Takuji
Kameoka is a working actor, with the emphasis on working. Some of his roles are
little more than extra gigs, but the professionalism and frequency of his supporting
turns earns him the respect of his more famous colleagues. Inevitably, the
journeyman thesp will have the inklings of a midlife crisis, but he will have
trouble fitting it into his busy schedule throughout Satoko Yokohama’s The Actor (trailer here), which screens as
the closing selection of this year’s Japan Cuts: Festival of New Japanese Film
in New York.
Kameoka
is also a heavy drinker, but that seems to go with the territory. He is a
veteran of just about every genre, but his most frequent credit is “Thief.” He
would like to settle down, but in his line of work, he never meets the sort of
real world woman who might be interested in him. However, Kameoka finally
starts to get ideas during a shoot in the exurban provinces. Finding himself at
loose ends his first night on-set, he walks into a bar and is immediately
struck by the proprietress, Azumi Murota (so will the entire audience).
The
chemistry is immediately evident, yet also comfortable, as if they had known
each other for years. It obviously means something to Kameoka, but he will
allow himself to get distracted by other business, including an audition for a
Spanish auteur he reveres and a rare theatrical casting in a hideously pretentious
production directed by and starring a grand doyen of the stage.
The Actor is a lovely film
that proves Japanese cinema has an overwhelming comparative advantage in
bittersweet dramedy. However, it suffers in comparison with the sublimely
poignant Uzumasa Limelight. While
Seizo Fukumoto’s aching dignity took on regal dimensions, Ken Yasuda’s Kameoka
is a more rough-and-tumble blue-collar kind of guy. Like his character, Yasuda
is often cast as comic foils (that would be him portraying the hyper-judgmental
high school teacher in Flying Colors),
so he can clearly relate. Avoiding clichés, he brings out Kameoka’s rumpled
charm and fatalistic sense of humor. It is easy to understand why he is such a
reassuring presence on sets.
As
Murota, Kumiko Aso steals our hearts and then quietly breaks them. The
give-and-take of her scenes with Yasuda are just beautifully balanced. Yoshiko
Mita also upends our expectations and drops some surprisingly heavy lines as
Natsuko Matsumura, the dread terror of the stage. Regardless, it is Yasuda’s
film and he makes the most of it.
