NYAFF ’19: Samurai Marathon

Annaka is the Japanese analog for Marathon, Greece. It was there that modern Japanese marathon running originated. It was also the end of an era. Commodore Perry and his “Black Ships” ushered out the Edo Period and helped launch the Meiji Restoration, but the samurai and retainers of the Annaka Clan give the Bushido code a last hurrah in Bernard Rose’s Samurai Marathon, which screens as the opening night film of the 2019 New York Asian Film Festival.

Of course, Perry is a bit flamboyant and cocksure—he is played by Rose’s frequent collaborator, Danny Huston. Frankly, he probably could have been worse, considering the ace in the hole he carried with him: firearms. The Shogun’s representative certainly sat up and took notice. Suddenly, Edo is more receptive to Western ways, but not a traditionalist like Katsuakira Itakura, the Annaka clan leader. To re-instill discipline within the ranks, he decrees all clan samurai and foot soldiers must participate in a cross-country foot-race throughout the surrounding lands.

As a samurai in the accounting division, Jinnai Karasawa must also participate, but he is in better shape than his Clark Kent persona suggests. He is actually a ninja secretly spying on the Annaka Clan for the shogunate, just as his forerunners had done before him. Unfortunately, he misinterprets the marathon as a cover for rebellion, but he is unable to retract his coded message to Edo once he realizes his error. When the Shogun’s forces arrive to wipe out the exhausted Annaka samurai at the finish line, Karasawa will have to make some hard choices.

So, basically, a Jidaigeki hack-and-slash battle (it’s a good one) breaks out during a track meet. Arguably, Marathon is maybe only 10% a sports film, if that. Instead, it specializes in intrigue and warfare. There is also a Shakespearean subplot involving Itakura’s independent minded daughter, Princess Yuki, who disguises herself as a man to sneak past the check point, so she can study Western art in Edo. However, her masquerade is easily seen through by characters who are evidently much more observant than anyone in Twelfth Night.

As a filmmaker, Rose has been all over the map from prestige projects like Immortal Beloved and Anna Karenina (1997) to trashy genre films like sxtape and the immortally beloved Candyman. You never really know what you might get from him, but happily, this is a return to form that definitely ranks with his prestige picture peaks. The is a big canvas historical, with a large cast of characters and a sweeping Philip Glass score, for extra high-brow status. More importantly, it is also a lot of fun, thanks to the brisk action and sly skullduggery.

Takeru Satoh (Kenshin Himura in the Rurouni Kenshin franchise) is perfectly cast as the aloof and conflicted Karasawa. Nana Komatsu finds a credible middle ground as the Princess, portraying her as neither a push-over distressed damsel or an invincible Michelle Yeoh-style swordswoman, but a gutsy forward-thinker. At times, Naoto Takenaka plays not-so retired retainer Mataemon Kurita a bit overly broad, but several supporting players really throw down with authority as various surprise turncoats within the Annaka ranks.

If you can’t a enjoy a film like Samurai Marathon, you’re probably a real killjoy. Yet, it is also classy, respectable cinema. You can tell, because it was produced by Jeremy Thomas (whose producer credits include The Last Emperor, Little Buddha, and Merry Christmas Mr. Lawrence). Enthusiastically recommended, Samurai Marathon screens Friday (6/28), as the opening night film of this year’s NYAFF.

Scary Movies 9: Frankenstein

In a world of human embryo cloning and Dolly the Sheep, Mary Shelley’s Modern Prometheus is no longer as outlandish as we would want it to be. Arguably, the time is ripe for contemporary take on the legend and Bernard Rose, the prolific modernizer of Tolstoy and director of Candyman, is a logical choice to do it. Transporting the monster from Geneva to Los Angeles, Rose takes intriguing liberties while remaining oddly faithful to the iconic tale in Frankenstein (trailer here), which screens as part of the closing night tribute to the British filmmaker at the Film Society of Lincoln Center’s Scary Movies 9.

This might shock you, but the wealthy Dr. Viktor Frankenstein and his wife Elizabeth have been trying to create a living human being (with the help of their senior staff scientist, Dr. Pretorius). Initially, they believe their latest attempt is the breakthrough they have hoped for, until cancerous lesions start appearing all over his formerly pristine body. Despite his bonding with Elizabeth Frankenstein like an infant with his mother, both Frankensteins agree to euthanize their creation for ostensive reasons of mercy. However, the increasingly disfigured creature just will not die.

Escaping from the compound, the wretched soul accepts the wider world’s name for him: “Monster.” He soon has a nasty run-in with LA’s Finest, but falls in with a homeless blind bluesman. The protective Eddie is the first person to truly treat him like a human being. Unfortunately, Eddie’s misunderstanding of the extent and nature of Monster’s blighted appearance will lead to compounded tragedy.

Rose riffs on Shelley and the original Universal films in clever ways, honoring the spirit of both. He follows the same general trajectory of his Frankenstein predecessors, but he does so within a distinctly gritty, naturalistic urban environment. The grey concrete labs and scuzzy welfare hotels are fitting backdrops for the ultimate genre morality tale, while also presumably accommodating his budget constraints.

Danny Huston (a regular Rose repertory player) is absolutely perfect as the arrogant Dr. Frankenstein and Carrie-Anne Moss plays off him well as the deceptively warm and supposedly empathetic Elizabeth Frankenstein. Despite his small stature, Xavier Samuel is still impressively expressive as the largely inarticulate Monster, especially considering the escalating layers of makeup that masks him for most of the film. However, it is Tony Todd, the Candyman himself, who really anchors the film with tragic gravitas as blind Eddie.

Rose somewhat misfires with a rogue cop subplot that seems calculated give the film further zeitgeisty urgency, but it comes across as a heavy-handed distraction. In fact, a film depicting the creation of life through, amongst other things, the use of 3D printing, without regard for the ethical implications, is already pretty timely. Regardless, Rose’s mise-en-scéne is austerely stylish and often quite visually striking. Altogether, the film is quite in keeping with cautionary essence of the original novel, while Randy Westgate’s ghoulish make-up design gives this Monster his own distinctive look. Recommended for Frankenstein fans, Rose’s Frankenstein screens this Thursday (11/5) at the Walter Reade, as part of Scary Movies 9.

The Devil’s Violinist: Paginini at the Crossroads

Niccolò Paginini was the Robert Johnson of classical music. His ferocious technique and unparalleled popular success were seriously considered the fruits of a Faustian bargain. The talent was always there. Getting people to listen was the hard part. In fact, it was such a tricky proposition, the materialist maestro gladly makes that deal in Bernard Rose’s The Devil’s Violinist (trailer here), which opens this Friday in New York.

Sulfur has not numbed the Mephistophelean Urbani’s nose for talent. He immediately recognizes the gifts of an aspiring Don Juan violinist scuffling in grubby music halls. He pledges to guarantee Paginini’s career and serve as his personal servant in this world, if Paginini agrees to do the same for him in the next. Shortly after signing a contract he probably should have read more closely, Paginini’s career ignites. He becomes a figure of dark romance and veiled controversy, like an early Nineteenth Century Heavy Metal rock star.

Eventually, Paginini gets bored with it all, spending long hours brooding in the tub, doing his best to resemble The Death of Marat. Fortunately, Paginini somewhat snaps out of his lethargy when he accepts upstart promoter John Watson’s offer to produce and conduct his London debuts concerts. However, Paginini’s demands will stretch the limits of Watson’s resources. Met by a mob of moralizing progressive protestors, Watson and his diva mistress Elisabeth Wells are forced to quarter Paginini and Urbani in their home. Of course, Watson’s daughter Charlotte immediately catches Paginini’s eye, but she is not inclined to swoon over the maestro, at least not yet.

We always thought Jared Harris just might be the Devil, so Violinist practically feels like a confirmation. He is delightfully sinister chewing on the scenery. Yet ironically, Urbani (who seems to be more of a minion than Old Scratch himself) is not infrequently portrayed as a more empathetic fellow than Paginini. Regardless, it is great fun watching him lurk and glower.

Violin prodigy and classical crossover artist David Garrett can certainly play. Acting is a little iffier. Perhaps the many scenes of his Paginini huddling in bed sheets in a state of near catatonia was a shrewd strategic decision on Rose’s part. Fortunately, Harris has some terrific supporting players to engage with, including Christian McKay, unflaggingly earnest as Watson, as well as Joely Richardson suggesting Eliza Doolittle’s morally flexible cousin as tabloid music critic Ethel Langham.

In a way, Devil’s Violinist reconciles the classy Jekyll films Rose has helmed, such as the Beethoven bio-pic Immortal Beloved and the superior Sophie Marceau version of Anna Karenina, with his Hydish scare fare, like Candyman and SXTape. For obvious reasons, he leans towards the former, depicting Urbani more as a Svengali than a figure of satanic horror. It works relatively well, despite Garrett’s awkwardness, which sometimes even feels fitting in context. Harris certainly does his thing and Garrett’s musical chops are also quite cinematic. Recommended for classical connoisseurs who appreciate a bit of uncanny garnish, The Devil’s Violinist opens this Friday (1/30) in New York, at the Quad Cinema.