It squats on probably the most expensive square kilometre on the planet, forces public transport in the world's largest metropolis on a long detour, and houses one of history's most reclusive families. To add to the mystery of Tokyo's Imperial Palace, the number of mere mortals who have wandered its hallowed interior could probably fit inside a telephone box. Well, a pretty big telephone box, admittedly. Once in a while, the drawbridge drops, those big old iron gates squeak open and a suitably cringing member of the hoi polloi is summoned across the moat for an audience with the Emperor. Usually, the invitee has translated the complete works of some 16th-century haiku poet, but sometimes a real degenerate sneaks in. Me, for instance. A few years back, I was with a small party of journalists chosen to bother His Majesty with a question before his departure for Europe, a rare privilege that occasioned hours of mirth among my hack buddies. After all, here was the perfect opportunity to rattle all those skeletons that would have sent a flash of cold steel down on my bare neck in less enlightened times. Are you really descended directly from a Shinto god who invented the cultivation of rice and wheat? Do you ever feel like telling your troubled daughter-in-law Princess Masako to go play with the traffic? And, top of the list, did the imperial retainers originally mistake the Korean two-toed sock (the tabi) for a hat and put it on the heads of the emperor and his family? Well, that's what some Koreans say. All good clean fun, but there's a serious point to be made. Despite desperate conservative attempts to obscure it, the family tree of the Imperial Household includes branches in Korea and probably China. Historians would love to rummage around in imperial archives and the emperor's tombs dotted around the country, but they're restricted. Just in the nick of time then comes the Edo-Castle exhibition, which surveys the history of the palace since its construction in 1457. Back then, the Emperor lived elsewhere and during the Edo period (1603-1867) the palace was home to the Shogun, the military dictator who ran Japan until the beginning of modernisation. The Shogun's gold ornaments are on display, along with photographs, portraits, documents and drawings. So, have all those skeletons finally run screaming for the exits? Not likely. The exhibition terminates just after the start of the Meiji Era (post 1868) and controversy seems to have been pulled out like weeds from the Emperor's well-tended garden. Nothing here about Korean socks. Will the foreign roots of institution, the lodestar of the myth of Japanese uniqueness be explored? 'Er, I'll have to check,' says a nervous spokesman. 'But I don't think so.' Ho hum, the great expose must wait for another time. Don't hold your breath. Edo Castle exhibition, Edo-Tokyo Museum. Ends March 4. For details, go to www.edo-tokyo-museum.or.jp
