Purikura!

Of course I love photo booths. Even before I saw Amelie, they seemed somehow endearing—maybe because photo booths in the U.S. are mainly used for souvenirs, for recreation. They have a bit of nostalgic appeal, like Polaroids.

Here in Japan, in train stations and next to vending machines on street corners, there are those sterile, single-stool booths that bark robotic instructions then cough out strips of harshly-lit headshots in the appropriate dimensions to serve as passport and ID photos. But there’s also…purikura!Typically located in a section of a video arcade or in a corridor of a shopping center, purikura kiosks—big enough for a group of even 6 or 7 to comfortably pose—allow patrons to first select their photo backgrounds and lighting, then creatively align themselves for the shots, then use a touch-screen to adorn the photos with writing/thought bubbles/sparkles/hearts/clothing accessories and countless other modifications, before the postcard-sized collage of images is finally printed, for you to cut up and share with friends.
At the start of the school year, I’d ask students about their hobbies, and along with the typical answers of playing sports, drawing, watching movies, listening to music, and so on, some girls had told me their favorite pastime was purikura. I could never figure out what they were talking about, but now, do I ever get it. And no wonder these machines are so popular: when the print drops into the tray, you and your besties have been automatically airbrushed to your finest, with ivory cheeks, strangely redder lips, and accentuated eyes. For now, I can part with nostalgia for this eye-straining, color-saturated ridiculousness. My only complaint is that users have only a limited amount of time to add “extras” to the photos before they print, so you’ve got to work fast to jazz up all the images in time (for example, just above: top-right image = success; lower images = failure). Surely we just need more practice.