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Yeohaengjaui pilyo (2024)
Loss in translation
Hong Sang-soo has finally made an action film. Of course not. Again, this is much more of the same from Hong, to the point where this will blend into all his other films with a struggle for differentiation. Even the fact Isabelle Huppert stars has no unique value, starring now in her third collaboration with the director - not my favourite of his works, I might add.
The premise for this comes from an interesting place. Iris (Huppert) is a French woman living in Seoul, a seemingly accomplished French teacher, though conducts her lessons largely in English. But on entering her second lesson with Won-ju (Lee Hye-young) and her watching husband Hae-soon (Kwon Hae-hyo), we learn she is a complete novice, trying out teaching as she spends her days wandering.
The couple are sceptical, but sit out the lesson nonetheless. Conversing, and drinking (as is Hong's way), in English, we have a repetition of the conversation with her earlier student. It appears Koreans only learn certain stock phrases when studying English. Iris wants people to express more.
This, therefore, is the set-up for much of the conversation and drinking Hong films rely so much upon. Iris encourages her students to open up more and more; to dig a little deeper until they find what they truly want to express. A quick translation into French is scribed, with the student given the note to learn by rote. That way, they will be able to express themselves more in French than any vocabulary textbook will teach them.
Along her journeys, Iris encounters some Korean poetry, which is quickly translated for her, furthering her belief to learn more about a culture from a short text rather than a full vocabulary. This idea, while key, doesn't perhaps sustain a film entirely on its own. Though Hong's films maybe never fully satisfy, despite the enjoyment they offer. As ever, it is long discussion to get to a realised argument.
It is beyond this idea, however, where the film falters a little. Iris is living with a younger Korean poet, In-guk (Ha Seong-guk). Awkwardly, his mother visits, and Iris makes herself scarce. What follows is a fairly typical debate between parent and child as to concerns over the unconventional relationship. While perfectly serviceable, it doesn't perhaps have the charm of much of Hong's dialogues.
It also weakens Iris' role. Much like "In Another Country" (2012), Huppert comes off as simultaneously charming, awkward and vulgar, to the point where you're not quite sure how to take her. The last half hour, therefore, confuses what was up until then a well-worked piece on the nature of travel, translation and expression.
We do not need to speak a language fluently to understand and experience a culture. In fact, that knowledge may limit us to generic platitudes. As a traveller, it is more important to keep an open mind.
Politic1983.home.blog.
Feng liu yi dai (2024)
Tongue in Cheek
Have you ever bought an album by a band and find that, rather than new material, it's some old B-sides, remixes and a couple of new songs for added value? Of course you have, if you're over thirty-five, that is. Jia Zhang-ke's "Caught by the Tides" is in many ways just that. But in doing so, it does make a statement about his career, and indeed the changing face of the world around him.
Qiao Qiao (Zhao Tao) shares a romance with Guao Bin (Zhubin Li), but he moves on, with Qiao Qiao trailing in his wake. Over the years, and across the country, she follows him. But on reaching her destination, maybe what she's been wanting isn't for her.
But in reality, the plot is irrelevant, as much of this has already been written and filmed over the years; it has now just been repurposed. Outtakes from the likes of "Unknown Pleasures" (2002), "Still Life" (2006) and "Mountains May Depart" (2015), if I remember correctly. This allows to realistically show the two leads over time, and their unequal ageing. Scenes are, therefore, different, but very familiar, in what serves as something of a retrospective for Jia's work, in a more direct and better-executed way than Takeshi Kitano attempted with "Takeshis'" (2005).
The problem with creating a film in this way is that while it's perfectly serviceable as a narrative film, shoehorning in what you already have makes this feel a little awkward in terms of flow. It feels more a series of vignettes than a well-constructed work. Having seen many of the films the outtakes are from serves to remind you of the original scenario, and so doesn't quite feel like a single story, but various stories stuck together.
But there are some nice coincidences that materialise and allow Jia's message to come across. Text messaging on an old Nokia become TikTok videos on the latest smart phone. Jia is very tongue-in-cheek with his look at technology. TikTok stardom serves more for cheap advertising than actual fame and fortune; and service robots can be easily confused with simple questioning. Technology has played an interesting role in shaping the nature of human relationships, especially over the past twenty years.
Knowing Jia's work, you will instantly recognise what is going on here. But if coming to his work fresh, this may seem like a slightly strange film that doesn't quite tie together nicely enough. Some scenes don't seem to really fit; more added in as they were available.
So, this may require some background work for the uninitiated, and is one more for long-term fans. Though they might feel they are watching "Still Life" again. Has life moved on in the past eighteen years?
Politic1983.home.blog.
Happy Flight: Happî furaito (2008)
This ANA advert is very long, isn't it?!
We've all been let down by a service that proves an inconvenience, but perhaps isn't the complete disaster we make it out to be. But with so many components to service provision, the poor people on the floor take the brunt for a lot when they are quite simply doing their job and following procedure. You see it as incompetence, but it's quite the opposite in reality.
In what is essentially a feature length promotional video for ANA and the sheer number of people and steps required in getting a flight from A to B, "Happy Flight" is an informative and entertaining journey part-way across the Pacific Ocean, in a plea to not be so harsh on them the next time your flight is delayed.
With a large and strong cast of many recognisable faces, this is much more enjoyable than you would think, walking a fine line between entertainment, goofball comedy and being informative about the various roles and what is required in each. There is much to learn about commercial aviation, and that knowledge makes the laughs more plausible, with the extended cast in different settings breaking things up nicely and never getting bogged down in one single aspect. The story itself is a very realistic scenario, away from sensationalising or disaster movie tension. In fact, you learn as you go and get a sense of reward. It's very much "Airplane!" (1980) from a very administrative perspective.
Trainee pilot Suzuki (Seiichi Tanabe) is flying his final flight as a novice before attaining full pilot status. It is his final test. Flying as co-pilot for Harada (Saburo Tokito) from Haneda in Tokyo to Hawaii, he is nervous about passing this last examination. Also starting a first international journey on a much bigger jumbo jet is cabin crew member Etsuko (Haruka Ayase). On a longer flight with more, increasingly demanding passengers, it's stressful for all, not just the first timer.
But while taking off, the "bird man" tasked with ridding the runway of birds is distracted, and damage is caused to a seemingly small part of the plane, but one that will affect the various readings necessary to keep the plane safely in the air. With the plane less than halfway through its journey, procedure dictates they must turn back to Haneda Airport as a storm approaches.
Compartmentalising (I actually used that word) the storyline into the various groups of people involved make this a collection of intertwined shorts. The check-in staff need to get everyone on the flight; the weather room need to monitor conditions; the hangar mechanics need to ensure no missing tools may have compromised the plane; air traffic control must do whatever it is they do. All are under pressure and time constraints to make sure their part of the job is completed.
And as the team follow their procedures, the film itself is a very professional job. There is nothing spectacular about this, turning a disaster into a set of steps to follow, as you'd expect from a film made in collaboration with an airline. But it is much more realistic, and deserves credit for it. It is well paced and the story develops nicely, with a good balance between humour and detail. It is never too dull, nor too silly.
All is overseen by the safe pair of hands that is Shinobu Yaguchi, with a string of similar films that are universal and crowd-pleasing, but also offer some genuinely good moments of cinema, with "Swing Girls" (2004), "Water Boys" (2001) and "Wood Job!" (2014).
Safe is very much a word to describe this, in the sense that you know where you are, so you can just sit back and enjoy.
Politic1983.home.blog.
Hako otoko (2024)
Square pegs
Gakuryu Ishii's career has gone through various stages, from his high-speed, groundbreaking shorts of the Seventies; to violent, noisy punk of the Eighties; and his more sedate, thought-provoking Nineties. The new millennium, however, has been an inconsistent period of narration-less, obscure documentaries and strange experimentation. They have been a little bit mad, and not often good.
His latest, "The Box Man" based on Kobo Abe's novel, is much in line with this, in that it is mad, experimental, but not always good. But this is very much in keeping with a director who doesn't make many compromises and goes his own way.
For a start, it's not the easiest story to make cinematic. A former photographer (Masatoshi Nagase) has chosen to live his life sat in a cardboard box, observing the world through a slit cut into it. Having become obsessed with the previous occupier, he has now become a man of intrigue for others. A former general (Koichi Sato) and his 'fake' doctor assistant (Tadanobu Asano) also want to experience the world from the box lens, and become 'The Box Man' themselves.
With an obscure plot that is more philosophical debate than anything, this doesn't lend itself to an entertaining watch, and the script doesn't offer a huge amount to make it any less complex. This is overly long for what it is also, losing itself in its arguments, becoming something of a cluttered mess on conclusion. You are no clearer as to what to think come the end.
There are two ways in which this works: cinematography and humour. As with many Ishii films, the use of urban landscapes is good, with a maze of alleyways trapping from every conceivable angle. As the confusing network of Japanese external wiring looms statically overhead, this looks good, though perhaps not anything particularly new.
The choreographed fight scenes, however, are something unusual, as Nagase and Asano fight it out while crouched in cardboard boxes. This creates some wonderfully batshit moments, with Ishii not afraid to break from the over-philosophising to raise a smile. And the more said about scenes involving enemas the better.
As such, it can be quite a jarring watch, switching between moods. But rather than a rollercoaster, it feels more confused as to what its purpose is. And overindulgence becomes a problem. This is longer than it needs to be, thinks too much, and has more nudity than it probably needed.
Being a rogue and groundbreaking director can also mean there will be many failures along the way. This has some good elements from a great filmmaker, but overall is just a bit cluttered and confused. It is not an easy watch, though Ishii's films never have been comfortable, and it certainly goes a little way out of the box.
Politic1983.home.blog.
Anata no hohoemi (2022)
Life imitating art imitating life imitating art...
To say the films of Hirobumi Watanabe are personal would be something of an understatement. All shot in his hometown in Tochigi, with his brother on soundtrack and grandmother even starring, this is best exemplified by the directorial struggle of "Life Finds a Way" (2019). Shot in black and white, they all have the feel of making-it-up-as-you-go-along; slow, unstructured and often without conclusion. But this isn't a Hirobumi Watanabe film, but something of an interpretation of a Hirobumi Watanabe film by Kah-Wai Lim.
Not so much a narrative piece, it is a love letter to independent cinemas, as an independent filmmaker travels across the country in an attempt to get work, cure his writer's block and get his films shown. Playing himself, Watanabe first travels to Okinawa where he has been promised a job directing a vanity project for a wealthy local. But finding large expectations put on such a limited subject, he struggles and flees to Kyushu.
It is from here on that he wanders between independent cinemas, holidaying and suggesting the cinema hosts a retrospective of his work. Eventually a cinema agrees, but more out of desperation than anything, as is shown by attendances.
Watanabe's films are often small in their scale and ambition. But "Your Lovely Smile" is something of a road movie, similar to "Techno Bros" (2023). Giving a larger scope to this film, shooting in colour, loses a little of the charm of Watanabe's cinema. So, while a minor homage to his work, it is from another's hand.
Plotwise, it is minimalist. From its comedic origins in Tochigi, where his piano teacher (and collaborator) bother, Yuji, bemoans he is the only one bringing in an income, the move to Okinawa is a little stifled. The millionaire (Shogen) wanting his grand life story told doesn't quite hit from a comedy perspective, though does show the pressures a director-for-hire can be put under to make a quick buck. Vague in brief, Watanabe's wondering mind see him easily distracted and unable to deliver a tight script - he is a personal director who writes what he knows, and so struggles to write for others.
Moving to Kyushu, things become more obscure and cinematic. Following an encounter with a soapland worker (Hikaru Hirayama), she becomes his muse, manifesting in many roles, and serving as an out-of-reach ambition for his work.
The reality, however, is much more bleak. Filmed when COVID was still very much part of daily life, the local, independent cinemas he visits - staffed by the real-life owners - are struggling for audiences, and the work of an unknown will do little to attract them back. Despite his sales pitch as an internationally-renowned director.
This is not just a tale of a struggling independent director, but a struggle for independent cinema in general. It is a world of cutbacks and temporary closures. Even when getting an offer to show his work, it far from excites the locals. Closing with interviews between Watanabe and the managers of the cinemas visited, the meta purpose of the film is made clear.
This is an enjoyable watch, as with Watanabe's own films, with the slow cinema approach pleasing for some, tortuous for others. But beyond amusing scenes of dialogue, and a valid, but well-known, point, it maybe lacks a little something to give it an edge. Similar in many ways to Watanabe's own work: it's sincere, honest, likeable and good, but is it really good?
Politic1983/home.blog.
Aku wa sonzai shinai (2023)
Glamping it up
The opening shot is mesmerising, disorientating, as Yoshio Kitagawa's camera pans under the tree tops to Eiko Ishibashi's haunting score. The start of Ryusuke Hamaguchi's "Evil Does Not Exist" reminds of Bela Tarr's "Satantango" (1994), with a slow-moving, natural, extended take. Not as extreme, but it sets the tone for what comes next.
Mizubiki village is a quiet mountain town a manageable drive from Tokyo. A minor holiday destination, investors want to set-up a glamping site, which naturally meets resistance from the locals. Takumi (Hitoshi Omika), a local odd-job man is cautious, but willing to meet the proposals halfway if they take the local environment into consideration.
Takahashi (Ryuji Kosaka) and Mayuzumi (Ayaka Shibutani) are the employees tasked with meeting the locals and convincing them of the project. Sympathetic to their hosts, they are people doing a job they don't necessarily believe in, and so are neither one thing or the other. Seeming to connect with Takumi, they feel a solution can be reached, but the reality is they are met with contempt from both sides.
Straightaway this enraptures you and you are immediately drawn into the small village and its humble ways. The brilliance of nature is emphasised throughout, and the opening moments show this perfectly. And as Takahashi and Mayuzumi try to deliver the initial presentation, key members of the community voice the importance of the environment on their health, community, work and business.
The last of these is the only focus the glamping project has in mind, thinking of the pretty landscape, and not the impact a modern resort will have on it. As Alex Kerr emphasises in his book "Hidden Japan," once you have been somewhere, you've already ruined it. The village elder (Taijiro Tamura) puts his point across succinctly: those living upstream must think of their impact on those downstream.
Often, I've found Hamaguchi's films, while good, can feel a little awkward. Characters and their interactions can feel wooden (perhaps due to his use of novice actors) and their motivations hard to grasp. "Drive My Car" (2021) was a step-up for him, and "Evil Does Not Exist" is by far his strongest in its script. It feels tighter, with arguments better put forward, in both the initial presentation and Takahashi and Mayuzumi's drive back to the village, where they share their career decisions. It is much more natural, though Takahashi's sudden desire to change careers may be a bit much for some.
Takumi's daughter Hana (Ryo Nishikawa) is a key character, but perhaps from the standard use of a young girl to represent pure innocence. The true star of the film is the forest of its setting and the film's true lasting memory, working in unison with the soundtrack.
The title of the film is enigmatic, as is the atmosphere throughout. The isolation of the forest community, and their connection to nature, show an innocence. But clear in their desires, they show they will fight to keep what's theirs. Takahashi and Mayuzumi may be the face of the more sinister corporate body behind them, but also show themselves to be useless pawns, simply carrying out their job.
Is simple self-sufficiency more noble than misguidedly following orders from above for profits? The ending confuses this question, its incompleteness difficult to process. The real question is whether it is better to do bad to protect what you believe in, rather than trying to diplomatically do something you don't believe in out of expectation. Silence is complicit.
The forest is deep, and it's easy to lose yourself.
Politic1983.home.blog.
Ribâ, nagarenaide yo (2023)
Two minute seasons
Junta Yamaguchi took time loop comedy to new levels of detail with the well-considered "Beyond the Infinite Two Minutes" (2020). Sticking with the two-minute time loop gimmick, "River" is a two-minute repetition, rather than eternally two-minutes behind, and again focuses on the complexities of time, this time the logistics of being pulled back to the same starting point, when your mind is moving on.
Set in the idyllic setting along the Kibune River north of Kyoto, Mikoto (Riko Fujitani) is by the river at the back of the inn where she works. Going about her daily tasks, two minutes later she finds herself back where she started. But her mind is two minutes on, fully aware as to what has just happened.
With the rest of the staff and guests also aware of this fact, they gradually start to piece things together, moving on from what they have previously learnt. The only problem: every two minutes everything reverts back to how it was before, so each loop only sees a little progress each time. So, they race is on to solve the mystery and get themselves out of this repetition.
The most notable thing about "River" is its setting. The quiet river of the inn is the kind of place you would happily spend repeating the same two minutes over and over. It is a relaxing setting for the chaos to descend on to. If you have to look at the same setting over and over for eighty-six minutes, Yamaguchi has picked a perfect one. And he makes the most of it, switching between seasons as the loops progress. This is a very relaxing watch.
Again, the attention to detail is there, carefully considering the logistics of the scenario. While focus is on Mikoto, the rest of the cast have to start from the same point too, and so all interactions need to fit within the two-minute window in real-time, despite the narrative having moved on. Shot in two-minute takes, this takes a lot of choreographing to get right.
Much of the cast have time pressures in their lives, and so the two-minute repetition allows them a good opportunity to think over their situation, coming to a resolve before the conclusion. A writer struggles with his story, but is allowed time to think where it should go; and two arguing guests continue their beef, but are friends again after just two minutes.
Mikoto herself has the opportunity to discuss her boyfriend's (Yuki Torigoe) secretive plans to move to France to further his career as a chef. In little more than two minutes, they have fully explored and settled how their relationship will develop. Unfortunately, this idea of being allowed more opportunity to think over situations is as close to metaphor as the scenario goes beyond being another filmmaking gimmick.
The ending itself also is something of a disappointment, feeling more like a sci-fi copout than an enjoyable conclusion that nicely rounds things off. As with "Beyond..." before it, logic is given greater focus over artistic expression. This is perhaps a weakness of films such as this: the method trumps the meaning. While enjoyable, you recall the technique more than the story, suitable for home-viewing with "Making of..." extras.
But this had me at the poster. The setting draws you in straight away, and you can soon lose yourself in the repetitive two-minute comedy sketch. Despite the chaos, this is more a gentle stream than a whirlpool.
Politic1983.home.blog.
Perfect Days (2023)
Fear and anxiety in Tokyo
With "Tokyo-Ga" (1985), Wim Wenders went in search of something that perhaps didn't exist outside of the silver screen. Returning to Tokyo for a narrative piece, Wenders again explores the idea of searching for something always out of reach, but also how other people both help and hinder inner contentment.
With no context as to how he got here, Hirayama (Koji Yakusho) works as a public toilet cleaner in Tokyo, travelling around the city following his same daily routine of watering plants, listening to music, diligent work, enjoying his favourite eatery, going to the bathhouse and reading, with the occasional drink thrown in for good measure. An ageing man, he has reached a contentment in this routine, taking pleasure in life's simple moments, and accepting each day for what it brings.
But his co-worker repeatedly lets him down, whose girlfriend steals his scared cassette tapes; the arrival of his estranged niece (Arisa Nakano) brings warmth, but also upsetting reflections of the past; and the mama-san of his favoured drinking establishment's returning ex-husband shuts down his evening plans, having to seek a less satisfying alternative.
Wenders gives us a repetition, with Hirayama's day starting off the same each time, as he tries to stick to the same routine. But people, and life, won't allow this. Indeed, most of us will have our days start the same, but eventually, the longer it goes on and the more interactions we have, the less similar each becomes.
The coda invites the idea of komorebi: the shimmering light through leaves of trees which will be different each time. Hirayama takes a photo of the same tree each day, searching for a perfect image deep within him. His longing for books, film cameras and old cassette tapes shows an analogue nature and desire for a simpler, less complicated time. We are given hints that he has a past he'd rather forget, and routine allows him to block this out.
But, as Wenders suggests, perfect doesn't exist. Life is a series of fleeting moments that can't be repeated, and we're wrong to think we can. Each day is different, and we need to accept that to be content. Fear of the past creates anxiety about the future, and the past making itself present will stop contentment. We must learn to adapt.
Wenders communicates this well, showing how others break the routine and each day brings with it new challenges, but also new joys. Perfect is not in repeating the same, but embracing the new. The minimalist nature works, though there are some more awkward scenes that feel silly more than anything, and massively bring down the overall atmosphere. Interactions with co-worker Takashi (Tokio Emoto) are particularly annoying. The soundtrack, key to the story, also feels a little obvious, with many well-worn vocals heard.
But despite its flaws, Wenders shapes his ideas very well, making us wait for what he is really trying to tell us. And Yakusho is an actor who gets better with age, having always worked well as an awkward man of few words.
The search is the strongest element for this: are we content living out the same each day to avoid fear; or are we anxious as to what tomorrow may bring? This is a fine balance "Perfect Days" leaps across. Repetition will soon breed contempt, but new challenges keep each day alive, whatever stage of life you are at.
'Isn't life disappointing?!'
Sakana no ko (2022)
Fish out of water
I do enjoy a bit of Shuichi Okita, ever since I first saw "The Story of Yonosuke" (2013), through to his recent "Hey! Our Dear Don-chan" (2022). In fact, the last couple of years have been somewhat prolific for Okita, and so I was sure I would enjoy the very Okita-like "The Fish Tale."
Based on real-life, fish-loving TV personality "Sakana-kun," this is the tale of young Meebo (Non) who grows to a similar fate. As a young girl, Meebo is obsessed with fish in all their shapes and sizes. She is single-minded in her dedication, but this starts to impact on her relationships with others, and indeed her life skills. On reaching adulthood, she moves to Tokyo with fish in her heart, but barely a thought in her mind.
She fails at a series of fish-associated jobs, but finds luck in meeting various estranged friends in the city who all offer her a nudge in the right direction: notably Momoko (Kaho), who gets her work curating luxury fish tanks; and more successfully Hiyo (Yuya Yagira), who now works as a TV director.
Okita's characters are always fish out of water, and Meebo is certainly that. Non enthusiastically plays the role of the enthusiast from her teens onwards, with an ever- growing smile, even when getting most personal with fish. Very much like Kengo Kora in "Yonosuke," she has an infectiousness that sees people drawn in and an earnestness that means people can't be mad at her.
But despite the happy-go-lucky spirit, the big city dents some dreams. The coming-of-age realisation is that simply loving something isn't enough. Having never applied herself to anything else or shown any discipline, she is simply not cut out to work a job she would enjoy. Meebo can only be herself, and luckily for her, a friend can make use of that.
Okita always has a warm heart and wants earnestness to succeed. Meebo, therefore, does, but only through a series of exceptional coincidences with people from her past bumping into her present. In many ways this is similar to "Yonosuke" as, episodically, each character recalls how Meebo touched their lives now they have matured and able to appreciate her naivety.
The coincidences, however, don't always make for great storytelling, as Meebo repeatedly fails, yet seems to fall upwards. The hardship and struggl doesn't quite feel real enough. The high school, yanki delinquent scenes in the middle are a little too goofy, and a little out of sorts from where the beginning and end have these characters develop.
Meebo herself, despite full of charms, is perhaps a little too quirky at times to be fully believable. Okita's characters are often humble and with faults, but likeable. Here, they are much more suited to manga or anime, somewhat larger than life. Where his other works and characters are at times awkward, "The Fish Tale" and Meebo are at times annoying, and so not as strong and well developed.
Okita's signature long runtime, however, is not unwelcome. As ever episodic, breaking things down into chunks makes this easily digestible; and weaker moments will soon be replaced by better ones. Okita wants to focus on the positive side of life, and so "The Fish Tale" leaves you with that feel good vibe he wants you to take away. In many ways, the film leaves you like an encounter with Meebo: confused, but smiling.
Politic1983.home.blog.
Mondays: Kono taimurupu, look joshi ni kidzuka senai to owaranai (2022)
C U Next Monday
Time loop comedy is becoming something of a genre, with an increasing number being made. But while the likes of Junta Yamaguchi may focus more on the filmmaking techniques for their time loops, Ryo Takebayashi takes more of a "Groundhog Day" (1993), Hell-of-repetition approach, as even working at a 'creative' agency is as endlessly repetitive as any office job.
Yoshikawa (Wan Marui) wakes one Monday morning in her office, surrounded by her colleagues having had to work all weekend to appease a demanding client. A mid-level member of the team, her two juniors approach her, trying to convince her they're repeating the same week, over and over. Putting forward some evidence (a pigeon flying into the window; people-watching out of the window), they eventually convince her this is the case (though it takes a few weeks).
Their approach is to now convince the more senior members of the team, believing this will break the cursed chain once everyone is aware of their recycled scenario. But it's not that simple. To get out of this endless cycle, a risk needs to be taken, potentially sacrificing your career.
While the time loop aspect is initially a gimmick, and there is of course repetition throughout, the story develops in a fairly linear fashion, as each team member becomes aware and learns more and more. This, therefore, doesn't exploit the gimmick too much, almost becoming a fairly straightforward comedy. With each passing week, the characters develop, as does the story and scenario, learning from their errors and changing things along the way. While stuck in a time loop, beyond a few choice moments, the week in the office is different each time, for the audience at least.
The eventual revelation to follow your own dream, rather than just doing the same thing week-in, week-out for ever-demanding clients raises the question of putting yourself first or putting others first. Though there is no obvious answer. Helping boss Nagahisa (Makita Sports) realise his lost dream sees the team put in the hours to help him, ignoring their external clients. But it's all for someone else. Nagahisa's failure is met with a shrug; happier to have a family and a quiet, repetitive life than take that risk.
Is it worth it then? Yoshikawa has to give up her personal life for her client's demands. Face-to-face, the client is likeable enough, himself having to meet the demands of his internal clients. Hard work and repetitive, long hours are necessary; it's the end goal that's important. Are you working to make a difference or purpose, or simply meeting meaningless demands? Nagahisa's real revelation is that the seeming life-or-death stresses put on staff can be easily loosened with a few, well-chosen words. To quote an old senior colleague of mine: 'no on died.'
This does what you'd expect from the scenario, and the comedy is fairly conventional and goes for crowd pleasing. This is, therefore, a good, enjoyable movie to watch. The ending has its heart in the right place, though the subject matter perhaps deserves a little more edge. From its hand gestures to its "Office Space" (1999) style, slow motion smashing of an inanimate object, this is a little light.
While staff quip they've been living the same week for years, this perhaps misses the opportunity to make more subtle jokes as to how we're all living the same week, over-and-over, time loop or not. But in a culture where 'karoshi' is a term, a more political edge should perhaps be added, highlighting the true meaninglessness of it all.
I've always put life before work in the work-life balance. I'm really working for things outside of work. And my work can be very repetitive. So, while time in the office may always be the same every week, make sure what happens outside of it isn't...if you remember you can leave it, that is.
Politic1983.home.blog.
Plan 75 (2022)
Slow death
"Ten Years Japan" (2018) was a film that had some interesting ideas, but largely felt like a collection of pilot ideas to be explored further; quite predictable and obvious in its themes. "Plan 75" by Chie Hayakawa was the opening short in the collection, looking at a euthanasia solution to Japan's ageing population problem. And it was a good enough short, that didn't dig too deep or offer a huge amount in terms of new ideas.
Fast forward four years, and Hayakawa has developed the idea further in a feature film, that while exploring the difficulties of such a solution in practice, perhaps feels a little light in its exploration of the idea.
Michi (Chieko Baisho) signs up to the Plan 75 programme, a government scheme to financially reward the elderly if they agree to be euthanised on turning seventy-five in a bid to help reduce Japan's ageing population problem. Approached like signing up for a life-insurance policy, it is more of an admin-heavy process than a deep emotion decision.
Receiving regular, fifteen-minute calls from her assigned counsellor Yoko (Yuumi Kawai), the pair develop something of a bond and meet against the programme's rules. Michi starts to lament the choice she has made, as anyone would, though appears happy to continue with her original choice, as if too much of a burden to change the situation now.
Much like the short before it, this is a very slow-paced film, using minimal movement, dimly-lit and with a sparse soundtrack. As such, it is a slow and largely silent film. Hayakawa's use of silence is perhaps the most impactful element of the film, allowing the audience to reflect on this possible future scenario.
The problem with this lack of action, however, is it does allow the audience to drift into their own thoughts, some scenes flying-by without notice. There is some good filmmaking here, but perhaps better suited to a shorter runtime. Over its whole length, it doesn't do enough to fully engage the audience.
It highlights many of the challenges of such an idea: the possibility of changing your mind; employees having to handle their own relatives; not growing attached to those who are soon to die, but these are presented more as administrative challenges, and while handled tactfully, not with any great depth. Most of these are problems you would have naturally considered yourself when posed with the idea, and so don't particularly challenge your thoughts on the situation. Its relative objectivity and slow-pace doesn't pose enough questions or offer enough answers to a controversial idea and social problem.
Areas such as Filipino employee Maria (Stefanie Arianne) being told that taking the recently deceased's personal items home - as they've now passed and it means less waste - is presented at face-value and not explored as a moral dilemma. And Okabe's (Hayato Isomura) wanting to give his uncle a proper funeral is only started at, but never furthered.
This, therefore, has ideas that have been tackled before and doesn't offer a huge amount in new perspectives. The only real protest shown to the idea is the faceless throwing of objects when setting up a sales stall. It's met with a routine response. There is social comment in this, living in a society where such a scheme would be met with such a lack of emotion. We have perhaps all become too detached from one another in a world determined by statistics and targets. But overall, this doesn't offer enough of a voice to those involved.
But the silence does hang heavy in some scenes and is where the most impact is gained. On conclusion, it is something of a deafening silence, allowing us a moment of reflection. Perhaps what this offers most is the opportunity to contemplate at length what we already know: that one day, we will die.
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Gojira -1.0 (2023)
Back once again
Have we had too much Godzilla yet? Hideaki Anno and Shinji Higuchi's 2016 "Shin Godzilla" was fun, but did it bring much new life to the Godzilla franchise than simply a more modern setting? As the name implies, Takashi Yamazaki's "Godzilla Minus One" takes a step back to the end of Word War II, and the possibility that the creature could have been stopped before it developed superpowers.
On Odo Island, a kamikaze pilot, Shikishima (Ryunosuke Kamiki), lands his plane claiming it's faulty. While waiting for it to be 'repaired' the small island is attacked by a giant creature emerging from the sea, wiping out a fleet of mechanics as Shikishima lost his nerve when having the opportunity to shoot it.
On returning to Tokyo after the war, Shikishima finds his family have been killed in air raids. Unwittingly, a baby is thrust into his arms by Noriko (Minami Hamabe) and he takes the pair under his wing as he rebuilds his family home and life. Taking a job sweeping for mines at sea, Shikishima and his small crew investigate a damaged ship, where he encounters the creature once more, only now bigger and stronger.
Suspicions as to the true nature of his role amount as Godzilla gets closer and closer, eventually smashing its way through Tokyo. The government seemingly inactive, a group of veterans acquire ships and devise a plan to capture Godzilla, hoping to lure it and sink it to the sea floor - the water pressure taking care of it, with Shikishima's kamikaze training a key part of the plan.
The real crux of the story here is criticism of the Japanese (and to a lesser extent American and Soviet) government and its cover ups of major incidents. The fact that veterans have to take action off their own back results from a culture of inactivity from authorities, burying their heads in the sand. But also, the notion of sacrifice for the greater good. From samurai to kamikaze, Japan has a notion of fighting to the death, rather than to live. Something that hangs over Shikishima as a returning kamikaze pilot.
This results in some crowd-pleasing moments of collective inspiration, in true 'if we all pull together' spirit. While a little cheesy, the message comes across of Japan at the time a county struggling to come to terms with itself.
The action sequences are certainly there, with a nice balance to the original "Godzilla" (1954) and modern special effects. Godzilla holding a train in his mouth has all the original charm, and one cannot help but smile when the old soundtrack kicks in.
This has the overacting you'd expect from a commercial Japanese film, and is full of happy endings, with the tick-box of offering the sequel we all know is coming. This isn't as fun as "Shin Godzilla" but offers a bit more in story and message, with well executed action. There is still life in the franchise yet, and as the final scene suggests: Godzilla never dies, but is forever reborn.
Politic1983.home.blog.
Ôi! Don-chan (2022)
3 men and a little lady
Having worked with some of the biggest names in Japanese cinema, "Hey! Our Dear Don-chan" sees Shuichi Okita work with his most important star yet. Following the birth of his daughter, Okita played around with some workshop actors and a handheld camera as they tackled looking after the six-month-old. Three years later, an extended home movie/documentary/workshop/feature film charts the growth of his daughter and the three actors tasked with her temporary care.
Enoken (Hirota Otsuka), Michio (Tappei Sakaguchi) and Gunji (Ryuta Endo) are three struggling actors/writers house-sharing as they try to get by. Out of nowhere, a baby is left on their doorstep with a note for Enoken: unbeknownst to him, he is a father. Unwitting, but earnest, the trio's immediate instinct is to care for the child. Charmed by her and their new role as fathers, they delay taking her to any authorities; the sense of purpose she gives them seeing their careers develop also.
As Don-chan grows, so do the challenges she brings as their careers develop and Enoken's ex-girlfriend returns to the scene. But they bumble through, as three flatmates soon grow into a family of five.
The first thing you notice about "Hey! Our Dear Don-chan" is just how cute it is. With its extended length, one drawback is Okita perhaps doesn't show enough of the downsides. While he shows it is undoubtedly a struggle, Don-chan's tears are at a minimum, when you'd expect to hear far more whines and wails from a child at this age, particularly one separated from her mother. This, therefore, paints Don-chan as a wonderfully cheeky child you can't help but be charmed by.
But there is also cuteness from the three male leads. The fact that three young men in their youthful prime take on their new role with such diligence. And this adds a fun a playful element to proceedings, as Okita can throw his young actors into any scenario and see how they cope.
With this the case, and a young child who won't follow direction prominent, Okita lets the camera run and see how things develop. You can't plan too much when it comes to children, and so each scene is allowed to take its natural course. No doubt a real challenge for the actors to handle.
Being that this was never a planned work, it is very off-the-cuff, with a handheld camera and homemade feel throughout. It feels something of a stepdown in filmmaking for Okita on the surface, but necessary with the experimental, unplanned technique. So much so that this is probably a very personal film for Okita himself, with anyone seeing the final product less of a concern than enjoying the process.
As with any film heavily focused on the raising of a child, your response to it will be impacted by whether you have children or not. Patience for extended scenes of feeding and nappy changing will either bore or humour. But watching the growth, this is absorbing, developing well over the time, much like "The Story of Yonosuke" (2013). Okita can make you care for his characters, throwing in the right balance of laughs and seriousness to entertain, whether intentional or not.
As the film's coda shows, this is a work Okita can be satisfied with, as he sees the fruits of his hard work. Something we get to share in.
Politic1983.home.blog.
Tekuno burazâzu (2023)
Kraftjerk
Colour is not something you'd usually associate with Hirobumi Watanabe's films. While they are - as the production company name suggests - largely foolish, the black and white gives them a certain trapped, small-town quality and a sad lament on life, perfected in "7 Days" (2015) / "Cry" (2019). While the colour added for his latest work offers the chance to pay homage to Kraftwerk, it also offers a break away from the small-town confines of much of his work, with dreams of Tokyo on the horizon.
The titular Techno Brothers (played by Watanabe and his brother, composer Yuji Watanabe) are a techno outfit playing gigs in small-town venues to audiences of bemused onlookers. Remaining silent throughout, their performances are static as they play away on keyboards. They are perhaps not suited to the locale.
Himuro (Asuna Yanagi), their single-minded manager, is determined to get them to Tokyo to sign a major record contract. But she is far from caring for her talent. Working them hard and feeding them little, they embark on a road trip to Tokyo, gigging along the way, though the band are increasingly rebellious, potentially sabotaging their chances.
Everything about this is wonderfully silly. From the Brothers' expressionless, voiceless faces and permanent Kraftwerk outfit, their performances have everything of the local about them. Playing in venues not designed for their brand of music, the audiences sit in silence, moving even less than the musicians themselves. Inexplicably, they bring in money, which Himuro pockets for herself, eating her fill, while the Brothers watch on with a glass of tap water each.
With their silence, sunglasses and facial hair, the Brothers come across as perfect pets, doing as they are told. But like all animals, they eventually get up to mischief, though their efforts to escape are as meek as their will against their manager.
The live performances of full-length tracks are absurd, but the sheer stillness against the thumping techno make for comedic joy, leaving you to fill in your own blanks as to what the audience are thinking. While there are a lot of them, they never feel unwelcome, in what is a fairly basic storyline.
As with other Watanabe films, the camera is often at a distance and sits still as the actors deliver their lines. Though with many scenes outdoors, the voices are often competing with background noise. While this may feel a little amateurish, it adds to the road trip feel, finding yourself in any and every location.
Part of you wants this to be in black and white, as is Watanabe's style, with this more an outright comedy than the more sensitive and isolated edge of his other films, and so maybe falls a little short of some of his other works.
But this is fun that doesn't take itself too seriously; Hirobumi Watanabe taking on several roles, including his trademark appearances in a Japan football shirt. Yuji Watanabe's soundtrack also delivers, with the performances amusing, but the music itself not comical. And the more you see children and the elderly sit stoney-faced, the more you want to smile.
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Samehada otoko to momojiri onna (1998)
Mangalomaniacs
Katsuhito Ishii is a director that seems to sit in the middle: You can see the influence of others on his work; but can see his hand in the work of others also. His breakthrough work, "Shark Skin Man and Peach Hip Girl" shows this perfectly: an ensemble piece of numerous characters with their own stories and introductions is very much a Nineties post-modern staple; yet its lead, Tadanobu Asano, went on to star in similar films with different directors.
Samehada (Asano) has had it on his toes with a yakuza family's money. And they're looking for him. Staying at his forest hideout, he finds hotel receptionist Toshiko (Sie Kohinata) fleeing her perverted uncle and brings her home. But the band of interestingly-dressed fellows, led by Tanuki (Ittoku Kishibe), surround them. Using Toshiko as a distraction, Samehada and his new found love escape into the trees.
The pair have a make-over, with Toshiko letting her hair down at last, and rather than run, choose to take their foes head-on, guns blazing. With a number of bodies in the story, a number of bodies are created, from various sides with various interests.
Straight from the film's introduction, you know this is going to be an energetic film full of overly colourful characters. Based on Minetaro Mochizuki's manga, the costume design is very much in keeping with its manga roots. The clothes, hairstyles and mannerisms are all larger-than-life, with the opening credits introducing each separately, as if a manga, over blaring music. It's fun, but feels very much an attempt at recreating Tarantino's brand of Hollywood cool, possibly trying a little too hard.
But this sense of fun continues throughout the film, and gradually, Ishii begins to bring in his unique sense of humour, which is where he should keep his focus, being the strongest element of his best work. And, as in "The Taste of Tea" (2004), Tatsuya Gashuin steals the show as hitman Yamada, tasked with killing Samehada and returning Toshiko to her lecherous uncle. A killer seemingly based on Mr Bean, everything about him is for laughs, and he bounces well off Asano with a glee, even when failing in his task.
And Asano himself, still relatively early in his career takes on one of his first lead roles, spends a large amount of the film in his underwear, and starts to show his ability to be effortlessly cool without taking himself too seriously. The rest of the ensemble cast play largely for laughs, though with such a large number of characters, many don't get enough screentime to have much real impact.
Plotwise, this doesn't offer a huge amount, with the second half largely a shoot-out in the dark, and so the strength lies in what would become an Ishii signature: extended sketches. The bathroom scene between Gashuin and Asano is a delight from the first to the last, with both of top form; and the bank robbery where Samehada and Toshiko first cross paths finds humour in tension.
There is a lot going on here, with Ishii himself stating he tried to get as many of his ideas out as soon as possible when making it. Anime/manga, Hollywood action-drama and comedy all show their influence. And while an American style can be found within this, Ishii uses its manga origins to give this a slightly different feel. The large cast, character styling and sketch approach make one think of Takashi Miike's "Ichi the Killer" (2001) (Asano's Kakihara feeling like an amalgamation of various characters) and Gen Sekiguchi's "Survive Style 5+" (2004). Both feature similar casts, blending comedy and violence, with strong anime/manga influence and aesthetic.
Ishii here, therefore, in his first notable feature is something of a leader and follower, coming at a time where mid-Nineties Tarantino and Coen Brothers' global impact could be felt, bringing a blend of comedy and violence to Japan's global cinematic re-awakening. Maybe that overstates its influence a little. This may not always be serious filmmaking. This may not always be good filmmaking. But it's certainly a lot of fun.
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Keiko, me wo sumasete (2022)
Exactly that
Never (perhaps a slight exaggeration) has a film matched its title (English version, anyway) as much as Sho Miyake's "Small, Slow but Steady". The Japanese like an understated boxing drama, and this is certainly that, matching its lead in its sheer unremarkable nature, but therein lies its charm.
Keiko (Yukino Kishii) is a boxer born deaf - a hinderance in the game, as The Chairman of her gym (Tomokazu Miura) highlights. He also laments her lack of distinctive style and poor reach. But she's honest and tries her best. Keiko, who works as a hotel cleaner to supplement her fledgeling boxing career, doesn't stand out, and her lack of speech furthers this. Unaware as to what is going on around her, she simply keeps her head down and carries on. An honest person whom life dealt a bad hand.
But this niceness is part of a larger problem. While her gym has fame, it is now old, on the outskirts of the city and COVID has hit it hard. Boxers are leaving the gym to fight elsewhere, with the otherwise ordinary Keiko their only draw. But the ever-diligent fighter becomes unsure of herself when her hearing impairment and lack of underhand tactics get the better of her.
Humble is a word to describe this film, from Keiko's boxing style and demeanour, earnest approach to her work and training, but also the location in Tokyo. More industrial, downtrodden neighbourhoods form the backdrop for the dilapidated gym and surrounding areas where Keiko does much of her training. The gym itself is on its last legs, as boxers flood out and no one lined up to take over from the ageing Chairman.
This is exemplified by Keiko's search for a new gym taking her to a more central, modern and clean gym. The gym owner's (Makiko Watanabe) bold personality seems at odds with Keiko's; giving the excuse that the gym is 'too far.' This disappoints her coaches, but they know it to be Keiko's way. She is happy where she is.
But this will soon change as the gym approaches closing. Her last fight saw her lack of 'dark arts' end in defeat. Unable to hear the bell, she becomes confused, and her opponent uses some of boxing's oldest tricks to steal a victory. She feels cheated, and a world of unsporting behaviour to progress is not a direction she wants to take. Seeing the fighter away from the ring, humbly thanking her for the fight, however, perhaps gives her a different perspective.
This matches Miyake's most notable previous work "And You Bird Can Sing" (2018), with dim lighting, slow-pacing and characters struggling to find their own little place in the world. It also features a small-scale world, where characters live within their own limits. The industrial shots of Tokyo's suburban areas are the film's star, a point Miyake hammers home as they adorn the end credits and feel a naturally perfect way to end proceedings.
Kishii is the centre of this world, and holds things together well in the roll of keeping calm and carrying on; naturally charming those around her. But like Keiko, the humble nature means this isn't quite a knock-out, yet a pleasing, gentle tale. It doesn't try to be anything else, however, like its lead.
COVID will inevitably dominate much cinema set in the present, and this shows a small-scale impact of a gym forced to close and fights in empty venues. Like much of Japanese boxing cinema, the gym is the central location with some satisfying sparring scenes; and bouts in the ring kept to a minimum, yet realistic in their portrayal, never glamourising the sport.
A small world. A slow pacing. A steady piece of work. Points victory.
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Kûhaku (2021)
Intolerable cruelty
Keisuke Yoshida's "Intolerance" is a clever film, and not just in how it handles the response of a community to a tragic death, but in how it avoids cliches of grief porn that can run riot in films of this nature.
Her parents divorced, teenage Kanon (Aoi Ito) lives with her old-fashioned and angry father Mitsuru (Arata Furuta). Trying to combat her more liberal mother Shoko (Tomoko Tabata), Mitsuru forbids many modern pursuits, leading Kanon to get caught up in shoplifting make-up at a store run by Naoto (Tori Matsuzaka). Chased, Kanon runs in front of a car driven by a young woman (Masumi Nomura), before being crushed under a lorry.
A wave of intolerance then sweeps through the small community, with local press targeting Naoto and his store; as does Mitsuru in his harassment and accusations. Though Mitsuru himself becomes a target, as his angry and erratic behaviour is witnessed. A knock-on effect throughout sees everyone become a victim, but also far from blameless, in a community that has failed a young girl.
In a film that starts with a tragic death, resulting in a funeral where an unwanted face sparks an angry reaction, one would be forgiven for thinking this could walk the road of many a film that is devoid of humour and brightness, becoming and endless string of overly-emotional tirades. But Yoshida very quickly steers us away from this path, down a more comedic and ingenious one.
Somewhat out of character, Mitsuru seems almost amused by the way his daughter died, wanting more to make sure Naoto doesn't forget about what happened. He stalks the store and follows Naoto wherever he goes, quitting his work to do so. He has become single-minded in this pursuit, ignoring Shoko's pleas and apologies from the young driver, and Furuta plays him with a tightrope walking glee, from the playful to the angry.
The seemingly mild Naoto falls into a depression, with his cheerful employee Asako (Shinobu Terajima) constantly trying to bring him out of his funk. But he rejects her constant niceness, eventually pushing her to show her own permanently hidden frustrations. The vicious cycle of abuse towards others when trying to apologise or help is the key theme from Yoshida's own experiences. When in moments of distress, it is easier to lash out at others, rather than have patience and take their support with good grace.
While not an intentional comedy, one can only find humour in how the scenario plays out from an outside perspective. Each person sees their life crumble as a result of their response to others, instantly taking a negative view of their intentions. As one bad turn creates another, you have to smile at human folly.
But there is a serious side to this as well. Each realises the need to take time to reflect, rather than simply react. It was Mitsuru's ignorance of his daughter's life that created the whole scenario in the first place, pushing both his wife and daughter away, until they are gone for good. Each character is a caricature - either overly angry, overly polite or overly meek - as is the way in a tragedy, but their reactions feel natural, and the transfer of anger something we can all relate to.
What Yoshida creates therefore, is a clever tragedy, that will make you crack a smile, but also hit hard with some home truths, in the same way the lorry hit Kanon with full force.
Politic1983.home.blog.
Yozora wa itsudemo saikô mitsudo no aoiro da (2017)
Tokyo State of Mind
If the English title is something of a mouthful, Yuya Ishii's most inventive film to date will leave you with a headful of undeveloped ideas. Using 'guerrilla' (that's me quoting myself) poet and visual artist Tahi Saihate's poetry anthology as inspiration, this is a whirlwind of ideas, visuals, noises, poetry and comment, all wrapped together under the Tokyo skyline.
Shinji (Sosuke Ikematsu) is a day labourer on a construction site in preparation for the Tokyo Olympics. Alongside fellow workers Tomoyuki (Ryuhei Matsuda), Iwashita (Tetsushi Tanaka) and Andres (Paul Magsign), they lift heavily by day and party heavily by night, living in cramped conditions, with limited funds and long-term prospects. Blind in one eye, Shinji's mind races at a hundred miles an hour, spouting out verbal diarrhoea that no one can keep up with.
Chance sees his path regularly cross with that of nurse and hostess Mika (Shizuka Ishibashi), though she is initially drawn to the more confident Tomoyuki. Hiding an illness, however, Tomoyuki suddenly dies at work, with Shinji the closest thing he had to family. Shinji sees this as his chance to get closer to Mika, their paths frequently crossing in Tokyo's busiest and noisiest districts until they build their own story together.
With a number of quirky coming-of-age comedies under his belt, there is a little more purpose and artistry in Ishii's approach here, though perhaps treads on some rather fine lines. With no major plotline to speak of, this has the carefree air in the face of a thousand problems that comes with youth. The characters bounce around the city, seemingly living twenty-four hour lives, with life a series of fleeting moments.
Based on an anthology, this is a collection of ideas, never fully developed or explored to show the melting pot that is Tokyo. Numerous social comments are thrown in as the city prepares for the Olympics, often portrayed as a negative for the city, even before COVID. Day labourers work on low wages and little job security; nurses have to moonlight in hostess bars. You can dream to the night sky, but the city will crush many dreams.
With moving cameras, this creates the claustrophobic atmosphere of the hustle and bustle of Tokyo streets where you are never too far from the noise. It also highlights the reliance on mobile communications, where constant noise and bombardment are reflected in Shinji's cluttered mind. Districts such as Shibuya and Shinjuku are where Shinji and Mika often find themselves, though neither seem to particularly like them.
Serving as a good companion piece to Ryuichi Hiroki's "Sayonara Kabukicho," this shows a changing face of Tokyo in the build up to the Olympics, where tidying up the city leaves a youth that is overworked and looking for an escape.
The fleeting nature of the city is reflected in the fleeting nature of the ideas contained within. Mika's visits home and the two leads' previous love interests are brought in, though don't necessarily add anything to the overall story, apart from suggesting they could have had alternative lives. Shinji's ramblings are little more than that, not necessarily offering conclusions. And Mika takes everything that happens to her in her stride, seemingly unaffected by it all.
"The Tokyo Night Sky is Always the Densest Shade of Blue" intrigues and leaves a lot to linger on the mind. Things come and go easily, but leave a lot of holes for you to fill in. It is earnest, yet naïve; full of ideas, but unable to fully articulate them. This will, therefore, frustrate or evoke depending on what you want from it. Throwing a lot of sounds and lights in your direction, and expecting you to take them in your stride, this is life in the city.
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Subarashiki sekai (2020)
An inconsistent step into the outside world
While a varied career, it's fair to say Koji Yakusho has a penchant for playing ex-convicts adapting to life in the outside world after an extended period behind bars for murder. Two of his more acclaimed roles saw him play the straight, but prone to outbursts, salaryman of Yamashita in Shohei Imamura's "The Eel" (1997); and the enigmatic manipulator Misumi in Kore-eda Hirokazu's "The Third Murder" (2017).
As Masao in Miwa Nishikawa's all-rounder "Under the Open Sky" he is a more outwardly aggressive former yakuza who has had various troubles on the inside, failing to control his anger. Having served thirteen years for the murder of an unruly customer at the hostess bar he managed, he moves to Tokyo to start his new life. But health problems, his ex-convict status and fits of rage see him struggle to hold down normal, everyday employment.
Having sent them his prison records, he is followed by struggling director Tsunoda (Taiga Nakano) to make a TV documentary about his rehabilitation into society. There are many barriers Masao has to overcome to get by, though perhaps the main one is holding his temper. But as a man of justice, he finds he has to walk the lines of what is lawful and unlawful and what is right and wrong.
Like with previous Nishikawa works, this is a considered piece about a man going through a difficult situation, though it is not without its flaws. With a somewhat mainstream appeal, the film can be a little unbalanced in its portrait of Masao. At times, he is a man with inner turmoil, struggling to come to terms with his difficult upbringing, handled sensitively in flashback. Suppressing these outbursts gives him a darker side.
But at times his bouts of aggression and outright violence are more comedic and bumbling, and so we're not fully sure what to make of Masao as a lovable rogue, or a more sinister threat to wider society.
His threat to society is a wider social comment featured throughout. Gatekeepers at the various institutions with which he needs to apply and register outline the difficulties he will face as an ex-convict. His driver's license has now expired, but he cannot raise the funds/benefits to take the test again. Jobs will ignore him, apart from those where skills are minimal, so society's misfits will be taken in.
What is more of a struggle, however, is individuals' responses to him. While society prohibits him, the people he becomes close to all form a quick bond with him. They are all a little too happy to help him - a man who has often been aggressive, if not violent, towards them - and so go against the idea of ex-convicts struggling to find a place in society. In many ways, Masao adapts quite well. Those situations where he doesn't are more played for laughs.
Obviously, Yakusho is charming in the lead role, showing an ability to wear a variety of faces. The violence is hard-hitting, the laughs are welcome, with the more sinister elements to Masao giving it some edge. Making the move back into society is an administrative affair, with many details considered.
But in trying to satisfy all these points it can lapse into a mainstream comedy where a small community pulls together in one direction for the greater good. The ending comes with emotion more forced than fully earned. Masao is a complex character, but, as with Yamashita and Misumi before him, the more sinister elements are more engaging.
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Mizu no naka no hachigatsu (1995)
Summer of wonder
Even in the career of Sogo Ishii (later Gakuryu Ishii) - where storyline and structure are often side-lined for atmosphere, mood and general carnage - 1995's "August in the Water" is something of an enigma. Made in the mid-Nineties, where his three feature films were slow-paced, dreamlike mood pieces, it is a bright and colourful burst in the middle of the dark and gloomy "Angel Dust" (1994) and the monochrome coma of "Labyrinth of Dreams" (1997), though has a deliberately complex storyline to leave you as equally lost as its characters.
The plot is perhaps the weakest element of the film and towards its conclusion is more a series of moments than anything coherent, ranging from the silly to the fantastical and mysterious. Diving star Izumi (Rena Komine) joins Mao (Shinsuke Aoki) and Ukiya's (Masaaki Takarai) school, with Mao immediately drawn to her. Mysteriously failing an attempt at a dive, Mao dives in the pool to save Izumi, resulting in her being in a coma.
On waking, she is drawn to the remains of an old meteor in a nearby forest, becoming elusive and difficult to pin down. She is now drawn to a different world. Meanwhile, in the city, the hot summer drought sees people randomly collapse with 'stone disease,' where internal organs turn to stone. Bringing in elements of astrology also, little is fully developed or explained, leaving us in the position of Mao, wondering what is going on in Izumi's mind.
But this confusion is beside the point, or maybe it is the point. "August in the Water" is an atmosphere of teenage anxiety at finding your place in the world, with Norimichi Kasamatsu's cinematography and Hiroyuki Onogawa's soundtrack blending to create an intangible quality of intrigue and questions the script will never answer directly.
Ishii's use of continual background soundtrack gives every scene a dreamlike quality of another world, removing you from your senses. Indeed, you will easily find yourself gazing blankly at the screen while the film seeps into your system. Combined with the slow-pacing, this hypnotises the audience, leaving them numb as to what they have just seen, unable to explain, yet fully at ease.
The shot composition is also impressive, feeling like that of a film with a much bigger budget. The diving scenes use numerous aerial shots, quickly edited together, making the sport look the most impressive it has ever been. Aerial and night-time shots of the forest are also beautifully constructed, with a look to match the emotion. The heat of the urban landscape is also captured, as wavey shots of people collapsing on the streets make this truly reflect the heat of August.
While certain scenes may feel like those that have come before (list your own famous Japanese shots of women walking into water), along with "Angel Dust," this shows Ishii is a director pushing limits and taking risks. The plot is too enigmatic, introducing too many complex elements with little offer of explanation. But this risk pays off in how it leaves the audience. You simply give up on trying to follow and explain, and simply lose yourself within. By the final scene, you are absorbed to the point to feel its full impact, as Izumi impacted Mao.
"August in the Water" in a mystery that you just can't explain, finding yourself drawn back to it to relive that sense all over again.
Politic1983.home.blog.
Beurokeo (2022)
Family break
The purpose of any road movie, rather than just getting from A to B, is to have progressed as a human being on reaching the destination; rather than just being sat for an extended period needing the toilet - reflective of any cinema experience. In the hands of Kore-eda Hirokazu, however, his deconstruction of the conventional family unit means that by the end of this road movie, a new 'family' has been realised.
With the assistance of Dong-soo (Gang Dong-won) who works at a church orphanage, Sang-hyeon (Song Kang-ho) is a 'broker' for illegal adoptions for potential parents not wanting to go through the lengthy, official routes. One night, a young mother, So-young (Lee Ji-eun), leaves her baby son outside a baby box drop-off for 'unwanted' babies at the church where Dong-soo works. Stepping-in before the church is aware, the pair of brokers have a new product to sell at a profit to themselves.
Under the watch of social welfare detectives Soo-hin (Bae-Doo-na) and Lee (Lee Joo-young), So-young returns to the orphanage in the hope of taking her son back. But no one is aware of a baby being dropped, other than Dong-soo. Taking her to Sang-hyeon, the trio travel around the country in search of a legitimate buyer. But the further they travel, the closer they become, until the baby with no hope has a loving family around it.
If you ignore the somewhat unengaging "The Truth", "Broker" carries on where Kore-eda's last Japanese film "Shoplifters" left off. Now in South Korea, a fractured family has been created from unrelated individuals unwittingly, with each assuming their role: Dong-soo and So-young as parents; Sang-hyeon the older uncle; and orphan Hae-jin (Im Seung-soo), who hides away in their van, taking on the role of older brother.
Each has their own stock in the debate as to a mother giving up her child. So-young, naturally, has her reasons for what she did, feeling cornered, though returned to her child. Dong-soo and Hae-jin were both given up by their parents, growing up in the same orphanage, and so sympathise with the baby, making Dong-soo initially cautious towards So-young. While Sang-hyeon is a divorced father whose wife and daughter seem indifferent to him, and so his work as a broker seems out of a genuine desire to see children get a good upbringing. As they spend more time with each other on the road, they grow to see each other's perspectives.
Less obvious are Soo-hin's motivations, seemingly as a detective too emotionally involved in the case she's working. As things develop, she becomes more erratic and emotional in her behaviour, to the point of feeling a little awkward and unnatural. Which is a shame as, like the rest of the cast, Bae gives a good performance.
As with "Distance", "Still Walking" and "After the Storm", the cast are in a claustrophobic scenario and so have to come to terms with one another, despite their disagreements. This, therefore, relies on lots of tight interactions between individuals, and the strong cast delivers. For the most part, the flow of conversation is natural, with Dong-soo and So-young's conversation on top of a Ferris wheel a well-paced exchange, where background timing is essential to its effectiveness.
His first road movie, this is again a more mainstream effort from Kore-eda, with more overt comedy on offer, as well as being more plot-driven. The depth interactions are still there and this is very much within Kore-eda's oeuvre, and feels more comfortable than "The Truth"; his style transferring better to a South Korean setting.
This is far from Kore-eda at his best, but he has made worse, and this is indeed a better trip abroad than the previous. As ever, there is no simple resolve to the situation, so compromises and sacrifices are made, though a greater understanding leads to more openness. With a both tried and tested cast, Kore-eda had brokered a more fertile deal overseas.
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Heojil kyolshim (2022)
Indecision
As the new millennium dawned, Park Chan-wook burst on to the international cinema scene with those films you know all about. Though after "Lady Vengeance" (2005), with the exception of "The Handmaiden" (2016), I've found much of his work to be fairly mediocre offerings which I struggled to get into and found mostly forgettable.
And "Decision to Leave" is a film that fits Park's career perfectly in that it switches between moments of great filmmaking and moments where perhaps a better decision could have been made. I don't think I've watched any of his films that don't have at least a blip or two, though while an enjoyable watch overall, "Decision to Leave" perhaps has a few too many moments to make it a great film.
Detective Hae-jun (Park Hae-il) is put on what seems a fairly open-and-shut case of a wealthy mountaineer falling to his death scaling a peak. Questioning his widow, the enigmatic young Chinese Seo-rae (Tang Wei), he is attracted to her, but believes she isn't quite as heartbroken as she maybe should be.
With Hae-jun's wife living in another city, he develops a close relationship with Seo-rae. But when things get to a head between them, Hae-jun's initial suspicions are realised. Cutting all ties and moving to start a new life in a small town with his wife, Seo-rae enters his life once more, with another dead husband. Whatever the truth of this second case, Hae-jun has already made his mind up as the where guilt lies.
For much of its runtime, "Decision to Leave" feels like a film on the verge, but never quite gets there. Initially, there is a feeling of light humour, though this is toned down quickly, and laughs are not what much of this is about. There are also some CSI-like graphics which you'd simply rather do without. But starting off as a detective drama, this moves into the world of romance.
The first half, therefore, is quite varied in mood and tone, and it's not until we are fully into the love story that you can sink in and enjoy it. Though now we are thrown into the world of twists and turns towards the end, as the story starts to become a little convoluted.
But overall, this is an enjoyable watch that you will be drawn into towards its latter stages. It certainly looks the part, and Wei is the star as the enigmatic Seo-rae who we're never quite sure whether to believe or not.
This is a good film, but too much of a jack-of-all-trades to ever become great. It's not fully a detective drama; never quite a romance; lacking the cool of a noir. The final scene, however, is certainly its standout moment, as Seo-rae meets her ingenious demise, and worthy of your efforts to get there. Park can certainly make a good film, though sometimes his decisions could be better.
Politic1983.home.blog.
Do lok tin si (1995)
Wong Kar-wai's big night out
With "Chungking Express" the breath of fresh air Wong Kar-wai had been craving during the difficult "Ashes of Time" production, he clearly liked where it took him and so decided to return there. Something of an anthology film, with separate stories linked by a takeaway, adding another couple of stories on to the end of "Chungking Express" is an easy way to return to his happy place.
But while the earlier film features two cops as leads, its somewhat-sequel "Fallen Angels" has a couple of criminals as its heroes. Wong (Leon Lai) is a hitman whose life is planned out for him by his mysterious agent whom he never meets (Michelle Reis). Faxing him crudely drawn instructions, he goes out on a hit, only for his agent to sneak in to clean and restock his small apartment. Mute He (Takeshi Kaneshiro) is a wild character who beaks into small businesses each night and runs them as if they were his own, though his customer service leaves a little something to be desired. He meets the equally volatile Charlie (Charlie Yeung) for a fleeting romance, before she disappears into the night as quick as she came.
Even more so than "Chungking Express", "Fallen Angels" is pure aesthetic and mood, the soundtrack deliberately placed in each scene to represent cool, lust, heartbreak and rage. Christopher Doyle takes on Andrew Lau's place for the action sequences, with turning and pointing a gun made to look effortlessly stylish as if a fashion accessory; with Wong's now standard slow frame speed for any scenes of violence.
With no real story of which to speak, other than the leads going about their nightly life, this is Wong at his most playful and funny. Kaneshiro's He is a distant relative of his Cop 223 of the same scripted name in "Chungking Express". He is a loner who spends much of his time contemplating people's inner-selves, though his antics are Wong throwing all his comedy into one man. And Kaneshiro plays the role with glee, a smile on his face in every scene as the playful rogue. But one with a heart - he also has some of the film's most tender moments when it comes to friends and family. This is one of Wong's finest characters and a shame that he didn't work with Kaneshiro to a greater extent, bringing out the best in each other.
Unlike the former film, the two narratives are interwoven rather than split into two halves; the hitman's more stylistic and cool throughout, while the petty criminal is playful, making the film switch and dance around, keeping you entertained and never allowing one to take over from the other.
"Fallen Angels" is a very personal film for me in that, along with Akira Kurosawa's "Rashomon" and Yimou Zhang's "Raise the Red Lantern", it is one of the first non-kung-fu Asian films I watched in anger, starting me on my journey; Karen Mok's Punkie approaching Wong in a deserted McDonald's a joke that has stuck with me for years. It also features the Hong Kong Stadium where I saw my beloved Aston Villa play several years later.
And this also feels something of a personal film for Wong himself. Various nods are made to his work throughout, notably "Chungking Express". Punkie wears a blonde wig; encounters are had in dimly lit bars; secretly cleaning a beloved's flat; Charlie becomes an air stewardess; He takes over the Midnight Express takeaway, though this time McDonald's replaces Coca-Cola. And there's something of a nod to Tony Leung Chiu-wai's tiny flat in "Days of Being Wild" in Wong's small bedsit. This shows Wong is having fun and throwing in references for those in the know.
Two years later Wong would produce Eric Kot's "First Love: Litter on the Breeze" as almost a third instalment, showing this was the type of film Wong enjoyed at this period. But despite its similarities to its more distinguished older sibling, "Fallen Angels" is very much its own film, as all Wong films are. It is more enigmatic, overly-stylised and comical. It is a little more directionless than his other films: more youthful in its energy; its love stories more fleeting crushes than painful heartbreak. Though these little cherubs are ones to cherish for the future; Wong next going on to make perhaps his two most accomplished works.
Politic1983.home.blog.
Dangsin-eolgul-apeseo (2021)
Life flashes before your eyes
Hong Sang-soo is a filmmaker that has simple formulas that he can work some creative and comedic ideas into. This almost paint-by-numbers approach means that it is easy for him to churn out a large number of films, coming with at least one new effort every year. "In Front of Your Face" is a film that features all of the usual techniques of a Hong film, though this time around he has not thrown in a twist or gimmick, going for a more conventional character narrative.
Wanderings: Our heroine, Sang-ok (Lee Hye-yeong), has returned from the US to visit family, staying with her sister Jeong-ok (Cho Yun-hee). She has an appointment scheduled, though until then, she drinks coffee with her sister, and wanders the streets and parks of her past. As with any Hong film the lead is a little lost and wanders alone in search of something; they're not quite sure what. The more Sang-ok wanders, the more we start to notice something is on her mind.
The lustful director: It turns out the appointment is with a director, Jae-won (Kwon Hae-hyo), who wants to cast Sang-ok in his next work - she having been a minor actress in a previous life back in South Korea. It is here that Sang-ok makes what's troubling her public, and why she cannot commit to the project. Jae-won has been a fan of her work from his youth, and though married with children, working on his next project is not his only intention.
Conversations over food...and drink: This has always been the key feature of any Hong film: Rohmer-esque extended takes of conversations, zooming in for added awkwardness. Sang-ok has coffee and then lunch with her sister and drinks with the director as they discuss potential future plans - ones we learn will not be possible. It is these conversations over drinks where revelations are made, and the longer the take, the more is revealed, as the actors themselves come to terms with their characters' plight.
It would be typical here for Hong to turn the tale on its head or re-tell it from a different perspective, though no such foible happens here. Instead the situation is how it is; the meeting with the director now concluded and tomorrow is another day. What does occur, however, is a more rounded ending for a Hong film - and indeed it is the ending which ties all this together nicely.
Hong films are often short and/or split into various parts, making them almost like shorts. Perhaps that is why here a more standard-length film with a single narrative arc does start to drift towards the middle. We feel Sang-ok is wandering nowhere and just spending the day with her sister. But the importance of this shared time is visualised with the strong closing image as the camera fades out. The small things have a new significance and sharing the day with her sister is what Sang-ok is looking for. Here Hong has gone for love over lust and family over affairs.
This lacks some of the comedy - though it is still there - of his other films and has a more straightforward, linear narrative. But this is certainly a Hong film. Not his best, but this offers something a little fresh for him and shows he is still full of ideas despite his large output. The scene has not faded just yet.
Politic1983.home.blog.
Dung che sai duk (1994)
Ashes for dust
To say "Ashes of Time" is a problematic film is an understatement. Epic in its ambition, it was a difficult film for cast and crew alike; Wong taking a break from post-production to get a breath of fresh air with "Chungking Express". Though it is a film equally problematic for the audience, as while easy on the eye, following its plot is far from simple.
Feng (Leslie Cheung) is a fixer who lives in a remote desert where people come to have their problems solved. Which essentially means he finds them a hired killer. And that is essentially that. Sitting in his house, people come to him and tell him their stories of woe over a drink. Via flashbacks, we learn of their pasts and what brought them to this place. With the occasional action sequence thrown in.
Framed to be a martial arts epic, this is more indulgent than grand-scale. To start, this looks absolutely stunning. The cinematography from Christopher Doyle and Kwan Pung-leung is exquisite, and combines two techniques which would prove key in his two best films: "Happy Together" and "In the Mood for Love". The use of colour would be furthered in the former, giving each frame the look of a work of art. The blues and yellows are bold, bright and beautiful, giving this a distinctive look. The use of shadow, which was perfected in the latter, makes this look stylish beyond style.
Though perhaps so much thought has gone into these two elements that as a film, particularly a martial arts film, this leaves a lot to be desired. Fight scenes are shot from an artistic perspective, using the slow frame speed seen in "As Tears Go By" and "Chungking Express", so they look good, but with enough artistic flourish to make it almost impossible to figure out what is actually happening. The overall slow pace makes them feel like they don't belong here.
The story, well stories, are also hard to follow, coming in the form of flashback and re-telling. This lack of a clear, linear narrative, therefore, can make it easy to become lost. While this features Wong's standard tales of a love unfulfilled, as they pop-by one-by-one, they feel more like agony aunt tales than the cool or developed love of his other films.
The cast also work to create a feel of indulgence. Perhaps inspired by their roles in the Wong-produced "The Eagle Shooting Heroes", they take it in turns to over-act. In fact, here they all appear to be in love with the camera. They gaze into it, with close-ups held just a little too long. All are guilty of this.
All-in-all, it is a film that is great to just look at and not concern yourself too much with what is going on. Perhaps Wong was trying to push in too many elements here, losing some focus, as the visuals dazzle us, but make us forget where we were. As a piece of visual cinema, it is a triumph. But as an enjoyable watch, and more importantly a martial arts film, you can't quite see the ashes for the dust.