In September 1980, NBC aired Shōgun over five consecutive nights, and the large-scale historical drama marked the first (and to date, only) American production to shoot entirely on location in Japan—even FX’s 2024 adaptation didn’t manage this, splitting production between Vancouver, the UK, and Japan. While the epic miniseries was initially greenlit to chase the popularity that Roots and Jesus of Nazareth had enjoyed a few years prior (the early ‘80s saw a miniseries boom), Shōgun was a huge hit in its own right, with record Nielsen ratings for NBC and the highest in American television history after Roots. The increased awareness of Japanese culture in the United States, especially food establishments like sushi houses, is partially credited to Shōgun’s popularity (although, the source for this is the documentary The Making of Shōgun, so take this bit of myth-making with a grain of salt).
In the 44 year interim between Shōgun adaptations, to say the relationship between US and Japanese television has transformed would be an understatement. From the fervor of Americans trying to source bootleg anime in the ‘90s to Japan making their own local version of the incredibly popular detective icon Columbo, culture shock soon turned to unmitigated fascination with the stories and characters from the other country. Shōgun isn’t just one of the biggest US-Japanese co-productions in history, it comes off the back of two other massive scale American shows set partially or entirely in Japan (Tokyo Vice Season 2 and Monarch: Legacy of Monsters, although, is Godzilla technically a Pacific Islander?), meaning it’s about time we run the gamut of American TV partnering with Japan’s entertainment industry.
Despite having one of the most historic and innovative film cultures in the world, it would be disingenuous to suggest American and Japanese co-productions are at all on equal footing. Hollywood has, frankly, too much money, and their money is nearly always more valuable to the countries their productions visit than to executives. Japan may be one of the largest OTT subscription markets in Asia, but their entertainment industry still has a fraction of what America is willing to spend—even within the last few months, Japan has expanded a production incentive scheme to attract lucrative film and TV business.
Sometimes, a TV co-production will manifest in minor ways—remember Season 5 of Girls where Shoshanna took a marketing job in a Tokyo apartment? A small crew shot for three weeks in a humid Japanese summer for an episode that delved into the cultural attractions and clashes that Shosh feels somewhere so far away from New York, in perfectly uncomfortable Girls fashion.
But when co-producing duties are minimal, it’s more likely to be a harmonious juncture, but the more valuable the Japanese IP, the more American networks can see it as assets to be mined and appropriated. Hollywood often sees countries like Japan as opportunities to extract interesting cultural artifacts, whether or not it’s a franchise or just a general orientalist vibe. How much difference is there really between the English-language Netflix adaptations of Cowboy Bebop and One Piece (why do Americans get to remake them, when they’re the only country outside of Japan to enjoy them?) and the white-guy-does-martial-arts-yes-that’s-the-whole-show series from the ‘80s, like Raven or The Master?
With its Englishman turning the tide of a shogunate war, Shōgun (2024) has had to put in serious work to not come across like another white savior narrative, but even staging a historical epic drama, even though it’s adapted from an English-language novel, feels a touch problematic when Japan’s own industry can’t afford to mount the budget to tell their own stories on the same scale.
This relationship has changed somewhat in the age of streaming, although not necessarily for the better. Companies like Netflix are not localized to American audiences and accessible from anywhere in the world, meaning global audiences get direct contact with Japanese media just as much as Japanese audiences access the world’s. Streamers have realized that their market share will go up if they have the global rights to Japanese reality shows, K-dramas, and Spanish bank heist thrillers, but even if it’s a net positive for as many international viewers to see foreign-language media as possible, the fact that creatives have to wrestle with the punitive structure of American streaming IP ownership is another form of exploitation of foreign media.
Of course, you could see stuff like Mighty Morphin’ Power Rangers in the same light. Famously, Haim Saban acquired stock footage from Japanese tokusatsu (live-action media with practical, prosthetic special effects) serial Kyōryū Sentai Zyuranger, taking a lot of its battle footage and reverse-engineering a kid’s show around it—but it wasn’t the first time Japanese children’s entertainment had attracted the attention of American producers. Ultraman, one of Japan’s most iconic franchises, received a collaboration between Japan’s Tsuburaya Productions and Hanna-Barbera in 1987 with Ultraman: The Adventure Begins, a failed animated pilot that was expanded into a stand-alone TV film. Post-Power Rangers, Saban teamed again with Toei Company for an American version of Kamen Rider Black RX, which lasted a modest 2 seasons and racked up only 40 episodes—nothing by Power Ranger standards.
What about Japanese remakes of American shows? A lot of syndicated network shows, ones riffing on thrills and courtroom antics, offer ample opportunity for Japanese producers to translate them into localized drama. 24 Japan, The Good Wife: Japan, Suits: Sûtsu all made it to Japanese airwaves. They may not have created as much buzz as the originals, or even other Asian remakes of the same shows, but don’t be fooled into thinking the single-season lengths are indicators of the remake flopping, very few new Japanese dramas get renewed for a second and third season.
It should come as no surprise that the relationship between American and Japanese media is not about nurturing cultural connection, but about making money. While Japan’s entertainment industry has familiar faults—very conservative, operates as exclusive monopolies—it doesn’t mean networks and streamers are entitled to squeeze what they want from it at whatever price they decide. It’s no surprise that the Japanese IP holders that get the best deal for their corporate assets are the ones who depend on international cash boosts the least.
With its thoughtful and careful reconstruction of a Japan that, 424 years ago, was also dealing with foreign nations trying to maximize their financial relationship with the country, Shōgun should be the next step in big-scale co-productions between the two nations. But as the last year has shown us, America’s TV industry is driven by it pursuing something it wants, and by the people, whose labor and creativity is valued, standing their ground to force a better deal.
Rory Doherty is a screenwriter, playwright and culture writer based in Edinburgh, Scotland. You can follow his thoughts about all things stories @roryhasopinions.
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