The Last Blossom, from GKIDS

Minoru Akutsu's only company for the final days of his life will be a balsam flower. At least it can talk, thanks to the film’s magical realism. However, it constantly berates the convict for wasting decades of his life. However, it is possible Akutsu did not waste the last 37 years. Maybe he sacrificed them instead. Viewers cannot fully judge Akutsu’s life decisions until the final piece falls into place in Baku Kinoshita’s The Last Blossom, which screens tomorrow and Monday, from GKIDS.

For years, Akutsu was a lower mid-level Yakuza enforcer. Whatever his crimes were, they didn’t bother him too much, because they allowed him to provide for his somewhat younger lover, Nana Nagata and her little boy Kensuke (from a previous relationship). In fact, Akutsu cares for them deeply, but he has trouble expressing it—or even admitting it to himself.

The balsam flower that mysteriously arrives in Akutsu’s cell claims to have seen it all for himself. According to the blossom, he was cut from the balsam that grew wild in Akutsu’s yard all those years ago, so he has access to original plant’s memories of what transpired. In fact, he can revisit them on demand, almost like a time-traveler. Consequently, the balsam forces Akutsu to confront the scheme that landed him in prison and jeopardized his adopted family.

Still, Akutsu was no dummy, as the audience sees from his proficiency in the go-like game Reversi. Indeed, that strategy game and Akutsu’s compulsive interest in mapping his neighborhood are important clues to understanding the Yakuza.

Kiyoshi Kurosawa’s The Samurai and the Prisoner

Lord Murashige Araki, the Daimyo of the Setssu-Ikeda clan, has the good fortune to command his forces from Arioka Castle, which is almost like the Helm’s Deep of 1580s Japan. However, he also needs a detective equal to Eco’s Brother William of Baskerville. Instead, he has his sworn enemy, Oda Nobunaga’s tactician, Kanbei Kuroda, secretly chained-up in his dungeon. Kuroda has plenty of time to apply his deductive reasonings to Araki’s mysteries, but the verbal sparring inevitably reveals the precariousness of the Lord’s position in Kiyoshi Kurosawa’s The Samurai and the Prisoner, adapted by the filmmaker from Honobu Yonezawa’s novel, which opens tomorrow in New York.

As Araki explains to Kuroda, he initially allied his clan with Oda, believing his drive to unify Japan would bring stability and save lives in the long run. However, has turned against the warlord, because his savagery and ruthlessness were a cure that was worse than the disease. Kuroda does not necessarily disagree, but he argues Oda simply has too much support solidified for Araki’s rebellion to succeed. Having failed to sway Araki, Kuroda fully expects to be decapitated, because such was the lot for unconvincing emissaries.

However, Araki breaks with tradition, chucking the illustrious strategist into his dungeon instead. Kuroda is greatly offended by this breach of the bushido code. It also pains him knowing Oda will surely execute his family, assuming he defected to Araki’s side.

Indeed, Araki is so tired of killing, he also refuses to kill his own “hostage,” when the boy’s clan leader father switches back to Oda. Indeed, Araki’s wife Chiyoho clearly developed motherly feelings towards the young lad. Hence, Araki is quite annoyed when a mystery archer kills the youthful hostage with a “magic” Oswald-worthy arrow. To some, the crime appears divinely inspired, but Araki recognizes it as a threat to his clan’s stability and his own legitimacy.

As the year unfolds, each season yields yet another symbolically significant crime. Predictably, Araki trudges down to consult with Kuroda, almost like Clarice Starling facing Hannibal Lecter. Of course, in addition to a mystery (or rather a series of four linked mysteries), Kurosawa’s adaptation of Yonezawa is an elegant Jidaigeki samurai film, with an emphasis on diplomacy and statecraft, at their darkest and most ruthless. Reportedly, Kurosawa embraced the tradition of classic samurai films, including even those of his namesake, but he maintains his constant fascination with humanity’s destructive tendencies.

He also wrote a heck of an adaptation, because it would probably take several reams of paper to fully illuminate the in’s and out’s of the four cases. It is rather amazing that he successfully wraps up the film in just under two and a half hours, while maintaining a stately vibe of high tragedy. This is by far Kurosawa’s best film since his one and only previous “period production,” the 1940s wartime thriller, The Wife of a Spy.

The cast is also uniformly excellent, balancing restraint and passion, as befits the master filmmaker’s masterworks. They probably all knew on some level this would be a film with a long and enduring life. In the lead, as Araki, Masahiro Motoki projects the cool commanding confidence and the disciplined righteousness of a leader whose men will follow into battle and likely death. Similarly, Yuriko Yoshitaka is heartbreaking and even a little scary as Chiyoho, who witnessed Oda’s cruelty first-hand, as one of the few surviving members of a rebellious Buddhist movement he violently suppressed—a fact that proves highly significant.

Japan Cuts ’26: Gosh!!

It's like a Hudson & Rex for stoners. The world thinks Oliver is a heroic police dog, but whenever his handler, Ippei Aoba, looks at him, he sees a slovenly middle-aged drunk wearing dog costume. Understandably, Aoba has difficulty reconciling public perception with his private reality. Oliver certainly doesn’t try to make it any easier. Nevertheless, they have been at this for a while. Like The Mandalorian, Sex in the City, and The X-Files, the hit 2021 Japanese TV series continues with an all-new feature film, director-screenwriter-co-star Joe Odagiri’s Gosh!!, which had its North American premiere at this year’s Japan Cuts.

Aoba and Oliver have recently been hailed as heroes, but it doesn’t make sense to the K-9 officer. He knows Oliver’s true nature and he realizes their success was dumb luck, with the emphasis on dumb. However, he is happy to work with his Academy mentor, Yayoi Hagoromo, when she requests their temporary transfer for a case. Considered the department’s best handler, Hagoromo can make Oliver act like a “normal dog” (as Charlie Brown would say) when she takes his leash, instead of a creepy drunk perv.

Of course, Oliver has a lousy nose, but it won’t matter much for this case. They are searching for Konishi, a compulsive “volunteer,” who became a local folk hero. Unfortunately, he wandered through a portal to a different dimension, very much like the mysterious red door “freelance” journalist Masatoshi Nagase walks through while investigating Konishi’s disappearance. However, instead of the dimension Konishi remains trapped in, Nagase arrives in world very much like our own, except everyday life is exclusively focused on Takoyaki.

Essentially, Gosh!! plays like Ted the foul-mouthed teddy bear, taking a detour through the Twilight Zone. Frankly, the mid-section roams so randomly out into left field, it gets a little lost for a while. However, when it comes to weirdness, it is tough to one-up. Frankly, it might have worked better on TV, in shorter, more focused installments. On the other hand, as a movie for mature (in terms of age, but immature of mind-set) audiences, there were no constraints on its rudeness, which was clearly liberating.

Jinsei: Animated J-Pop, Cults, and the End of the World

He is the new Man with No Name, but he is a Japanese pop idol instead of gunslinger—at least he was. He has various nicknames at various stages of his life, but his genuine identity is fluid and perhaps unknowable. Yet, violence regularly intrudes into his increasingly surreal world in animator-screenwriter-director Ryuya Jinsei, which opens Friday in theaters.

Hold on, because the opening scenes explaining “Se-chan’s” tragic early life flash by at nearly the speed of subliminal images. His stepfather Hiroshi tries his best, but life is hard and his stepson’s temperament is awfully dark—for good reason.

Not surprisingly, school isn’t much fun for the boy mockingly nicknamed “The Grim Reaper,” but much to his surprise, the handsome blond transfer student Kin befriends him. Through Kin, Se-Chan develops such proficiency in Idol-style dancing, they are both recruited by the shadowy idol mogul Shiratori for his next boy band. However, just when they are poised to break out, Se-Chan commits a shocking act of violence that temporarily derails his career (and life).

After that, things get weird for Se-Chan, or whoever. He transforms into a lowlife bar host, a nearly feral derelict, a holy fool guru, a New Age movie star, and perhaps even the next stage of post-human evolution.

Mobile Suit Gundam Hathaway: The Sorcery of Nymph Circe

The Earth can’t seem to catch a break. The Earth Federation defeated the authoritarian-inclined Principality of Zeon in the Gundam franchise’s Universal Century continuity, but then the victorious Federation became increasingly corrupt and oppressive. Hathaway Noa emerged as an important leader of the MAFTY rebellion. He hopes to launch a major attack on the Federation, but the greatest variable complicating his plan happens to be a self-described “courtesan.” She might also be a spy, but it is unclear which side she favors in Shuko Murase’s anime feature Mobile Suit Gundam Hathaway: The Sorcery of Nymph Circe, which opens tomorrow in theaters.

In the new GQuuuuuux alternate storyline, Zeon won the war, but Nymph Circe returns fans to the more familiar timeline. The Hathaway narrative branch takes place many years after the mothership anime series, but Noa represents an important apostolic link, because he is the son of Amuro Ray’s commanding officer, Bright Noa. With that in mind, you should be able to follow the broad strokes of the new Hathaway feature, but many of the particulars will be baffling.

Regardless, the junior Noa is almost entirely focused on the rebellion. Only Gigi Andalusia has the power to distract him. Inconveniently, her sugar daddy-patron happens to be Col. Kenneth Sleg, the chief of Federation counter-insurgency. It is his job to catch Noa.

So far, Andalusia has mostly aided Sleg. Convinced that her “spider-sense” provided lifesaving forewarning, many of Sleg’s men consider her a good luck charm. Yet, restless Andalusia appears preoccupied with Noa. Regardless, before they can reunite, Noa must survive some spectacular mecha battles.

Indeed, Nymph Circe arguably boasts some of the most striking visuals of all the recent Gundam features. The combination aerial and naval battles really are something. For the teenaged boy market, the film also delivers considerably more “fan service” than its recent predecessors, through its strategically framed shots of Andalusia and Julia Suga, Noa’s torch-carrying Gundam mechanic, who usually works in a pair of overalls and not much else.

Again, this is some of the slickest Gundam animation yet. However, Yasuyuki Muto’s screenplay, based on franchise creator Yoshiyuki Tomino’s original novel, makes no concessions to newcomers. Even viewers casually familiar with the original series and several subsequent features will have some trouble finding their sea legs.

Furthermore, critics who rightly called out the appalling lack of military discipline in Star Trek: Starflight Academy should also be put off by Brinks Wedge, the captain of a MAFTY recon ship, who regularly takes the con shirtless. Frankly, both he and Trek’s Nahla Ake are appallingly unprofessional and uncommanding.

Takashi Miike’s Blazing Fists

Mikuru Asakura is no Father Flanagan. He promotes one-minute viral “Breaking Down” MMA fights. Yet, his example inspires two Juvenile Detention inmates to go straight and save their fighting for the ring. At least that is the plan, but there are several street gangs spoiling for a fight with them in Takashi Miike’s Blazing Fists (a.k.a. Blue Fight: The Breaking Down of Young Blue Warriors), which releases tomorrow on VOD.

If Ryoma Akai knew he was talking to Ikuto Yagura, he never would have started the conversation. Yagura has a reputation for being a bad cat. His father’s recent murder conviction added another chip to his shoulder. Yet, he takes a liking to Akai, who rather queasily realizes he committed the crime Yagura was convicted of. That is a secret he keeps to himself.

Regardless, they remain close friends after parole, arranged by Yagura’s surprisingly resourceful mom. They also start training for “Breaking Down” together, because they felt so inspired by Asakura’s speech to the Juvie inmates. He had been there too in his youth, but he made something of himself in the ring.

Unfortunately, the high school gang led by Jun Kishomaru just won’t let them be. As it happens, Akai landed in Juvie because Kishomaru’s associate Kosuke Isaka extorted money from him. When they settle things with their fists, it will be a real grudge match. To further complicate matters, Shizuka Mido’s very adult and very criminal biker gang just won’t let Kishomaru be, either.

Anyone who ever said fighting never settles anything never met Mikuru Asakura. In Miike’s film, fighting is the only way to deal with psychos like Mido (and it is largely true in reality, as well). The result is an unrepentantly two-fisted grungy beatdown, which is often entertaining. However, it all seems oddly conventional for a cinematic iconoclast like Miike. Frankly, this is more like the sort of film directors and martial artists make early in their careers, to prove they can deliver the genre goods.

Kiyoshi Kurosawa’s Chime

Those noises in your head can really do a number on your sanity. Just ask the narrator of Poe’s “A Tell-Tale Heart.” However, it is not clear whether Takuji Matsuoka truly hears them. Regardless, it seems that he “contracted” the insanity of someone who did in director-screenwriter Kiyoshi Kurosawa’s 45-minute short-ish film, Chime, which opens this Friday together with Kurosawa’s classic The Serpent’s Path (the original, not Kurosawa’s recent remake).

Matsuoka works as continuing ed. culinary instructor, but he clearly yearns to return to the kitchen as a head chef.  He is not a great teacher, but to be fair, most educators would struggle with a weirdo like Ichiro Tashiro. When Tashiro complains about hearing chimes inaudible to the rest of the class, Matsuoka tries to ignore him. However, he can’t ignore what comes next.

Does Matsuoka inherit his craziness, or did he always have it? Did Tashiro’s horror show simply provide a catalyst for releasing it? Kurosawa clearly wants to keep the answers to such questions ambiguous, perhaps even unknowable. Regardless, Matsuoka takes a sinister turn that even surpasses Tashiro.

Arguably, Chime feels like Kurosawa, the horror master, taking a stab at more subtle and slippery “elevated” “post-horror.” There are shocking moments, but Kurosawa too coyly toys with the horror elements to sustain much tension.

As Matsuoka, Mutsuo Yoshioka’s performance is defined by an utter soullessness, even before his apparent insanity kicks in. Yet, Seiichi Kohinata is more disturbing as Tashiro, due to his twitchy, awkward sadness.

Kazuya Shiraishi’s Bushido

Kakunoshin Yanagida is cursed with a dishonorable nemesis. He unwaveringly abides by the Bushido code, but Hyogo Shibata does not. For most of his film, Yanagida must settle for his dignity but there comes a point when it is time for revenge in Kazuya Shiraishi’s Bushido, which releases today in theaters.

Yanagida and his long-suffering daughter Kinu eke a subsistence living. She takes in laundry. He engraves seals. His only indulgence is the occasional game of go, but, as in all things, he plays with an almost perverse sense of honor. However, that makes quite an impression on go-obsessed pawn broker Genbei Yorozuya, who also recognizes Yanagida’s superior knack for strategy. Soon, they become unlikely friends, but Yanagida faces potential ruin as result of Yorozuya’s own negligence.

Just when Yanagida’s reputation in the provincial town craters, his old samurai comrade arrives with news. His former clan wishes to welcome Yanagida back to the domain. His duplicitous rival Shibata has been exposed as the real thief of the lord’s precious scroll. That was the same crime Yanagida was scapegoated and banished for. True to form, Shibata fled like the dishonorable coward he has always been, so Yanagida intends to extract the justice demanded by the Bushido code. However, he needs time, so Kinu buys him a year, by essentially mortgaging herself.

Bushido is aptly titled, because it is as much about the rigorous ethical framework of the Bushido Code, as the swordplay necessary to complete Yanagida’s mission. In fact, Shiraishi holds back the Chanbara hack-and-slash action until late in the third act—but it is worth the wait. Instead, he invests the time establishing Yanagida, Kinu, Yorozuya, and the merchant’s adopted heir, Yakichi, which makes the potential tragedy they each face hit with powerful force.

Kokuho, Oscar-Nominated for Hair and Makeup

Being a Kabuki actor and a Yakuza outwardly look like radically different ways of life, but both demand complete, unwavering commitment. One might presume Kabuki performance to be the safer calling, but there are times when it taxes two gifted rival actors to their emotional breaking points. Despite the acclaim, their art never generates wealth, but it could lead to the titular designation of “national treasure” in Lee Sang-il’s Oscar-nominated Kokuho, which opens today in theaters, from GKIDS.

Heredity is important in the Kabuki circle, so Kikuo Tachibana starts inauspiciously, as the son of a soon-to-be late Yakuza boss. Nevertheless, revered Kabuki actor Hanae Hanjiro II sees promise in the young orphan, so he takes him in as an apprentice. His talent immediately establishes Tachibana as a rival for Hanjiro’s son and presumed heir, Shunsuke Ogaki. Yet, they also develop a fast friendship. At the insistence of the Kabuki theater corporation, Hanjiro agrees to showcase Tachibana and Ogaki as the “Tohan Duo,” performing as “onnagata,” male Kabuki actors portraying female characters, a tradition originally mandated during the Shogunate era (just like in Shakespeare in Love), despite their relative inexperience.

The Tohan Duo receives rapturous ovations, but when Hanjiro choses a successor to take over his studio, he opts for Tachibana (who assumes the name Hanai Hanjiro III), over his son. At this point, Kokuho takes on Succession dimensions. In fact, without the protection Hanjiro II’s prestige based in “blood,” it is unclear whether Hanjiro III might be ultimately undone by his scandalous past.

Speaking of scandals, it is an outrage the Academy-short-listed Kokuho was not nominated for Best International Feature. It was Just an Accident remains the best of the field, but Kokuho would have been a strong #2. Alas, it must make do with the Hair and Makeup nom, which still counts a first for GKIDS.

Regardless, Kokuho is a deeply personal story that also feels epic at the same time. Decades pass, as fortunes rise and fall. (Frankly, some viewers might catch themselves doing the math to judge whether the announced flashforwards compute with the appearances of the characters, but that is minor distraction.) This is a film of roiling passions, but it also gives the audience a thorough grounding in Kabuki theater. (Yet, Kon Ichikawa’s Revenge of a Kabuki Actor still probably ranks as the greatest Kabuki film of all time, because it has similarly operatic grandeur, but adds real deal Chanbara swordplay.)

Revolver Lily: Haruka Ayase’s Action Breakout

In 99 out of 100 movies a character in Yuri Ozone’s courtesan-esque business would be portrayed as a victim of men, especially in early 1920s Japan. This film is the “one,” because Ozone is still number one with a bullet. She developed a whole different skillset while assigned to her lover’s assassination squad, stationed abroad. Consequently, the Japanese Army will have its hands full trying to abduct the innocent boy under her protection in Isao Yukisada’s Revolver Lily, which releases today on VOD.

Fortuitously, young Shinta Hosomi runs into Ozone on a train, just as the Army pounces on him. As it happens, his recently murdered father told him to find Ozone in her house of “hospitality.” She doesn’t recognize Kinya Hosomi’s name, but she knows the face in the newspaper article. Years ago, the late Hosomi ran her clandestine cell. He was also the father of her baby, who was murdered by their enemies.

Like a lot of contemporary CIA guys, Hosomi went from espionage to high finance. He had managed a hugely speculative investment fund for the Army, who are desperately short of funds under the current feckless government. However, Hosomi understood the warmongering generals would eagerly flip his high yields into more military adventurism. Consequently, he plundered their accounts, parking them in the equivalent of a “dead man’s” account, which is due to expire and revert to the bank of deposit in seven days.

In addition to guns, Ozone also has a lawyer. Yoshiaki Iwami is a respected councilor, who clearly carries a torch for her. He is also a former Navy man. His former colleagues are not immune to the corruption endemic amongst their Army rivals, but they have far less appetite for war. (To be clear, we’re talking about the Taisho Era Japanese service branches.)

In fact, that service rivalry adds an intriguing new spin to the film, which might otherwise play like a period gender-swap of Leon: Th Professional. Still, there is plenty of fan-pleasing action, executed with the passion and precision of ballet. Truly, the fight scenes, coordinated by Yasutaka Yuki are no joke. Honestly, every three or four years, Hollywood breaks its collective arm patting itself on the back for casting a female action lead in a movie like Ballerina, but it happens all the time in Asian cinema.

Mamoru Oshii’s Angel’s Egg

This film would be awesome to see converted to “4D” for the Las Vegas Sphere. It would probably also be horrifying. Anime master Mamoru Oshii and artist Yoshitaka Amano created a stunning nightmare-landscape that remains as jaw-dropping as the skeletal narrative is head-scratching. Still an anime feature with few comparisons, Oshii’s Angel’s Egg, produced by the Studio Deen animation house, re-releases theatrically tomorrow in a spiffy new 4K restoration, courtesy of GKIDS.

It would be an oversimplification to call this world post-apocalyptic. It is more like T.S. Eliot’s Wasteland, by way of Edward Gorey. The architecture recalls Old World Europe, while the destruction is almost Biblical. In fact, maybe it was, because the Flood and the Arc will be recurring motifs.

Within this surreal environment, a young girl compulsively guards an egg that she fervently believes will hatch an angel. However, the young martial-looking man who regularly crosses her path expresses skepticism. Yet, he also exhibits protective impulses towards the girl. Nevertheless, he gives off serious fallen angel vibes, possibly thanks to his twisted-cross rifle.

Over the years, Angel’s Egg has been one of the films that shocks non-fans out of their preconceived notions regarding anime. In terms of visual style, it shares a kinship with Eiichi Yamamoto’s Belladonna of Sadness, but the vibe and pacing are not unlike The Seventh Sign.

Tatsumi: Dirty Gangster Jobs

Nobody would confuse Tatsumi for Leon the Professional. Despite his underworld ties, he usually only handles bodies after they have been murdered. As a corpse cleaner, it is his dirty job to render the whacked unidentifiable. Yet, for reasons even he cannot explain, he tries to prevent a difficult young woman from becoming his next gig in director-screenwriter Hiroshi Shoji’s Tatsumi, which just released on VOD.

Ostensibly a fisherman, Tatsumi works for two local Yakuza factions, covering up their lethal dirty work. They constantly pressure him fully commit to the “family,” but that probably isn’t the best rhetoric to convince him, since we see in flashbacks how he kicked his self-destructive hoodlum brother to the curb, for the sake of his own self-preservation. Considering Tatsumi’s cynicism and world-wariness, no one would expect him to stick his neck out for an obnoxious troublemaking Gen-Z’er like Aoi, but he will anyway.

Apparently, a shipment of drugs was misappropriated and the trail runs through the garage run by mobbed-up Yamaoka and his wife, Kyoko, who happens to be Tatsumi’s ex. However, it soon becomes clear Kyoko’s little sister Aoi is also highly compromised. Nevertheless, Tatsumi reluctantly takes steps to protect her from the deranged Ryuji Sawamura and his scumbag brother Takeshi, who have unleashed a scorched earth campaign against anyone and everyone they might suspect.

This film is so gritty, you should brush your teeth after watching it. Tatsumi definitely puts the “anti” in antihero. His job is literally to mutilate corpses. Yet, there is a profoundly moral aspect to Shoji’s screenplay. Apparently, there are some lines the title character just won’t cross.

Regardless, Tatsumi still functions as a brutally potent gangster thriller. It is the kind of film wherein things constantly go from bad to worse. Yet, there is also something almost poetic in its extreme grunginess. Seriously, why would you want to be a gangster if it meant living in this environment?

Happyend, the Japanese Near-Future Dystopia

It is supposed to be dystopian, but this near-future Japan is largely already the present day in Mainland China. Essentially, the system of social credit and the intrusive surveillance to enforce it comes to Kou’s high school. Unfortunately, he and his friends always lack every just about every form of credit, as the children of immigrants (mostly Korean). The world is truly falling apart, but the principal still won’t cut them any slack in director-screenwriter Neo Sora’s Happyend, which opens Friday in theaters.

The scariest thing about Happyend is that you might not realize its dystopian if you weren’t told upfront. Frankly, people in Tokyo have a right to be a bit on edge, because the big cataclysmic earthquake could come any day now. The scumbag PM tries to deflect and distract by cracking down on Zainichi Korean population. That makes life even harder for Kou and his friends and family.

Kou might be the only one with the chance to attend college. Of course, he needs a scholarship, so he finds himself dependent on Principal Nagai for a recommendation, which the ostensive educator will not let Kou forget. Awkwardly, Nagai is on the warpath against Kou’s ambitionless best friend Yuta, whom he suspects was behind the impressive prank that balanced his sportscar on its rear bumper—which indeed he did, with Kou’s reluctant help.

It is interesting to compare Happyend with the recently re-released Linda Linda Linda, because both films capture teenage friendship on the cusp of graduation. However, Sora makes every mistake the 2005 cult classic nimbly avoids. While the punk rock coming-of-age story shrewdly avoids politics, Sora doubles, triples, and quadruples down. Awkwardly, he settles on immigrant discrimination as his dominant theme, which is a shame, because most of his points are familiar and predictable. In contrast, some of his pointed critiques of the Big Brother surveillance apparatus are quite clever. The cameras and AI might see all, but they are blind to context.

Dragon Heart: Adventures Beyond This World

Admittedly, these two teens are about to die, but don’t think of it as a downer. This way, the lucky cousins will learn their purposes in life—short though they were. Yet, unlike Robin Williams in What Dreams May Come, they might be able to return to their interrupted earthly lives, so they apply their epiphanies with their memories intact—maybe, just maybe. Unfortunately, their journey of self-discovery entails more than just one trip to Hell. They must visit several in Isamu Imakake’s Happy Science-produced Dragon Heart, which opens this Friday in Los Angeles.

Blame the kappa, who lured Tomomi Sato and her visiting cousin, Ryusuke Tagawa into treacherous currents. Apparently, that was that, but Ameno Hiwashino Mikoto, the god of the local Shinto shrine invites them to explore the spirit realm. Much to their surprise, the tour quickly takes on Divine Comedy parallels.

First, they materialize in a violent gangster world, where the damned constantly murder each other. From there, they fall into a bizarre Lynchian hospital, which dispenses a distinctly sinister variety of care, very much in the surreal tradition of Inoperable or Fractured. It is a nightmarish place, yet it is also where they witness the redemption and rescue of a tormented soul. That plants a seed with Sato and Tagawa, giving them a notion this might be something they want to do.

However, it will take some doing before they can start saving souls. To get to that point, they must escape from a snake queen and find the hidden enclave of Shambhala to start their advanced spiritual training.

Dragon Heart is the latest anime feature based on the teachings of the Happy Science movement. In terms of the level of proselytization, this film falls somewhere between The Mystical Laws and The Laws of the Universe: The Age of Elohim. There are times when the spiritual content feels very heavy-handed. Yet, the uninitiated would be hard-pressed to explain the film’s foundational doctrines, beyond generalities like believe on God and recognize the soul is man’s true form rather than the body. Indeed, for pagans, the film seems to freely mix Shinto, Buddhist, Hindu, and Christian symbolism, cafeteria-style.

Regardless, the level of animation remains surprisingly high. Imakake worked on several major anime properties prior to helming Happy Science’s animated features (including Cowboy Bebop, Evangelion, and Lupin III), so the level of animation is always professional grade. In fact, many of fantastical landscapes are really quite visually striking.

Mononoke the Movie: Chap. II—The Ashes of Rage, on Netflix

It is a term rich with anime and folkloric significance. “Mononoke” are vengeful spirits, not unlike yokai. Miyazaki’s “Princess Mononoke” was not really a mononoke, but rather a human foundling who had a rapport with spirit creatures. The mononoke of the Mononoke anime and manga franchise are definitely mononoke. In fact, they are about as mononoke as they get. It is the “Medicine Seller’s” calling to exorcise them. Think of him as a medicine man, in that he holds shaman-like powers and peddles medicinal cures. He cuts an odd figure, but even the most secretive and powerful players in the Edo court will not turn him away when an enraged spirit terrorizes their Lord’s harem chambers in Kenji Nakamura & Kiyotaka Suzuki’s Mononoke the Movie: Chapter II—The Ashes of Rage, produced by Toei Animation, which premieres today on Netflix.

Thanks to the Medicine Seller, the Lord Tenshi’s concubines already survived one incredibly put-out mononoke in the previous film (which was a continuation from the 2007 anime series). Unfortunately, just when you thought it was safe to go back to harem’s super-restricted Ooku, another mononoke strikes. Obviously, the Medicine Seller needs to investigate, but his all-access pass is no longer valid, because it was issued by the former Ooku manager—now deceased.

Tensions were rising in the Ooku, even before the new mononoke peril emerged. The unseen Tenshi’s favorite, Fuki Tokita is showing signs of pregnancy, which should be a good thing, because an heir is needed. However, Tokita hails from “common stock,” even though we would probably consider her family middle to upper-middle class, from out contemporary perspective. Regardless, the prospect of debasing the Imperial lineage with common stock and allowing a less than pristinely noble family that kind of influence has the elite power-brokers alarmed.

Botan Otomo is perfectly placed to take action. She was selected to serve as the new Ooku manager because of her family’s power and prestige. As Tokita’s longtime rival, she openly resents Fuki’s inappropriately close relationship with Tenshi. However, she also feels loyalty to her Imperial lord and his prospective heir, whoever it might be. Instead, it is the angry mononoke of a wronged concubine who terrorizes the Ooku halls. Yet, before the Medicine Seller can dispel it, he must learn the reason for its grudge—much like Christian exorcists need a demon’s name to take dominion over it.

Without question, Nakamura’s Mononoke films represent an energizing respite from overly slick (and consequently soulless) 3D computer generated animation. While digital techniques were employed, the Mononoke features have an eye-popping, mind-blowing baroque style that resemble a fusion of Edo-era ukiyo-e woodcuts with Peter Max headshop posters. Each frame is an absolute explosion of color. Frankly, it is a good thing Ashes of Rage is a relative shorty, because extended exposure to the utterly distinctive animation could induce sensory overload. Yet, it is always wildly cool to behold.

Kensuke Sonomura’s Ghost Killer

Its a ghostly buddy comedy, sort of like All of Me, but with some seriously “anti-social” behavior. Hideo Kudo was an elite hitman with a shadowy syndicate—with the emphasis on the “was.” Now he is dead, murdered by his former associates. However, he still has his deadly skills, when he borrows Fumika Matsuoka’s body. He is an extremely angry ghost, but their partnership makes him a more decent soul in Kensuke Sonomura’s Ghost Killer, which releases today on digital.

Kudo was hard to kill, but eventually they got him. The operation is perfectly executed, but the clean-up crew misses the cartridge casing. When Matsuoka, a distressed college student, picks it up, her resentments combine with Kudo’s grudge to produce a haunting. To get rid of him, she must allow him to take over her body, to extract his vengeance. However, he first spends a good deal of time beating the snot out of her would-be abusers.

In fact, things get so messy, Kudo must call in help from his protégé Toshihisa Kagehara, to tidy up all the moaning and groaning bodies. Of course, Kagehara has only one method of cleaning, which poor Matsuoka does not want to think about. Regardless, Kagehara is way too edgy to fully trust.

You often see the me-and-my-ghost premise in comedies, but Ghost Killer is surprisingly dark. It also kicks tons of butt. Sonomura served as his own fight director and he did not pull any punches. It is one gritty but spectacularly cinematic beat-down after another.

Fantasia ’25: Garo: Taiga

This is sort of the Tokusatsu (Japanese genre-action series) analog to Mustafa: The Lion King. In the original Garo tv series. Taiga Seijima had already been killed by the student who betrayed him, leaving behind his son Kouga to succeed him as a Makai Knight—the mystical warriors who bravely battle the so-called “horrors,” or demons that have assumed human bodies. However, that fateful day will not be today. During this prequel, Taiga Seijima is still young, cocky, and very much alive. To celebrate the franchise’s 20^th anniversary, series creator Keita Amemiya rewinds back to the senior Seijima’s early days (which look very much like the current day) in Amemiya’s prequel feature Garo: Taiga, which had its world premiere at this year’s Fantasia International Film Festival.

Sure, the basic concept of brotherhood of secret warriors sworn to protect the world from evil supernatural forces maybe sounds a little familiar, but Amemiya has been doing this for twenty years now. Before that, he created the Zeiram franchise and made significant contributions to Kamen Rider, so he knows Tokusatsu.

At this point, Seijima and his talking skull ring are tearing it up as horror hunters, but their next case (after the prologue) will be much more difficult. Evidently, a seriously powerful horror blew into town, on a mission. “Snake Way” intends to consume the four “Sacred Beasts” and take their powers, even though a horror ordinarily cannot gobble up elemental gods. Yet, they can swallow up humans. Inconveniently, Byakko, the wind deity, has a habit of breaking out of his mystical safety-deposit box to enjoy the simple joys of assuming human form.

As a prequel, Garo: Taiga is relatively accessible to newcomers, but it helps to have an appreciation of the Tokusatsu aesthetic. Basically, it is a cut above the non-Shin theatrical Ultraman movies that traditionally conclude each season. It is undeniably cheesy to watch Taiga strut through the city in his big hair and long white Adam Ant-ish duster, but it is a polished cheese.

Kiyoshi Kurosawa’s Cloud

Ryosuke Yoshii is the kind of reseller who has a one-star rating on ebay (or it is fictional equivalent). Yet, people still buy from him. Big surprise—they often regret it. Unfortunately for him, some of his disgruntled suppliers and buyers start getting organized “in real life” in director-screenwriter Kiyoshi Kurosawa’s Cloud, which opens tomorrow in New York.

It is easy to see why Yoshii has so much bad karma from the first transaction Kurosawa depicts. Having commissioned a run of counterfeit medical devices, Yoshii renegotiates for a fraction on the Yen, because it would cost the small workshop more to have them carted away as rubbish. Then he sells the entire run to desperate buyers, even though they are worthless.

These sharp practices led to the creation of a large network of online haters. Starting to feel the heat, Yoshii uses his next big score to relocate to the countryside. Nevertheless, Yoshii fears some of his shadowy stalkers followed him to the boonies. Increasingly paranoid, Yoshii’s emotional withdrawal pushes away his girlfriend Akiko. He also fires his new assistant, Sano, but the former protégé remains loyal to Yoshii, for reasons that are never fully explained. Dano also happens to have a certain set of skills, honed during his previous employment as a Yakuza enforcer.

Eventually, Cloud morphs into a reasonably effective stalker-payback thriller. Nevertheless, it is remarkable how far this film coasted on Kurosawa’s reputation, including its selection as Japan’s international Oscar submission. Most viewers who are unaware of its pedigree would assume it is merely a small, grungy exploitation movie, because that is exactly how it presents itself. Indeed, this film is small in scope and rather shallow. However, the concluding action sequence is admittedly lean, mean, and relentlessly tense.

Japan Cuts ’25: A Samurai in Time

If an Old West gunslinger traveled forward in time to 1950’s Hollywood, he would probably find steady work as a stuntman. It would be a lot harder for him in today’s film industry. That is also true for Kosaka Shinzaemon. He was, and remains a real deal samurai from the Aizu Domain, who somehow traveled forward in time to the Kyoto Uzumasa studio, where most of the Japanese entertainment industry’s Jidaigeki samurai dramas have been filmed. It is a whole new era for him, but he retains some adaptable skills in director-screenwriter Jun’ichi Yasuda’s A Samurai in Time, which screens as part of the 2025 Japan Cuts festival.

It was a dark a stormy night. Frankly, Shinzaemon really didn’t notice the stormy part until he started clashing swords with Yamagata Hikokuro, a rival from the Choshu Domain. Suddenly, a flash of lightning strikes and there he is on the Kyoto backlot. Confusingly, half the people look normal, but the rest appear to wear strange foreign garb. He is a bit of a bull in a China shop, but Yuko Yamamoto, a conscientious young assistant director looks out for the presumed amnesia case.

Thanks to her, he finds a place to stay at the nearby shrine frequently used as a location. He also starts apprenticing with Sekimoto, a master of stunt-performer swordplay. Sekimoto warns his new apprentice that Jidaigeki productions just aren’t as popular as they used to be. Nevertheless, Shinzaemon becomes a regular stunt performer on Yamamoto’s series, because he just looks so authentic. In fact, he even draws the attention of Kyoichiro Kazami, a veteran movie star, hoping to reinvigorate the Jidaigeki genre. Indeed, Kazami shows a particular interest in Shinzaemon.

Samurai in Time might remind genre fans of Ken Ochiai’s loving tribute to Jidaigeki extras, Uzumasa Limelight, with good reason. Ochiai’s star, longtime Jidaigeki bit-player Seizo Fukumoto was originally cast as Sekimoto, before his unfortunate passing. Instead, his “junior” colleague, Rantaro Mine, plays the role with the kind of dignified gravitas Fukumoto brought to Limelight. So yes, the two films would pair nicely.

Japan Cuts ’25: The Real You

In the future, AI will take a huge bite out of psychics’ séance business. If you have unresolved questions for your late loved ones, like emotionally stunted Sakuya Ishikawa, just download their data and ask the resulting AI construct. Of course, more input results in a better model, so Ishikawa requests the data from the close friend he never knew his mother had. Ironically, the mystery woman might (or might not) also be his tragic high school crush. Consequently, Ishikawa will have a lot to process himself in Yuya Ishii’s The Real You, which had its North American premiere at the 2025 Japan Cuts.

There was something Akiko wanted to tell Ishikawa, but he was too busy to listen. Then she died, apparently throwing herself into the swelling river one stormy night. Ishikawa tried to save her, but instead, he suffered a year-long coma. When he woke up, the government cut him a check, because unbeknownst to Ishikawa, his mother enrolled in a voluntary euthanasia program, much like that depicted in Plan 75.

Tormented by guilt and uncertainty, Ishikawa uses his savings to commission a virtual figure (VF) of his mother. It is through the company’s research that he learns of Ayaka Miyoshi. Strangely, she bears an unlikely resemblance to a high school classmate, whose misfortune indirectly led to Ishikawa’s downfall (through circumstances that Ishii teases out agonizingly slowly).

Regardless, Ishikawa invites the homeless Miyoshi to temporarily move into the apartment he shared with his mother, out of filial loyalty (and perhaps other reasons). He starts to get some kernels of truth from Akiko’s VF, but it is unclear whether he can handle the truth.

Awkwardly, The Real You consists of two thematically-distinct halves, one of which is much more compelling than the other. Ishikawa’s halting attempts to better understand his late mother are often poignant and fascinating, even though they revisit some of the terrain explored in the vastly superior Marjorie Prime.

Unfortunately, Ishii devotes equal or greater time to Ishikawa’s travails as a “real avatar,” essentially a live-streaming gig-worker, who are regularly forced to humiliate themselves and possibly even commit crimes, to satisfy the whims of their clients. Frankly, these sequences violate existing laws and any remaining remnant of common sense. They are also blatantly manipulative and cringe-inducingly didactic.