Rows of panelled alcoves in a columbarium in Tokyo, stacked floor to ceiling like bank safety deposit boxes, are just one sign of an ongoing revolution in Japan's 1.5 trillion yen (HK$120 billion) business of death. Until recently a staid, overpriced sector that offered customers few choices, funeral services are being transformed by technology and competition. Customised memorials, pre-death portraits and group outings to scatter ashes are among the smorgasbord of services available to the bereaved. The elderly are beginning to plan their own funeral services - once a taboo subject - by writing farewell letters and making DVD recordings of their lives. Some even have outfits prepared ahead of time for their funerals and make their own crematory urns. 'Japanese funerals used to be big and expensive but they're becoming simpler, cheaper and more tailored to individual needs,' says Shigeru Kobayakawa, author of Sayonara no Katachi (Customising Your Goodbyes). The country's deepest recession since the 1970s is accelerating the transformation, he says. 'People are becoming more aware of costs; the elderly are thinking, 'Why should I spend all that money when I can leave it to my children?'' Japan is probably the world's most expensive place to die. A typical funeral ceremony runs to about 1.5 million yen, excluding the 400,000 yen payment for a Buddhist priest to chant sutras for the soul of the dead. With a wake, headstone and burial plot, the final bill averages 4 million yen and can top 10 million, Kobayakawa says. Price gouging is common and funeral homes often take advantage of a cultural unwillingness to haggle during a period of mourning. A 2005 survey by the Japan Consumers' Association found that over a third of customers were not even offered quotes for services before beginning the burial process. Buddhist temples charge between 300,000 yen and 400,000 yen to compose a posthumous name - known as a kaimyo - for the deceased. Confronted with the exorbitant final tab, millions of Japanese swallow hard and simply stump up the cash. Dissatisfaction consistently tops 90 per cent in surveys of funeral services. But many Japanese are turning away from elaborate displays of bereavement towards what the media have dubbed 'order-made' family funerals. Temples and funeral homes are out; small intimate gatherings are in. Although about a quarter of mourners still believe discussing death is bad luck, a record 40 per cent now want to consult on 'price and funeral programme', says the consumers' association. Growing numbers of older people are doing the unthinkable: preparing their own departure. 'It lessens the burden on families who otherwise have to prepare funerals in emotional confusion,' Kobayakawa says. The rise of pre-need services is also forcing the industry to be more transparent, he says. 'Prices until now have been totally unclear because there were so many hidden extras. Now companies have to explain them.' Funeral arranger Teito Tenrei is among dozens reaping the benefits with a list of cheaper, innovative services. Elderly clients are invited to write a 'love letter from heaven', delivered to family and friends after death. Packages may include an optional DVD, which allows people to send posthumous greetings and take friends and family on a digital trip down memory lane. In place of grim photographs hastily placed on funeral altars, the firm offers a custom portrait service particularly popular with women, says a company spokesman. 'They prefer photos that make them look younger; there's less need to retake them afterwards.' Yoko Yamaoki, 61, has taken control of arrangements for her funeral, which she began thinking about after a lengthy hospital stay. 'I think my arrangement will make things easier for my sons,' she says. The company produced a computer-generated mock-up of her memorial service, detailing her choice of coffin, altar and ceremony - even the food that would be served to mourners. Yamaoki, who has had her funeral photo prepared, shunned an elaborate traditional service. A professional calligrapher, she only asked for the room to be decorated with her calligraphy and photos of her hometown. 'I want my close friends to see me off by talking and eating around my coffin,' she says. Instead of urns, gravestones and family plots, ashes are also being disposed of in increasingly creative ways. Tokyo-based company Dignity touts cruises that climax in a brief ash-scattering ceremony tailored to families or groups. At 126,000 yen upwards, the tours are much cheaper than burials but there are conditions. Under the law, remains must be incinerated entirely to ash before being scattered and Japan's crematoriums are often not hot enough. Enter the Grave-Free Promotion Society, which recommends crushing bones thoroughly 'with an object that the deceased was fond of, such as a golf club or baseball bat'. For the squeamish or seasick, Dignity's cheery website offers an alternative: 'Bury the body of your loved one beside a sapling, and eliminate all maintenance fees.' Or you could mix their powdered bones with ceramic or quartz and fashion it into an 'eternal pendant'. Such exotic options were unheard of in Japan until a few years ago but economic and demographic changes are driving innovations. The tradition of visiting and maintaining graves is declining along with the gradual demise of tight-knit families and the falling population. City dwellers increasingly question the expense of maintaining ancestral plots in the countryside that few visit, says Hiroyuki Ikeda, manager of funeral services provider Memorial Gallery Saginuma. 'They want cheaper, less troublesome ways of keeping their loved ones close by.' One company, Ishinokoe (Voice of the Stone), is trying to meld the old and the new by embedding bar-codes in rural headstones. Scanning the codes with mobile phones connects family members to memorabilia, photos and videos on a website linked to the family grave. But such innovations are unlikely to halt the sharp decline in burials; the number has plummeted by 70,000 in the past decade to 800,000, according to a 2008 survey by the health ministry. Buddhist temples and the 450,000 private funeral homes which have long dominated the industry naturally view these changes with alarm. Yet both should be enjoying a boom: the number of deaths in Japan's ageing society is forecast to rise until 2035, when it will peak at 1.7 million. Instead, they face mutinying customers. With many people willing to scour the internet to find the best deals, average funeral costs are sliding, from 1.5 million yen in 2007 to 1.46 million yen this year. Funeral companies such as Tokyo-based Morelife have done well to move with the times. It started putting its prices online in 2000, and now gets 70 per cent of customers through its website. Some Japanese baby boomers believe this quiet revolution hasn't gone far enough. 'I don't see why you should let anyone else control what happens to you just because you die,' says recently retired Masaru Kohno. Kohno plans to throw a party in honour of himself while he's still alive. 'Now that's the way to go out,' he says.