It is true that this tendency is quite visible. Yet I also find it very understandable.

To begin with, Japan is a country with an exceptionally rich supply of cultural goods. Books, magazines, films, exhibitions, stage performances, music, anime, games, character products — new things appear constantly. At the same time, the way these things are sold still depends heavily on the “sales floor,” broadly understood. Whether in a physical shop or an online store, a wide variety of products are always displayed side by side, and cultural products are no exception.

What is especially interesting is that each cultural product tends to have its own audience. For this reason, most of these products are not necessarily arranged within one clear hierarchy of importance. At least at the point of sale, each item has to explain its own appeal for itself.

From this comes a particular wish: that the customer will make a decision right there, in front of the shelf. Once this is understood, the direction of the design becomes fairly clear.

In other words, the poster wants to tell you what the product is. It wants to explain its features, its highlights, and its selling points as much as possible on the spot. Seen in this way, it is almost inevitable that the amount of information placed on the poster will grow.

Of course, Japan also has many designs that work precisely because a judgment has already been shared in advance. Such designs are often extremely concise. Exposed-concrete architecture, or clothing from major brands, may be good examples of this.