have a backlog of existing games for consoles you already own. Playing Red Dead Redemption on the go at 60 FPS or Super Mario Galaxy docked in 4K resolution is cool, but these are gaming luxuries and not at all necessary to have a good time. The stuff that’s available on the system isn’t much of a justification for a purchase unless you’re either a dedicated Big N acolyte or potentially concerned about future price hikes due to AI and tariffs. I’m confident that Nintendo will eventually deliver the goods with more interesting games from their well of IP. Until that happens though, your old Switch should be sufficient for at least another year or two.

Games or no games, my biggest takeaway from the Switch 2 as it currently stands is that we’ve potentially reached an inevitable plateau for video game innovation. Apart from graphical updates like ray tracing and smoother frame rates, there isn’t much anyone can really do to knock our socks off anymore. Not even Nintendo, it seems. The company under its more conservative leadership with President Shuntaro Furukawa is sticking to what saved them from the failure of the Wii U days and no one can really blame them. With the original Switch having sold over 155 million units, there’s little incentive to fix what isn’t broken. If you’re Nintendo, you can afford to rest on your laurels.

Foreign Perspectives is a reader-supported Substack. If you like my work and have come this far, consider opting for a paid subscription so I can continue writing in-depth articles such as these on a regular basis. Your support is greatly appreciated!

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A look back on 2025

The 2020s are now halfway over, if you can believe it. So much has already happened during this decade that I both dread and look forward to whatever could possibly be in store for the rest. For better or worse, 2025 in many ways did feel like a pivotal turning point for history. It marked Trump returning to office, Japan getting its first female prime minister, and many global conflicts reaching their apparent crescendos (but not really). Taylor Swift also announced she was getting married, which I’m sure is more earth-shattering than all of the above for some people.

This is the last column of 2025 for Foreign Perspectives. Like what I did at the end of 2024, it’s a retrospective on my personal achievements and some thoughts on world events. I also use this opportunity to provide a look back on my best writing and the media that enriched my life the most throughout the last twelve months. But first, an apology. As you’ve probably noticed, things have been pretty barren here for the last few months. It started off as a productive year with me uploading columns nearly every week, but by the time the summer hit, all of that dropped off a cliff. I previously had to end Bonus Perspectives because there simply wasn’t enough time to keep doing it. October had no pieces at all and this is the only one for the month of December. To my paid subscribers especially, I deeply apologize.

In short, my life is going through a major transition period. As I write this column, the initial submission of my doctoral thesis in international relations is due by late January. I’m writing that behemoth every day, which is the main reason for there not being enough bandwidth to focus on Foreign Perspectives. I’ve also landed a regular freelance gig at The Dispatch, and they have given me more freedom than any other professional outlet I’ve contributed to. In fact, my latest for them discussing the decline of Star Wars under Disney was posted last week.

And if all of that wasn’t enough, I’ll still be in the middle of my annual end-of-year holiday with my wife hopping across multiple Japanese cities by the time this goes up. On trains and in hotels between our visits to hot springs and shrines, I’ve been writing my doctoral thesis and this column at the same time. I wanted to get it out to you all by the end of the year because it’s important to me and I owe it to my subscribers here at Foreign Perspectives. So once again, thank you for sticking with me through thick and thin.

While I’m hard at work finishing my thesis, I made the difficult decision this summer that I would not continue on with academia afterward. That’s right, after over five years working on my Ph.D, I’m deciding to call it quits right after I earn the damn thing. The biggest reason is because I’m currently in the process of moving into a different field entirely, one that will hopefully prove to be far more lucrative and fulfilling if it pans out. I can’t officially reveal what it is just yet, but rest assured there will be a full announcement here if and when it happens later in 2026.

The other reason for my departure from academia, however, I can talk about: I’ve simply fallen out of interest. When I moved to Japan for the second time in 2019, it was on a fully paid scholarship to do a two-year master’s program. After I finished that in 2021, I was able to extend the scholarship to cover what was supposed to be a three-year doctoral program. Well, as you can probably gather from where we are now, it’s been much longer than three years. The process to get to this point where I’m finally writing my doctoral thesis and about to submit it has been a frustrating one to say the least. As I was approaching the end of the tunnel, I also looked to see if there were any future job opportunities in Japan for someone researching Japan-North Korea relations such as yours truly.

To cut a long story that will be saved for a future column on why you probably shouldn’t bother with North Korean studies short, I hit a dead end. I searched high and low for any kind of assistant professor job I could do starting in April 2026 (the beginning of the next academic year in Japan) but found nada. Zilch. Nothing. You lose. Good day, sir. I then considered the next best alternative: a postdoc or research position. This only raised a question that had been curdling in the back of my mind for quite some time: Do I really want to go through all of this again with another research topic while I’ll probably be making peanuts in the process?

The answer is of course no, which brings us to the present. Throughout 2025 and the last couple of years, I’ve been fortunate to build my career as a freelance writer. I’ve achieved bylines in respected outlets columnists twice my age struggle to get while also mingling with some big names in geopolitics and other fields related to my interests. Why would I want to spend the rest of my life writing dusty academic articles that will probably be read by less than ten people each in dense language the average Joe can’t even understand? Most of the time you don’t even get paid to write this stuff. I can’t make a living off only being a freelancer, but what I get per article is usually at least enough for a nice dinner with the wife.

It took me a long time to stop kidding myself, but here I am now. I have to seriously think about the future both for myself and for my wife, especially since we’re approaching our 30s which is when you need to start planning if you want a family. We certainly intend to have children, but I have to be able to support that kind of lifestyle first. To tie everything back to the beginning of this ramble, I approached my turning point in 2025. I had the time of my life in the first half of this decade as a graduate student living abroad and came out of it as a married man. What happens for the rest of this decade is going to be new territory for me as I’ll finally be moving on from anything to do with schooling or academia. Better late than never, but I’ll save the full story for another day.

Health-wise, 2025 was the year I hit the ground running — literally. Since the end of 2023 until now I’ve dropped close to 22 kg (48.5 pounds). I had gained all that weight in the first place in an attempt to adapt to the bodybuilding lifestyle popular on social media through “dirty bulking,” but mostly just ended up gaining fat. So 2024 was spent undoing that mistake through diet, while 2025 was me finally being light enough to get back into serious running. I was able to get my 5K down to under 26 minutes (nearly at 25) while doing 10Ks, 15Ks, and even half-marathons all for the first time. My next goal is to spend 2026 training for the 2027 Kyoto Marathon. It’ll be a challenge for sure, but having gotten used to long distances, I’m only building upon what I’ve already accomplished.

Speaking of accomplishments, I have to once again thank all of you for bringing Foreign Perspectives to well over 1000 subscribers in 2025. Part of this was due to my own push in the first half of the year to deliver timely content (sorry again about the last half), but another reason was me recommending other Substack publications and them recommending mine in turn. The material posted here can be all over the place as I don’t limit myself to just one subject, but I hope new and old subscribers alike have enjoyed the diversity of content. Rest assured, Foreign Perspectives isn’t going away in 2026. After I submit my doctoral thesis, I fully intend on returning to more articles on Substack while continuing my freelance writing for other outlets even as I change careers.

I’ll end this already long introduction with some brief thoughts on major events that I followed throughout 2025:

The return of Trump: I consider myself a center-right political moderate, but have never been anything close to a MAGA guy. I have friends and families who hate the man’s guts, while I know others who think he’s the bee’s knees. As an American who lives abroad, the only thing I can really comment on with Trump is how he approaches issues that affect my life such as trade and foreign policy. Unsurprisingly, I’m largely not a fan. While he’s done some good things in the Middle East, Trump’s tariffs have only alienated America’s allies and will inevitably cause many countries to look to China as a trading partner instead. It’s still too early to really know what the long term consequences will be, but I don’t live in the U.S. and I’m already Trumped out after ten years of him being a constant presence in all discourse.

Ukraine: A war I’ve had serious investment in since it started in 2022 due to the friends and colleagues I’ve made who are directly involved. I view Russia as one of the most evil regimes on the planet. It’s both a pragmatic and moral imperative that Putin’s ambitions to take over Ukraine, which he has been clear about many times, be stopped. Unfortunately, the current administration in Washington has done little but kick the Russian can down the road. February’s White House summit between Zelenskyy and Trump was one of the most shameful moments in American history. I previously believed that the U.S. would continue to stand with Ukraine after Russia’s continued stonewalling, but it’s now clear that Trump wants a hasty ceasefire that he can frame as “ending” the war in the short-term even if he knows hostilities will inevitably resume in the long-term. This is going to be a conflict that, like the Korean War, will remain technically ongoing for decades.

SignalGate: Pure idiocy which lowered my respect for Mike Waltz, who is otherwise an intelligent and accomplished political figure. Him being demoted to Trump’s ambassador to the U.N. was likely only done in consideration of his military service. It doesn’t mark the total end to his political career, but his lack of care in handling extremely sensitive intelligence does not bode well for his future either.

The assassination of Charlie Kirk: Utterly horrid, but sadly the culmination of political violence being normalized in the United States on both sides. It wasn’t the first time and it unfortunately won’t be the last time either.

Japan’s first female prime minister: Sanae Takaichi will likely be an improvement over the last few Japanese prime ministers, but she has big shoes to fill as the protégée of the late Shinzo Abe and Japan faces a ton of problems that will take more than public charisma to fix. I don’t think her administration will be a short-lived as Shigeru Ishiba’s, but longevity is never guaranteed in Japanese politics. See my column about Takaichi for The Dispatch here.

The general state of Japan in 2025: Things are far more pessimistic than the enthusiastic posts on social media from tourists who visit here for a ten-day holiday. I still have no plans to live anywhere else, but many Japanese people are struggling in the face of serious economic problems such as stagnant wages and rising costs of living. More foreign residents living in Japan is also an inevitable reality, which is why the government is carefully seeking to avoid the same mistakes as the West. See my column with further thoughts here.

China’s spat with Japan over Taiwan: Utter stupidity from the CCP that is a clearly calculated propaganda campaign to smear Japan as a nonexistent geopolitical bad guy. Takaichi’s remarks only stated the obvious and Taiwan isn’t going anywhere. The current diplomatic spat with eventually burn itself out, but it’s an eerie reminder that China’s aspirations to annex Taiwan should not be dismissed.

South Korea’s new president: Not a fan of his history of anti-Japanese rhetoric, but that was Lee Jae-myung before he had to run a country that needs Japan in the face of Trump and China. For the time being, he seems to have taken a pragmatic approach toward the U.S. and Japan instead of devolving into an ideologue like his predecessor Moon Jae-in. With that said, he has more common with Donald Trump than you may think despite their very different backgrounds. See my column about him I wrote for The Spectator here.

Netflix buying Warner Bros. Discovery: We live in hell.

The rise of AI slop: We live in hell.

My ten best pieces

As I powered through my doctoral program, I also continued my work as a freelance writer. My bylines in The Spectator and UnHerd continued as usual, but truth be told I’ll largely be moving away from geopolitical commentary in 2026. This is because the next stage of my career will likely require me to avoid publicly discussing anything too controversial, but I’m more interested in examining cultural topics anyway. The Dispatch has especially proven to be a wonderful platform. Most of my pitches are accepted and very little needs to be cut since they prioritize long-form essays. I look forward to continue working with them and whatever outlets wish to run my pieces.

Here are the ten best I wrote this year.

“Japan’s love affair with Dragon Quest spreads worldwide” — The Japan Times

A nice break from the more serious topics I usually cover. Dragon Quest is arguably the most popular video game series in Japan. The franchise is so huge that new game releases are planned on weekends so people don’t skip school or work. It took much longer for it to be successful in the West by comparison, but that too is finally changing. It was wonderful to discuss one of my favorite video game series and interview translator Jeremy Blaustein who I now consider a friend. Not only that, but Nagasaki Junior College even asked me if they could use some excerpts of the piece for one of their English exams! Now that’s one of my proudest achievements as a writer.

“A Personal Journey Through Japan Part 3: Toyooka” — Foreign Perspectives

I embarked on a solo trip to three Japanese cities in May 2024. Each of them meant something very personal to me because they played a key role in my formative experiences when I first came to Japan. I decided to turn my time on the road into an extensive three-part travelogue column, but it took until April of this year for me to finally conclude the series. Out of all of them, the piece on Toyooka was the most emotionally resonant as it centered around my first serious relationship. The larger themes are about the romantic feelings many expats tend to have toward their adopted country and how you eventually reach a crossroads at what direction to take your life in.

Going back to Toyooka after so much had changed for me over the years provided a sense of closure I very much needed. Incidentally, I went to Kinosaki Onsen again last week, this time with my wife. We had a wonderful experience and while I still felt nostalgic while we stayed at our hotel next to Toyooka Station, I no longer was wistful. This is a piece about some very specific experiences in a Japanese town most have never heard of, but I’m glad I was able to write it for my own sake.

“The iPod Reboot” — The Spectator

Millennial technology is back, baby. For various reasons, a segment of zoomers is returning to the gadgets and trends my generation experienced. I never gave up on the iPod though. I always valued having a dedicated music player on me as a detox from our always online 24/7 smartdevices which deliver an endless stream of notifications and dangerously addictive dopamine. In this piece for The Spectator, I wrote about why the iPod has returned, the enthusiast community that keeps it alive, and how it allows you to appreciate the music in your pocket much more.

“Japan’s populist pivot” — UnHerd

One of multiple articles I wrote this year that was aimed at correcting the sludge of fake news around Japan. A plucky populist party (try saying that five times fast) named Sanseito dominated international headlines which tried to frame the country as supposedly pivoting hard right a la MAGA or Reform, but I aimed to provide a more nuanced perspective. Hopefully it didn’t fall on deaf ears.

“Why Japanese People Still Can’t Speak English” — Foreign Perspectives

Many visitors to Japan are often baffled at the low level of English among Japanese people, but it turns out there are many factors contributing to this country’s linguistic separation from the Anglosphere. In this column for Foreign Perspectives, I broke down why Japanese people generally still can’t speak English and why this situation is unlikely to change anytime soon. From poor education methods to the fact that you really don’t need English to live in Japan, it’s been this way forever.

“Does the Lupin III series have a timeline?” — Lupin Central

A piece I did for free out of my love for the Lupin III. Lupin Central is a blog written by and produced for fans of Monkey Punch’s long-running franchise that shows no signs of stopping. With so many shows and films, I discussed the interesting question of if Lupin III has any semblance of continuity or a timeline. It was a pleasure to write this one because it was purely for fun.

“9/11 and Historical Memory” — Foreign Perspectives

In contrast, this piece I wrote for Foreign Perspectives the same month was the opposite of fun, but it was very important. Longtime subscribers will be aware of my interest in covering topics related to the September 11 terrorist attacks. On the 24th anniversary of 9/11 this year, I was able to visit New York City with my wife where we saw the official museum and memorial site in person. This article was about that experience and included some very moving photos I took myself. We’re now approaching 25 years since 9/11 happened, which makes it imperative that we continue to preserve historical memory of the events for future generations.

“Why Fake News About Japan is Spreading” — Foreign Perspectives

You could fill a book with all the fake news stories that are being spread about Japan online by people who don’t live here, but this piece was my attempt to summarize the main causes of the problem. Due to language barriers and social media sensationalism, so many are being fed a distorted image of Japan that simply does not match reality. It’s sadly a problem that I only see getting worse, but that also ties back to Japanese people not speaking English and being largely divorced from the discussions about this country taking place abroad. If you hear a story related to Japan that sounds too incredible or bizarre to be true, chances are it probably is.

“The Era of Immortality Is Here” — The Dispatch

I’m no Luddite, but the rapid adoption of AI technologies without any concern for their long-term societal consequences greatly disturbs me. In this piece for The Dispatch, I dove into the implications of companies “reviving” everyone from dead celebrities like Stan Lee to your own grandmother via AI and why this digital necromancy raises serious ethical issues. We’re only at the beginning of the tunnel, but at this rate there will be no end.

“Conservatives, Stop Bashing Video Games” — The Dispatch

Another article I wanted to write for a long time, but my pitch ironically got rejected by the very outlets whose readers I aimed to address. This only proves my central thesis: conservatives need to stop dismissing video games as a waste of time. Thankfully, The Dispatch was gracious enough to let me say my piece on why gaming is now becoming the dominant form of entertainment. Much of the political right apparently has a problem with this with how they frame video games and those who play them as some boogeyman responsible for all of society’s ills. That could not be further from the truth, but judging from the mostly positive responses I got, I’m confident that the general public’s perception of video games is changing for the good.

What I watched

Believe it or not, I thought 2025 was generally a better year for film than 2024. While Hollywood is still doing a ton of things wrong, they seem to currently be in a state of self-reflection after how much the pandemic and the SAG-AFTRA strikes affected their bottom line. I don’t think Netflix’s purchase of Warner Bros. Discovery will be good for the industry, but that’s currently too far away for us to really know what the consequences will be.

Regardless, I ended up going to the cinema almost every couple of weeks and saw over 200 films in total. I’ll also use this section to remind everyone that I’m active on Letterboxd where I post short reviews of everything I watch.

Honorable mentions:

I was pleasantly surprised by Thunderbolts* and Fantastic Four: First Steps despite MCU fatigue. As I wrote in my review, Superman was fine despite my dislike of some of its creative choices. I will stick my neck out to defend TRON: Ares as an enjoyable popcorn flick that is just as silly and short on story as its predecessors even if by objective standards it isn’t a very good movie. Eddington was good, but tonally inconsistent and probably released too close to the political era it’s depicting. Predator: Badlands was fine, but this franchise along with Alien seems to have few tricks left up its sleeve. Sinners was overhyped. Here in Japan, I had a good time seeing Lupin III return to theaters via Takeshi Koike’s latest film, The Immortal Bloodline, though I’ll always prefer the more lighthearted stuff instead of its darker and grittier direction. Suzuki=Bakudan is a police procedural you’ve probably never heard of based on a bestselling novel you’ve also probably never heard of. Surprisingly thrilling and well-acted.

Late releases in Japan:

Japan often gets a lot of 2024 films later than the rest of the world, so I was late to the party on these. The Apprentice was a surprisingly poignant examination of Donald Trump’s rise before he became president and easily Sebastian Stan’s best performance of his career so far. September 5 is a thrilling dramatization of the 1972 Munich massacre and an effective tribute to old school analogue journalism. The Brutalist won’t be everyone’s cup of tea, but Brady Corbet crafted a labor of love that pays homage to the best Hollywood epics and Adrien Brody deserved his Oscar. Nosferatu is a gorgeous update of Dracula. I liked Wicked despite generally not watching musicals and finding most of the cast rather annoying. I have no desire to watch The Substance again because of how disgusting it is, but it’s undeniably well-made and acted with its uncomfortable depiction of how we inevitably all lose our beauty with age.

TV shows I watched:

Not a huge TV guy due to the time commitment it usually takes, but Season 2 of Andor was easily one of the best things I’ve watched in a long time. See my review here. I also caught up on The Sympathizer (it’s better than the book because it cuts out the fat) and The Penguin (this somehow ended up as one of the best shows based on a comic book ever made). I also watched The Hollow Crown (it starts off as a good modern adaptation of Shakespeare, but becomes too disjointed by the end) and Das Boot (slow, but very effective). I’m currently showing my wife Monty Python’s Flying Circus for the first time, which surprisingly has a full Japanese Blu-ray release. The people who handled the translation of that series deserve a medal.

My top ten films of 2025:

10. Avatar: Fire and Ash — Dammit James Cameron, I want to hate your Avatar films, but I just can’t. They’re too beautifully made for me to be that bothered by their shallow stories and rather dull characters. Maybe I’ve succumbed to key-jangling, but I don’t think so. This was easily among the best experiences I had in a cinema all year and I appreciated its earnest themes around family (a rarity in Hollywood these days), so it sneaks into the top ten at the last minute. Well-played, Jimbo.

9. Bullet Train Explosion — Being a legacy sequel to The Bullet Train released in 1975, this has to be one of the longest gaps between two films. The original starring Ken Takakura, Sonny Chiba, and a huge cast of other major Japanese actors of the 1970s is a classic here, but sadly not so well known overseas. That’s a shame because Bullet Train Explosion is widely available via Netlfix and is greatly enhanced if you see it after its predecessor. It’s fascinating watching both to see how much Japan has changed over the last 50 years. Thrilling action and a compelling plot with some decent twists makes this one worth a look.

8. Ballerina — The John Wick spin-off I never knew I wanted. Similar to how Furiosa was sadly overlooked in relation to the greater Mad Max series, it definitely is not “woke” pandering or an inferior version of what came before. Ballerina adds more interesting lore to its established world, Ana de Armas did a good job as Eve, the Keanu Reeves cameo was entertaining, and the action is stellar.

7. Demon Slayer: Kimetsu no Yaiba – The Movie: Infinity Castle — Could they not have come up with a better English translated title? That aside, the newest Demon Slayer was the biggest Japanese film of the year and dethroned… the last Demon Slayer as the highest-grossing Japanese film of all time. With expectedly stunning animation that never misses a beat, it did exactly what it needed to do as the big-budget adaptation of its respective manga chapter. I wouldn’t consider myself a super fan of the franchise as I always founded it to be a bit too shonen trope-y for my liking, but the incredible artwork and emotional flashback sequences won me over.

6. 28 Years Later — You’ll either love or hate this movie, but I applaud Danny Boyle for going outside of the box instead of repeating the same ground as the previous two movies. The first half of 28 Years Later is some of the most thrilling filmmaking I’ve seen in a long time, but the second half is where you’ll either buy what Boyle is selling or kick it to the curb in disbelief. I thought about this one for awhile, but I’ve come to the conclusion that his risk paid off since it’s never left my head in the months since. The upcoming sequel, The Bone Temple, could of course throw all of that away, but either way I enjoyed returning to this universe, albeit in an extremely unorthodox way.

5. F1 — The next Top Gun: Maverick-esque summer blockbuster we all needed. Pure, unadulterated adrenaline and great fun even if you do have to suspend your disbelief a bit considering Brad Pitt’s age. I wish we could have these kinds of “dad movies” at least once every year.

4. Weapons — Zack Cregger is to me inseparable from The Whitest Kids U’ Know, particularly his hilarious performance as Abraham Lincoln, but it turns out that he’s quite the accomplished director of serious stuff too. Weapons has an intriguing setup that continuously holds your attention and manages to be thoroughly creepy by the end. The less you know going in, the better. I’m not sure how that will affect subsequent rewatches of the film, but one thing’s for sure, Cregger is going places and he has a very promising post-comedy career indeed.

3. Black Bag — A big surprise from Steven Soderbergh who, despite being American, directed something that feels like it was ripped out of the classic era of British spy films and updated with modern technology. Michael Fassbender and Cate Blanchett are fantastic, as are the supporting cast featuring the likes of Tom Burke and Pierce Brosnan. I was reminded of a Harry Palmer film or John le Carré novel, the kind of low-key espionage story that keeps you invested purely because the writing is so brilliant. It’s a brisk 94 minutes too, being exactly the right length for this kind of narrative and never overstaying its welcome.

2. Kokuho — And now I’m contradicting myself with the next entry, which is a three-hour long film about kabuki theater. Now don’t go away, it’s more interesting than it sounds. Kokuho has gone on to be the biggest live-action Japanese film of the year and has sparked a ton of new interest in young people for Japan’s traditional theatrical arts. It’s an epic, sprawling story about the contrasting lives of two men who sacrifice everything to be the best of their craft while knowing that only one of them can truly be considered “the best” of all time. A lot of Japanese live-action movies these days are disposable fodder that appeal to the lowest common denominator, but works like Kokuho and other recent hits like Godzilla Minus One give the impression that things are slowly changing. Lee Sang-il is certainly among the best directors working in the industry, that’s for sure. Even Tom Cruise sang his praises of Kokuho, which gave it an even bigger boost on the international film festival circuit. Don’t miss it when it hopefully reaches a wider audience in 2026.

1. Frankenstein — Not everything he makes is a winner (I really do not like The Shape of Water), but Guillermo del Toro is responsible for my favorite film of 2025. His take on Frankenstein is one of the most frustrating stories of development hell in Hollywood history, and it ironically took Netflix to step in for it to get made at all. For all the things you can criticize the streaming giant for, sometimes they really do put their money where it matters. In any case, Frankenstein is the film del Toro was born to make. It embodies every theme he has explored in his career, particularly the fine line between monsters and men. While there are notable diversions from Mary Shelly’s novel that purists will undoubtedly take issue with, it’s the passion that counts and this film has it in every frame. Really glad that a local Kyoto cinema was playing it because the full visual spectacle of Frankenstein deserves far more than just your television screen.

   

Films I watched for the first time in 2025:

The Lost City of Z (2016) — Based on the incredible and tragic life of Percy Fawcett, this is arguably the last great classic adventure film Hollywood ever made as the genre has sadly largely become cast aside. Be sure to read the book by David Grann for the full story.

The Pianist (2002) — As someone whose father survived the Cultural Revolution by being a musician and given my own lifelong interest in Holocaust history, The Pianist had me hooked from start to finish. This is rightfully considered one of the greatest films ever made.

Loving Vincent (2017) — One of the most breathtaking and painstakingly drawn animated films that shocks you with every frame with its artistry. Damn shame that it’s overlooked and modern viewers will mistake it for AI due to the motion.

Used Cars (1980) — Very underrated comedy starring Kurt Russell that is absolutely ingenious with every joke setup and conversation.

Speed (1994) — Yes, it’s often made fun of as “The Bus That Couldn’t Slow Down” starring Keanu Reeves, but Speed is one of the top thrillers of the 1990s for a reason. Despite only watching it for the first time this year, by reputation I always viewed it as a loose remake of The Bullet Train given the near-identical premise save for the vehicle used. Jan de Bont was friends with Ken Takakura, so I’m sure he saw it for inspiration. Disappointing he only had a very limited directing career after Speed.

Michael Clayton (2007) — Got around to this one because of Andor and just like that incredible show, watching Michael Clayton proves why Tony Gilroy is one of the greatest writers working in Hollywood today. All the parts come together perfectly by the end like a grand symphony.

Conspiracy (2001) — One of the most disturbing films ever made about the Nazis and the Holocaust despite not a single scene of bloodshed actually shown. Given everything that’s happening in the world today around antisemitism, Conspiracy needs to be seen by everyone to show how slaughter on a massive industrial scale was brought to reality.

The Naked Gun (1988) — Yes, it took me this long to see it and the other sequels with Police Squad. You already know why The Naked Gun is a classic. Even subtitled in Japanese, which is its own mindblowing achievement given the material, my wife couldn’t stop laughing with me.

The Man Who Would Be King (1975) — A “they don’t make them like they used to” adventure film produced during a time when even back then they weren’t making them like they used to. John Huston directs like he’s making a matinee thriller from decades prior, but that old fashioned spirit of heroism mixed in with the subtle cynicism of the 1970s makes The Man Who Would Be King truly special. Probably the best performances of Michael Caine and Sean Connery’s careers.

Always: Sunset on Third Street (2005) — Essential viewing if you want to understand where Takashi Yamazaki got his influences for Godzilla: Minus One. Always: Sunset on Third Street and its two sequels are postwar Showa-era Japan encapsulated as an intentionally idealistic and nostalgic trilogy. It’s unfortunately not so well-known overseas, but the Japanese Blu-rays contain English subtitles. Worth tracking down for sure.

Gods and Monsters (1998) — A rare biopic that shows the twilight years of someone who worked in Hollywood at the beginning of the 20th century, yet is still around to see the rapidly changing modernity around him long after his relevancy has passed. James Whale was a fascinating director, having been openly gay during a time when such things were unheard of in the film industry. Yet because he was responsible for Frankenstein and other hits, his work was championed by studio executives. One of Ian McKellen’s best performances, which can also be said for Brendan Fraser in a very underrated early role.

The Mummy (1999) — Speaking of Brendan Fraser, I finally got around to watching The Mummy trilogy. All of them are entertaining, yes I’ll even defend the third one to a point, but it’s really the first that everyone remembers and speaks highly of. Hollywood, please bring back the traditional adventure film. None of that horrible Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny crap.

A Room with a View (1985) — The positive inverse to Barry Lyndon’s pessimistic commentary on class divides in British society. Like Kubrick’s period piece, this is an utterly gorgeous film where every frame is a painting. Everyone here is fantastic, whether it’s Denholm Elliot and Maggie Smith as the stalwart veteran performers, or the then-up and coming young talent like Helena Bonham Carter and Daniel Day-Lewis. It’s also a rare leading part for Julian Sands, one of my favorite supporting actors who sadly died a couple of years ago in tragic circumstances.

There Will Be Blood (2007) — Yes, another classic I put off for too long. Daniel Day-Lewis’ performance lives up to the hype as one of the best of the century and Paul Dano is great no matter what Quentin Tarantino tells you. While a very good film, it is largely carried by the acting and not the script itself which I found somewhat barren. There Will Be Blood is not among my favorites at this stage, but I definitely respect and acknowledge its place in the canon.

True Lies (1994) — James Cameron’s last low stakes film before he became a director of absurdly expensive blockbusters, possibly for the rest of his life at this rate. Arnold Schwarzenegger and Jamie Lee Curtis have great chemistry of course, but True Lies sticks out to me as emblematic of when Hollywood action films could still be funny. And not in a constant ironic winking to the audience either. I hope we can one day see movies like these again where the silliness and camp are embraced, not discarded.

What I listened to

Wham! — Listened to their music peripherally for years due to “Last Christmas” and “Careless Whisper,” but checked them out properly for the first time this year. Despite their popularity back in the day, many forget they only had three studio albums. Not deep by any means, but fun pop regardless.

Al Bowlly — One of the most underrated crooners who set the groundwork for more well-known singers like Dean Martin and Frank Sinatra. Most know him best for “Midnight, The Stars and You,” which provided the haunting ending piece for Stanley Kubrick’s The Shining. “Be Still My Heart,” “Close Your Eyes,” and “Guilty” are some of his other hits. It’s very old timey music by today’s standards, but succeeds at transporting you to a different era of more musical innocence. Due to age, most of his discography is in the public domain so it’s easy to find.

Chet Baker — Jazz heads like myself know Baker’s music well, but he sadly doesn’t have the same household name status among the public today like Miles Davis or John Coltrane. “You Don’t Know What Love Is” has seen a resurgence because of its appearance in Cyberpunk: 2077 so perhaps there’s some hope. Baker was an accomplished vocalist, but check out his excellent covers of jazz standards like “Autumn Leaves,” “Tangerine,” and “Have You Met Miss Jones?” for a taste of his stellar trumpet skills.

Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov — I constantly listened to “Scheherazade” throughout the year while working and studying. I think it’s one of the most accessible pieces of classical music ever composed and in many ways is an early precursor to film scores with its adventurous themes and approach to melodic storytelling. Many great versions, but I’m partial to the Berlin Philharmonic recording with Herbert von Karajan.

Dimitri Shostakovich — Another one of my favorite Russian composers. Shostakovich’s seventh symphony is another stalwart entry of my work and study playlists. Leonard Bernstein’s recording with the Chicago Symphony Orchestra is legendary.

Leroy Anderson — “Sleigh Ride” is arguably the best holiday song ever composed because its longevity lasts far beyond Christmas and into the general winter season. Leroy Anderson was the king of light orchestral music with so many wonderfully crowd-pleasing compositions. “The Typewriter” is another classic, while “The Penny-Whistle Song” is a good example of Anderson’s penchant for memorable, feel-good melodies. The album Orchestral Favorites with Richard Hayman and His Orchestra comes recommended.

Akina Nakamori — One of the greatest J-pop queens of the 1980s. Her earliest work was closer to classical kayokyoku ballads, while she later took on a more “bad girl” image with her fashion and musical choices. “Joken Hansha,” “Into the Azure Night,” “Shojo A,” and “Jukkai” are some of my favorites and they’ve also provided good upbeat material for my jogging playlists.

Dead Kennedys — Playing the original Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater for the first time naturally exposed me to some of the best musical acts of the 1990s. Apart from “Superman” by Goldfinger, which is basically the franchise’s anthem, I particularly enjoyed listening to the Dead Kennedys. “Police Truck” is great, while “Holiday in Cambodia” is something relevant for every age of clueless college campus activism. It might surprise you that I enjoy such edgy music given the other selections on this list, but I’ve always had wide tastes.

Eurythmics — This year I rewatched Nineteen Eighty-Four, the underrated cinematic adaptation of George Orwell’s dystopian novel. It’s exactly what I’d imagine the book brought to screen to look like. What stood out to me this time apart from its incredible visual language was the haunting soundtrack by Eurythmics. It’s pretty amusing in retrospect that a song like “Sexcrime” was played in the discotheques given the original source material, but “For The Love of Big Brother” is my favorite track on the album. With the film having actually been released in 1984, I view it to be a fascinating bridge between the era Orwell lived in to the modernity we find ourselves in now.

A Single Man — I watched this moving 1960s period drama starring Colin Firth at the end of 2024. It’s equally stunning soundtrack stuck with me throughout 2025. Abel Korzeniowski composed the majority of the score, but it also features contributions from Shigeru Umebayashi, who is probably best known today for Ghost of Tsushima. Korzeniowski’s “Stillness of the Mind” gives a taste for the lush orchestrations that appear throughout the album, while Umebayashi’s recurring motif for the protagonist features prominently. It’s a film and score I hope more people check out.

Clair Obscur: Expedition 33 — Haven’t played the video game enough to form an overall opinion yet, but I was immediately a fan of the music. The whole score over eight hours long, yet it’s remains of consistent quality with full orchestrations for the most important moments. Not to mention it’s completely free on YouTube! Hopefully I can give Clair Obscur a proper playthrough once I’m done with my doctoral program.

What I read

Last of the Blue and Gray by Richard A. Serrano — Fascinating book on the last Civil War veterans who lived well into the 20th century. It illustrates how memory of the conflict changed as all those who participated passed away, but it’s also about the countless fraud cases of old men pretending to be veterans for benefits.

First Blood by David Morrell — Where the Rambo franchise all started. There are a lot of differences from the more famous film adaptation starring Sylvester Stallone, which makes me hope that perhaps we’ll get a more novel-accurate miniseries one day. While the prose is straightforward, it provides nuance to both sides of the story as an overall commentary on generational divide during the Vietnam War.

Kubrick: An Odyssey by Robert. P. Kolker — The latest and perhaps most comprehensive biography on Stanley Kubrick. Everything you could have possibly wanted to know about one of the greatest filmmakers of all time is here in addition to newly-revealed details about his life and work. Cinephiles will be very pleased indeed.

The Boys from Brazil by Ira Levin — A compelling thriller centering around a Nazi hunter who uncovers a wider conspiracy that could shake the foundation of future world events. Best to go into this one with as little prior knowledge as possible. Also check out the excellent film adaptation starring Gregory Peck, Laurence Olivier, and James Mason.

The Wide Wide Sea by Hampton Sides — A splendid biography on Captain James Cook that is equal parts an exploration of one of the most important explorers in history as it is an examination of the tragic relationship the West would have with many indigenous peoples. Sides wisely does not editorialize the facts. Cook was no monster and unlike many of his contemporaries made an active attempt to understand the cultures of the societies he encountered. You will be thrilled by the adventures on display, but also left to contemplate the complex questions this book raises.

KL: A History of the Nazi Concentration Camps by Nikolaus Wachsmann — At nearly 900 pages, this is an exhaustive history of the Nazi concentration camp system and will probably be the definitive text on the subject for decades. The Holocaust is of course front and center, but Wachsmann peels back layers of history to show how the Third Reich employed campus to first imprison political dissidents and then later to attempt full-scale genocide of European Jews. I listened to the audiobook version, which is over 30 hours long, and had to space it out over a few weeks. Very difficult material that is both emotionally and mentally draining, but absolutely one of the most important books written this century.

Star Wars Legends: Tales of the Jedi Omnibus — No, not the animated series of the same name on Disney+. This is a complete collection of the 1990s Dark Horse comics taking place thousands of years before the original Star Wars trilogy. Its esoteric portrayal of the Force, the Jedi, and the Sith set the groundwork for lore that is still being used today under the current canon, but these stories are heavily reminiscent of Biblical tales with their epic scope and myth-like narratives. It’s arguably the closest Star Wars ever got to the fantasy elements George Lucas envisaged. Will do a more in-depth review in the future.

Star Wars: Battlefront: Twilight Company by Alexander Freed — Who could have predicted that one of the best modern Star Wars stories would come from a novel that’s a tie-in to a video game most people hated on launch? It probably says more about Disney’s own misguided priorities with this franchise than anything else, but Battlefront: Twilight Company comes recommended to anyone who enjoyed the likes of Rogue One and Andor. Freed tells an old-school war story that adds more lore to the events of the original trilogy and emphasizes the sacrifices made by the grunts on the ground. A shame most will probably never read it due to overall apathy toward Star Wars at the moment.

Random by Penn Jillette — A hilarious novel written by the loudmouth part of the famous magician duo Penn & Teller. More prudish readers won’t appreciate its profanity and explicit content, but if you’re already familiar with the irreverent antics of Jillette like I’ve been for years such as with their television series Bullshit!, you’re in for a swell time. The audiobook read by Jillette himself makes the material all the more laugh out loud funny.

The Spy Who Came in from the Cold by John le Carré — I’ve been reading le Carré’s work for the first time. After the previous two George Smiley novels, The Spy Who Came in from the Cold is where most agree he hit his stride. It’s a darkly cynical spy thriller about the callous choices made by both sides of the Cold War that continues to be a great read even decades later. Looking forward to the rest of his bibliography.

What I played

Limbo — I replay this one every few years. Limbo is one of the classics of the golden age of indie video games. It creates a ton of effective atmosphere with so little, while the wordless story leaves room for tons of interpretation players are still debating 15 years later. Goes on sale often and it’s available on everything, so no excuse not to own it.

Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater — Played the original PS1 games for the first time. Very tough to get all the moves down correctly, but still tons of fun with a killer soundtrack. Hope to eventually play the sequels.

Scribblenauts — Was nostalgic to play this Nintendo DS classic of my childhood where you could conjure up any object (within age-appropriateness, of course!) to solve a plethora of puzzles. The concept is admittedly more interesting than its execution, but this is one of the most innovative video game concepts ever created and it provides hours of entertainment.

Wolfenstein 3D — Decided to replay the grandfather of first-person shooters, this time with the goal of 100% completion. I’ve only finished the first three chapters, but that was technically the full game release back in the day. Have to get to the rest and Spear of Destiny. It’s archaic and simple, but shooting Nazis never gets old. Nightdive Studios needs to give Wolfenstein 3D a full remaster because it’s long past due.

Tokimeki Memorial: Forever with You — Arguably the greatest dating simulator ever made.

Plumbers Don’t Wear Ties — Arguably the worst dating simulator ever made.

Mario Kart World — I still need to do my full write-up on the Nintendo Switch 2, but if you own the console, you’re pretty much guaranteed to have Mario Kart World. It’s not as polished or well-developed as Mario Kart 8, but that’s to be expected given how much time in the oven its predecessor got with nearly a decade of updates. World will inevitably improve and it’s already gotten better. With that said, I do wonder if this series is beginning to run out of steam. Having now done an open world, what else can Nintendo do next? An even bigger open world? As I’ll expand upon in my piece on the Switch 2, the Big N may have finally innovated themselves into a corner.

Harvester — A 1990s adventure title that’s dated in a lot of ways, but still one of the most effective commentaries on video game violence and American society’s fixation with violence as a whole. Whenever I have more time I’m hoping to do a column series on controversial video games. Harvester will definitely be one of the first I cover.

Kirby’s Return to Dreamland Deluxe — My wife and I played this one almost every day when we were visiting my family in Pittsburgh. It gives you all the fun you’ve come to expect from a standard Kirby platformer, but the multiplayer is great, the Deluxe edition adds tons of entertaining mini-games, and the later stages provide a good challenge. Needed this one after Harvester.

The Elder Scrolls: Arena — I’ve ironically not played any of The Elder Scrolls games apart from this one, but that’s because I have a penchant for starting at the beginning of franchises and I’m a sucker for archaic games. Yes, Arena is old, outdated, and for many will be a slog to play through. For me, it provides a good challenge and serves as a fascinating time capsule into the early beginnings of CRPGs. Still not close to finishing it yet, but I’m finally getting used to the mechanics and have been enjoying going on quests for loot.

Dragon Quest IV — Finally beat this one after having started it over 18 months ago. While I think Dragon Quest III is the better game overall due to pacing, this fourth entry has a ton of great stuff going for it and is particularly mindblowing considering its origins as a Famicom game. I plan on getting to Dragon Quest V in 2026, but there are a couple of other RPGs I’d like to play first.

Super Mario Sunshine — I played this sequel to Super Mario 64 on and off for over five years to reach 100% completion. Finally accomplished that horrible task earlier this month. It is indisputably the most broken game in the Super Mario franchise and never should have been released in the state it was. I love to hate it, but I will never touch Super Mario Sunshine ever again.

Foreign Perspectives is a reader-supported Substack. If you like my work and have come this far, consider opting for a paid subscription so I can continue writing in-depth articles such as these on a regular basis. Your support is greatly appreciated!

Foreign Perspectives is a mix of free and paid content. Certain columns such as these are free for all subscribers, but other articles will be exclusive for paid subscribers. If you enjoy the work I do, please consider upgrading to a monthly or yearly subscription. Your support is greatly appreciated and ensures that this Substack can continue to deliver high quality pieces.

About ten minutes into Seven Samurai, one can see a young man walking through the streets of a bustling town. He is clearly a samurai, but not one of the titular main warriors in Akira Kurosawa’s jidaigeki epic. The character is nameless and unimportant the story; a mere blink-and-you’ll-miss-him background extra no one in 1954 would have paid attention to. Yet just a few years later, the man playing him would become known throughout Japan as Tatsuya Nakadai and later acknowledged worldwide as one of his country’s finest actors.

Over the next seven decades, Nakadai worked with Kurosawa again multiple times, as well as other acclaimed directors like Masaki Kobayashi and Keisuke Kinoshita. He acted alongside multiple generations of acclaimed Japanese actors from Toshiro Mifune to Hiroyuki Sanada, while also starring in Japanese stage adaptations of William Shakespeare and Arthur Miller well into his twilight years. Few Japanese performers from the mid-20th century successfully transitioned into the 21st, but Nakadai continued his appearances in film, television, and plays long after most of his contemporaries retired or passed away.

If one looks at most of the films Nakadai appeared in, he was often the sole surviving principle cast member due to him starting his career young and never ceasing to be prolific. Sadly, it was announced this month that Tatsuya Nakadai died of pneumonia at the age of 92 on Nov. 8, 2025. Among the last of Japan’s dwindling generation of silver screen icons who lived through World War II, his passing truly marks the end of an era. I’m not in the habit of writing many obituaries, but this is one of the few occasions I feel compelled to do so.

Western audiences will probably best remember Nakadai for playing opposite Toshiro Mifune in the Akira Kurosawa pictures Yojimbo, Sanjuro, and High and Low. Those films are stunning examples of his fidelity as an actor, skillfully pulling off roles from slick police inspectors to Edo era gun-toting gangsters. When Kurosawa turned him into the protagonist of his later jidaigeki films Kagemusha and Ran, Nakadai brought forth a powerful presence that commanded attention and made ancient Japan feel like a living, breathing place with human characters reminding us of our modern foibles.

Even more than his Kurosawa collaborations, my favorite films of Nakadai’s were the ones he did with Masaki Kobayashi. At the age of 27, he carried the entirety of The Human Condition trilogy released between 1959 and 1961. This nine-and-a-half-hour epic saga followed the tragic story of a Japanese idealist who begins World War II as a well-meaning, but naive labor chief of Chinese slaves in Manchuria to becoming a prisoner himself in the desolate Soviet POW camps of Siberia. It was a complex role that most older actors would struggle with, but Nakadai’s youth and commitment proved to be his assets.

Perhaps Nakadai’s best performance was in Harakiri, Kobayashi’s bitter attack on idealized views of the samurai class and a greater commentary on the dangers of dogmatic systems. The protagonist is a wandering ronin with a tragic backstory that slowly unfolds throughout the course of the narrative. What makes it all the more incredible is that despite Nakadai only being 29 at the time of filming, he convincingly plays a middle-aged samurai with an aura of bitter world weariness. The verbal back-and-forth he has with the antagonist played by Rentaro Mikuni proves to be just as thrilling as the film’s sword duels. To anyone wanting to get into Nakadai’s work for the first time, Harakiri is the place to start.

Despite these deadly serious roles, Nakadai off screen was described as one of the most approachable actors in the industry. He was known to be a practical joker when the cameras were not rolling and regularly made his co-stars laugh with humorous impressions. Not all his characters were fierce warriors or tormented lords, either. In the heartbreaking drama about Hachiko, Nakadai showed his warmer side as the loyal Akita dog’s departed owner. He even lent his voice for a few anime films like Belladonna of Sadness and The Tale of the Princess Kaguya.

With over 160 films to his name, seemingly no role was too challenging for Nakadai to undertake. Whether his characters required physical action, deep pathos, lighthearted comedy, or a smooth tongue, it was practically guaranteed to be a knockout performance and often became the highlight of the entire picture. He was the kind of old-school Japanese movie star that no longer exists today. Tatsuya Nakadai’s passing closes a chapter, but what he contributed to cinema will live on for ages.

Foreign Perspectives is a reader-supported Substack. If you like my work and have come this far, consider opting for a paid subscription so I can continue writing in-depth articles such as these on a regular basis. Your support is greatly appreciated!

Foreign Perspectives is a mix of free and paid content. Certain articles such as these are exclusively for paid subscribers. If you enjoy the work I do, please consider upgrading to a monthly or yearly subscription. Your support is greatly appreciated and ensures that this Substack can continue to deliver high quality pieces.

In The Travels of Marco Polo, the people of Japan are described as having “tremendous quantities of gold.” So rich is this country that “the King’s palace is roofed with pure gold, and his floors are paved in gold two fingers thick.” Such lavish stories were all Europeans had to go on about “Zipangu” back in the 13th century when Travels was written. This includes Marco Polo himself who never actually visited Japan.

The intrepid Venetian explorer most likely got his information secondhand during his time in China. Japan did export gold and other valuable commodities to the wealthy Song dynasty, but the country might as well have been a different planet to Marco. It would be well over 200 years before the first Westerners stepped foot in the Land of the Rising Sun with the arrival of Portuguese merchants in 1543. One can only imagine what must have been going through their heads considering the tall tales they had heard.

While Japan is no longer an isolated country, most Westerners still have no real conception around what’s actually happening here. Urban legends like there being vending machines which sell used panties on every street corner are usually based on outdated information in an attempt to make Japan seem more “weird” than it really is. In more serious cases, Westerners with certain political agendas will attempt to use Japan to prove their talking points around immigration, race, and other shibboleths despite having very little real understanding of Japanese society. Just this month, people on Anglosphere social media went wild with blatantly false claims that the country’s new prime minister was pursuing “mass deportations” of foreigners.

Despite the invention of the internet giving us 24/7 updates on everything going on in the world, misinformation around Japan continues to run rampant. Our shift into an online landscape has only made this problem worse, and it’s enough of an issue that I felt compelled to write about why fake news around Japan is so widespread.

Few qualified people know Japanese and English

The obvious language barrier is the biggest immediate obstacle to getting reliable information from Japan. One habit of mine that I’ve basically done since the day I first arrived is turning the television on when I get home so I can see what stories are being discussed in the zeitgeist. Even with the internet, TV is still how the majority of Japanese people get their news and popular variety shows which cover trending social topics are extremely popular.

Unsurprisingly, all of this is in Japanese. If you’re a monolingual English speaker, you’ll inevitably have to rely on translations which only give you a small sliver of daily events in Japan. Sure, you can go to the BBC, The New York Times, or any “respected” publication for some of the highlights, such as the results of major elections, but most of these places aren’t going to report on stories of local interest which give a better sense of how the average Japanese person might feel about things or what news items are gripping the country.

I’ve previously written about why Japanese people don’t speak English, but the same holds true in reverse. Japanese is a notoriously tough language to learn for foreigners, and the few who do learn it rarely get to a level where they can regularly interact with untranslated resources. The pool of people who are functionally fluent in Japanese, employed to produce professional commentary on Japan, and are good writers to boot is, as you can probably guess, infinitesimally small. That’s not the end of it either. Within this narrow criteria, there are plenty of grifters in the small world of Japan coverage who have outrage to push and narratives to sell. You will be shocked how deep this rabbit hole can get after reading how much of Tokyo Vice was made up.

Of course, there are exceptions. The Japan Times under its current editorial leadership has done a far better job producing articles on more esoteric, but still fascinating Japan-related subjects compared to its direction in the past. I highly recommend journalist Alex Martin’s work. Tobias Harris, who wrote a fantastic book on the late Prime Minister Shinzo Abe, is the gold standard for English-language commentary on Japanese politics and his Substack publicaition Observing Japan comes highly recommend. Another reliable commentator is Gearoid Reidy, a voice of reason amid a sea of fear-mongering with his well-written columns.

Because most on both sides of the Pacific don’t really know each other’s languages, however, a significant gap in knowledge remains. Some people who got famous writing about Japan like Pico Iyer barely even speak Japanese! As Damien Flanagan argued a few years ago, this does not immediately disqualify you from cultural commentary, but I would still push back and say that it does cast doubt on your reliability as an expert if you can’t even speak to a country’s people in their own language. Considering how discourse around Japan can quickly devolve into a game of Chinese whispers due to a lack of linguistic knowledge, you really need to take the time to separate the wheat from the chaff in deciding whose opinions are reliable.

Japanese soft power creates self-proclaimed “experts”

For the handful of genuine experts who produce insights on Japan, there are also the weeaboos who fashion themselves as “experts.” Presently, global interest in Japan is probably at an all-time high. The weak yen is drawing in millions of tourists from across the world, and the popularity of “soft power” from anime and video games means that more people are paying attention to this country than ever. Yet many of these observations are often surface level and not very meaningful.

Read more

Foreign Perspectives is a mix of free and paid content. Certain columns such as these are free for all subscribers, but other articles will be exclusive for paid subscribers. If you enjoy the work I do, please consider upgrading to a monthly or yearly subscription. Your support is greatly appreciated and ensures that this Substack can continue to deliver high quality pieces.

The September 11, 2001 terrorist attacks are nearly a quarter of a century behind us. Next year will mark the 25th anniversary of the worst day in U.S. history, which is a bittersweet milestone that I don’t think enough people grasp the significance of. That is especially true with younger generations of Americans who have no memories of 9/11 and, increasingly, no understanding of how much those events shaped the current trajectory of the 21st century.

I wasn’t old enough to remember 9/11 itself as someone born toward the end of 1997, but I distinctly recall growing up in the 2000s with the Afghanistan and Iraq Wars as a constant backdrop of my childhood. With that said, I didn’t grasp the full context and significance of 9/11 until I seriously started studying international affairs much later. I eventually spent so much time researching the subject that I was able to write about 9/11 professionally for outlets like The Japan Times and bring attention to the lesser known aspects of it on social media.

It was with that background that I finally made an auspicious pilgrimage to the National September 11 Memorial & Museum yesterday, having booked a tour of the premises with my wife while we were visiting New York City this week. I would have gone today, but the area is largely closed to family members of victims for their own personal remembrance ceremony. Yet even on the day before 9/11, one immediately feels the weight of history in the air.

The main memorial site of two reflecting pools symbolizing where the Twin Towers once stood is easily the most peaceful location in New York City. Crashing sounds of water landing on the granite basins below create an aural effect that drowns out the noises of traffic and airplanes, while all those present know that they’re treading on sacred land. The 400 swamp white oak trees, native to New York, West Virginia, and Pennsylvania, are planted throughout the grounds because they represent victims from all three locations of 9/11. Those are the kinds of careful details that went into the arduous process of creating this special place.

Here amid the hustle and bustle of the busiest metropolis on earth is a space dedicated entirely to solemn reflection. Every single victim’s name is written on the panels installed around the reflecting pools and grouped not by alphabetical order, but in careful consideration of the friends and colleagues they worked with every day in the towers. Those who were on board the hijacked planes, at the Pentagon, or even killed in the original 1993 World Trade Center bombing are also included. With their names physically carved out via hollow gaps in the metal, an endless supply of flowers and photographs from loved ones is always present.

The adjacent museum provides one of the most exhaustive overviews of 9/11 a person could ask for. It was set to close early in preparation of today’s memorial and the general admission line was completely packed with visitors, but we were able to gain instant access due to booking group tickets ahead of time. I’m glad things turned out this way because visiting will not be an experience I’ll easily forget. Despite knowing the general timeline of 9/11 pretty well at this point, little can really prepare you for how emotionally draining the exhibits are.

Everything from the largest steel beam to the smallest scrap of office paper is meticulously preserved and given a full explanation. You should plan to spend a full afternoon here due to the crowds, but also because there’s simply so much information to fully process. I was reminded of similar museums in Japan dedicated to the atomic bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, but this one goes into even more extensive detail. It’s heavy stuff that many will find difficult to come to terms with, but not facing the gravity of what happened is how history becomes forgotten.

Indeed, precisely how the history of 9/11 should be remembered is itself a central theme of the entire site. The memorial was not established until 2011, while the museum finally opened to the public in 2014. With thousands of people affected and the family members of the deceased being a powerful lobbying force, creating a place that properly honored everyone connected to 9/11 was no easy task. I walked away with the impression that they did as good of a job as could be expected.

In my time researching 9/11, I’ve come across horrible photographs of “jumpers” — the colloquial term for people forced to make the impossible decision to leap from the World Trade Center and receive an instant death or be burned alive in the smoldering flames where they stood. I’ve seen other disturbing images of severed human limbs on the streets below and Pentagon victims reduced to literal ash. With 9/11 having taken place in a pre-smartphone, pre-social media world, those with cameras were very selective in what they shot and the most unsettling media was often cut for broadcast on television or print in newspapers.

You won’t find any explicit pictures of gore at the 9/11 museum, but there was obviously no way such material would ever be widely shown to the public. I’m of mixed feelings around this choice because while I understand the need to keep things to a certain level out of taste, it comes close to whitewashing just how bad things truly were on that day. In the years after 9/11, we’ve certainly seen some misguided attempts to make it more “palatable” to Americans.

For quite some time there was this frustrating post-9/11 trend to remove any depictions of the Twin Towers in pop culture. Movies like The Bourne Identity and video games like Metal Gear Solid 2 had their plots significantly altered, which made some sense given the sociopolitical climate of the time. Far more unacceptable was censors feeling the need to airbrush any World Trade Center references out of media that already existed such as in Home Alone 2 and The Simpsons. Considering that al-Qaeda’s goal was to morally weaken Americans and break their spirits, there’s an irony that in some ways they got their wish with how taboo the Twin Towers became.

Thankfully, the 9/11 Memorial & Museum largely succeeds in striking a balance between proper historical documentation and conveying the gravity of what happened without needing to resort to provocative imagery. There’s a time and a place for more shocking photographs, but those are probably best left to online archives that can be freely accessed. For a public-facing site that’s primarily intended for general education, I doubt much could be done better. You can’t teach people if you scare them off.

The 9/11 Archive on Reddit is the definitive online source for all things 9/11. It is run by mods who are dedicated toward covering it from all possible angles, and their tireless efforts have allowed for “lost media” around the events to be saved. Many videos that were taken on that day remain in government possession, stuck on aging analog tapes, or have remained forgotten in private collections. Some material is locked away behind layers of legal tape, but much of it only needs to be found and properly digitized. In 2024, an hour of new World Trade Center collapse footage was posted online by a Japanese tourist who was in New York City on September 11, 2001, but he never publicly released it until 23 years later. Who knows what else is out there?

Still, we also need physical places like the 9/11 Memorial & Museum to preserve history more than ever now. The current digital landscape of fake news is causing many to doubt their very eyes whenever new photographs or videos are posted online. Conspiracy theories around 9/11 have always existed of course, but the rapid evolution of AI will only make separating fact from fiction all the more difficult in the years and decades to come. There will come a time around the end of the century when the public remembers 9/11 like the sinking of the Titanic — a devastating tragedy in its time, but a distant memory after all those who survived it are no longer around. “Never Forget” can only have real meaning if the record is made now.

Foreign Perspectives is a reader-supported Substack. If you like my work and have come this far, consider opting for a paid subscription so I can continue writing in-depth articles such as these on a regular basis. Your support is greatly appreciated!