Bad City, on DVD

Kaiko City is a fictional Japanese metropolis, but the way the criminals run the city will look very familiar to residents of Los Angeles and Chicago. Gangs might end up literally running the city if mobbed-up businessman Wataru Gojo wins the mayoral election. A secret task force is determined to take him and his Korean gangster allies down before than can happen in Kensuke Sonomura’s Bad City, which releases tomorrow on DVD.

Ordinarily, we probably wouldn’t mourn for the Sakurada Yakuza clan, but at least they were homegrown and conducted themselves by some sort of code. However, Gojo prompted Korean gangster Kim Seung-gi to take out the Sakuradas, because he thought they had evidence of their collusion with high-ranking government officials. It turns out he was wrong. The proof is still out there, but they still managed to greatly weaken a major rival.

Prosecutor Hirayama’s case against Gojo just collapsed, so he will try a more off-the-books approach with his new double-secret task force. Technically, it will be run by his former protégé from Public Safety, Kaori Koizumi. However, the driving force will be the Eastwood-esque Det. Makoto Torada, a disgraced cop doing time for a murder he did not commit. Supposedly, he killed the son of “Madam,” the figurehead boss of the Korean mafia, whom Kim ought to show more respect towards.

It is always rewarding to see a film about an old guy kicking butt—and brother, is that ever Torada’s specialty. Although he is not superhuman, his cussedness almost counts as a superpower. His withering stare could knock small birds out of the air. The trio of regular cops attached to the task force also compliment him nicely. There is the big, burly Kumamoto (elegantly nicknamed Kuma or “Bear”), Nishizaki (who is a bit squirrely, but has legit martial arts skills), and the naïve rookie Megumi.

Sonomura knows exactly what people want in a throwback Yakuza movie, so he never over-complicates things. There is a fair amount of intrigue and betrayal going on with the opposing gangs, but he makes sure it always boils over into street-fighting at regular intervals. Frankly, the big, blowout gang-wars are amazing sights to behold. They are absolutely brutal and deadly intense, but they are also messy, ugly, and sometimes downright clumsy, which is exactly how street fight look in real life.

NYAFF ’19: The Gun

The more you work with firearms, the more you come to regard them as a simple tool. Alas, Toru Nishikawa’s society does not afford him that opportunity, so when he chances across a Magnum at a riverside crime scene, he is compelled to pocket it—and quickly becomes obsessed with its dangerous power. Plenty of blame will be placed on the inanimate object in Masaharu Take’s The Gun, which screens during the 2019 New York Asian Film Festival.

There was a dead body and a gun lying next to it, but Nishikawa is compelled to swipe the latter before the cops arrive. As soon as he gets home, he starts fantasizing about how he might use it. The abusive mother living in the next-door apartment immediately presents herself as an appropriate prospective victim. However, Nishikawa intends to take his time, so he can savor the idea and the anticipation. He will even start a semi-serious relationship with an attractive fellow undergrad, Yuki Yoshikawa, who has recently resumed her studies.

The Gun somewhat follows in the vein of the “Blue Scorpion” episode of the new Twilight Zone reboot series, in that both literally demonize hand guns. At least Take and co-screenwriter Hideki Shishido are more subtle in how they go about it. They also take things in a very existential, Dostoevskian direction. You would almost expect to find Nishikawa huddled in a Moscow garret.

Unfortunately, the film basically runs out of steam during the third act, allowing a lot of good film noir business to go to waste. It is especially frustrating to see the great Lily Frankly only really have one extended scene as the cop giving Nishikawa the Columbo treatment. More of their cat-and-mouse and less of Nishikawa’s self-destructive angst would have made Gun a stronger film.

Nevertheless, Nijiro Murakami is viscerally intense and unsettlingly sociopathic as Nishikawa. He is all kinds of creepy and clammy. Franky is perfectly cast as the world-weary, smarter-than-he-looks flatfoot, while Alice Hirose is terrific as the warm but insecure Yoshikawa.

As in previous films, such as 100 Yen Love, Take dives into the grubby, marginalized milieu. Hiromitsu Nishimura’s stark black-and-white cinematography quite effectively reflects Nishikawa’s darkly agitated state of mind, in a way reminiscent of Aronofsky’s Pi. Yet, somehow, he dispenses with too many subplots in a perfunctory, on-the-nose manner, like the scene involving the biological father Nishikawa has not met up until the second act.

Altogether, The Gun is a hugely frustrating film for hardboiled thriller fans, but it is safe to say Franky will leave them wanting more. Recommended for those who value noir visual stylings over substance, The Gun screens this Sunday (6/30) as part of this year’s NYAFF.

Kore-eda’s Shoplifters

In many ways, Hirokazu Kore-eda’s latest feature has been a gift to the Japanese film industry. Yes, it won the Palme D’Or at Cannes, but on a more sentimental level, it provided an opportunity to mourn for the late, great Kirin Kiki, who passed away three months after the film’s Japanese release. Admittedly, her character eventually receives a rather unconventional funeral, but she has a rather unconventional family in Kore-eda’s Shoplifters (trailer here), which opens this Friday in New York.

Technically, Osamu Shibata is the head of the household, but he is uncomfortable with the authority such a term would imply. On the other hand, he would very much like his “son” Shota to call him “dad,” but the pre-teen is not ready for that yet. Viewers quickly deduce Shota is a runaway who has been adopted by this unruly but protective family of small-time grifters. Osamu’s only proper legal tie could very well be to his wife Nobuyo, but they also live with their twentysomething “daughter,” Aki, and the clan’s matriarch, Hatsue, who is their primary source of economic support, from her fraudulent claims to her long-dead husband’s pension and periodic guilt money extracted from the son born to his second wife. Shoplifting is also an important supplement for them.

The Shibatas are petty crooks, but they are also working poor. Both Osamu and Nobuyo toil long hours at menial jobs. Yet, they are still a fun and loving family unit. Frankly, when Yuri, an abused and neglected six-year-old is also adopted into the family, it is the best thing that could happen to her. Her thuggish parents are also happy to be rid of her, until they suddenly find themselves accused of her presumed murder.

Kiki is terrific and Lily Franky was truly born to play a sad hound dog like Osamu, but it is the heartrending and utterly unaffected portrayal of young Miyu Sasaki as Yuri (renamed Rin) who will leave you emotionally ruined. Through her eyes, Kore-eda definitely asks what exactly it means to be a family—and clearly suggests society’s more legalistic definition is sorely inadequate. Shoplifters is also a prime example of his ability to elicit subtle yet revealing performances from his cast. Sakura Ando (probably still best known for 100 Yen Love), whose work as tough-talking, warm-hearted Nobuyo sneaks up on viewers and then really lowers the boom.

Kore-eda has maintained the preeminence of heartfelt Japanese family dramas, very much in the tradition of Yasujiro Ozu. This time around, he makes a conscious decision to incorporate more social commentary, with respects to issues of poverty and the somewhat disproportionate approbation the crimes of the Shibata family-gang faces versus that of Yuri’s mother. It is clear what Cannes and subsequent critics have responded to, but Kore-eda is such a consistently sensitive and accomplished artist, it seems almost unfair that this film should be anointed for rather arbitrary, non-cinematic reasons, especially since his previous three films, The Third Murder, After the Storm, and Our Little Sister were less reminiscent of his prior work and personally resonated for us considerably more. However, you can only have these debates over a filmmaker with filmography of such uniform quality.

There is probably no other filmmaker of Kore-eda’s stature who is so reliable. Shoplifters is “another excellent film” and a lovely coda to Kiki’s illustrious career. Shrewdly logically, Japan has selected it as their foreign language Oscar submission and it deserves to be considered a serious contender. Highly recommended, Shoplifters opens this Friday (11/23) in New York, at the IFC Center.

Japan Cuts ’18: blank 13

If you want to learn a little about the cremation process and have a good cry, then Takumi Saito is your man. The actor’s directorial debut could serve as a graceful coda to the Oscar-winning Departures. Thirteen years after abandoning his wife and two sons, Masato Matsuda dies of cancer. The two brothers grew up bitterly resenting their absent father, but they are shocked to learn how he touched the lives of others during his funeral in Saito’s blank 13 (trailer here), which screens as a selection of the 2018 Japan Cuts Festival of New Japanese Film.

Matsuda was a degenerate gambler who only ever brought home debt-collectors. However, he managed to eke out a few bonding moments with his younger son Koji over baseball. That is why Koji is the only one who tries to reconnect with Masato when the family hears of his cancer diagnosis. The effort is awkward and ultimately inconclusive.

Nevertheless, the Matsuda Brothers resolve to do their duty at the funeral, but for a while it looks like only Koji’s girlfriend Saori Nishida will be there for moral support. Yet, to their surprise, a Runyonesque assortment of gamblers, bar-workers, and nocturnal dwellers coalesces to paint a picture of their father as the salt of the earth.

Comparisons with Departures will be inevitable, but blank 13 has considerably more humor. There are a number of eccentric and ribald reminiscences at the funeral, but the tonal shift is never as drastic as it sounds. Even at its most outrageous, the film maintains a wistful melancholy. 

Lily Franky is perfectly cast as the sad-eyed but ultimately inscrutable Matsuda. Misuzu Kanno is quietly devastating as Hiroko, while Issei Takahashi openly expresses the pain and confusion Koji never really got over. Initially, Saito seems to have assigned himself a one-note role playing the bitter older brother, Yoshiyuki Matsuda, but he really lowers the emotional boom down the stretch. Plus, about half a dozen Japanese character actors of varying degrees of recognizability combine to a create truly distinctive mosaic portrait of the dearly departed, sort of led by a game Jiro Sato as the unlikely impromptu master of ceremonies.

To its credit, blank 13 does not try to answer every question about Matsuda’s dubious behavior, but it is still wholly satisfying. In fact, this is exactly the sort of foreign film that can go mainstream, even with its relatively short seventy-minute running time. It is a wonderfully humanistic film, but if you want to see it at Japan Cuts, you will have to fly stand-by. Enthusiastically recommended, blank 13 screens this Friday (7/20), at the Japan Society, as part of this year’s Japan Cuts.

JFFSF ’17: My Dad and Mr. Ito

Ozu films might look gloriously old fashioned, but it is still relatively commonplace for three generations to live under the same roof in Japan. Such will be the case when thirtysomething Aya Yamanaka reluctantly allows her seventy-something father to move in on short notice. Much to Old Man Yamanaka’s surprise, the third generation will be represented by her fifty-something boyfriend, Yasaki Ito. Things are sure to get awkward, but the real issues of their father-daughter relationship predate their current living conditions in Yuki Tanada’s My Dad and Mr. Ito (trailer here), which screens during the 2017 Japanese Film Festival of San Francisco.

Ito-san is an older, goofy cat, who is always called Ito-san, sort of like Tora-san, except he actually got the girl. Yamanaka met Ito-san when they were both working at a ghastly convenience store. For reasons she still has trouble putting into words, Aya discovered she enjoyed his company. He now works as a part-time school maintenance man is she is full-time at a bookstore. They do not have loads of money, but they were happier than most people.

In contrast, old Yamanaka pushed his daughter-in-law to the brink of a nervous breakdown. He and his son eventually agreed he would move in with Aya before they knew Ito-san existed. Yet, despite his trepidations, Ito-san probably gets along with the Yamanaka patriarch better than the grown siblings. This shaggy-looking quinquagenarian might be a little eccentric, but he is highly perceptive and emotionally mature, so he subtly pushes Yamanaka and her brother to work out their issues with their father while they still can.

The Japanese film industry invented the yakuza and kaiju movies, but they still hold an overwhelming comparative and competitive advantage when it comes to domestic dramas. It started with Yasujiro Ozu and Yasujiro Shimazu, continued through the prolific output of Yoji Yamada and bubbles up here once again. Hinako Nakazawa’s adaptation of Hisako Kurosawa’s novel is wistfully sentimental at times, but it is also relentlessly honest and grounded. Life is messy in this film, so if you can get through it yourself and do little things here and there to help other get by, you are kind of heroic, like Ito-san.

Lily Franky never breaks a sweat exercising his acting muscles, but he is still terrific as Ito-san. It is a deceptively effortless performance that wears well over time. Likewise, he and Juri Ueno forge the laidback chemistry of not particularly passionate lovers, who are comfortable as a couple and more relaxed in their own skins when they are together. Ueno is never flashy, but she makes Aya a quietly resilient force to be reckoned with. Tatsuya Fuji is definitely playing a classic grouchy grandpa, but he keeps the shtick dialed down to virtually nil.

This film would probably be unwatchable if it were produced in Hollywood, but its Japanese sensibilities make it wonderfully graceful and wise. It is all very calm and understated, yet it constantly offers up small surprises, never quite zigging how we expect it to zag. Highly recommended, My Dad and Mr. Ito screens this coming Thursday (9/7), as part of this year’s JFFSF.

NYAFF ’17: Double Life

Philosophy isn’t even a scientistic pseudo-social science like psychology or sociology. Yet, Tama Shiraishi’s dissertation advisor assigns her some field work anyway. Based on his suggestion, she will follow a random stranger with whom she has no prior connection, to learn about their daily routines and closely held secrets. That in turn should help shed light on what gives life meaning. At least that is the theory. Whether it pans out or not, Shiraishi will experience considerably more than she bargained for in Yoshiyuki Kishi’s Double Life (trailer here), which screens during this year’s New York Asian Film Festival.

Shinohara is the dread terror of the philosophy department, but he seems to have a soft spot for Shiraishi. Regardless, he has a keen interest in the results of her dissertation concept. Initially, Shiraishi was reluctant, but fate presents her neighbor Ishizaka as a perfect subject. He is a senior editor at a publishing house, who comes from family money. Outward appearances suggest he is a model family man with a pretty wife and a cute daughter. However, Shiraishi soon discovers Ishizaka has a somewhat jealous mistress on the side.

While Shiraishi is tailing the book editor, she witnesses a rather awkward argument between the secret lovers, even more awkward confrontation with his wife, and the downright ugly aftermath. Finally noticing his silent shadow, Ishizaka blames her for all his woes, which really doesn’t seem fair, but maybe there is a grain of truth to it. Yes, he should really look in the mirror first, but perhaps there is an element of Heisenberg’s Uncertainty at play here: particles act differently when they are observed.

In this case, French photographer Sophie Calle’s “following strangers” work is more of a touchstone than Heisenberg, Gödel, or any postmodernist theorists. Yet, ironically, viewers will never feel like they know Mr. Ishizaka very well, nor will they particularly care to. Instead, his case study becomes a mirror that reflects the loneliness and disappointments of other characters, particularly Shiraishi and Shinohara.

In fact, Shinohara emerges as one of the most significant, emotionally wrenching figures in the story, thanks to Lily Franky’s performance. It is a wonderfully subtle turn that gracefully evolves over the course of the picture. He also develops some acutely poignant chemistry with Aoba Kawai, as his romantic partner.

Yet, Mugi Kadowaki matches him step for step and then some (given her considerably greater screen time) as Shiraishi. It is a quiet but painful revealing performance. Frankly, she will leave viewers feel exhausted, but not bereft or deflated.

In some ways, Double Life is the polar opposite of The Circle, obviously starting with its vastly superior quality. Thematically, Kishi’s adaptation of Mariko Koike’s novel takes issue with the crudely moralistic notion we act better when we know other people are watching—or rather we need our grubby little secrets and betrayals to keep us human. It is a gently provocative, wonderfully mature and assured film. Very highly recommended, Double Life screens this coming Monday (7/3) at the Walter Reade, as part of the 2017 NYAFF.