Nestled among the natural beauty of the Tama River, Lake Shiromaru, and Mount Mitake is the city of Ōme which is known for its rich scenic landscape, as well as its people who are quietly cultured and have a deep sense of nostalgia. Ōme, from as far back as the Muromachi period (1336-1568), also once flourished as a commercial hub in western Tokyo, historically driven by a vibrant textile industry.

During the Edo period (1603-1868), the distinctive “Ōme-jima” textiles found favor among Edo’s trendsetters. Later, through the Meiji and Showa eras—spanning the late 19th to mid-20th centuries—the city became a major producer of cotton fabrics known as Ōme-yaguji, with yaguji referring to fabric used for futon bedding. In those years, young workers from all over Japan came to Ōme to work in its factories. Back then, film was the dominant form of entertainment, and the city boasted three movie theaters. The streets were so full of shoppers and theatergoers that one could barely walk around without bumping shoulders.

Fifty years later, in 2021, the light of cinema flickered back to life in Ōme. It was Yasuhiro Kikuchi, the owner of a newly opened movie theater in the city called Cinema Neko, who sparked that light once again. A customer at one of Yasuhiro’s restaurants had once mentioned that the city used to have three movie theaters, and the idea struck him like fate. “Then let’s build one again,” he thought—and so he did. The site he chose wasn’t just any location, but the former textile testing center—an iconic building tied to the city’s industrial legacy. Rather than simply installing a screen, Yasuhiro envisioned a place where the city’s textile past and cinematic future could intersect. A new chapter began, where the rich history of Ōme’s textiles and cinema, spanning over half a century, became intertwined, and a fresh act unfolded.

The Neko in Cinema Neko comes from the English word for cat. The name of the cinema is derived from the era when the textile industry thrived, and cats were kept in abundance to control rats. Yasuhiro was inspired by this historical connection, as well as the deep-rooted cat culture in the Ōme city, known for its rich history in the textile industry and  in sericulture (the process of cultivating silkworms & obtaining silk from them). The naming reflects the local cultural significance and love of cats. Today, the city is home to activities that promote the theme of West Neko Town organized by locals, including cat festivals and other related events.

Act One: The Journey Begins

After graduating from high school, Yasuhiro spent some time unsure of where life might take him, working part-time jobs as he searched for direction. One day, seemingly out of nowhere, he made a decision: he would become an actor. He threw himself into the pursuit, but his life changed forever when he auditioned for the Ninagawa Studio—an actor training program led by the late Yukio Ninagawa, one of Japan’s most celebrated theater directors.

Out of more than a hundred applicants, only ten would be chosen. Yasuhiro made it to the final round, but just as he was about to be accepted, a reason emerged for potential rejection—not his acting, but the fact that he was married with children. Frustrated that something so personal could overshadow his talent, he waited outside the studio and confronted Ninagawa directly. The courage paid off: he was accepted.

What followed were two intense years immersed in theater. Yasuhiro spent every waking hour at rehearsals, absorbing everything he could. He followed productions abroad at his own expense—traveling to the UK to witness the power and gravitas of British theater firsthand. Ninagawa once told him, “You’re the first one who’s ever gone this far with such passion.”  Despite his dedication, the roles Yasuhiro longed for never came. More and more, he found himself behind the scenes rather than in the spotlight. Nearly ten years had passed since he had entered the world of acting when, out of nowhere, a moment of profound clarity arrived. It was sudden and cinematic, as if time had stood still. In that instant, he knew what he had to do.

“One day, watching a stage performance by well-known actors I had always been close to, their presence suddenly felt otherworldly—as though no longer belonging there. A voice in my head said, ‘Stop.’ Just like that, everything changed. It became clear that my talent couldn’t fully be realized on that stage. Even my wife, who had supported me through everything, was stunned when I said I was quitting. People asked me whether it was due to financial struggles or hitting a wall—but it wasn’t like that. I just knew.”

He had always admired the late Yūsaku Matsuda, a star known for his portrayal of intense, almost unhinged characters, and longed to express that kind of raw emotion on stage. But at auditions, he was constantly cast in romantic lead roles. He felt caged by the disconnect between what he wanted to do and what was expected of him. “To succeed as an actor, being chosen is everything. Despite wanting freedom, roles had to be played within the context given. I did what I wanted, but no one called—and no one watched.”

Act Two: The Gift of Giving

After stepping away from acting in his thirties, Yasuhiro began to walk a new path. Instead of pursuing his own desires, he focused on what he could do and gave it his all. As he shifted his focus to bringing joy to others, life unfolded in unexpected ways. Through small, sincere acts—like being thanked for kindness or making someone happy through his actions—he found a sense of purpose, especially as he became involved in the local food scene.

“Of course, I’d worked in restaurants before, just to make a living. If I had any time, I wanted to use it for acting. But at some point, I realized something: even if the work is the same, how you approach it makes all the difference. Looking back, I always wanted to be an actor, but I realize now that I wasn’t truly making anyone happy with my performances. True stars can offer their fans a reason to live.  At the time, I was more focused on what I wanted to express. Maybe now, if I were to act again, I could bring something more meaningful to my performance,” he said, laughing softly.

There is nothing quite like the moment of seeing someone smile in front of you—a satisfaction that lingers. Yasuhiro sees parallels between running a restaurant and performing on stage. In both, the goal is to move the audience, whether it’s through service or performance. In his eyes, the staff are the cast, the manager is the director, and the owner is the producer. Just as a stage production seeks to touch its audience, a restaurant offers its own kind of theater, responding to expectations with every act of hospitality.

Today, he runs three restaurants in Ōme, each with its own character, but all rooted in his desire to create something meaningful for the people who walk through the door. “I realized that when I let go of my assumptions and preconceived notions and focused on what was right in front of me, the path naturally began to unfold. Now, I always take a moment to reflect deeply—thinking about whether what I’m doing will bring joy to someone, whether it’s useful to others, and if it can have a positive impact.”

Act Three: Once Upon a Time in the Court Play

Yasuhiro once stood on the stage, challenging one of Japan’s most prominent directors with unwavering conviction. Then, in a single breath, he chose to walk away. That decisiveness—so rare, so graceful—would become a hallmark of his path forward. In the world of hospitality, he stepped into the role of restaurant manager, responding to customer needs with agility and heartfelt service, crafting menus on a whim, and handling unpredictable moments with sharp instinct. At the heart of this boundless energy lies a past shaped by both struggle and triumph.

“In junior high and high school, I was fully devoted to volleyball. Those were some of the toughest in my life. The seniors before me had reached the tournaments in Tokyo and its surrounding region, and the juniors after me went on to the nationals. But in my year, one teammate after another quit, leaving only me. I was caught in between—pressured by strict seniors and responsible for guiding the juniors—while enduring brutal training sessions. Still, I didn’t want to give up. More than anything, I didn’t want to lose. That drive to push through has stayed with me. People often talk about how intimidating Ninagawa was, but honestly, my coach back then was even scarier,” he said with a laugh.

“Volleyball is a team sport—you can’t win alone. No matter how good you are individually, you can’t succeed without nurturing your teammates. As captain, I gave everything I had. That experience strengthened me mentally in ways I still draw on today. After enduring something that intense, very few things in life feel truly difficult. Back then, home never felt like a place of comfort, so the court became my escape, where I could finally breathe freely.”

Though his team triumphed in the Tokyo tournament during high school, Yasuhiro found himself lost after graduation. He went from actor to a bar manager, to an entrepreneur running restaurants and to a founder of a cinema. Many of his collaborators today are former volleyball teammates or their connections—something that brings him deep joy. His journey continues to expand, carving out new and ever-wider paths.

“I’m not afraid of failure. I don’t see myself as a business owner, but as an entrepreneur—someone who finds meaning in creating new things. Business owners often prioritize stability and avoiding risk, but I choose bold action. Life only offers so many chances, and I’d rather act than regret not trying. After all, it’s not like it’ll kill me,” he said with a grin.”

The Final Act: A Door Left Open

Though now known as a central figure shaping the city of Ōme, he never set out to lead. Instead, his steps have always followed the voices of those right in front of him. “By listening closely to the people around me, I came to see what was missing. As we solved one issue after another, new ideas and projects naturally began to emerge. In many cases, the focus is on creating something flashy—a facility or event that draws crowds. But that kind of approach doesn’t last. That’s not the essence of placemaking. I prioritize the comfort and happiness of the people who already live here. I believe that’s how a town truly becomes vibrant, and from that, visitors will come as a natural result.”

Before opening Cinema Neko, Yasuhiro visited independent theater directors all across Japan. While warmly welcomed and encouraged, he repeatedly heard the same warning: operating a cinema is brutally difficult. And yet, he pressed on—redefining what a cinema could be. From in-house cafés and director talks to local event rentals, his vision extends beyond just films. He envisions the cinema as an open, creative space where the community can gather and feel at ease.

Despite opening during the uncertainty of the pandemic, the theater welcomed 3,000 guests within two months. By February of this year, attendance had surpassed 50,000. With carefully curated film selections—ranging from documentaries and Oscar winners to indie gems and animation—the theater offers something for everyone. “Our audience really enjoys documentaries, but I always make sure the lineup isn’t too narrow. We include big titles, indie films with a local connection, music, anime—whatever it takes to keep our community engaged. I don’t let my personal tastes get in the way. If it were, we’d just be playing Yūsaku Matsuda films all the time,” he joked.

Recently, he has taken on more film production work—a shift in expression from performing to creating. When asked about this change, he reflected: “I’ve started feeling that same emotion I had as a kid, sitting in a movie theater, overwhelmed by what I saw on screen. That feeling has returned, and now I want to make films myself. I don’t know yet whether I’ll be a producer or a director, but I know I want to give it a shot.”

About Ome

Once home to nearly 800 weavers and dyers, Ome flourished in its rich natural surroundings, cultivating a deep tradition of craftsmanship, sake brewing, and the arts. Much like indigo fabric that deepens with each layer of dye, the town’s cultural heritage has grown ever richer over time. At the heart of this legacy stands Yoshino Baigo, a massive treasured plum blossom grove where each spring, thousands of trees blanket the hillsides in delicate shades of pink and white. This grove was lovingly restored by the local community to symbolize enduring beauty and to renew and revive a spirit that lives on.

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