Japan Cuts ’15: Sanchu Uprising

Feudalism was never any fun for the peasants. It was especially hard for the farmers, woodsmen, and iron-workers of Sanchu. They were regularly transferred from lord to lord, so each could collect his taxes within the same year. In 1726, they rose up and said enough. Unfortunately, factionalism would be their undoing. The cowardly Jihei was not much help either. It is through his unreliable eyes that viewers witness the revolt and its aftermath in Juichiro Yamasaki’s Sanchu Uprising: Voices at Dawn (trailer here), which screens as the closing film of this year’s Japan Cuts, the Festival of New Japanese Film in New York.

Jihei’s brother-in-law Shinroku is probably the only member of his wife’s more well-to-do family who likes the roguish black sheep. As the various lords continue to exploit the region, Shinroku naturally expects Jihei to join the brewing rebellion. However, the not-terribly-principled Jihei has decidedly mixed feelings. Sadly, his worst instincts are stoked by the spirit of Manzo, a recently friend, who took the fall with the Shogunate authorities years ago for a dodgy scheme Jihei was running. Guilt mixed with fear will not lead to good decision-making for the sad sack Jihei.

Shinroku and Jihei are farmers, as is the charismatic leader of the rebellion. However, the woodsmen provided the movement’s critical mass. When they are sold out at the bargaining table, Shinroku knows the samurai and nobles will be able to successfully divide and conquer.

Even though it is a downer, Sanchu’s first act chronicling the ill-fated Uprising is by far the strongest. Watching the older and sadder Jihei wrestling with his angst and misgivings is not nearly as compelling. Frankly, the post-uprising sequences are over-stuffed with inconsequential encounters and meta-postscripts set in the present day. Still, there are some striking black-and-white animated interludes that give the film an unusual flavor.

Although his character is a problematic focal point, Naohisa Nakagaki shows an impressive range as Jihei. The large ensemble is wildly talented, particularly Kano Kajiwara, who is quite touching as the long-suffering Tami. However, they are often laboring against Yamasaki’s artificial stylization. Yet, that strangely seems to work in the case of Ayako Sasaki’s discordant, percussion-heavy experimental jazz score. It is certainly not the sort of music that lulls you into complacency.

Almost three hundred years after the Uprising, governments are still leveling punitive taxes on the productive classes. Indeed, during its best moments, Sanchu leads us to question just how far we have socially advanced since the feudal times. It is an uneven film, but when it connects, it hits hard. Recommended on balance for those who appreciate Jidaigeki films with a contemporary sensibility, Sanchu Uprising: Voices at Dawn screens Sunday night (7/19), at the Japan Society, as the closing film of Japan Cuts ’15.

Japan Cuts ’15: This Country’s Sky

The greatest victims of Japanese wartime propaganda were the Japanese people themselves. When the militarist government disseminated apocalyptic warnings that the conquering Allies would rape all women and sterilize all men, the average citizenry largely believed it, so they resolved to fight to the end, because there was no other choice. Yet, in early 1945, just about everyone could tell how the winds were blowing. The home front is an inescapably depressing place for nineteen year-old Satoko, but she will still blossom into a woman right on schedule in Haruhiko Arai’s This Country’s Sky (a.k.a. When I was Most Beautiful, trailer here), which screens as a selection of this year’s Japan Cuts, the Festival of New Japanese Film in New York.

Today, Tokyo’s Suginami is sort of like the Japanese Upper Westside, but in 1945 it was practically a ghost town. The government imposed rigid restrictions on internal migration, but those who are allowed, relocate to the countryside, even though there are reports that life is just as hard there. Living with her widowed mother, Satoko gets by almost okay working as a civil defense office clerk. Unfortunately, making ends meet becomes even tougher when Satoko convinces her reluctant mother to take in her bombed out aunt. Despite her promises, Auntie is mostly dead weight around the house, but Satoko gets some help here and there from their neighbor, Mr. Ichikawa.

The thirty-eight year-old banker just might make it through the war undrafted. He had the good fortune of taking his military physical in a district full of brawny farm lads, where he looked sickly in comparison. He also happens to be married, but his wife was assigned to a government agricultural coop in the countryside, allowing his eye to rove towards Satoko. Her mother recognizes his intentions, but she allows Satoko to continue spending time with him, because different rules apply during war, especially the waning days for the losing side. However, she probably does not realize how much Satoko reciprocates his interest.

While reasonably prolific as a screenwriter, Sky is the first film Arai has helmed since 1997. His sense of visual composition remains undiminished, instilling a vivid sense of Tokyo as a veritable wartime ghost town. Without question, Arai is more interested in exploring the tenor of the times than digging into the melodramatic details of Satoko’s problematic romance. The vibe is not unlike Yoji Yamada’s Kabei: Our Mother, but it does not have the same degree of tragic elegance.

Clearly, Fumi Nikaido works a heck of a lot. Here, she shrewdly plays Satoko with the reserve and maturity of someone who came of age during wartime privation. It is a smart performance that pulls us in, rather than indulging in a lot of melodramatic excess. Still, Hiroki Hasegawa’s Ichikawa seems so conspicuously oily, it is hard to fathom her attraction. However, Youki Kudoh is wonderfully down-to-earth (and even surprisingly sensual) as Satoko’s mother. Frankly, the inter-family relationships between mother, daughter, and aunt are just as important as the simmering attraction shared by Satoko and her neighbor—and Kudoh is the key to their dynamics.

In a way, Sky is something of a revisionist war film that consciously tries to remind the world of the very real suffering of the Japanese people during the war. However, unlike Yamada’s under-valued film, it never explores the domestic dissent to the Imperial war policies. Regardless, it is well worth seeing for the remarkable work of Nikaido, Kudoh, and the design team that recreated bomb-scarred Tokyo in such detail. Recommended for mature viewers who understand the events of the Pacific Theater in their full context, This Country’s Sky screens tomorrow (7/18) at the Japan Society, as part of the 2015 Japan Cuts.

Japan Cuts ’15: The Voice of Water

L. Ron Hubbard would be impressed. The leaders of the God’s Water cult come from the advertising industry and they explicitly refer to the “religion industry.” They make no secret of their commercial ambitions, even when in the presence of cult members. Business is on the upswing thanks to their charismatic priestess, but her family issues will engulf the entire cult in screenwriter-director Masashi Yamamoto’s The Voice of Water (trailer here), which screens as a selection of this year’s Japan Cuts, the Festival of New Japanese Film in New York.

Lovely and serene-looking, the Zainichi Min-jung is a natural fronting God’s Water. You could say it is in her blood. She hails from a long line of shimbang, women who practice a regional form of shamanism on Jeju Island. Everyone knows she is faking it, even their core followers, but there is something reassuring about her presence. However, Min-jung starts to maybe-sort of believe in her hereditary powers at an inopportune time. Internal dissension is on the rise and her own lowlife father Mikio/Mickey might pull the entire group into his chaos. To avoid his Yakuza loan shark, Mikio has been crashing in the God’s Water headquarters. He has even won over some of the office staff, despite her protests.

Arguably, Voice is the greatest, under-heralded find at this year’s Japan Cuts. You will be hard-pressed to find a similarly matter-of-fact, cynically business-oriented perspective on cults and their followers in a year of film festivals. It is particularly damning when showing how the need to belong trumps all common sense, keeping members blindly devoted even when they know full well it is all just a racket. The specifics of the Korean-Japanese Zainichi experience and the Korean shamanic tradition further enrich the film, grounding it in a very distinctive cultural context.

As a result, Voice could well be the definitive cultist film of the decade, but it is also a Yakuza film. In fact, sensitive viewers should be warned, there is at least one tough to watch scene involving Mikio’s nemesis. Yet, it makes the uni-named Hyunri’s lead performance even braver. She is absolutely riveting and acutely human (in every messy way possible) as the inspiring Min-jung. As Mikio, Akio Kamataki is also achingly tragic, while Kei Oda is unsettlingly sinister as Takazawa, the gangster.

Yamamoto draws out the punishing third act just a tad too long, but his patience and attention to detail creating the God’s Water universe is completely fascinating to behold. It is very different from Sion Sono’s Love Exposure, but it is just as powerful in its own way. Very highly recommended, The Voice of Water screens tomorrow night (7/17) at the Japan Society, as part of the 2015 Japan Cuts.

Japan Cuts ’15: 100 Yen Love

Think of it as a hikikomori Rocky, but we are definitely talking about the original, gritty and down-to-earth film—not the flashier sequels. Ichiko is a woman in need of empowerment, who looks for it in the boxing ring during Masaharu Take’s 100 Yen Love (trailer here), which screens as a selection of this year’s Japan Cuts, the Festival of New Japanese Film in New York.

Ichiko is a drop-out near-shut-in who is content to live off her bento box-making mother. Unfortunately, when her divorced younger sister moves in with her young son, the cramped and increasingly tense environment forces Ichiko to move out. To her credit, she also takes a job at the local convenience store. An excessively high self-image has never been her problem. Unfortunately, that also makes relationships difficult, but again, she gives it a good try with Yuji Kano, a thirty seven year-old boxer about to age out of the sport, who is almost as socially clueless as she is.

When Kano eventually dumps Ichiko, she finds solace training in his former gym. For the first time, she develops a real goal: attaining professional status and having an official bout before she in turn ages out (thirty-two being the magic number for female boxers in Japan). As is often the case, that drive helps her become more confident in other spheres of life. Does 100 Yen end with a climatic fight? You bet, but it still largely avoids most of the boxing movie clichés.

Watching 100 Yen back-to-back with Asleep really proves how chameleon-like festival special guest Sakura Ando truly is. In both films she is on-screen carrying the dramatic load nearly every second. They are each highly damaged characters, but in radically different ways, yet she is completely convincing in the two parts. Viewers should be warned, 100 Yen might sound like a quirky woman finding herself story, but Ichiko has to deal with some rough stuff, including a sexual assault. However, there is also real growth and unusual honesty baked into the mix.

Ando is rather extraordinary portraying Ichiko’s transformation. It is a quiet but violent performance. She also has impressive chops in the ring. It is her show and don’t you forget it, but she gets tons of support from a first class supporting ensemble. Saori Koide, Osamu Shigematsu, and Yozaburo Ito all have powerful moments as Ichiko’s sister, her boxing manager, and her father, respectively.

100 Yen is not a showy film, but periodically screenwriter Shin Adachi drops a line that will knock you back on your heels. It also features an awesomely funky soundtrack composed by Shogo Kaida with enough heavy drums to power several movies. Frankly, this film is nothing like what it probably sounds like. Recommended for fans of realistic underdog dramas, 100 Yen Love screens this Thursday (7/16) at the Japan Society, as part of the 2015 Japan Cuts.

Japan Cuts ’15: Asleep

There is nothing more tiring than depression. Nobody illustrates that better than Terako. She sleeps away most of her days, waiting to act cute and shallow when she meets her married lover. That is how he wants things to be. It is most definitely problematic, but it is hard to judge him or her too harshly in Shingo Wakagi’s Asleep (trailer here), which screens as a selection of this year’s Japan Cuts, the Festival of New Japanese Film in New York.

Terako has good reason to be depressed. Her best friend Shiori recently committed suicide and her lover will probably never be fully emotionally available to her. That is because she met Iwanaga after his irreversibly comatose wife’s accident. Clearly, he is still coming to terms with his wife’s state, but enough time has elapsed for him to seek companionship or whatever.

These are the sort of things Shiori always understood better than Terako. She was natural empathetic, yet it was she who took her own life. Ironically, her exotic line of work may have somehow taxed her psyche. Somewhat like the characters in Julia Leigh’s Sleeping Beauty, she would sleep beside wealthy men in a non-sexual manner, to console them when they woke in the night. That meant unlike Terako, she had to force herself to remain conscious throughout the long dark hours of the soul.

Banana Yoshimoto’s source novel and Wakagi & co-screenwriter Kai Suzumoto’s adaptation are not called Asleep for metaphorical reasons. It is a languorous film that shows its star, Sakura Ando, in many states of repose and partial undress. Frankly, there is probably a little too much of that. Granted, Wakagi is trying to instill a sense of inertia, but the first two acts definitely have a vibe of stifling uniformity. However, when Terako engages with Shiori in flashbacks and tentatively challenges Iwanaga, the film is quite compelling. In fact, Wakagi more-or-less pays off all our waiting with a terrific borderline magically real confrontation in the third act. You just have to get that far.

Ando’s performance is rather gutsy, considering how strictly she closes off her emotions. Nevertheless, she vividly conveys all sorts of issues undermining the young sort-of mistress. Arata Iura is just as restrained as Iwanaga. When you see him walking with Terako, he looks like he might shatter if he tipped over. However, the expressive Mitsuki Tanimura truly haunts viewers as the doomed Shiori.

Wakagi’s disciplined aesthetic approach is impressive, but its lethargy is contagious. There are just a handful of moments that carry the film, but they are honest and deep. Respectfully recommended for those who with a taste for intimately raw relationship dramas, Asleep screens this Thursday (7/16) at the Japan Society, as part of the 2015 Japan Cuts.

Japan Cuts ’15: The Light Shines Only There

Shortly after his 1989 source novel was published, author Yasushi Sato took his own life. Clearly, it did not sufficiently cheer him up. Decades later, director Mipo O has helmed a big screen adaptation, showing a pronounced empathy for that sort of dark and depressed state of being, despite her reputation for light comedy. Life is nasty and brutish for two young lovers. Any respite they find in each other’s arms will be paid for on credit with future misery in O’s The Light Shines Only There (trailer here), which screens as a selection of this year’s Japan Cuts, the Festival of New Japanese Film in New York.

Tatsuo Sato has basically given up living. He shambles through the streets and pachinko parlors of the blighted Hokkaido port town of Hakodate like a zombie. Yet, for some strange reason, Takuji Oshiro will not stop talking to him. Somehow, he even drags Sato back to his family’s beach shack, where his put-upon sister Chinatsu serves them lunch, without a smile. Nonetheless, there is a bit of something that passes between her and Sato. It is even there when he drunkenly stumbles into the bar where she works as a “hostess.”

Despite several false starts, Sato and Oshiro become lovers, at least as best they can. It is safe to say they both have severe intimacy issues. Further complicating matters, the local mobbed up squid factory owner considers her his personal property. He is a violent lover, but she is stuck with his abuse, because he is the guarantor for her brother’s parole.

So, happy times. Nevertheless, it is hard to truly be depressed by a film so well acted and executed. As Chinatsu Oshiro, Chizuru Ikewaki is a staggering revelation. While in real life she is quite stunning, for Light she is glammed down and bedraggled to truly look like a cast-aside victim of life’s rottenness. Her performance is brave as Hell and relentlessly honest, forcing us to watch the explicit realities of those who subsist in the margins of polite society.

By design, it is much harder to draw a bead on Gou Ayano’s distant Sato, at least until his former boss from the stone quarry (nicely played with gruff sensitivity by Shohei Hino) arrives to fill in some backstory. As annoying as his character might be, Masaki Suda’s Takuji ultimately provides the film’s tragic heart.

For the purposes of easy symbolic short-hand, water is often associated with purification, but not in Light. Instead, screenwriter Ryo Takada’s adaptation of Yasushi Sato’s novel contrasts the healthy cleanliness of the mountains where Tatsuo Sato once worked, with the predatory corruption of the beachfront town.

It is potent stuff, but absolute Kryptonite for the Academy, who declined to nominate Light in the foreign language category, even though Japan duly submitted it. They would have much better award season luck with a classy historical. On the other hand, this is a film that will speak to young and disillusioned audiences much more directly for years to come. Driven by Ikewaki’s frighteningly frank performance, The Light Shines Only There is recommended for those who appreciate uncompromisingly naturalistic drama. It screens this Wednesday (7/15) at the Japan Society, as part of the 2015 Japan Cuts.

Japan Cuts ’15: Snow on the Blades

Kingo Shimura is sort of like a one-man 47 Ronin. He even references them himself. Unfortunately, Shimura outlived his times as well as his lord. The Edo Era is over, but Shimura’s disgrace continues in Setsuro Wakamatsu’s Snow on the Blades (trailer here), which screens as a selection of this year’s Japan Cuts, the Festival of New Japanese Film in New York.

Lord Naosuke Ii was a high ranking Shogunate official, who was too moderate in his reformist and westernizing policies for some and too extreme for others. He cracked down on high ranking nobles who opposed him, but left plenty of disgruntled ronin at loose ends. In 1860, he really was assassinated during Sakuradamon Incident. That was exactly what Shimura was supposed to prevent as his recently appointed chief of security.

Disgraced by his failure, Shimura is forbidden from committing seppuku until he finds and decapitates at least one surviving assassins. Twelve of the ronin either performed seppuku there on the spot, or were accounted for shortly thereafter. That left five elusive assassins for Shimura to track. Unfortunately, as the years go by, the fugitives die off through subsequent misadventures. Eventually, the guilt-ridden Jyubei Sahashi is the only one still at large. However, formalized vengeance taking is banned during the Meiji Restoration.

Throughout all his tribulations and humiliations, Shimura’s wife Setsu loyally supports him. Similarly, Sahashi is guardedly devoted to the next-door widow and her young daughter, but he is incapable of committing to them, because he lives looking over his shoulder. It is exactly those human relationships that concern Snow more than hack-and-slash action.

Snow is a gloriously old fashioned tragedy, boasting genuine emotional depth and historical sweep. It also suggests a little bit of westernization is not a bad thing, while recognizing the value of tradition. In fact, that tension helps make Snow such a richly humanistic revisionist Jidaigeki film. Frankly, it is not hard to imagine Clint Eastwood remaking it as an early 20^th Century western.

As Shimura, Kiichi Nakai is appropriately both stately and hardnosed. Yet, he just knee-caps viewers in his tender scenes with Setsu, played with exquisite sensitivity and warmth, by Ryoko Hirosue. Hiroshi Abe (perhaps too closely associated with the Thermae Romae franchise) is severely reserved, yet expresses considerable angst and regret as the outlaw Sahashi. It is an impressive ensemble, especially including “Living Treasure” kabuki and screen actor Kichiemon Nakamura, making his return to film after a nineteen year hiatus as Lord Ii.

Everyone brought their A-game to Snow, including Joe Hisashi, who contributes one of his best non-Studio Ghibli scores. It is quite lovely, giving the film an acoustic vibe that is mournful but also hopeful. Sober and elegant, Snow on the Blades is a wonderfully satisfying film. Although the self-styled conflict-resolution industry is mostly bunky hokum, this really is a film that they could bury some hatchets with. Very highly recommended, its screens this Tuesday (7/14) at the Japan Society, as part of the 2015 Japan Cuts.

Japan Cuts ’15: Her Granddaughter

Japanese cinema has always excelled at domestic dramas, with the Yasujiro Shimazu’s classic Shomin-geki films even predating the masterworks and masterpieces of Yasujiro Ozu. They would both probably find Tsugumi Dozono’s relationship with her grandmother’s former boyfriend somewhat unconventional, but not completely unimaginable. Things get May-Decemberish in Ryuichi Hiroki’s Her Granddaughter (trailer here), which screens as a selection of this year’s Japan Cuts, the Festival of New Japanese Film in New York.

It should be noted Kyoko Dozono looked more like Tsugumi’s mother than her grandmother. As a child, Tsugumi spent a fair amount of time in her artistically distressed country home, so she naturally retreats there after the funeral. Not only is she mourning Kyoko, she is also reeling from a disastrous love affair. However, her reverie is soon interrupted by Jun Kaieda, her grandmother’s former student and whatever. It seems she gave him a key to live in the annex, so he expects things to continue just the same with Tsugumi.

At first, Kaieda’s boorish and entitled behavior annoys Dozono (and just about anyone else who might be watching), but just as fall follows summer, they soon warm to each other. They even have a dry run at playing house when a distant relative abandons five year-old Makoto Tomioka on their doorstep.

Frankly, screenwriter Hiroshi Saito’s adaptation of Keiko Nishi’s manga way overdoes Kaieda’s high-handed arrogance in the first act. By the time they start falling for each other, we are ready for her to sic the sheriff on him. You just have to let the film restart in your head, because when it explores Kaieda’s past through the prism of Tomioka’s present woes and Dozono’s burgeoning attraction, it is quite sensitive and humanistic.

Nana Eikura and Etsushi Toyokawa develop some convincingly mature chemistry as Dozono and Kaieda, respectively. Mari Hamada and Yu Tokui also add a graceful human touch as Kaieda’s foster sister and brother. Even young Ruka Wakabayashi’s Tomioka eventually wins viewers over.

Her Granddaughter can be frustrating, but it is worth sticking with it, sort of like a lot of relationships in life. It is the kind of reassuring pastoral romance that extolls the pleasures and virtues of making the best of your circumstances. Recommended largely for its charismatic cast, Her Granddaughter screens tomorrow (7/12) at the Japan Society, as part of the 2015 Japan Cuts.

Japan Cuts ’15: I Alone

Everybody ought to understand the horoscope has absolutely no value as a daily planning tool. Nevertheless, two losers will prove it ever so clearly, yet again. When the local news station’s “Astrology Idol” advises Libras “go for it,” they do. Chaos thusly ensues in Sho Tsukikawa’s I Alone (trailer here), which screens as a selection of this year’s Japan Cuts, the Festival of New Japanese Film in New York.

Hiroshi Ito is a former punk rocker turned salaryman, who has been thoroughly beaten down by life. Koga Kuroda is the rebellious son of a mildly corrupt police detective. They have very little in common, except they are both Libras who watch the Astrology idol. This is supposed to be their day, but it does not work out that way. Ito gets berated at work, while Kuroda is finally expelled from school for his latest delinquency. That night, out of some madly perverse impulse, Ito decides to steal an idling luxury car. Equally perversely, Kuroda decides to play the hero.

When Kuroda catches up with Ito, both men are rather surprised to find a baby in a card box on the back seat. They are pretty dumb, but they both quickly figure out she is not the daughter of the car’s Yakuza owner. In fact, he kidnapped her to force her reformist politician father to drop out of the mayoral election. Scapegoated for the crime, Ito and Kuroda become wanted men.

The misleadingly titled I Alone is a weirdly effective mish mash of genres, starting out as some sort of Three Men and a Baby style comedy, but morphing into The Raid, when Ito, Kuroda, and his punky friends fight their way to the corrupt mayor’s office in city hall, floor by floor. All the elements of the odd couple buddy picture are present and accounted for, but there are some massive beatdowns and brawls in the third act.

Makita Sports looks like a sad hound dog as Ito, but he captures the zeitgeisty essence of the weary, ever-toiling salaryman archetype. Likewise, Sosuke Ikematsu projects all the nervous energy and cynicism of the disillusioned youth. They develop great chemistry together, especially when they are beating each other fifty seven shades of black and blue. This is definitely their show, but Chiba Masako adds some dignity and character as Kuroda’s teacher, who also happens to be the last holdout against the mayor’s pocket-lining market district redevelopment scheme.

I Alone has to be one of the most “realistically” violent comedies you will see in a month of Sundays. For a film about two very different men uniting for the sake of a baby, it is also unusually unsentimental. However, Kensuke Matsuse’s screenplay is scathing in its contempt for municipal politics. It turns out Japanese politics are a lot like ours. National issues get the most attention, but the biggest money is in local land use and zoning policy. Sharply honed and thoroughly entertaining, I Alone is highly recommended for action comedy fans when it screens tomorrow (7/12) at the Japan Society, as part of the 2015 Japan Cuts.

Japan Cuts ’15: Haruko’s Paranormal Laboratory

Newton Minow would be appalled by Haruko. Her only meaningful relationship is with her television. Granted, he is newly sentient, but the symbolism is still pretty bad. As a result, they will also face some rather atypical problems when they try to make their romance work in Lisa Takeba’s Haruko’s Paranormal Laboratory (trailer here), which screens as a selection of this year’s Japan Cuts, the Festival of New Japanese Film in NewYork.

Haruko was always a UFO-chasing fan-girl outsider, but don’t judge her harshly. Her whole family is kind of nuts. As she sits about her flat, the “Paranormal Laboratory,” cursing at the banalities on her early 1960s vintage television, a secret counter clicks towards 10,000. At that point, Terebi (TV) springs to life like Frosty the Snowman—or rather a half-naked man with a television encasing his head. Pretty soon, they’re fooling around, because what’s the point of being bashful in a situation like this?

Needless to say, the outside world is not sure what to make of their relationship, but they find it remarkably easy to accept Terebi as a human TV. As it happens, this sort of thing has been happening not infrequently with mid-sized appliances.

The first half of the relatively short (76 minutes) Laboratory is pleasantly goofy and not particularly stressed about stuff like narrative. However, the film’s energy level largely sputters out once it decides it needs more structure. Eventually, Takeba sort of riffs on the Splash! story and even recycles the shopworn cliché of the carnival side show proprietor looking to control Terebi.

It is probably worth seeing Laboratory just to be assured you really can make a film about a TV who turned into a dude. This is strange to suggest, but it would have worked better if it had meandered more. Still, Moeka Nozaki is quite charming as Haruko (despite seeming too cute to be a shy loner). The usually shirtless Aoi Nakamura is a good sport as Terebi, while Fumiyo Kohinata (a veteran of the 20^th Century Boys, Outrage, and Solomon’s Perjury franchises) also helps humanize the quirky odd ballotry as Haruko’s father.

Laboratory has its share of gross-out humor, but it is mostly a gentle and well-meaning send-up of Japanese fan culture. It is a small film in every way, but it is determined to be liked. Recommended for those who like their comedy both eccentric and sentimental, Haruko’s Paranormal Laboratory screens this Sunday (7/12) at the Japan Society, as part of the 2015 Japan Cuts.

Japan Cuts ’15: And the Mud Ship Sails Away

Takashi Hirayama’s long term plan largely consists of cashing his dole checks and playing pachinko. It is pretty pathetic, but he doesn’t care. Still, the withering disapproval of the half-sister he never knew he had does not sit well with the slacker’s slacker in Hirobumi Watanabe’s And the Mud Ship Sails Away (trailer here), which screens during Japan Cuts 2015, the Festival of New Japanese Film in New York.

Hirayama basically thinks the world owes him a living and he is not about to let anyone convince him otherwise. Somehow, he survives in a state of listless entitlement, while sort of taking care of his sweet and somewhat blissfully out of it grandmother. Out of the blue, Yuka turns up in Tochigi, looking for their dead father. Apparently, she was his Tokyo love child. Not surprisingly, Hirayama and the teenager do not get on, at least not right away. Yet, she continues to visit, out of respect for Granny and a desire to escape her even worse home life in Tokyo.

Frankly, Hirayama could use someone like the calls-it-like-she-sees-it Yuka. Her self-destructive tendencies also start to bring out his previously dormant big brothering instincts. They still fight like cats and dogs, largely out of boredom. However, when Hirayama finally decides to take work, he makes the mother of all bad decisions, agreeing to be a drug mule swallowing bags of heroin in Thailand.

Mud’s first two thirds are rather entertaining in a drily amusing kind of way. However, the hallucinatory concluding act is a lot of sound and fury, but it never really goes anywhere. It is also a major downer when you think about it, because it implies some of the goods inside Hirayama broke open, which is a potential lethal situation.

As Hirayama, Kiyohiko Shibukawa is remarkably uncharismatic and unimpressive, thereby serving the film quite well. In contrast, Ayasa Takahashi nicely expresses the energy and angst of youth. Watanabe’s real life, ninety-six year-old grandmother Misao Hirayama is also a warm, cherubically charming presence. It is a bit of a shame she and Takahashi really have nothing to do in the final twenty minutes or so.

Watanabe’s fusion of extreme deadpan and off-the-wall trippiness is bound to win over a cult following, but the former is much more interesting than the latter. In fact, it is enough to recommend And the Mud Ship Sails Away to fans of full contact sarcasm. It screens tomorrow (7/11) at the Japan Society, as part of this year’s Japan Cuts.

Japan Cuts ’15: Seven Weeks

In early September of 1945, most Japan thought WWII was over, but not the residents of Karafuto (now Sakhalin) Island. They were still being razed and rounded-up by the marauding Soviets. That grim historical episode played a pivotal role in the history of the Suzuki family, in ways that are only now coming to light as they gather to mourn their patriarch in Nobuhiko Ôbayashi’s Seven Weeks (trailer here), which screens during Japan Cuts 2015, the Festival of New Japanese Film in New York.

At ninety-two, Mitsuo Suzuki had quite a run, but it was not always a bed of roses. Due to random post-war tragedies, the doctor-turned-local-cultural-curator survived all of his sons and daughters-in-law. He had already lost his great love during the war, through circumstances that will be revealed over time. Still, he was never lonely, having personally raised his granddaughter Kanna and third grandson Akito, with the help of his nurse, Nobuko Shimizu, whose position in the household is ambiguous but significant.

Following his death, Kanna plans the traditional seven seventh day mourning rituals, along with Suzuki’s grandsons, his sister, and his great-granddaughter Kasane, but most of the work falls on her, until Shimizu mysteriously reappears. As they pay their respects, Suzuki’s spirit offers his own running commentary, seeming to inspire flashback reveries for most of his family.

Eventually, we learn exactly how the Suzuki family reached this point in time. Yet, Seven Weeks is more than just a family saga. Ôbayashi essentially turns the Japanese national psyche inside out, making connections between the Suzukis and the Soviet occupation of Karafuto (still going on, by the way), the fall of Imperial militarism, the bust and boom of the Japanese coal industry, and the Fukushima nuclear crisis.

If you only know Ôbayashi as the mad man responsible for the utterly insane cult classic House (Hausu), you don’t know the half of him, at least not anymore. Seven Weeks is an achingly sensitive work, yet there is a symbol stylistic boldness—a willingness to go for broke—shared by the two films. Ôbayashi restlessly segues between point-of-views, throwing realism to the wind with frequent fourth wall breaches, some stunning super-imposed visuals, a Greek chorus of strolling troubadours, and a substantial element of magical realism hiding in plain sight. Yet, he maintains a visceral connection to the Suzuki family’s raw and formerly repressed emotions. If you cried during Departures, Ôbayashi will probably get you misty-eyed too, even though he breaks every possible rule of tear-jerking melodrama, several times over. To that end, he gets a critical assist from Kôsuke Yamashita’s unclassifiably mournful theme.

Seven Weeks is generous with its large ensemble, giving just about every character of standing an opportunity for a grand, telling moment. However, the film is anchored by the trio of Toru Shinagawa, Saki Terashima, and Takako Tokiwa, as Old Man Suzuki, Kanna, and Shimizu, respectively. You will be hard-pressed to find three performances of such mature reserve and expressive power in another film. However, Hirona Yamazaki might just provide the film’s X-factor as young Kasane, who is shallow and self-centered, but also so much fun she energizes and elevates all her scenes.

Frankly, it is exhilarating to see a film that is so big in its conception and so intimate in its execution. Somehow, Ôbayashi reconciles the micro with the macro, offering a very personal and idiosyncratic perspective on some profoundly turbulent national history. When it is all said and done, you really feel like you understand this family and share its grief. Very highly recommended, Seven Weeks is the absolutely-can’t-miss film at this year’s Japan Cuts. It screens this Saturday (7/11) at the Japan Society.

Japan Cuts ’15: Louis Armstrong Obon (short)

Louis Armstrong was New Orleans to his core, but the first place he truly felt at home was Queens, New York. Japanese traditional hot jazz musicians Yoshio and Keiko Toyama therefore visit both during their annual Armstrong pilgrimages. Joel Schlemowitz follows them as they celebrate the spirit of Satchmo in Louis Armstrong Obon, which screens as part of the Experimental Spotlight: Mono No Aware x [+] (Plus) short film program at this year’s Japan Cuts, the Festival of New Japanese Film in New York.

From 1968 to 1973, the Toyamas lived in the Crescent City, becoming mainstays at the storied Preservation Hall. Eventually, they returned to Japan, but they always carried New Orleans jazz in their hearts. In modest detail, they explain how they launched a major Japanese instrument donation initiative after Hurricane Katrina, offering some much desired competition to our friends at the Jazz Foundation of America. However, much to their surprise, they saw grateful New Orleanians reverse the flow of instrument donations in the wake of the 2011 earthquake and Tsunami.

If that does not make you feel all soft and goey about the Toyamas, than bear in mind they also led Japanese fundraising efforts to restore Louis Armstrong’s beloved Queens house and convert it into a world class jazz museum and cultural center. Plus, as musicians, the Toyamas can also get down on what Armstrong called “the gold old good ones,” (Yoshio on trumpet and Keiko on banjo).

Although it screens as part of an experimental film block, Obon is a completely accessible and sweetly touching film. The only aspect falling outside the mainstream is Schlemowitz’s unpolished Super 8mm aesthetic. For a film about jazz, Obon is also a surprisingly quiet film, but that reflects an appropriate level of respect, considering quite a bit of the footage was shot during the Toyamas’ yearly Armstrong grave site visit. Eventually, we do hear Yoshio Toyama cut loose with Vince Giordano and the Nighthawks—and he clearly still has the chops.

Even though Obon is only fourteen minutes long and screens amid some radically different shorts, jazz fans will certainly find it rewarding. There is a long and fruitful history of amazing Japanese musicians, like Eri Yamamoto and Shunzo Ohno, taking American jazz and making it their own, but artists like the Toyamas who embrace its traditional roots are not so well documented.Obon helps tell their stories. It is a moving and meditative tribute the musical couple, as well as the giant who continues to inspire them. Highly recommended, Louis Armstrong Obon screens this Sunday (7/12) at the Japan Society, as part of Japan Cuts’ Experimental Spotlight: Mono No Aware x [+] (Plus)shorts block.

Japan Cuts ’15: The Vancouver Asahi

This underdog 1930s team is sort of like the New York Cubans and other early African American baseball teams. Everyone loves them now, but they faced constant struggles in their day. However, the titular community team organized by the sons of Japanese immigrants actually played against white Canadian clubs in an otherwise all-white league. Life will be a challenge for them on and off the diamond in Yuya Ishii’s The Vancouver Asahi (trailer here), which screens as part of the 2015 Japan Cuts Festival of New Japanese Film.

Reggie/Reiji Kasahara works tirelessly at the lumberyard, but he dreams big when it comes to baseball. Unfortunately, the Asahi have never won a game. They are simply over matched by the big, beefy maple syrup-swilling Canadians’ power hitting and fastballs. Nonetheless, Kasahara must take some responsibility for strategy when he unexpectedly ascends to the team captainship. On the second game of the season, he experiments with bunt-and-run small ball, shocking everyone by scoring a run.

Soon, the Asahi are regularly winning games with what the local papers call their “Brain Ball” approach. After years of futility, the team finally becomes a source of pride in the Japanese immigrant community. They will need something positive to cheer, considering how the swirling clouds of war will further complicate their lives of economic marginalization.

Yes, Asahi follows a very predictable story line, but it is refreshing to see Canada take its lumps for change after all their tongue-clucking at the U.S.  Yes, there is plenty of discrimination documented in the film, but it is richer and more challenging when it explores the assimilation experience, for which there can be no better example than their passion for the game of baseball.

The sad and nostalgic tone is somewhat reminiscent of Ishii’s previous film, The Great Passage, but its characters are not quite as distinctly drawn as those in Ishii’s reference publishing drama. Reggie and his pals basically work hard and play hard, enduring all that comes their way. However, his younger sister Emmy is a deeper, more complicated figure, who truly strives to integrate into the Canadian society that never truly accepts her.

Ishii and screenwriter Satoko Okudera are not exactly subtle when making their points. Still, it is a painstakingly detailed period production. It also captures a sense of just how significant baseball was in the 1930s. It is almost inspiring to watch the Asahi’s scrappy style of play win over the white Anglo Canadians, even though we know it will all be undone by the WWII internment.

All the Asahi players look like they are young and hungry, starting with the wiry Satoshi Tsumabuki as Reggie Kasahara. Yet, it is Mitsuki Takahata and Koichi Sato who really elevate the film as his studious sister and rough-hewn father, respectively. Ultimately, it is an earnest and endearing film that wears its tragic fate with dignity. Recommended for fans of old fashioned baseball dramas, The Vancouver Asahi screens this Saturday (7/11) at the Japan Society, as part of this year’s Japan Cuts.

Japan Cuts ’15: Round Trip Heart

The Odakyu Electric Railway’s “Romancecar” is not exactly a Love Boat on rails, but it is known for its attentive service. Nobody upholds its standards better than Hachiko Hojo. After her chaotic childhood, she appreciates its rigid schedules and routines. As a result, she is more surprised than anyone when a flaky older passenger convinces her to take a sudden day trip in director-screenwriter Yuki Tanada’s Round Trip Heart (trailer here), which screens during Japan Cuts 2015, the Festival of New Japanese Film in New York.

Hojo is a paragon of customer service, whereas Michiyo Kubo frequently crushes bento boxes with her cart. Unfortunately, Kubo will have to take one run solo thanks to Yoichi Sakuraba. Hojo caught the producer of knock-off b-movies shoplifting snacks, but when she chased him through the Hakone station, the Romancecar pulled out without her. It is an inauspicious start to a relationship, but he makes it worse when he reads the private letter Hojo tried to discard.

Despite her anger, the fast-talking Sakuraba half-convinces Hojo the note from her long-estranged mother just might be a veiled suicide threat. It seems she too has traveled to Hakone, the scene of their one happy family vacation, with the intention of ending it all—or so Sakuraba argues. So maybe he quarter-convinces Hojo her mother has sent her a cry for help. Although she remains skeptical, she sets out with the middle-aged under-achiever, to revisit the sites of the fondly remembered family vacation, in hopes of preventing her mother from doing anything drastic.

Through flashbacks, we see how episodes from Hojo’s childhood trip to Hakone echo in the present day. Shrewdly though, Tanada does not force them into rigid parallels. She slowly opens up Hojo’s psyche, letting us discover over time just why she is so emotionally repressed. It is a simple story of ships passing, but the execution is remarkably sensitive and assured.

Lead actress Yuko Oshima was formerly a member of the teen idol pop group AKB48 before aging out, a la Menudo, which is not exactly a confidence-inspiring resume, but she is shockingly good as Hojo, giving the film its heart and soul. It is a quiet performance, but she expresses volumes with a look or a sigh.

Heart also represents a breakout for rubber-faced supporting player Koji Ookura, tapped as her co-lead. At first, he looks like he just bring more shtick, but he conveys all the insecurity and angst beneath Sakuraba’s bluster.

There is just an awful lot of emotional honesty to Oshima and Ookura’s work. Tanada almost takes things too far in the third act, but manages to pull the plane out of its tailspin at the last minute. Overall, the film has a vibe of peaceful sadness that is rather exquisite. You might think you have seen many films like it before—and probably have—yet, it lowers the boom on viewers just the same. Highly recommended for Oshima’ star-making turn, Round Trip Heart screens this Friday (7/10) at the Japan Society, as part of this year’s Japan Cuts.

Japan Cuts ’15: Belladonna of Sadness

Think of it as something like Bernard Christensen’s Häxan, but in color and with even more sex. While the notorious Danish silent was based on the Fifteenth Century Malleus Maleficarum, the third of Osamu Tezuka’s animated features for adults was inspired by Jules Michelet’s Nineteenth Century study Satanism and Witchcraft. The practice of the dark arts is largely a product of class and gender exploitation in the brand new 4K restoration of Eiichi Yamamoto’s 1973 cult classic Belladonna of Sadness (trailer here), which screens as part of the 2015 Japan Cuts Festival of New Japanese Film.

French peasants Jean and Jeanne love each other deeply and truly, but unfortunately their marriage requires a sacrifice to their lord. Tragically, he claims his feudal deflowering right of jus primae noctis, at which point he turns the ravaged Jeanne over to his lecherous court. Initially, Jean tries to comfort her, but henceforth they can never truly be happy together. Sensing her pain and anger, the imp-like Satan approaches Jeanne tempting her with power and exciting her lust. She slowly yields to him, inch by metaphysical inch, amassing influence in the village to become a serious rival to the lord, especially while he is away fighting a fruitless war. Naturally, this does not sit well with her ladyship or the parish priest.

Even though it is animated, Belladonna is absolutely, positively not for children—not even the particularly mature and precocious. Yamamoto’s film is rife with images of sex and violence that often bleed into each other. However, the animation is extraordinarily striking, often looking like a cross between Alphonse Mucha and Gahan Wilson. For long stretches, the pictures do not even move, per se. Rather, the camera pans over the baroquely detailed paintings.

Frankly, it is rather baffling that Belladonna never caught on more widely in its day. The trippy visuals and open invitation to identify with and even support Jeanne’s self-damnation seem pitch perfect for the indulgent 1970s. As a bonus, legendary Kurosawa and Kobayashi regular Tatsuya Nakadai memorably gives voice to the puckish Satan.

In many ways, Belladonna is a startling accomplishment in animation. It really feels like it taps directly into the ancient grievances of women who were driven to witchcraft for the sake of solidarity and resistance, which is rather unsettling. There is an eerie subconscious familiarity to Belladonna, even though it is a wholly original work. Highly recommended for mature animation connoisseurs, the newly restored Belladonna of Sadness screens this Friday (7/10) at the Japan Society, as a classic rediscovery of this year’s Japan Cuts.

Japan Cuts ’15: Makeup Room

The Japanese dirty movie business has a reputation for being more extreme than its American counterparts, but its boundaries with the legit entertainment world are more porous. Many Japanese pornstars become national celebrities and some even crossover to the mainstream. After helming who knows how many adult features, director Kei Morikawa has done just that with Makeup Room (trailer here), a mainstream film about the porn industry that screens as part of the 2015 Japan Cuts Festival of New Japanese Film.

By Japanese Adult Video (AV) standards, this will be a large-scale shoot. Kyoko will have five actresses to makeup and periodically retouch. There will also be some guys in the video, but nobody seems to care what they look like. She is supposed to have an assistant, but the flake never makes it to the set. It is just one of many things that will go wrong, but someone Kyoko keeps it all together.

We first meet Sugar and Saki, two dependable “specialty” players, who are distressed by the number of lines they must memorize. To further complicate matters, they must switch parts when Sugar’s conspicuous back tattoo disqualifies her from playing the “Lolita” role. Eventually, the star attraction Masami arrives, immediately crashing in the makeup chair. Later, they are joined by the enthusiastic veteran Masako, and a shy ingénue known as Matsuko until the studio comes up with her permanent stage name.

Adapting his stage play, Morikawa keeps the action anchored solely in the makeup room, but he makes a point of letting us hear what happens on the set. He embraces the inherent staginess to emphasize the extreme difference between the two rooms. When the actresses are on-camera, they are sex objects, but when they sit in Kyoko’s chair, they are real women, with their own very particular insecurities and neuroses.

The actresses are all played by real life AV stars and they are each terrific in very different ways. Regardless of the quality of their prior film work, they can act. In fact, Beni Ito and Kanami Osako are shockingly moving as Saki (a part-time prostitute struggling to catch on in the AV business) and Masami (the young diva dealing with the repercussions of her notoriety), respectively. Nanami Kawakami also displays first rate comedic chops as the brash (and still very keen) Masako. Nobody takes it over the top or resorts to shtick, least of all mainstream indie thesp Aki Morita as Kyoko. She gives a wonderfully sensitive and suggestive performance that reveals so little about her character in practical terms, it will have viewers creating their own backstories for her.

Makeup Room compellingly humanizes the AV actresses, but it does not glamorize their business. Except for maybe Masako, nobody is enjoying this career. Some seem to think it is a “sex-positive” film or whatever, but if this empowering, you wouldn’t want to see exploitative. However, it is all quite honest, and messy, and very human. Even though you never see, you will clearly hear, so viewer discretion is advised. Recommended surprisingly highly for mature audiences, Makeup Room screens this Thursday (7/9) at the Japan Society, as part of this year’s Japan Cuts.

Japan Cuts ’15: HIBI ROCK Puke Afro and the Pop Star

The Rock & Roll Brothers want to be neo-punk rockers, but they don’t have much Iggy Pop or Sid Vicious in them. Frankly, bubblegum pop star Saki Utagawa is way fiercer, but she has her own problems. They will not make beautiful music together, but their awkward friendship provides consolation in Yu Irie’s HIBI ROCK: Puke Afro and the Pop Star (trailer here), the opening film of Japan Cuts 2015, the Festival of New Japanese Film in New York.

Takura Hibinuma and his bandmates have always been bullied, but they cling to their dream. The only club that allows them to play is the dingy Monster GOGO, where they also clean the toilets and perform similarly demeaning labor for the owner, Takeshi Matsumoto. During one of their awful gigs, Matsumoto inebriated niece commandeers the stage, proceeding to rock the joint, before utterly spanking the Rock & Roll Brothers in an ugly brawl. That is where the whole “Puke Afro” thing comes from.

Needless to say, she makes quite the impression on Hibinuma, who is quite taken aback to learn she is actually Utagawa, the pop idol. Despite the messiness of their initial meeting, she rather takes a shine to him as well. Granted, he does not have much talent, but at least he has stayed true to his musical conception, such as it is. In contrast, her all powerful producer Izumi Kazama has successful filed all the rough edges off music. This is an especially bitter truth for her, given her medical prognosis.

Based on Katsumasa Enokiya’s manga series, HIBI is an extraordinarily bizarre mixture of scatological punk rock humor and sentimental John Green-style tear-jerking. Probably only Fumi Nikaido has the range to be equally effective in a mash-up of such disparate genres. She is a convincing hard-rocking angry drunk and sweet enough to be a credible j-pop star. She is also pretty heartbreaking in her Camille scenes.

Of course, nobody can say Shuhei Nomura isn’t trying his hardest as Hibinuma. He regularly gives up body and dignity alike, reducing himself to a grunting animalistic level. Eventually, it ceases to be amusing and becomes an act of performance art-like endurance.

The term “over the top” is lost on Hibinuma, but a lot of the film’s little details are perfectly rendered, such as Utagawa’s compulsively happy, light-electronica hit “Happy Summertime.” Key supporting player Tomoko Mariya is a tart-tongued stitch as Kazama—think of her like a Japanese Dame Kristin Scott Thomas. The name of the Rock & Roll Brothers’ chief rivals at Monster GOGO is also a nice touch: “Dog Rape.”

As exhausting as HIBI gets, it is ultimately rather sweet and touching. Hibinuma can be as annoying as fingernails on a blackboard, but when it is all said and done, we really feel like we have been through a lot with him. Recommended for those who want to take a happy-sad punk journey, HIBI ROCK: Puke Afro and the Pop star screens this Thursday (7/9), the opening night of this year’s Japan Cuts at the Japan Society.