Japan Cuts ‘11: Into the White Night

It is not clear whose parents are worse. For a time, the police suspect Yukiho Karasawa’s mother of murdering Ryoji Kirihara’s degenerate pawnbroker father. The mystery will haunt the investigating detective for years in Yoshihiro Fukagawa’s Into the Night (trailer here), the closing film of the 2011 Japan Cuts New York Festival of Contemporary Japanese Cinema.

Kirihara’s mother was carrying-on rather openly with their slimy employee Matsuura, while Kirihara’s father furtively met Karasawa’s mother. There are a lot of incriminating circumstances, but not a lot of hard evidence. When Karasawa’s mother apparently commits suicide after the body of her other lover is discovered with Kirihara’s lighter, the case is conveniently closed. However, Detective Sasagaki cannot forget the eyes of the two ten year olds.

Over the next two decades, the three go in seemingly disparate directions. The strikingly beautiful Karasawa rules her prep school and university through her charm and manipulations. Kirihara drops out of conventional society, working on the margins of the illicit sex business. Sasagaki neglects his career due to family crises, but as his retirement approaches, individuals tangentially related to the old case start to turn up dead.

Most aptly compared to the Red Riding trilogy, Fukagawa’s two and a half hour Night is an ambitious and coolly stylish mystery, incorporating multiple time frames and some truly shocking subject matter. The influence of the past is always keenly felt in the present, while viewer sympathies are repeatedly upended. Fukagawa peels back each layer quite assuredly, rendering it all with an austere grayness to match the film’s moral ambiguity.

Without question, Shiori Fukumoto and Yuki Imai serve as the film’s cornerstone. Indeed, they are hauntingly affecting as young Karasawa and Kirihara, respectively. Maki Horikita is also scary good as the older, driven Karasawa. However, Eiichiro Funakoshi is truly the glue that holds it all together. He achieves a level of pathos worthy of high tragedy, yet completely believable thanks to his down to earth presence.

The emotionally bracing Night is a heck of a hard film to shake off. Though viewers might anticipate the general direction it takes, the totality of its implications are heavy to the point of overwhelming. This is bravura filmmaking, but the relatively long running time might be an unfortunately difficult obstacle to clear for legit American theatrical distribution. That would be a shame, because the highly recommended Night is one of the best films screening anywhere on the domestic festival circuit this year. Friday’s closing night screening (7/22) is already sold-out, but stand-by (or resold) tickets are well worth investigating when this year’s Japan Cuts concludes at the Japan Society.

Japan Cuts ’11: Vengeance Can Wait

Odd couple Yamane and Nanase have a peculiar thing for track suits. Their relationship is even more profoundly unhealthy. Something awful happened between them in high school. Kanamori also holds a grudge against her former classmates, so she is less than thrilled to learn they will be neighbors in Masanori Tominaga’s Vengeance Can Wait (trailer here), which screens during the 2011 Japan Cuts New York Festival of Contemporary Japanese Cinema now underway at the Japan Society.

Nanase Ogawa clearly has a bad case of arrested development. She is cute though, and exhibits and compulsive need to please, so Azusa Kanamori’s unemployed lay about husband, Banjo Takai, takes an immediate interest in her. While the pregnant Kanamori works behind her upscale bar, he puts the moves on Ogawa using her own neuroses against her. He thinks he is being rather clever, but he has no idea creepy Yamane is watching it all through a loose floor board in the attic.

Based on Yukiko Motoya’s stage play, Vengeance is essentially a revenge drama for ordinary people rather than ronin and yakuza, but the vengeance in question is Yamane’s, not Kanamori’s. Yet, a weird codependency grows between them as they chastely cohabitate as brother and sister, while he tries to concoct a suitable form of retribution. Mostly, Vengeance is about emotional violence (and masochism), but the real thing eventually flares up. By no means is this a horror movie, particularly given the farcical overtones, but you can maybe see one in the far distance from here.

Strangely enough, Vengeance’s more extreme personalities are easier for viewers to relate to, largely due to the conviction of Minami’s work as Ogawa. It is an unsettling performance, more than hinting her character might not be fully there, yet still investing her with genuine vulnerability as well as a sensuality that comes through the intentionally unsexy sweat suits. In almost every respect, Eiko Koike’s Kanamori is her equal but opposite counterpart. Her ferocity is an awesome sight, which is why a late scene of her taking a relatively small bit of abuse makes no sense within the context of the film (it is also uncool in the context of real life, but she wrecks her own havoc shortly thereafter).

Ultimately, Vengeance boils down to the complicated history shared by Ogawa and Yamane. If you can buy into it, the film delivers a surprisingly heavy payoff. Without a doubt, it also offers one of the more unusual cinematic depictions of the working class (in Japan or anywhere else) that is a world away from the austere realism of Kazuyoshi Kumakiri’s Sketches of Kaitan City, but together they present quite a spectrum of Japanese cinema. Recommended for Minami and Koike’s bold performances, Vengeance screens this Thursday (7/21) as the indispensible Japan Cuts continues its 2011 run at the Japan Society.

Japan Cuts ’11: Sketches of Kaitan City

The fictional Kaitan is like the Japanese equivalent of Springfield, USA. Though modeled on Hakodate, it could be any industrial city struggling with new post-industrial realities. In this case, the closure of a major ship-building dock causes serious repercussions for scores of average working class citizens in Kazuyoshi Kumakiri’s Carveresque Sketches of Kaitan City (trailer here), which screens during the 2011 Japan Cuts New York Festival of Contemporary Japanese Cinema now underway at the Japan Society.

The docks are Futa Ikawa’s life. That is where his father died in a work-related accident and where he would subsequently find work to support his younger sister Honami. Yet, ship-building means something deeper to him than a mere paycheck. The majestic sight of a ship launching still makes him misty eyed. Not so for his union. While they go through the motions of a strike after major layoffs are announced, the fix is clearly in. Indeed, the union almost immediately calls off their labor action for a bit of severance consideration and, so it is suspected, cushy replacement jobs for their leadership.

As Ikawa spirals into an ever deepening depression, several marriages are straining to the breaking point. Ryuzo Hika works in the planetarium, which ought to be a good recession-proof job. Yet, he is miserable at home, alienated both from his emotionally distant son and his openly contemptuous wife, who is most likely cheating on him. Domestic life is even more harrowing in the Meguro household. It is unclear whether his spousal battery is a reaction to his wife’s physical abuse of her step-son or the cause, but it hardly matters for the young astronomy loving boy. While these personal calamities mount, an old woman tends to her cat in the ramshackle house coveted by city planners.

Based on an unfinished novel by Yasushi Sato, Kaitan juggles about a dozen major characters whose lives only tangentially intersect. Unlike many urban tableaux films, Kumakiri never shoehorns the characters into a compulsive series of coincidental connections or near-misses. Instead, each story arc is allowed to unfold naturally, but not necessarily to resolve, at least with any sense of finality or satisfaction. Life just goes on, more or less.

Aside from an under-developed story of a bus driver father and his estranged son, each strand of Kaitan has ample time to live and breathe. However, the Ikawas are arguably first among equals, due to both the exquisite tragedy of their tale (culminating on New Year’s Day at sunrise) and the touching conviction of Pistol Takehara and Tanimura Mitsuke, as Futa and Honami, respectively. Indeed, the entire ensemble cast is grimly convincing (even if the elegant Kaoru Kobayashi is somewhat hard to believe as the nebbish Hika’s wife).

Granted, it is a relentlessly naturalistic film with a two and a half hour running time, but Kaitan never feels draggy, unlike some of the more demanding Chinese indie digital imports. This is undeniably art cinema as well, rendered in grim grays, but it has a readily accessible plot (several in fact) and an unusual emotional immediacy. Highly recommended for those not currently struggling with depression, Kaitan screens this coming Tuesday (7/19) as this year’s Japan Cuts continues in New York at the Japan Society.

Japan Cuts ’11: The Seaside Motel

A downtrodden traveling salesman is the only guest of a seedy motel who did not check-in for illicit purposes. In a rare stroke of luck, a professional lady of the evening knocks on his door anyway. While dealing with her mind games will be a challenge, he will still have a better night than the other occupants in Kentarô Moriya’s The Seaside Motel (trailer here), which screens during the 2011 Japan Cuts New York Festival of Contemporary Japanese Cinema now underway at the Japan Society.

Masayuki sells a bogus skin cream door-to-door—poorly. The Seaside Motel is actually in the mountains. Candy does what she does because she enjoys it, but she will pretend to yearn for intimacy for a price. Still, maybe there really is a grain of truth within her game-playing. Though she is way out of his league, Masayuki will try to crack her professional persona and make her feel something “genuine.” If not, he will probably still get his money’s worth.

The verbal sparring between Masayuki and Candy is smart, funny, and oftentimes hot. Unfortunately, the other guests are not nearly as interesting. The arc involving Arata, a discount store owner at the Seaside to get something on the side only to learn his wife has died in a car crash, is rather sad, but underdeveloped. In the next room, the deadbeat gambler confronting his yakuza childhood friend and a deceptively nebbish enforcer travels a rather well-worn Tarantino-esque path. Frankly, the final braided story of the loser with a height fetish putting the moves on his Marine, favorite club hostess, is basically just distinguished by the otherworldly limberness of swimsuit model Mami Yamasaki.

Moriya apparently recognizes the shortcomings of the other three story lines, because he clearly positions Masayuki and Candy as first among equals. As Candy, Kumiko Asô has a disarming screen presence and an intelligent sexuality. Relatively restrained, Tôma Ikuta brings the appropriate born-loser likability to the luckless Masayuki. They also have real chemistry going on between them, which makes it quite frustrating to constantly break away.

Even if only one of Seaside’s four major strands works, at least it is the most important one. Some might give Marine’s arc the benefit of the doubt as well, just for Yamasaki’s yoga scenes. Regardless, Seaside is at least ten times smarter and better executed than most naughty comedies. Recommended for its parts rather than its whole, Seaside screens this Saturday (7/16) at the Japan Society as part of this year’s Japan Cuts.

Japan Cuts ’11: A Liar and a Broken Girl

Imagining the Nana manga with a horrendous serial killer backstory will give you a vague idea of Ma-chan’s life. She suffered unimaginable ordeals while the prisoner of a psychopath and might be becoming something of a monster herself. However, the return of Mi-kun, her would be protector during her captivity will be a somewhat stabilizing influence in Natsuki Seta’s knee-buckling A Liar and a Broken Girl (trailer here), which screens during the 2011 Japan Cuts New York Festival of Contemporary Japanese Cinema now underway at the Japan Society.

High school student Ma-chan, as she refers to herself, lives alone in an apartment strewn with toys and candy. The absence of her parents will eventually be explained in excruciating detail. When the long lost Mi-kun reappears, he finds two small kidnapped children in her bedroom. It is not much of a leap to assume he suspects Ma-chan is also behind the recent rash of unsolved serial killings. Fortunately, his presence has a somewhat calming influence on her. Rather than revisiting their torments on the two children, they start caring for them, almost like foster-parents, except their arrangement bears no resemblance to responsible reality. Mi-kun’s ultimate intentions remain somewhat murky as well.

Like a reckless daredevil, Liar veers wildly between stylized hyper-cute magical realism in the present day to viscerally horrific flashbacks of the brutality meted out by the unnamed psychopath. No matter how unsettling Ma-chan’s behavior gets, it is tragically understandable in light of her past. While Mi-kun’s frequent third-wall breaking “I’m lying” asides would seem to be post-modern spell-breakers, but they add another layer subterfuge, since these are more often than not lies he tells to himself.

When watching Liar, it is painful clear just how inadequately most serial killer thrillers and horror movies address the psychological ramifications of their violence. After enduring an ordeal like Ma-chan’s, one does not just occasionally wake up in a cold sweat, like Neve Campbell in the Scream franchise. To survive, Ma-chan has completely retreated from reality, creating fantasy personas for both herself and Mi-kun. As an indictment of human cruelty, Liar is absolutely blistering. Yet, it also holds a pretty darn shocking twist in reserve for the third act.

Granted, it is hard to ignore certain practical questions, like just how does Ma-chan afford to live alone in what looks like a relatively upscale apartment? Yet, Liar’s blunt force impact overwhelms such pedantic quibbles. Though required to operate within a relatively narrow range of expression, Aya Omasa is both haunting and unnerving as Ma-chan (while the young actress playing her in flashbacks is absolutely heartrending). Shota Sometani is also quite convincing as Mi-kun, suggesting a maelstrom of internal conflict, the likes of which will only be clear after the big revelations late in the film.

Liar could never be produced in America. Big studios and indie filmmakers would be equally uncomfortable with the genre mash-ups and its uncompromising honesty. Even the edgy attitude distinguishing Kyoka Suzuki’s supporting turn as the psychiatrist Dr. Sakashita would probably be replaced with a cloying Robin Williams doing his play-it-safe Good Will Hunting shtick (which would be real shame, since she is quite good and rather attractive in the part).

This is what film festivals are for. With Liar, Japan Cuts has done it again. If not quite as devastating as last year’s Confessions, it is a boldly daring film (ranking with Parade, another standout from 2010). Anyone who takes film seriously should make a point of seeing it when it screens at the Japan Society this Saturday (7/16).

Japan Cuts ’11: The Last Ronin

Terasaka Kichiemon is the 47th Ronin—as in the legendary 47 Ronin. In a departure from traditional Chūshingura story, Kichiemon was instructed not to commit seppuku with the rest of 47, but to live like a character from Shakespearean tragedy to tell the tale to the Ronin’s far-flung surviving family. Senoo Magozaemon was supposed to be the 48th. When Kichiemon spies the presumed deserter it sets in motion events that will reveal the final secrets of the feudal epic in Shigemichi Sugita’s The Last Ronin (trailer here), which screens during the 2011 Japan Cuts New York Festival of Contemporary Japanese Cinema now underway at the Japan Society.

In a nutshell, Lord Ako was manipulated into disgracing himself at court by his duplicitous rival, Kira. With his seppuku, his samurai became masterless ronin. However, they remained faithful to their late lord, methodically planning a daring raid on Kira’s castle, culminating in his execution and their honorable suicide. According to Shoichiro Ikemiya’s source novel, Magoza as he is now known, absconded the night before the attack, for reasons hitherto unknown.

Shortly thereafter, Magoza turned up in a provincial mountain village with a small infant girl bundled up against the freezing snow. For the next sixteen years, Magoza informally co-parents Kane with the retired courtesan Mistress Yu. However, the arrangement leads to ambiguous feelings which will become significant as she comes of age. As in any Ozu film, Magoza worries about marrying off Kane to a suitable suitor. She has other ideas. With Kichiemon poking around and their fallen comrades’ significant seventeen year memorial fast-approaching, the truth is bound to come out.

In many ways, Last Ronin might sound like a Chūshingura sequel, as envisioned by the masterful Ozu. Indeed, it is rather surprising how little happens, despite the one hundred thirty two minute running time. Yet, unlike the thematically similar Sword of Desperation, Sugita’s aesthetic values lean more towards the melodramatic than the ascetic. Yet, swords only cross briefly in Last, aside from the early flashback to the fateful day of vengeance.

Kôji Yakusho, so awesome in Takashi Miike’s 13 Assassins, wrings every drop of tortured dignity from Magoza’s fretted brow. Yet, he keeps the tragically tragic hero sufficiently grounded to hold viewer sympathy. Narumi Yasuda is also wonderfully seductive in an earthy honest way as Miss Yu. If Nanami Sakuraba is really sixteen, than I must be a youthful twenty-one, but given the talk of Kane’s marriage and such, her more mature look is rather comforting. She also movingly conveys an innocent vulnerability as Magoza’s young but eligible ward.

Given Sugita’s approach, Last might have befitted from a somewhat brisker pace. However, it takes honor refreshingly seriously and fully recognizes the complexity of human emotion. Though cynics might call it manipulative, it also builds to quite a swelling crescendo of a payoff. Recommended for unabashed romantics, Last screens this Tuesday (7/12), as does Sword of Desperation, with which it would make a good cinematic pairing during the 2011 Japan Cuts at the Japan Society.

Japan Cuts ’11: Sword of Desperation

Speed and strength are all well and good, but a true warrior understands the lethal potential of patience and timing. Kanemi Sanzaemon is such a warrior, but his Bushido Code will take a bit of a bruising in Hideyuki Hirayama’s quiet but violent Sword of Desperation (trailer here), which screens during the 2011 Japan Cuts New York Festival of Contemporary Japanese Cinema now underway at the Japan Society.

Killing an unarmed woman might be hard to reconcile with any concept of honor, but Sanzaemon had his reasons. Abusing her influence as Lord Ukyo’s favored concubine, Lady Renko devastated the domain’s peasantry and drove many good men to “open their stomachs.” In short, she had it coming. As a childless widower, Sanzaemon did not have much to lose. However, his late wife’s niece Rio stands by the disgraced swordsman during his unexpectedly lenient one year incarceration.

Ukyo’s crafty councilor Tsuda intervenes not just to spare Sanzaemon’s life, but to restore his rank and position in service to the lord. As the rumored innovator of the “desperation thrust,” Tsuda believes Sanzaemon’s services will be needed with respects to Lord Obiya, a feared warrior growing increasingly restive under his cousin Ukyo’s profligate rule. However, the rumored thrust can only be used when the swordsman is “as good as dead.” Of course, this can be arranged, no problem.

Desperation is a potent if unlikely combination of the quietly intimate Ozu aesthetic with some brutal hank-and-slash action, sprinkling in a veiled critique of Keynesian economics for good measure. Demanding a long abandoned temple be rebuilt as a vanity (stimulus) project, Renko insists the domain will benefit from the temporary jobs and increased demand for building supplies. “That makes no sense at all,” Obiya replies, fretting over the depleted treasury. He will be a problem, alright.

As Sanzaemon, Etsushi Toyokawa radiates tangible world weary gravitas and stone cold badness. A memorable bushido anti-hero, he also develops a finely wrought chemistry with Chizuru Ikewaki as the vulnerable but resilient Rio. Conversely, it is easy to see how Megumi Seki’s icily erotic Lady Renko brings out the worst in men.

Hirayama’s deliberately contemplative pace heightens the tragedy as it unfolds. Indeed, Desperation is a vividly effective exercise in cinematic tension and release. Art director Katsumi Nakazawa’s design team renders the Edo period with austere elegance, while cinematographer mostly gives it a gauzy look, but makes sure when the blood starts to flow, the deep crimson red pops vibrantly off the screen.

Desperation is deeply rooted in Jidaigeki archetypes. In many respects, the character of Kanemi Sanzaemon is closely akin to Shinzaemon Shimada, the a-man’s-gotta-do-what-a-man’s-gotta-do samurai protagonist of Takashi Miike’s 13 Assassins. Yet, Desperation is a film that treasures its quiet moments. A samurai honor-and-revenge epic worthy of serious cineaste attention as well as genre fan love, it is highly recommended when it screens this Tuesday (7/12), as the 2011 Japan Cuts continues at the Japan Society.

NYAFF ’11 & Japan Cuts ‘11: Osamu Tezuka’s Buddha: The Great Departure

People think religion is all about sermonizing and casting judgment, but not Osamu Tezuka. His Eisner Award winning manga serialization of Gautama Buddha’s life emphasizes all the good parts, particularly the violence and passion of India circa 500-600 BC. Check your peaceful coexistence t-shirts and bumper stickers at the door when Kozo Morishita’s anime adaptation, Osamu Tezuka’s Buddha: The Great Departure, the first installment of projected feature trilogy, screens as a joint presentation of the 2011 New York Asian Film Festival and the 2011 Japan Cuts Festival of Contemporary Japanese Cinema.

Of course, Buddha was born Siddhartha Gautama, the privileged son of the king of the Shakya Kingdom. Shakya’s bounteous natural resources are coveted by the more Spartan Kosala kingdom, but providence has protected somewhat more peaceful Shakya, so far. As the Kosalan Army masses for an invasion, providence gets a bit of help from Tatta, an untouchable Oliver Twist with a supernatural power to possess nature’s creatures. Much to Tatta’s surprise, his new running mate Chapra takes advantage of the fog of war to save the Kosalan general, earning his protection and patronage as a supposed warrior class orphan.

None of this really has anything to do with Siddhartha. His path will only tangentially cross that of Tatta and his compatriots, at least in this film. However, as untouchables, they act as an effective counterpoint to the insular upper-class life Siddhartha will eventually reject. Indeed, Departure is a pointed critique of the chaste system, largely driven by the story of Chapra’s forbidden attempt at social mobility. Naturally, combat will play a significant role in his efforts.

In terms of tone and plot developments, Departure is more closely akin to Braveheart than Little Buddha. Still, the anime Siddhartha is far more expressive and multi-dimensional than Keanu Reeves. Naturally, Buddhist themes and motifs abound, but the narrative is really driven by hack-and-slash warfighting. One can only guess what His Holiness would think of such an approach (which is never disrespectful to the Buddha in his earthly incarnation), but it should go down real smooth with NYAFF regulars.

Tezuka (1928-1989) was an anime legend for crossover hits like Astro Boy and Kimba the White Lion, which genre fanboys consider the unacknowledged source material for The Lion King, to put it diplomatically. While Departure’s animation is a cut above Astro Boy or run-of-the-mill anime, it never creates the sense of wonder present in the work of either Miyazaki. Still, Morishita’s team delineates the battle scenes with guts and clarity, while also sensitively rendering the archetypal images of Tezuka’s story.

Departure definitely falls well towards the high end of the anime spectrum, especially in terms of its ambition. Even if not as lushly crafted as the senior Miyazaki’s masterworks, its considerable scope is still better served by the big screen. Recommended for anime enthusiasts and student-admirers of Buddhism (who do not get hung up on historical details), Departure screens next Thursday (7/7) and the following Sunday (7/10) at the Japan Society as part of both the 2011 NYAFF and Japan Cuts festivals.