The Japanese Pornstar and Ultranationalist That Committed Kamikaze.
The year 1976 was a notable one for aviation. Europe saw the debut of Concorde, the supersonic passenger jet, launched by Air France and British Airways. In the United States, a former Air Force pilot made headlines by becoming the first person to fly a homemade aircraft around the globe. Yet, in Japan, the aviation world witnessed a far more eccentric and tragic event: a kamikaze attack by a soft-core porn actor turned ultranationalist.
On 23 March 1976, Mitsuyasu Maeno, a 29-year-old actor and amateur pilot and amateur pornstar commandeered a rented Piper Cherokee aircraft and flew it into the mansion of Yoshio Kodama, a shadowy power broker and one of Japan’s most notorious figures with deep ties to organised crime. Donning a leather flight jacket and a kamikaze-style headband, Maeno reportedly cried, “Long live the Emperor! Banzai!” over the radio moments before steering the plane into Kodama’s home in Tokyo’s Setagaya Ward. The crash caused significant damage, a fire, and two injuries among Kodama’s household staff. Kodama himself, however, was in another part of the house recuperating from a stroke and emerged unscathed.
Maeno, on the other hand, was killed instantly, his charred body found amidst the wreckage—a scene as grotesque as it was baffling. Today, the site of Kodama’s sprawling mansion is marked by luxury apartment buildings, with no plaques or memorials to commemorate what remains one of Japan’s most peculiar acts of political violence.
Japanese Pornstar to an Unlikely Revolutionary
Born in Tokyo’s Shibuya district in 1946, Mitsuyasu Maeno was an aspiring thespian who dabbled in theatre and cinema before finding his niche in the exploitative yet wildly popular genre of Japanese soft-core pornography, known as roman porno. Among his more memorable on-screen moments was a particularly risqué scene in the 1975 film Tokyo Emmanuelle, where Maeno’s character engaged in an intimate encounter aboard a light aircraft. It was an unusual precursor to his real-life aviation exploits, though perhaps an apt metaphor for his turbulent existence.
An amateur pilot, Maeno earned his licence in 1975, combining his passion for flying with his acting career. However, beneath his outward bravado lay personal struggles and political disillusionment. Twice divorced and the father of one daughter, Maeno had attempted suicide just a month prior to his fatal flight, overdosing on sleeping pills in a snow-covered hot springs resort. Although he recovered, those close to him, including actress Kumi Taguchi, later recalled his fixation on death and his admiration for Japan’s imperial past.
Kodama: The Target
Yoshio Kodama, Maeno’s target, was a man who embodied post-war Japan’s murky blend of politics and organised crime. Once imprisoned as a suspected Class A war criminal, Kodama emerged from Tokyo’s Sugamo Prison in 1948, reinventing himself as a power broker and a linchpin of the Japanese right wing. His ties to organised crime were well-documented, particularly his partnership with Korean mob boss Hisayuki Machii, with whom he ran operations from the infamous TSK.CCC building in Roppongi.
In the 1970s, Kodama became embroiled in the Lockheed bribery scandal, a massive corruption case involving millions of dollars in kickbacks from the American aerospace giant in exchange for influencing Japan’s airline industry. For Maeno, a self-styled patriot inspired by novelist Yukio Mishima’s ultranationalist ideals, Kodama’s actions were a betrayal of the bushido code of honour. The scandal, combined with Kodama’s wartime associations with Japan’s enemies, likely cemented Maeno’s view of him as a man unworthy of the samurai title.
Kamikaze Redux
On the day of his attack, Maeno arrived at Tokyo’s Chofu Airport, claiming he was filming a promo for a World War II movie. His attire—a leather jacket and hachimaki headband—was deliberately styled after the kamikaze pilots of the Second World War. Though the airport staff seemed sceptical, they allowed him to rent the Piper Cherokee. Within hours, Maeno had turned his cinematic fantasy into a fiery act of political protest.
The aftermath was chaotic. Witnesses recall the smell of aviation fuel permeating the air and the neighbourhood swarming with police. One elderly resident, interviewed decades later, described rushing to her roof to view the scene, only to find high walls obscuring the mansion. “We had no idea what it was about,” she admitted. To this day, the event remains shrouded in mystery for many in the local community.
A Tragic Legacy
Maeno’s actions may have shocked Japan, but they failed to achieve their intended impact. Kodama, ever the consummate survivor, lived for another eight years, succumbing to a stroke in 1984. His reputation, however, remained divisive. While he was lauded in his neighbourhood for charitable contributions, his name remains synonymous with corruption and political manipulation on a national scale.
Maeno, meanwhile, became a footnote in Japan’s post-war history. Unlike Mishima, whose ritualistic suicide in 1970 elevated him to the status of a tragic icon, Maeno’s kamikaze attack was viewed by many as a bizarre and futile gesture. Even today, his name is seldom remembered, overshadowed by the very forces of power and influence he sought to challenge.
Aviation, Politics, and Paradox
The story of Mitsuyasu Maeno is a curious blend of tragedy, farce, and defiance, wthe lengths to which disillusioned individuals will go to express their ideals. In a year that celebrated humanity’s mastery of the skies—from the sleek Concorde to the resourcefulness of homemade aviation—Maeno’s fiery descent serves as a stark reminder of how personal demons and political discontent can manifest in the most dramatic of ways.