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.

Shiraishi's 11 Rebels

They were like an early Meiji Era Dirty Dozen except there were only eleven of them. In fact, the so-called “Suicide Squad” were initially only ten condemned prisoners who agreed to fight for the Shibata Domain, but somehow, they will add one more. They will need the reinforcements to hold the fort (literally) in Kazuya Shiraishi’s 11 Rebels, which releases today on DVD and VOD.

Masa was condemned for killing the Shibata samurai who attacked his wife, so as far as he is concerned, the rest of the clan can go die a fiery death. Nevertheless, Natsu the lady arsonist (who is stuck with all their domestic chores), convinces him to join the others “rebels,” to gain his freedom and provide for his wife.

It will be a motley crew, including the hulking serial killer, a defrocked priest, a village madman, and Koshiba, an old man, who, ironically happens to be the best swordsman of the lot. Ostensibly, they fall under the command of a handful of Shibata samurai, including the young and honorable Washio Heishiro and duplicitous Irie Kazuma. However, the Rebels take command of themselves once they discover Kazuma and Mizoguchi Takumi, the chief retainer, intend to betray them after the battle. That definitely prompts an “I told you so” moment from Masa, but the rebellious Rebels are still the only protection their village has from the approaching Imperial army.

The mayhem of 11 Rebels is not quite as spectacular as that of Miike’s 13 Assassins, but it is still pretty impressive. (To be fair, they also have two fewer rebels than assassins.) Jun’ya Ikegami’s screenplay was inspired by an unproduced and now lost screenplay written by Kazuo Kasahara way back in the 1960s. It is definitely dark, but its tragic heroism nicely taps into the concept of the “Nobility of Failure” popularized in academic circles by Ivan Morris. If you don’t really care about that, rest assured there are plenty of cool martial arts battles.

Last Mile, on Delta

Regrettably, one of the best ways to damage an “Amazon”-like corporate behemoth, especially one that prides itself on its “customer-centric” values, is through those customers. Survivors tend to leave very bad reviews when their packages explode. That has been happening throughout Japan on the worst possible day, Black Friday, in Ayuko Tsukahara’s Last Mile, which is now available on some international Delta flights.

Despite its record high volume Amazon’s Daily Fast’s Kanto warehouse has a troubled reputation, so Japanese expat Erana Funado was dispatched back home from corporate HQ to whip it into shape—on the busiest day of the year. Her chief lieutenant, Ko Nashimoto does not seam to mind being passed over. Yet, he represents the only management team member still employed at Kanto since the incident to be revealed later.

It is safe to assume someone else still remembers and remains upset over it. That tragedy emerges as the prime motive in a string of Amazon Daily Fast shipments that were rigged to explode. Strategically, many of the bombs targeted shipments of Amazon’s Daily Fast’s new proprietary smart phone. Given the season, there are hundreds of temp workers clocking into the Kanto facility, but the security precautions make it nearly impossible to smuggle in explosions. Indeed, the cops are baffled, leaving Funado and Nashimoto the best bets to solve the crime.

It makes sense Delta chose Last Mile for their in-flight entertainment, because nothing is more fun than a thriller about concealed bombs while you are sealed in an airliner flying over the ocean. This one is just okay, but it is extremely zeitgeisty. Quickly, the investigation focuses on the Sheep shipping company, from which Amazon Daily Fast has extorted huge discounts, thanks to their monopsonistic buying power. Of course, those concessions naturally come out of driver compensation.

So, Last Mile (a reference to the final leg before a package reaches its recipient) might not turn up on Prime anytime soon. The two-hour plus running time is also excessive. Yet, Akiko Nogi’s screenplay clearly reflects the abiding Japanese interest in corporate culture and teams, as exemplified by kezai shosetsu Japanese business novels.

Fittingly, Funado is the most intriguing character, because her corporate loyalty is often open to interpretation. Her resourcefulness is also impressive. Hikari Mitsushima brings a lot of screen charisma to the lead role, without overplaying the cloying pluckiness. It is easy to believe the more laidback (but comparatively underdeveloped) Nashimoto could work with her.

Yokohama BJ Blues, on OVID.tv

You know BJ must be a noir kind of guy, since he is a blues singing detective. Frankly, he is more of a blues-rocker than blues singer. He is not much of a detective either, but he keeps pursuing his best friend’s murderer even though it clearly involves the local crime syndicate in Eiichi Kudo’s Yokohama BJ Blues, which is now streaming on OVID.tv.

BJ had must tread lightly investigating his latest case. Akira Kondo’s mother hired him to find her missing son. Unfortunately, the boss of “The Family” “recruited” Kondo to be his “companion,” whether the young man likes it or not. There is little BJ can do, but at least he steals all the toilet paper from the boss’s bathroom on his way out.

While BJ avoids direct conflict with the Family, his friend, Det. Muku, made too many compromises. Facing imminent arrest for corruption, Muku hopes to bust an upcoming drug shipment to further bolster the plea deal he is already negotiating. Unfortunately, he is shot while meeting BJ. Despite a lack of forensic evidence, Muku’s thuggish partner Beniya tries to pin the murder on BJ.

Reportedly, star Yusaku Matsuda was inspired by trailers for Friedkin’s Cruising, which is highly believable given the tone of the final film. In fact, it is a miracle the cancel crowd has yet to attack Yokohama BJ Blues for being “problematic.” However, real people will appreciate the way Kudo makes Yokohama’a seamy red-light district look grimy and dangerous, as it surely was in 1981.

Matsuda, who was then at the height of his popularity as the star TV detective series, rather defiantly plays against type, turning BJ into a decidedly anti-heroic and thoroughly degenerate gumshoe. Koji Tanaka adds a tragic dimension to the film as the much-abused Kondo, who secretly befriends BJ.

Colorful Stage! The Movie: A Miku Who Can’t Sing, from GKIDS

In the Hatsune Miku: Colorful Stage “rhythm game,” virtual singers are sort of like the literary characters who come alive in Twilight Zone episodes, except it is a relatively common phenomenon. Supposedly, if real-life singers perform with enough emotion, they can bring their virtual collaborators to life and even join them in “Sekai,” special dedicated rooms in the dimension between the IRL and virtual worlds. Weirdly, several bands and their virtual “Mikus” encounter a mysterious new Miku who cannot connect musically in Hiroyuki Hata’s anime feature, Colorful Stage! The Movie: A Miku Who Can’t Sing, produced by animation house P.A. House and released by GKIDS, which starts a limited 4-day theatrical release today.

Move over Minecraft, because Hata and screenwriter Yoko Yonaiyama managed to adapt a game not unlike Guitar Hero or old-fashioned karaoke. However, there was a large cast of pre-existing characters whom Yonaiyama assumed the audience would already know. There is a bit of catching up to do, but astute viewers will hopefully pick things up as they go.

Several bands have connected with the own virtual collaborators in their specific Sekai. For Ichika Hoshino that would be Hatsume Miku, who is about the purest incarnation of a j-pop idol as you could envision. One day, she also encounters a new Miku, who looks somewhat similar, but is much less self-assured. She seems to travel through digital screens, producing static and distortions. Ironically, the frustration caused by her service disruptions makes new Miku’s challenge to connect on an emotional level even more difficult.

Nevertheless, the four bands she reaches out to do their best to help, but they cannot coordinate their efforts, because the alternate Miku communicates with them on different wavelengths, or something like that. They feel for her and the creators she is supposed to be attuned with. Unfortunately, the real-life people hardwired to her Sekai cannot reach it, because they are all mired in states of creative and emotional crisis. In fact, their aggregated depression could drag the new Miku down as well.

It bears repeating, the rules of the Colorful Stage world are a tad confusing for newcomers, but that is the general idea. Regardless, it is pretty impressive how Hata and Yonaiyama built a full feature length narrative out of a smart-phone game that previously spawned a dozen or so ultra-mini anime webisodes.

While there are some thematic similarities with Mamoru Hosoda’s Belle, Colorful Stage! The Movie serves up some interesting world-building. In fact, it would nicely fit with Belle, Summer Wars, The Matrix, Tron, and World on a Wire in film series exploring the porous border between the physical and digital worlds.

NYICFF ’25: Totto-Chan, The Little Girl in the Window

The Tomoe Academy was not exactly A.S. Neill’s Summerhill, but it was quite progressive for its era. That would be the Tojo Era. Tetsuko Kuroyanagi’s parents were relatively modern and somewhat Westernized, putting them a little out of step. Little Kuroyanagi (a.k.a. Totto-Chan) also happens to be a free-thinker, which causes her trouble at most schools. However, Tomoe’s Principal Kobayashi can handle her just fine in Shinnosuke Yakuwa’s Totto-Chan: The Little Girl in the Window, adapted from the real-life Kuroyanagi’s autobiographical YA novel, which screens as part of the 2025 New York International Children’s Film Festival.

Totto-Chan is a classic example of what contemporary audiences might see a gifted student who becomes inadvertently disruptive due to lack of challenge. In Japan on the cusp of WWII, most teachers just consider her a pain. Kobayashi gets her and she thrives under his non-traditional approach. Tomoe also perfectly suits her empathy and tolerance, because it is there that she meets her (arguably best) friend, Yasuaki Yamamoto, a little boy whose leg and arm were shriveled by polio.

She helps build his courage and learns how to be more sensitive towards others from him. Unfortunately, very few of her countrymen try to learn greater sensitivity after the Pearl Harbor Attack. Clearly, her parents have grave reservations regarding the war, but Totto-Chan instinctively understands the need to keep private family business private. She quickly recognizes the dangers represented by a uniform. Totto-Chan is also surprisingly mature when it comes to facing hunger caused by wartime shortages.

Such excesses of Japan’s militarism periodically intrude into Totto-Chan’s life, but the film mostly focuses on her relationships, especially with Yamamoto. When you really boil it down, this is an absolutely beautifully, almost painfully bittersweet portrait of young friendship.

#Manhole, on Screambox

It is not simply a question of crumbling infrastructure. Admittedly, alcohol was a contributing factor, but someone might have intentionally “helped” Shunsuke Kawamura fall through a manhole, into a narrow subterranean cavity. However, his strategy of crowd-sourcing his rescue risks igniting the “madness of crowds” in Kazuyoshi Kumakiri’s #Manhole, which premieres today on Screambox.

Up until now, Kawamura led a charmed life. Tomorrow, he will marry his boss’s daughter, so the firm took him out to celebrate. The next thing he knew, he fell through this hole. Unfortunately, most of his contacts are not picking up and his GPS seemingly leads the cops to search the wrong areas. Desperate regarding his fast-approaching wedding, Kawamura creates a Twitter (here somewhat unfortunately renamed “Pecker”) handle for #Manholegirl, assuming a trapped woman will better motivate strangers to collaboratively determine his location.

Of course, he must give them accurate details, so he pretends “#Manholegirl” is his sister, a potential victim of those he wronged through his philandering. Ominously, the net weirdos focus on his jealous colleague, Etsuro Kase, as their prime suspect.

Michitaka Okada’s screenplay takes some dark turns, while depicting the lunacy of online mobs. Awkwardly, the cops do not inspire much confidence either. Consequently, Kawamura might just be on his own—and the run-off water from a nearby abandoned industrial building steadily rises.

The Snow Woman, on OVID.tv

Her hair is black as coal, but her skin and robes are ghostly white. Any half-witted genre fan can immediately tell she must be some kind of supernatural entity. In this case, she is a Yuki-onna, often referred to as a snow witch. If that sounds familiar, maybe you read the Lafcadio Hearn short story or saw it adapted as part of Masaki Obayashi’s truly classic anthology film, Kwaidan. This Yuki-onna is that Yuki-onna. Three years after Kwaidan, Hearn’s snowy story was translated into a full-length feature., but Tokuzo Tanaka’s The Snow Woman remains true to its source and chillily atmospheric, as viewers will see when a new 4K restoration premieres this Friday on OVID.TV.

Instead of wood-cutters, this time around, a master wood-carver and his apprentice traveled deep into the snowy woods in search of the perfect tree for the elder artist’s final masterwork. Late that night, the long-haired Yokai glides into the cabin where they took refuge, freezing the old man to death with her frosty projections (sort of like Marvel’s Iceman). However, she spares Yosaku’s life, because he is young and just too darned good-looking. She insists on one condition—he must never, ever speak of what happened. Should he break his word, she will quickly finish the job.

Several days later, while Yosaku still grieves and recuperates with his master’s widow, a strange woman takes shelter from the rain in their modest home. Obviously, viewers can tell the eerily beautiful Yuki is the Yuki-onna, but Yosaku never makes the connection. Instead, he falls in love with her as they both comfort the ailing widow. Unfortunately, his soon-to-be wife also turns the head of the cruel local lord.

Mobile Suit Gundam: Cucuruz Doan’s Island

Among anime fans, Mobile Suit Gundam is considered the granddaddy of the mecha genre. Yet, during its initial series run, budget shortfalls constantly forced producers to cut corners. Series director Yoshiyuki Tomino believed the economizing was particularly conspicuous throughout the fifteenth episode, so he withheld it from most subsequent distribution packages. However, he still believed the story had potential. Years later, this interlude from the Earth Federation’s battle against Zeon separatists gets a feature-length remake in Yoshikazu Yasuhiko’s Mobile Suit Gundam: Cucuruz Doan’s Island, which releases Tuesday on BluRay.

All you really need to know about the Battle of Jaburo is recent momentum has favored the Federation, but Zeon has a major game-changing counter-offensive planned. According to his orders, Captain Bright Noa dispatched Amuro Ray and his comrades Kai Shiden and Hayato Kobayashi on a “mopping up” operation, targeted suspected sleeper operatives on Alegranza, perilously near their Canary Islands base.

Unfortunately, after the disoriented Ray separates from his unit, he is ambushed by a vintage Zaku, a Zeon mecha suit. Per protocol, Shiden and Kobayashi must leave him behind. However, he will not face the sort of peril they fear. Instead, Cucuruz Doan, the pilot of the Zaku, helps nurse Ray back to help and offers him hospitality in his farm, a refuge for two dozen or so war orphans.

While Ray is eager to rejoin the war, Doan has declared his own separate peace. He bears Ray no ill-will, but he will not do anything that could bring warfighting back to his island. Consequently, Ray wastes days searching for the Gundam Doan hid alongside his Zaku. Yet, as Ray comes to know the orphans, he better appreciates Doan’s desire to protect them and his aversion to the ongoing war.

Of course, war inevitably returns to Alegranza, whether Doan likes it or not. Having lost contact with their sleeper operative, Doan, the sinister Zeon commander M’quve deploys a unit of Zakus to take charge of the doomsday weapon buried in the island’s subterranean caverns. Ray’s friends are also on their way, since Captain Noa conveniently feigned engine trouble, to facilitate the unsanctioned rescue operation he knew they would launch.

The contrasting ways Ray and Doan relate to war gives this film some intriguing philosophical heft. It is easy to see why Tomino considered the original episode lost a lost opportunity. The storyline is also easy to carve out of the overall series narrative. However, much of the business involving the orphans is a way too precious.

Japan Cuts ’24: Whale Bones

The disingenuous act like the tiktok divestment bill is an attack on the Interstate Highway system, but apps come and go all the time. When did you last check your Myspace page? In this film, the Mimi app is already past its prime, but one of its most viral users still pulls a frustrated office drone into the mystery of her life in Takamasa Oe’s Whale Bones, which screens today during this year’s Japan Cuts.

Poor tragically-average Mamiya is blindsided when his fiancée dumps him, so he goes on a traditional hook-up app, where he meets the woman whom he will know as Aska. This film really is not about that app. Instead, it is all about who Aska is, or was. Even though he quite likes her, their date takes a surprisingly dark turn, leaving him wondering about her.

Aska explained her status as one of the top users of Mimi, which is sort of like tiktok, except each video is geo-synched to a particular location. To see the video, you must be at the spot where it was “buried.” To sleuth out the truth of Aska, Miyami must discover all the videos she buried. Some are well known by her followers, who still revisit them often, but others remain largely secret.

In some ways, Whale Bones (a terrible, misleading title for an otherwise very smart film) feels more speculative than it probably is. Quite strikingly, Oe stages each buried video as if Aska is in the room talking to Miyami, like a full-size hologram, even though she is really just a video on his smart phone. As a dramatic technique, it is brilliantly effective—sometimes devastatingly so. It also would make an amazing double feature with Morel’s Invention, which would be spoilery to that Italian film to explain.

Japan Cuts ’24: The Box Man

It's a classic question: “who was that boxed man?” It turns out, it is considered bad form to ask, at least according to this Box Man. Although there is not a similar racial component, Kobo Abe’s character shares the nihilistic existentialism of Ellison’s Invisible Man. He also has a bit of Holden Caulfield and Oscar the Grouch in him. He might be an anonymous drifter, but people are weirdly fascinated with him in Gakuryu Ishii’s The Box Man, based on the Kobo Abe novel, which screens today as part of this year’s Japan Cuts.

According to the man who only calls himself “Myself,” you can see the reality of society from a box. He knows we’re all a bunch of phonies. Yet, he claims: “those who obsess over the Box Man, become the Box Man,” and he should know, because he is the Box Man.

The nefarious “General” and his accomplice, the “Fake Doctor,” are the latest to get fixated on his peculiar vagrancy. His box is a bit like Snoopy’s dog house. He managed to stash a lot of stuff in there, but like a Scot’s kilt you don’t want to look underneath his box. The General’s interest stems from a murky criminal plot, wherein he will assume the Box Man’s identity to evade justice. However, Box Man’s eccentric lifestyle appears to slowly seduce the Fake Doctor.

Meanwhile, the Box Man might be feeling something remotely human for Yoko, the Fake Doctor’s fake nurse. Apparently, her checkered past gives the Fake Doctor the leverage to force her to do his bidding. Of course, her shame only creates a stronger sense of kinship with the Box Man.

Before his death, Abe gave Ishii his blessing to adapt The Box Man, which means this film has been twenty-seven years in the making. It is easy to understand why it was long considered unadaptable. Clearly, Abe was addressing issues of identity and epistemology in a very postmodern fashion. However, Ishii manages to bring it to the screen in a way that still gives us something to watch, which is appreciated. In fact, it often has the flavor of an obscure Borgesian caper.

Obviously, The Box Man is not for everyone. If you are unsure, consider it a “no.” As a point of reference, it is somewhat more grounded than the films of Robbe-Grillet, but also less stylish. Ishii’s adaptation is deeply grounded in existential and post-structuralist philosophy, but Michiaki Katsumoto’s jazzy score is a blessing that greatly aids the film’s watchability. However, the deliberately elusive payoff is intentionally frustrating.

Japan Cuts ’24: Kyrie

In one way, the timing is good for a busker like Luca (a.k.a. Kyrie), because she might find fame on privacy-invading, spyware-infecting, propaganda-spewing tiktok. However, the timing of the 2011 earthquake and tsunami during her childhood was absolutely tragic. The resulting trauma clearly persists in director-screenwriter Shunji Iwai’s Kyrie, which screens during the year’s Japan Cuts: Festival of New Japanese Film.

When Maori first met Luca, the orphaned girl could not speak, but she could sing. That is still true when she encounters a decade or so later, performing on the street, but they now call themselves Ikko and Kyrie. The former Luca has talent and Ikko still feels protective urges towards her, so she volunteers to manage Kyrie’s career.

Kyrie needs some help and Ikko’s intentions are honest, but there is something dodgy about her new manager. Not so surprisingly, Kyrie is too naïve to see that. For a while, Ikko’s street smarts serve them both well, but she clearly appears to be running from a mysterious man.

Frankly, Kyrie/Luca’s backstory is not so difficult to anticipate, but Iwai still takes great pains to tease it out across the film’s somewhat excessive three-hour running time. Yet, it should be fully stipulated when the film finally revisits the fateful day of March 11^th, it is agonizingly tense. Many viewers will be holding their breath, like they never have in any horror movie, even though they know what is coming.

Iwai can make viewers passionately love him and viscerally hate him, all in the same film. Kyrie is a perfect example. There is suffering and there is catharsis, but in this case, the synthesis of the two is somewhat off. The tunes are also integral to the story, but only Kyrie’s closing song really lands, either melodically or emotionally.

Japan Cuts ’24: Between the White Key and the Black Key

The 1980s were an unusually good time to be a jazz musician in America. Wynton Marsalis made acoustic bop commercially successful again and the venerable Blue Note Records was re-launched. Evidently, in Japan, the jazz scene more resembled 1930s Chicago. Most musicians played in Ginza clubs that were clearly controlled by the Yakuza, at least according to musician Hiroshi Minami. He survived to write about those times in his memoir, but director-co-screenwriter Masanori Tominaga splits his persona in half in the appropriately syncopated and stylized adaptation, Between the White Key and the Black Key, which screens as the opening night film of the 2024 Japan Cuts.

Hiroshi yearns to play jazz, but his hip teacher knows he needs some seasoning, so he recommends gigging in the seedy Ginza cabarets. Sure enough, Hiroshi quickly gets an education. Fatefully, a mysterious Yakuza freshly released from prison requests Rota’s “Love Theme from The Godfather.” Hiroshi obliges, even though the leader on the gig freaks out six ways from Sunday.

It turns out only Kumano, the boss known as “the King of Ginza” can call that tune and only Minami (Hiroshi’s future self, who coexists in the same time-frame) can play it. Fortunately, Hiroshi’s gig was at a club where musicians traditionally wear masks, because news of the transgression spreads quickly.

As it happens, the artistically frustrated Minami intends to desert Ginza to study real jazz at the Berklee School of Music. He only confides his plan to Chikako, who agrees to aid his getaway. That means they will need a sub to cover for him, so she recruits Hiroshi, an old friend from school.

Even though Tominaga and co-screenwriter Tomoyuki Takahashi have that Lynchian looping time thing going on, it is not what defines the film. Questions of artistic integrity and compromise are more important (and timeless) themes. Having played in Al Capone’s clubs, Armstrong would well understand Minami’s relationship with Kumano.

Even though little is done to physically distinguish Hiroshi from Minami, Sosuke Ikematsu is so good at creating such ying-and-yang personalities and carries himself so differently, viewers might start to wonder if he is the same thesp (which indeed is the case). Go Morita is also a wild chaos agent as the mysterious Yakuza. Whenever he shows up, the audience knows there will be trouble.