Awakening Heritage: Takeshi Fukunaga's Journey to Spotlight the Ainu People in 'Ainu Puri'

While the spotlight was shining on Shogun basking in the warmth of its record-breaking 18 wins at the Emmy Awards in September at Los Angeles’ Peacock Theater, Japanese director Takeshi Fukunaga was having a rather different experience. Picture this: caked in mud and sweat, he was nestled in a small village in Hokkaido, surrounded by just a few crew members, shooting a bear ritual of the indigenous Ainu people, a performance that hadn’t graced the stage in decades. Fukunaga, in his artistic splendor, was prepared to weave this footage into a follow-up to his documentary Ainu Puri, or as the English phrase goes, “Ainu ways,” which will be showcased at the Tokyo International Film Festival. Both projects dance far away from the lavish budgets and grand productions that made him the go-to Japan-born director on the acclaimed series Shogun and Tokyo Vice.

It’s fascinating how Fukunaga deftly glides between these two realms, appreciating the essence of each. “Independent filmmaking always feels like home for me,” he confided to The Hollywood Reporter at the Tokyo Film Festival, the words rolling off his tongue as naturally as a well-timed punchline. “It’s freer, and I’m much closer to the cast and crew.” Yet, he sheepishly admits that the big-budget projects polished his directing skills to a fine shine, allowing him to pursue his passion projects to reconnect with his roots. His new documentary is a testament to that heartfelt journey.

“I was born and raised in Hokkaido, but had never truly explored the Ainu,” Fukunaga explained, the tone of his voice carrying a hint of regret that prompts a sympathetic wave from the audience. “Even with Ainu kids in my classes, we barely knew how to discuss their heritage.” It was during his filmmaking studies in the U.S. that he realized a sobering truth: nearly everyone was familiar with the plight of Native Americans, while the struggle of the Ainu remained a mere whisper among the Japanese populace. Feeling a burgeoning “sense of shame,” he decided to take action through the lens of his camera.

The tale of the Ainu resonates profoundly like echoes of similar indigenous narratives worldwide: the loss of land, language, culture, and rights. “Indigenous people around the world are probably the biggest victims of the capitalist system,” Fukunaga observed with a furrowed brow. Yet, Ainu Puri doesn’t wallow in despair; rather, it flourishes with warmth and humor, thanks in no small part to the charismatic Shigeki Amanai, his family, and their vibrant local community. Amanai, a beacon of hope, revived traditional Ainu salmon fishing, a practice that was nearly lost to the tides of modernity, a personal crusade to preserve his people’s heritage. But not all is solemn duty; they’re not above poking fun at their own quirks, utilizing plastic where handcrafted materials once thrived. We can’t forget Amanai’s unique offering to the sacred Ainu god of fire—a lit cigarette. Because, well, smoke signals are classic, right?

Of course, the narrative takes a more serious undertone in Ainu Puri. Amanai raises poignant questions about why a special permit is needed for fishing, a practice as old as time itself on land seized from his people when Japan annexed Hokkaido in 1869. He poignantly notes that in ongoing territorial discussions between Japan and Russia over the Kuril Islands, the Ainu, the island’s original inhabitants, “are not even part of the conversation.”

The seeds of Fukunaga’s cinematic journey with the Ainu were sown in his second feature, Ainu Mosir (2020), where he chose local talents over professional actors. Meanwhile, Ainu culture finds its way into mainstream consciousness through popular manga and anime, like Golden Kamuy (a *kamuy* being an Ainu spirit, akin to the Japanese *kami*). The live-action adaptation released this year saw Japanese actors stepping into Ainu roles. “It’s unacceptable by international standards,” Fukunaga bemoaned, a statement punctuated with a mixture of indignation and disbelief.

Fukunaga is determined to approach his subjects without romanticizing or fetishizing their experiences. He openly admits that navigating the editing process was not without its struggles, sometimes failing to hit the right mark. After capturing Amanai and his son performing a traditional sword dance in ceremonial garb, he opted to cut the scene due to concerns it felt contrived. But when he shared the revision with Amanai, the latter's disappointment was palpable. “What happened to our dance?” he inquired, a hint of longing in his voice. It was a moment that served as a gentle reminder to Fukunaga—a revelation that not everything revolves around stereotypes or authenticity; sometimes, it’s just about what looks cool.

Amanai and his son infused some of that cool into the Tokyo Film Festival’s opening ceremony, elegantly showcasing Ainu kimonos as they graced the red carpet, a historic first in the festival's legacy. “It was a very special moment,” Fukunaga recalled, his smile radiating pride. Perhaps, amidst the glitz and glamour, the true artistry is revealed through these connections, weaving stories that matter while dusting them off with a generous sprinkle of humor.