Japan Cuts ’17: Zigeunerweisen

Is there a better way to start a film than by playing a vintage ten-inch phonograph record? No, there isn’t. That is how Seijun Suzuki commenced his great comeback masterpiece, but to make it even better, he has his characters discuss how an audible bit of conversation on the classic Pablo de Sarasate recording was initially considered a flaw but was eventually recognized as what made the record so special. That disc will play a fateful but hard to explain role in Suzuki’s digitally remastered Zigeunerweisen (trailer here), which screens during the 2017 Japan Cuts Festival of New Japanese Film in New York.

All the cultural tensions of the Taishō Period (1912-1926) can be found in Aochi and Nakasago, former professors at the military academy, who have gone in very different directions. Aochi (tellingly a professor of German) adopted western suits and lives a life of middle class respectability. Nakasago still wears traditional garb and lives a wild (almost feral) semi-nomadic existence. The ex-colleagues reunite when Aochi happens along just in time to save Nakasago from a lynch mob convinced he murdered the lover he led astray.

He probably did it. He certainly admits it readily enough when he and Aochi stop to enjoy some sake at a geisha bar. Rather boorishly, Nakasago insists a recently bereaved geisha perform for them. Yet, both men will be strangely moved by grieving O-Ine as she performs her hostess duties. Aochi will go back to his modernized, luxury-indulging wife Shuko and Nakasago will follow a blind trio of beggars who sing songs so ribald they would make Missy Elliott blush. When they next meet, Nakasago has married Sono, a woman from a proper family, who is a dead-ringer for O-Ine.

It is highly debatable whether Aochi and Nakasago were ever truly friends, but their fates are certainly linked and to some extent, each has the other’s number. There are people in life you just can’t shake, for better or for worse—in the case of Nakasago, it is most likely for the worse. Of course, the doppelganger duo of Sono and O-Ine is also deeply archetypal. Zigeunerweisen is frequently surreal and it eventually evolves into a literally haunted genre film, but there is something universally relatable about its core I-am-not-my-brother-from-another-mother’s-keeper relationship.

Yoshio Harada gets to storm and rage as Nakasago, but it is Toshiya Fujita who injects all the bile and arsenic as the tightly wound Aochi. Frankly, it is fascinating to watch them dance around each other as they observe the rituals of friendship. Naoko Otani also covers a great deal of ground as the forceful, seductive, and ultimately spooky doubles, Sono and O-Ine. Michiyo Okusu is also something else and then some as the privileged Shuko.

Zigeunerweisen is truly a masterwork, precisely because it is so slippery and hard to pin down, yet still so disconcertingly eerie. The Taishō setting adds further layers of irony and foreboding. After all, the Aochis would inherit the nation from the Nakasagos, but we know where that would lead. Very highly recommended, Zigeunerweisen screens this afternoon (7/23) at the Japan Society, as part of the concluding day of this year’s Japan Cuts.

Japan Cuts ’17: Summer Lights

It started with Alain Resnais and now another French crew has come to contemplate the tragedy of Hiroshima. Of course, Akihiro’s interest makes perfect sense, since he is a Japanese expat working for French television, but the assignment still affects him more than he expected in Jean-Gabriel Périot’s Summer Lights (trailer here), which screens during the 2017 Japan Cuts Festival of New Japanese Film in New York.

The interview Akihiro records with Mrs. Takeda is so powerful, Périot lets it play in its entirety as a twenty-minute uninterrupted prologue, before the opening credits roll. In it, she tells how her beloved mother was lost without a trace and her pretty older sister Michiko, a nurse who cared for the sick and dying, eventually succumbed to radiation sickness. Akihiro is so overwhelmed by her testimony, he abruptly leaves his crew to clear his head in Peace Memorial Park.

However, a rather forward woman in traditional dress seems determined to strike up a conversation with him. She is a little odd, but he finds her company inexplicably comforting. Through her, Akihiro will learn more about what the aftermath was really like. Yes, her name also happens to be Michiko, from which you can probably deduce more than Akihiro. Yet, the inevitable revelation and ultimate takeaway are portrayed in such a simple and straightforward manner, they become profoundly beautiful.

What the Takedas endured is truly heart-rending. Of course, what is missing from Lights are the atrocities of the Rape of Nanjing, the Bataan Death March, the terror-bombing of Chongqing, and the systematic enslavement of so-called “Comfort Women,” none of which was likely to end without a profound shock to rigid Imperial military hierarchy. Perhaps it would be awkward for Périot to address such points, but the truth is always more complicated than reductive peace slogans.

Regardless, Akane Tatsukawa is absolutely remarkable as the deceptively light-hearted Michiko. Appropriately, she has a fishing scene, because she reels us in and then clobbers us. Hiroto Ogi’s Akihiro initially comes across as pretty dense, but he sneaks up on the audience and crystallizes the entire film in the third act. Yet, nobody can touch the plain-spoken power and dignity of Mamako Yoneyama’s performance as Mrs. Takeda.

In a way, Summer Lights is the inverse-opposite of Kiyoshi Kurosawa’s Daguerrotype. It was shot in Japan, with an entirely Japanese cast, exploring a distinctly Japanese subject, but was helmed by a French filmmaker. Frankly, it is impossible to imagine another tandem of any nationality who could equal Tatsukawa and Yoneyama. Recommended for its remarkable cast and refreshingly humanistic perspective, Summer Lights screens tomorrow (7/23) at the Japan Society, as part of this year’s Japan Cuts.

Japan Cuts ’17: Shippu Rondo

Among authors frequently adapted for film and television, Keigo Higashino is approaching the lofty, bankable heights of Stephen King and Agatha Christie. American viewers are most likely to be familiar with gritty thrillers based on his work, such as Into the White Nights and the South Korean Broken. It is hard to believe the same pen inspired this light-hearted family caper, but imdb and wiki wouldn’t lie, would they? Regardless, a widowed father is in for a rough skiing outing when he tries to recover a lost canister of super anthrax in Teruyuki Yoshida’s Shippu Rondo (trailer here), which screens during the 2017 Japan Cuts Festival of New Japanese Film in New York.

Chief researcher Kazuyuki Kuribayashi was caught flat-footed when he learned his boss Masaomi Togo allowed an unstable colleague to develop the lethal K-55. To make matters worse, he takes the bio-weapon with him after he is finally fired for being nuts. He had intended to extort money from his former employer, but he is killed in a freak accident shortly after sending his demands.

Of course, the shtickily loathsome Togo will not go to the authorities, so that leaves the put-upon Kuribayashi to recover it. All he has to go on is a transponder frequency and the photo sent by the late mad scientist of a teddy bear apparently marking the hiding place, somewhere out of bounds at a large ski resort. At least his petulant middle school son will get a ski trip out of his dad’s troubles. He also might be able to hep more if Kuribayashi would start trusting him.

Yes sir, lessons will be learned by everyone during the course of Shippu, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing. Most of the cast is rather pleasant to spend time with and there are some decent skiing/snowboarding chase sequences to its further merit.

Hiroshi Abe, who has the flexibility to star in Kore-eda family dramas and the Thermae Romae franchise, has plenty of aw shucks charm, but still manages to project a sense of the widower’s sadness. Tatsuomi Hamada and Sayu Kubota have way more charisma than you would expect as his son Hideto and Ikumi Yamasaki, the local girl who befriends him. Tadayoshi Okura and Yuko Oshima handle the action well enough as the ski patrol member and prospective Olympian who volunteer to help Kuribayashi. However, there is no getting around the pain of watching Akira Emoto mug and guffaw as the embarrassing Togo.

In a way, it is sort of depressing a mostly pleasant, completely family-friendly film like this has absolutely no chance of getting picked up for distribution outside of Japan. We’re only interested in films with violent, provocative content. Therefore, if you want to see it, you’d better see it now. For us, it is especially interesting to place it in the context of other Higashino films we have seen or expect to cover shortly. If anyone is sufficiently enterprising, a Higashino retrospective would certainly make for rewarding viewing. In the meantime, the ultra-nice but hardly spectacular Shippu Rondo screens this Saturday noon (7/22) at the Japan Society, as part of this year’s Japan Cuts.

Japan Cuts ’17: Another Recent Film from the Prolific Sion Sono

Each film in Nikkatsu’s relaunch of the iconic but formulaic soft-core series (see Dawn of the Felines and Wet Woman in the Wind for reference) is not supposed to exceed eighty minutes. Check. There is also supposed to be a sex scene every ten minutes. In this case, that sort of happens, but not really. Of course, Sion Sono is all about breaking rules. When he tries his hand at a R-P, he produces one of his most feminist films yet in Antip0rn0 (trailer here), which screens during the 2017 Japan Cuts Festival of New Japanese Film in New York.

Kyoko is the new It Girl of fashion and chick lit, but she is a hot and mean mess. She will lead her submissive assistant Noriko down a rabbit hole of humiliation and degradation to disturbing depths. However, things are not what they seem. Instead of a sex scene, Sono delivers a world-upending rug pull every ten minutes. Of course, they usually involve plenty of nudity. Plus, dig that groovy color palette.

While it would be spoilery to explain too much, the previous Sono film AP probably shares the closest kinship with would be Tag, which also relied on strong female characters. Whereas Tag challenged its primary trio to literally give their performances on the run, AP demands full physical and emotional exposure from Ami Tomite and Mariko Tsutsui, as Kyoko and Noriko respectively. They also cover an emotional range like you wouldn't believe and often have to turn on a dime (again, it is hard to cite specifics without giving the game away).

AP is a heck of a mind-you-know-what, which is sort of appropriate to the genre, notwithstanding the degree that Sono totally and utterly deconstructs it. Yet, even at seventy-five minutes, the defiant gamesmanship starts to run out of gas in the closing act. Still, it really has to be seen to be believed—and much like Kazuya Shiraishi’s Felines, if you find it arousing, you should probably seek professional help.

Indeed, the “Anti” is no lie. It is another strange but deeply compelling provocation from a compulsively-risk-taking auteur. Highly recommended for Sono’s admirers (but ironically, not so much for R-P fans), Anti screens this Saturday night (7/22) at the Japan Society, as part of this year’s Japan Cuts.

Japan Cuts ‘17: Daguerrotype

If any old picture is worth a thousand words than the sweat equity that goes into a daguerreotype ought to increase the exchange rate dramatically. In fact, a rather anti-social photographer is convinced daguerreotypes constitute the only true photography. The punishing lengths of time he requires his subjects to sit almost seems to be part of their appeal. Not surprisingly, the only models who would regularly endure his long sittings were his late wife and his neurotic dead-ringer daughter. As a result, his new assistant will be walking into a rather tense family dynamic and maybe, possibly a slightly haunted house in Kiyoshi Kurosawa’s first French language film, Daguerrotype (trailer here), which screens during the 2017 Japan Cuts Festival of New Japanese Film in New York.

Jean is initially hired as Stéphane’s assistant precisely because he has no proper photography baggage. He also doesn’t seem to mind working long hours, after his extended period of unemployment (this was Hollande’s France, after all). The old man finds him adequately adequate, but his nervous daughter Marie takes a liking to him. She clearly sees Jean as a potential ally in her quiet campaign to lead a more independent life. Of course, the obsessive daguerreotypist would not care to lose his best and really only model.

Stéphane is also not inclined to move from his spacious but ramshackle villa either, despite the lucrative offers made by the local council and Jean’s efforts to nudge him along (for a sizable commission). It seems his property is dead smack in the middle of a proposed “green works” boondoggle. It also might be haunted. Now and then, Kurosawa will show us hints of the uncanny, but he will maintain the ambiguity until very late in the third act.

In terms of its tone and approach to the supernatural Daguerrotype compares very directly with Olivier Assayas’s Personal Shopper. However, it lacks the breathlessly intense prologue of the Shopper, which really sets up the audience on pins and needles for the rest of the film. Instead, each door that mysteriously opens raises our hopes that he will finally get into it, only to find it is another tease.

Still, enormous credit is due to Olivier Gourmet who is absolutely riveting as the arrogant, guilt-ridden, and possibly delusional Stéphane. Frankly, one of the most frightening aspects of the film is watching him fall into an ambiguous mental state somewhere between sanity and madness. Tahar Rahim broods well enough as Jean, but Constance Rousseau’s remarkable portrait of Marie is achingly fragile and somewhat off. As usual, it is also fun to watch Mathieu Amalric do his thing in a small but colorful role as Stéphane’s sleazy agent.

This is Kurosawa’s first film with a Euro crew, but he certainly can’t complain about the tech contributions. Alexis Kavyrchine softly-lit cinematography is appropriately eerie, while Casa Stéphane is quite a feat of mise-en-scene. However, the truly ghostly life-size daguerreotypes are absolutely indispensable for the film’s look, tone, and overall effect. So, yes, a picture is worth a bunch of words. Good, but not the masterwork we’re all hoping for, Kurosawa’s Daguerrotype is still very much worth seeing when it has its New York premiere tomorrow (7/18) at the Japan Society, as part of this year’s Japan Cuts.

Japan Cuts ’17: Haruneko

It is strange film theorists have not spent more time analyzing the connection between genre cinema and experimental film. After all, to accept a postmodern fantasia on anything approaching face value, you have to make similar or even greater jumps as those required by fantastical cinema. Take this one. In many ways, it would bear comparison to Kore-eda’s After Life, but the herky-jerky flow puts us in a completely different headspace. In any event, those who seek death will eventually find it in Sora Hokimoto’s Haruneko (trailer here), which screens during the 2017 Japan Cuts Festival of New Japanese Film in New York.

The Manager runs a coffee shop in the woods that attracts a steady clientele, despite its remote location. After serving some rich looking French-press coffee, “The Manager” will escort guests into the woods, where they dissolve into sound vibrations. At least, that is the idea. Some guests, like the yakuza on the run or the delusional father who just murdered his wife and daughter might require a little coaxing. However, from a Karmic standpoint, it is necessary for them to move on.

That is the [relatively] clear-cut narrative part. Haruneko has no shortage of hallucinatory imagery that viewers could mull over for years without fully parsing them. Of course, for some, that is the charm of a film like this.

Haruneko is part of the experimental focus at this year’s Japan Cuts, so its surreal sensibilities should not come as a surprise. It is not for a mass audience, but the intimidated will miss out on a terrific performance from young Ryuto Iwata as Haru, a little boy who assists the manager with day-to-day chores and might also be a potential client, as his mysterious sister was or will be.

This is a strange film that changes tone on a dime. Yet, there is something undeniably inviting about the fateful coffeehouse. It is a lovely example of the power of mise-en-scene. Yoi Suzuki’s suggestive cinematography also captures the deep verdant colors of the forest, as well as a sense of the mysteries lurking within. Arguably, it is an experimental film that could have been more powerful if it were less experimental. Recommended for patrons of the avant-garde, Haruneko screens tonight (7/16) at the Japan Society, as part of this year’s Japan Cuts.

Japan Cuts ’17: The Ondekoza

Taiko drumming isn’t just music, it is also spectacle. If you doubt it, check out Yako Miyamoto and her taiko drumming dance troupe, COBU (really, you should). They fused taiko with tap, other modern dance forms, and martial arts, creating a dazzling synthesis. They were able to reinterpret those traditional forms because of musicians like the Ondekoza ensemble, who came together to keep taiko alive and vital in 1969. Yakuza auteur Tai Kato documents the training and performances of a fresh batch of recruits in the criminally under-released and under-screened documentary The Ondekoza (trailer here), which looks terrific in the new 4K restoration that premieres in America during the 2017 Japan Cuts Festival of New Japanese Film in New York.

The Ondekoza (or Za Ondekoza) live and train communally, much like military personnel. In fact, when Kato follows the newbies as they take their daily jog around Sado island, you almost expect to hear them chant: “I don’t know but I’ve been told, taiko drumming makes you bold.” We get some sense of the young performers’ personalities, especially when they start to make their costumes. However, the real guts of the film are several stunningly filmed performances.

Frankly, Ondekoza compares quite closely to the eternally gorgeous Calle 54, especially Keiji Maruyama’s absolutely stunning cinematography. This is truly bravura, auterist filmmaking, featuring lush backdrops, artful visual composition, and incredibly dramatic but assured jump cuts.

It is not just taiko either. Ondekoza was founded to preserve and revitalize traditional Japanese music, such as the climatic solo shamisen performance, which ranks up the with Hoichi the Earless in Masaki Kobayashi’s Kwaidan as one of the most cinematic shamisen performances ever. Although not quite as innovative as Miyamoto and COBU, Ondekoza also perform in more modern contexts, with groups like the Downtown Boogie Woogie Band, who were more 1970s funk than Meade Lux Lewis barrel house. Yet, it is when Ondekoza reconnect with tradition that they sound their best, such the starkly powerful human bunraku number.

It is depressing Ondekoza was virtually unseen during Kato’s lifetime, because it is such a conspicuous masterwork. Seriously, what more do you need? At least Shochiku has done right by Kato on his centennial (1916-1985), because the restoration is first-class all the way. Very highly recommended, The Ondekoza screens tomorrow (7/16) at the Japan Society, as part of this year’s Japan Cuts.

Japan Cuts ’17: Neko Atsume House

If Colson Whitehead can write a zombie novel, why not Masaru Sakumoto? Perhaps because he is written out. The once promising new novelist hasn’t written anything readable in years, so his publisher demands he introduce zombies into his low-rated serial. Hoping to spark his stalled creative process, Sakumoto retreats to a sleepy provincial town, but he finds a whole bunch of cats instead in Masatoshi Kurakata’s Neko Atsume House (trailer here), which screens during the 2017 Japan Cuts Festival of New Japanese Film in New York.

Apparently, NA House is based on a smart-phone game. Considering the number of cats slinking through it, the game must be a first-person shooter, but the film is nothing like that. After his brief initial grouchiness, Sakumoto is actually happy to have all those flea and rabies carrying strays around. In fact, he even tries to attract more.

Remarkably, Sakumoto’s dedicated editor Michiru Towada has not given up on him yet. She keeps schlepping out to beat his latest installment out of him. Despite her shy demeanor and her sentimental attachment to his prize-winning debut, she is honest about the quality of his current work. He basically knows it too, which is why he would rather be the neighborhood’s crazy cat lady. At least, trips to the local cat specialty store provide a little bit of social interaction with Yoko, the owner.

Frankly, NA House must be the best film based on a video game ever, but we’ll still accept Mortal Kombat as an answer for nostalgic reasons. Regardless, NA House has sensitive and complex characters as well as an unhurried but purposeful narrative, which certainly set it well apart from the field. Although the film eschews traditional romance there is something quite endearing and ultimately poignant about Sakumoto’s relationships with Towada and the intimidatingly alluring cat store proprietor. You rarely see these sorts of smart, platonic interactions in movies to any real extent. That’s another reason why NA House is so refreshing.

Atsushi Ito is quietly understated as Sakumoto, which is indeed a virtue. As Towada, Shiori Kutsuna sneaks up on viewers with the power of her performance. However, Tae Kimura’s Yoko outshines everyone, even including the cats.

In fact, there is one green-eyed feline who looks pretty darned evil. No matter what cat apologists say, you’d be freaked if you woke up with him standing over you. Nevertheless, the process of a writer rediscovering his voice is rendered with intelligence and subtlety. This is a good film, even with all those cats. Recommended with surprising enthusiasm, Neko Atsume House screens this Sunday (7/16) at the Japan Society as part of the current edition of Japan Cuts, but if you don’t already have a ticket, you’re going to have to ride the stand-by line.

Japan Cuts ’17: Hengyoro (Queer Fish Lane)

Underwater plastic surgery is a dirty job, but somebody has to do it. Fortunately, eccentric elderly vagabonds Tarugani and Papajo have more reputable side jobs staging chain plays that incorporate stagecraft, film, and traditional Okinawan music. The underlying mythology is rich, but narrative logic isn’t much of a priority for Go Takamine’s Hengyoro (Queer Fish Lane) (trailer here), which screens during the 2017 Japan Cuts Festival of New Japanese Film in New York.

Something happened long ago that wiped out most of the population of Patai Village, but Tarugani and Papjo still shuffle around like ghosts. Frankly, things make more sense when they are mounting their chain plays, featuring eerie looking Super8 footage Takamine shot on Okinawa in the 1970s.

Episodic in nature, we watch the strange misadventures of a bag of an illegal aphrodisiac purchased instead of flour. Wrongly blamed for inappropriately acquiring the potent powder, Tarugani goes about his professional practice editing film and faces, while trying to elude the Bibiju, the three supernaturally damp wives of the aphrodisiac-peddling shopkeeper, who are dead set on cutting his ears.

Whatever. Don’t try to make sense of Hengyoro. While bits and pieces make sense in isolation, it is baffling as a whole. This is self-consciously experimental cinema that makes no concessions. Yet, it is easier to watch than you might expect, because Takamine is constantly pulling off wild in-camera visual tricks. Even if you have no patience for the avant-garde, it is strangely compelling to watch him top himself. In fact, it is no hyperbole to say cinematographer Mamoru Hirata’s work is frequently stunning. The traditional Okinawan soundtrack is also starkly powerful.

Takamine is probably best known internationally for the socially conscious, deliberately paced Paradise View, but that film will feel like Guardians of the Galaxy compared to Hengyoro. Still, it is often fascinating to look at and listen to—and that’s definitely something. Recommended for devoted patrons of experimental cinema, Hengyoro (Queer Fish Lane) screens Saturday (7/15) at the Japan Society, as part of this year’s Japan Cuts.

Japan Cuts ’17: At the Terrace

These neurotic bourgeoisie party guests would feel at home in the caustic plays of Yasmina Reza, but they live in Japan, the home of the deferential apology. That makes it especially awkward when they tear into each other or make improper advances in At the Terrace (trailer here), Kenji Yamauchi’s deliciously cutting adaptation of his stage play, which screens during the 2017 Japan Cuts Festival of New Japanese Film in New York.

You know how they say parties always end up in the kitchen? Apparently, when you have servants to handle the food, like the well-heeled Soejimas, you wind up on the well-furnished terrace instead. This was an affair for their various work colleagues and clients, so it was not supposed to be fun. Nevertheless, a handful of stragglers will get pretty drunk.

The comedy of miscommunication starts when the hostess Kazumi Soejima busts late-comer Tanoura for not so subtly leering at Haruko Saito, the wife of one of two Saitos at the party. While her husband is hale and hearty, the other Saito remains in a weakened condition from the gastric-bypass surgery that has made him unrecognizable to the guests who had met him before. To compound poor Tanoura’s embarrassment, Madame Soejima will expose his infatuation to her husband the assorted Saitos, who all try to be decent and forgiving about it. Nevertheless, when Tanoura nervously praises her sleek alabaster arms, his compliment will be flogged like a dead horse and brutally driven into the ground.

You might expect a wry comedy of bad manners like Terrace would suffer in translation, but it is still incisively funny. This is the sort of film that we can’t help laughing at, even as we wince at the characters’ discomfort. The details of their lives are very Japanese, but their macro issues are still quite universal.

The entire ensemble is uniformly strong, but my oh my, is Kei Ishibashi ever a force to be reckoned with as Kazumi, the maybe not so hospitable hostess. You have to see her sawing her guests off at the knees to fully understand the acerbic sting of her performance. Yet, as Haruko (the one with the arms), Kami Hiraiwa hangs with her and maybe even one-ups her, when they start verbally mixing it up. On the other end of the spectrum, understated Takashi Okabe is quietly poignant as the newly thin and divorced Saito.

Despite the one set, nobody can accuse Terrace of being stagy, because it crackles with energy. In some ways, it can be compared to Reza, Alan Ayckbourn, and Edward Albee, but Yamuchi’s characters are totally original and completely believable. Very highly recommended, At the Terrace screens this Sunday (7/16) at the Japan Society, as part of Japan Cuts.

Japan Cuts ’17: Memoirs of a Murderer

This dark exploration of human cruelty was made possible by the worst bottom-feeding instincts of the book-publishing industry (I’m so proud). When a notorious serial killer comes forward to explain how he committed his murders, safely after the statute of limitations has expired for his crimes, there are no shortage of houses willing to promote it. However, some will question whether his tell-all tells all in Yu Irie’s Memoirs of Murder (trailer here), which screens during the 2017 Japan Cuts Festival of New Japanese Film in New York.

Back when it all started, Wataru Makimura was one of the lead detectives on the Tokyo Strangler case. He still literally carries the scars from his encounter with the killer on his face and his soul. Tragically, he was not just an investigator on the case. He was also a victim. Not only was his partner killed in a booby trap meant for him, his missing sister Rika was presumably the final victim.

Thanks to the Strangler’s elusiveness, the statuette of limitations was eliminated for capital crimes. However, all of his known murders were committed before the change in law took effect. Therefore, when Masato Sonezaki comes claiming to be the killer in a graphically detailed memoir, the police are powerless to arrest him. The smooth talking Sonezaki becomes a media darling, but his transparently phony remorse adds insult to the surviving families’ pain. Several will consider taking the law into their own hands, but the guilt-ridden Makimura will do his best to protect them from their own impulses.

By the way, a twist will come, which viewers will know if they have seen the original Korean film, Jung Byoung-gil’s Confession of Murder, which Irie has remade. However, he added an additional sinister revelation that takes the Japanese remake into even darker places. Reflecting Jung’s action roots, Confession was structured around several white-knuckle thrill-ride chase sequences, whereas Memoirs is a darkly twisted exercise in psychological suspense. Both films accomplish their goals with lethal effectiveness.

Hideaki Ito’s Makimura is a perfect hard-nosed, square-jawed Japanese analog for Jung Jae-young, which is high praise indeed. As Sonezaki, Tatsuya Fujiwara does some of his creepiest, clammiest, and most surprising work since appearing as Light Yagami in the original Death Note movies. Plus, Toru Nakamura ratchets up the intensity as Toshio Sendo, the respected journalist who hosts their television showdown.

Even if you have seen Confession of Murder (and if you haven’t, you really should), Memoirs of a Murderer still works on every level. In fact, you can make a credible case Irie surpasses the original, even though they are considerably different viewing experiences. Very highly recommended, Memoirs of Murder screens Saturday (7/15) at the Japan Society, as part of this year’s Japan Cuts.

Japan Cuts ’17: A Whale of a Tale

“I want you guys all dead.”

“We’ll rape you, monsters.”

“Let’s hire a hitman.”

Which organization’s followers do you think left these violent Facebook comments? It wasn’t a skinhead group. It was Sea Shepherd, the extremist environmental/animal rights organization that has made it their business to harass and intimidate the residents of Taiji, the Japanese fishing village that had the misfortune to appear in the manipulative documentary, The Cove. Although documentarian Megumi Sasaki treats Sea Shepherd far more fairly than they treat the Taiji villagers, their thuggish behavior speaks for itself in the scrupulously even-handed A Whale of a Tale (trailer here), which screens during the 2017 Japan Cuts Festival of New Japanese Film in New York.

Given its remote location and lack of fertile land, the ancient village of Taiji probably would have starved without whaling (the term whale is often used synonymously for dolphin in Japan). It is a tradition that has been handed down to this very day. With foaming-at-the-mouth intensity, Sea Shepherd will equate any appeal to tradition with Antebellum defenses of slavery. Yet, there is indeed a distinct traditional regional cuisine, largely based on whale meat.

Ever since The Cove won the Oscar, Taiji has literally been under siege from western activists. Yes, whales and dolphins are harvested in Taiji’s bay. Sometimes the resulting blood can be seen flowing in the water. The fact remains, none of the whales and dolphins slaughtered for food or captured for water parks and aquariums are endangered. None of them. Indeed, the Taiji fisherman are dedicated conservationists, who take great efforts to maintain sustainable whale populations.

None of this irony is lost on Jay Alabaster, an American expat journalist fluent in Japanese, who reported on the Taiji story at length and serves as the viewers guide through the picturesque town and the contentious issues it faces. On some levels, he sympathizes with the dolphins, but he can also see the human side of the story. Taiji residents are good people who do not deserve to have Sea Shepherd screaming “murderer” in their faces. At one point, we see an unfortunate man crouching down, covering his head with his arms, as the Sea Shepherd “activists” surround him, raining verbal abuse down on him.

Remember that image. It accurately reflects the extremism of the modern day “green” movement. It is not based on science, because none of the whales involved are at risk. Rather, it is based on a luddite hatred of commerce and a quasi-religious belief that man as a species is irredeemably wicked. Therefore, the utter contempt for the citizens of Taiji and their ancient traditions, isn’t just excusable. It is what their crusade is all about.

The thing is, Sasaki did her level best not to make a Sea Shepherd expose. She gives them more than equal time to make their case. She also talks to veteran Japanese anti-whaling activists, who ruefully suggest there would be less demand for whale meat without the mob scene at Taiji.

Nevertheless, Sasaki faithfully records the reality at Taiji and her honesty is damning. As an American, I now feel the need to personally apologize to the people of Taiji for the abuse they have had to endure. Our country is better than what you’ve seen from those fanatics. Moushi wake arimasen.

This is a documentary that urgently needs to be seen, but distributors are unlikely to touch it, because it challenges accepted narratives and biases. It probably does not help that the scattershot, not-ready-for-prime-time rebuttal doc Behind “The Cove” had a small but poorly-reviewed theatrical run last year. The Taiji controversy deserved a much better documentary. This is that film. Very highly recommended, A Whale of a Tale screens Saturday (7/15) at the Japan Society, as part of this year’s Japan Cuts.

Japan Cuts ’17: Satoshi—A Move for Tomorrow

Shogi is to chess what cricket is to baseball. The common kinship is obvious, but to uninitiated Yanks, the rules look impenetrably random. Satoshi Murayama got it right away. The sickly prodigy always knew his time was limited, so he was in a rush to conquer the shogi world. For reasons well beyond their national passion for the game, Murayama’s underdog run for glory is a distinctly Japanese story that unfolds in Yoshitaka Mori’s Satoshi: A Move for Tomorrow (trailer here), which screens during the 2017 Japan Cuts Festival of New Japanese Film in New York.

Murayama’s kidney condition would be serious even if he took care of himself, but he doesn’t. Frankly, he is essentially incapable of looking after himself, but fortunately the Shogi Association takes responsibility for him when he moves to Tokyo in 1994. He was the dreaded terror of the Osaka Shogi Institute, but in Tokyo Yoshiharu Habu is the top dog (and still considered by many to be the best player ever).

Habu is also more sociable than Murayama, but that’s not saying very much. Initially, their fellow members are quite put off by his rude manners and generally weirdness. Yet, as they marvel at (and get crushed by) Murayama’s brilliant play, they come to accept his oddball persona. This is truer for Habu than anyone, but he is still the only player who can regularly beat Murayama.

This is the shogi movie you never knew you needed. The basic elements are superficially similar, including a big climatic match, but Satoshi is nothing like a Hollywood sports movie. You can see the themes Ivan Morris identified in his seminal study of classical Japanese heroes, such as Minamoto no Yoshitsune and Sugawara no Michizane. (If that’s spoilery, then consider yourself learned and well-read.)

It would be easy to make the gruff, awkward Murayama into a caricature of either an anti-social freak or a sensitive nerd, but the film and lead actor Kenichi Matsuyama never take any easy outs. Matsuyama offers no concessions in his prickly performance, but he also clearly and forcefully conveys all the insecurities that tormented Murayama. Likewise, Masahiro Higashide brings subtle dimensions to his great rival, Habu. Lily Franky radiates warmth and dignity as Murayama’s master, Nobou Mori, but it is Keiko Takeshita who really brings down the emotional hammer as Murayama’s long-suffering mother.

As big showdown matches go, Satoshi gives us one for the books—and that’s all that should be said about it. Yet, that is why the film is so distinctly bittersweet and profoundly Japanese. Highly recommended, Satoshi: A Move for Tomorrow screens this Saturday (7/15) at the Japan Society, as part of this year’s Japan Cuts.

Japan Cuts ’17: Tokyo Night Sky is Always the Densest Shade of Blue

Compared to the Beijing Olympics and the Qatar World Cup, construction for the 2020 Tokyo Olympics has been a model of safety and integrity. Granted, one of socially awkward Shinji’s few friends wrecks his back on the job, but he is still alive to get depressed over it. Another will in fact drop dead, but that is a freak, unrelated event. Yet, it will be an unlikely catalyst for him to cross paths with the emotionally damaged Mika again in Yuya Ishii’s Tokyo Night Sky is Always the Densest Shade of Blue (trailer here), which screens during the 2017 Japan Cuts Festival of New Japanese Film in New York.

Shibuya and Shinjuku always look like Times Square on steroids in the movies. They are precisely the sort of districts Mika and Shinji can’t stand, but somehow, they frequently find themselves there. When they do, they often encounter each other, but they are ill-equipped for romance. Legally blind in one eye, Shinji is deeply insecure, which he tries to compensate for through manic, almost Tourette-like outbursts. Mika is still reeling from her mother’s apparent suicide and resentful of the former lover who dumped her, but keeps calling to profess his love.

Her work does not help either. She is an underpaid nurse by day, who moonlights at a hostess bar. When Shinji brings his construction friends for a drink one night, Mika rather perversely agrees to see his friend Toshiyuki instead, but it will not last. Despite her standoffishness and frequently lashing out, Shinji falls for Mika as their paths continue to intersect.

Tokyo Night Sky is inspired by and derived from the poetry of Tahi Saihate, which can be heard during Mika’s interior monologues and in snippets of conversation. It sounds precious and/or pretentious, but Ishii integrates her verse surprisingly smoothly. Of course, this is hardly a chatty film in the first place. Mika and Shinji are profoundly lonely and alienated, but Ishii does not wallow in their misery. In fact, their small breakthroughs here and there are arrestingly beautiful.

Relative newcomer Shizuka Ishibashi is absolutely stunning as Mika, like a lightning bolt out of the clear blue sky. She makes us feel acute sympathy, maddening frustration, and everything in between. Likewise, Sosuke Ikematsu turns on a dime from likable to pitiable, to just plain uncomfortable and then back again as Shinji. It is their film by a country mile, but it is still hard to shake of the dignity with which Tetsushi Tanaka portrays broken down day laborer Iwashita, as he endures the indignities of life.

Ishibashi and Ikematsu’s performances are remarkably assured and well-calibrated, but the evocative, twilight cinematography of Yoichi Kamakari is just as important, or perhaps even more so, to the film’s delicately bittersweet vibe. It is indeed poetic, visually and dramatically. Highly recommended for discerning viewers, Tokyo Night Sky is Always the Densest Shade of Blue screens this Friday (7/14) at the Japan Society, as part of this year’s Japan Cuts.