iSugoi » Film Reviews

Kakera: A Piece of Our Life – Review

Miguel Douglas — Tue, 20 Jul 2010 20:57:01 +0000

Original title: カケラ | Kakera: A Piece of Our Life
Release: 2010
Country: Japan
Director: Momoko Ando
Running time: 107 Min.
Cast: Hikari Mitsushima | Eriko Nakamura | Ken Mitsuishi | Tasuku Nagaoka
Written by: Miguel Douglas
Published: 07.20.10

Haru is a college student ignored by her boyfriend yet believes she is still in love with him. One day at a café, Haru meets Riko, a medical artist (prosthetist) who creates body parts in order to disguise clients’ missing pieces, lost due to accident or disease. Both were alone, but struck up an immediate friendship and closeness. Riko doesn’t care about gender when it comes to relationships, and believes that love itself is the most important thing a human can achieve. Haru struggles in her life between friendship and a deeper relationship with Riko.

Loosely based off the best-selling manga Love Vibes by author Erika Sakurazawa, Kakera: A Piece of Our Life is a delicate examination of the role of relationships and sexuality. With the film being the directorial debut of female director Momoko Ando, it curiously explores the societal impressions regarding female identity and questions how we should perceive the term love and its implications within the context of our modern era. Given the modern social adherence towards exterior beauty taking precedence over inner beauty, the film courageously traverses many of our perceptions regarding such assumptions, in turn presenting more of a focus on how the two can—and should—effectively complement each other. This is expertly laid out between the two protagonists of the film—Haru and Riko—both who grow quite fond of one another through the most unusual of ways—with the added complication of both of them being female. In a sense, the film is seemingly portraying a conscious shift towards acceptance and recognize on part of the ever-evolving notion of sexuality found within a modern context. Take the character of Haru for example, with her subservient attitude towards her distasteful boyfriend, she is initially shown in the early half of the film as walking behind her him, not speaking up and giving into his sexual whims—which are all facets that contribute towards the traditional roles taken by women within Japan ages ago. While certainly some of these practices still exist to this day, Ando diligently showcases the transformative process undertaken by Haru—and in a larger effect, women—to adjust and reassert her role as a Japanese woman on her own terms free of societal influences concerning relationships.

It’s this exploration of the role of women that provides the film’s greatest strength. Ando delves into how modern women function within the realm of confronting relationships and gender attitudes. While at times the film seems painfully stereotypical in its approach towards men—with Haru’s boyfriend being a prime example—it’s careful not to delegate its handling of men as something so superficial. Essentially, Kakera: A Piece of Our Life is a film made primarily for women, with special preference on the how the relationships between them can be just as devastatingly involving as any other relationships regardless of gender. The relationship between Haru and Riko starts out simple and innocently enough, but soon begins to develop into a tangled web of emotion as they attempt to figure out why their relationship exists at all and if they truly love each other. Based purely on external beauty at first, they soon begin to suffer from many of the same problems that can be envisioned within any relationship—fear of change, trust and devotion are all prominently showcased and advocated as divisions within their relationship.

The second half of the film also brings forth some very interesting visual symbology as well. The interpretative nature of some of the symbols redirects the focus of the story concerning a flawed relationship towards one of a more personal variety—essentially looking at both Haru and Riko as individuals looking for some of sort of outlet for expressing their identity as women within society. Whether it’s the tangible usage of Haru’s gradual change of attire, to the focus of doves symbolizing personal change, Ando provides the essential visual representations needed the compound the original storyline. This is a rather strong juxtaposition from the first half of the film, which relied primarily on the quirky relationship involving two entirely different individuals falling in love.

Perhaps it’s best to say that the film promotes the concept of individuality within the sphere of social constructs, and how one can formulate themselves given the right situation or experience. Within the unpredictable nature of love and all its potential follies, how does one carve out their own path in terms of finding their own identity? With Japan—a place of where individuality is often disapproved of—director Ando makes a statement regarding how one can overcome the obstacle of being an outsider for the wrong reasons, and encourage being an outsider for the right ones. Whether this message is conveyed in the best possible way is certainly questionable, but the film nicely addresses the significant nature of finding and subsequently being your true self within a relationship, and even if you end up getting hurt, you will always learn something from the experience.

Overall, Kakera: A Piece of Our Life remains a strong film for what it delivers, specifically its latter half. While somewhat approached generically, the film showcases the tremendous talent of Momoko Ando as a director that can deliver complicated and engaging characters coupled with a story that not only explores homosexuality within Japan, but does it in a very meditative fashion. For a debut, this is of significance for sure, mainly because the film’s highly diverse nature of exploring its material, which showcases the versatility of such a young director. While there are various female directors within Japan at the current moment, not many have made the substantial impact needed to break through, with Momoko Ando being one of the fortunate ones to do so. If Kakera: A Piece of Our Life is any indication of what she has to offer as a director—and more importantly, a female director—then one could easily see the importance of such a film within the realm of Japanese cinema. Regardless, this film remains an exceptional foray into the emotionally dominated world of love and its many complicated albeit sincere experiences.

Trailer

Kakera: A Piece of Our Life trailer

Frog River – Review

Miguel Douglas — Sat, 10 Jul 2010 02:56:26 +0000

Original title: フロッグ川 | Frog River
Release: 2002
Country: Japan
Director: Hajime Ishimine
Running time: 118 Min.
Cast: Ryo Kase | Ichirô Ogura | Machiko Ono | Kenichi Yamamoto
Written by: Miguel Douglas
Published: 07.09.10

Tsutomu has it rough when it comes to his masculinity. Shamed when he was younger due to an unlikely dare that he couldn’t commit to, he has always lived under the shadow if his peers and never fully stands up for what he believes in. He has since become an aspiring DJ and works as a clerk at a record store where he can play all the music he wants too without being bothered. This all changes though when he meets up with his peer from the past, the ever oppressive and bullying Shiba. Shiba has been bullying Tsutomu for as long as he can remember, always putting on a friendly façade to convince Tsutomu that he is actually his friend. Shiba continually gets him into trouble, but when a mere accident results in Tsutomu having to battle a rival in a kendo duel, will Tsutomu finally gain the courage to face his fears?

Written by Katsuhito Ishii (The Taste of Tea, Funky Forest: The First Contact) and directed by Hajime Ishimine (Funky Forest: The First Contact), one should expect this bizarrely creative duo to bring forth a film as strange as it is unconventional— Frog River certainly does just that. For what it’s worth, Frog River is a film that is far removed from the norms one would consider within the genre of comedy, instead relying on an offbeat narrative structure so often viewed within their other collaborative works. The film is surprisingly non-linear in its approach to storytelling, focusing primarily on experiencing the moment as is rather than constructing a coherent plot. Definitely detached from the realm of normality as much as possible, the film seemingly elevates itself towards a desired result of subtlety over exaggeration. With an overabundance on extended scenes involving strangely random humor, the film seems to beget any sort of resemblance towards traditional comedy often seen in films within the genre. Irony is a staple ingredient within films by both Ishii and Ishimine, but their subtle approach taken here in enticing humor might perplex individuals not quite accustomed towards their handling of these sort of comedic antics.

It should be simply put that Frog River won’t necessarily be appreciated nor understood by everyone. The film is certainly aware of this, and it definitely seems to tailor to an acquired taste—specifically for those who enjoy pure randomness involving their comedy. Throughout showcasing such laborious comical scenes though, the film still presents a very introspective take concerning the concept of masculinity within a modern context. Sure, while the film remains comical for the most part, the exploration of Tsutomu’s personal conflict concerning his manhood is a primary focus. This injection of questioning his masculinity provides the film with a notion of relatability far removed from the comical sequences that occupy most of the film. This provides the film with an eccentric blend of drama and comedy that is hit or miss for the most part. Whether this is realized within the context of the viewing audience is entirely subjective, mainly because the film at times can’t decide whether to be focused on being a serious look into how one becomes a man or to elaborate more on its funniness. Again, the film is simply constructed in a way that reinforces and promotes an acquired taste in comedy.

Like stated previously, the elements of comedy within the film relish in their ironical display of humor and self-pity. With moments such as Tsutomu getting in a fight with a homosexual male, to him fantasizing about a girl he’s too afraid to express his feeling towards, the film highlights the irony of Tsutomu’s life situation and his unwillingness to really change it. Questioning this unwillingness is focal point for the film, in which it provides some very poignant moments that are intermixed with that some uncanny weirdness. It’s not far off to say that Frog River doesn’t seem to promote the strenuous nature of everyday life, but rather intends to deliver the audience a world that is awkwardly familiar but still entirely based within a realm of fantasy. When we notice the situation that Tsutomu finds himself in at the end, the allegorical nature of the film is highlighted as a pivotal step towards his affirming ideals to take that step towards finally becoming a man, even if it is on own accord and not something forced upon him.

Overall, Frog River is an odd but somewhat uplifting journey into how one perceives their state of being as a man. If one doesn’t enjoy the randomness of comedy often times seen in director Ishimine’s and Ishii’s other films, then this film is probably won’t be as enjoyable—and in some cases, completely unwatchable. For what it delivers in terms of originality, the film hits high marks in almost every regard, which brings about a very creative look into the minds of some of Japan’s most interesting directors. They would both go one to collaborate and create other, even more bizarre film projects, but Frog River remains an excellent starting point towards viewing what these two directors have to offer towards handling Japanese cinema with a creative twist—even if everybody might not get it.

The Man Who Stole The Sun – Review

Miguel Douglas — Sat, 19 Jun 2010 05:33:44 +0000

Original title: 太陽を盗んだ男 | Taiyo o Nusunda Otoko | The Man Who Stole The Sun
Release: 1979
Country: Japan
Director: Kazuhiko Hasegawa
Running time: 147 Min.
Cast: Kenji Sawada | Bunta Sugawara | Kimiko Ikegami | Kazuo Kitamura
Written by: Miguel Douglas
Published: 06.18.10

Makoto, a high school science and chemistry teacher, has decided to build his own atomic bomb. Before stealing plutonium isotopes from a nearby nuclear power plant, he is involved in the botched hijacking of one of his school’s buses during a field trip. Along with a police detective, Yamashita he is able to overcome the hijacker and is publicly hailed as a hero.

Opening with footage showcasing the first atomic bomb detonation in 1945 in New Mexico, The Man Who Stole The Sun is a controversial film from its very outset. Given the subject matter at hand and the state of Japanese affairs concerning nuclear weaponry, the film presents a satirical look into the political leverage one obtains when they have such weaponry at their disposal. One slowly begins to see the obvious correlation the film is attempting to convey here—that in which the substitution of nations for the individual, in this case the protagonist Makoto. Heralded as a classic within Japan, the film is a culmination of many social and political issues as well as a showcase for the horrific side effects of an undetonated atomic bomb, which is an interesting approach to take—most other films primarily focus on the effects of a detonated weapon. The construction of the bomb is a key element in the film—in fact, the film’s first hour is dedicated almost entirely towards this meticulous process. While the suspension of belief is certainly applicable here, the film is almost comical at times due to the absurd lengths that Makoto undertakes in the construction of the bomb—breaking into and stealing high-grade plutonium isotopes from a nuclear facility and constructing the bomb in his apartment are surely entertaining, but it might come at a surprise at how easy Makoto makes it out to be. Realism aside, the film is always careful to show that his scientific endeavors come with a heavy and realistic toll.

It’s important to consider that we do view Makoto as an individual who is essentially misanthropic on his own accord, and we slowly begin to view this ideology through subtle hints within the film—we often times view him self-absorbed in his work, especially when he begins constructing the bomb. It seemingly becomes almost a religious experience for him in its construction; joyously prancing around when he finally is able to assemble it. This is where the film drastically diverts into something entirely different from the first half. Considering the rather intense first half, the second half of the film showcases Makoto going up against the government in attempt have them do what he orders them to—which for the most part, are demands that are rather trivial. This is where the narrative slowly becomes intermixed with that of detective work, romance, and proposed terrorism—which makes for a critical juxtaposition from the first half. This is where The Man Who Stole The Sun slowly begins to lose ground as a political statement, and attempts to juggle multiple genres that eventually push the film to its absolute limits in terms of being considered plausible at all. It seems that the film is attempting to be both comedic and serious at the same time, and it’s often difficult to judge how we should perceive the film as a viewer given the seriousness of the subject matter at hand. This film does somewhat redeem itself in this regard with its conclusion, which essentially encompasses the truer message of the film explored in its first half.

It’s interesting to note that through all the chaos presented throughout the film, the notion of radiation and it affects on living creatures is quite evident. Whether this presents the ramifications of obtaining absolute power in a plausible light is questionable, but it does showcase the slow and eventual decay of the individual through radioactive poisoning. It is truly worth the cost to attain such power at the loss of one’s physical appearance? It’s a point subtly brought up numerous times in the film, which will certainly lead one to ponder the horrendous nature of radiation upon the human body. While the actual bomb is viewed as leverage for Makoto in enacting his will on the government, the film stresses that the construction of a destructive weapon such as the atomic bomb is just as dangerous to the individual as it is if actually detonated—the disastrous effects are still there, just in a different capacity.

Overall, The Man Who Stole The Sun is an intense film that somewhat loses it way towards the end, but its haunting conclusion redeems itself to a magnificent degree. With the destructive nature of the bomb ever present throughout the film, its still remains a great testament at how we can view the folly of human harnessing and engineering of weapons of absolute destruction in the most uncommon ways—in this case, that of being entirely comical in the most unnatural circumstances. This is of course brought to full circle by the film’s end, painting a devastating portrait of a man who could care less about the outcome of his actions and is ultimately fed up with the dire situation he himself created. There comes a point of no return, a point where the hero or villain must accept their fate, no matter how disgusting it must be. This element fused with a dark comedic flair, ultimately raises The Man Who Stole The Sun to very intriguing position within Japanese cinema—that of presenting a satirical look into the most destructive weapon ever created by the human race.

Trailer

The Man Who Stole The Sun trailer

Go Find a Psychic! – Review

Miguel Douglas — Wed, 16 Jun 2010 02:09:53 +0000

Once a year, on Christmas Eve, Cafe Telekinesis holds a real psychic party. At the party, psychics gather together to show off their abilities while for the rest of the year they hide their abilities. Yone Sakurai is a program director for a psychic variety TV show called “Asunaro Psychic”. Yone actually believes in psychic abilities, and by an audience request, a new plan is set out for the program—a plan that requires the show to uncover real psychics. Yone is selected to find these people throughout the nation, but ends up empty handed each time. Before Yone ends her search she makes one last stop at Cafe Psychic on Christmas Eve. Can the true psychics there, who all despise Yone’s TV show, hide their abilities from Yone?

I, like many others reading this, probably grew up wishing they had special powers or extraordinary abilities. Based on our enjoyment of cartoons, comics, or films when we were children, we tended to incorporate many playful philosophies into our daily routine—whether it be our ability to fly, showcase extreme strength, or shoot lasers from our eyes—we enjoyed looking at our ordinary world through extraordinary eyes. As we grew older though, most of us began to view the world in a more practical sense, convincing ourselves that such supernatural abilities simply don’t exist. Go Find a Psychic! is a film that harkens back to the old days in which our imagination played a key part in our lives, and allowed us to vividly view the world through a more imaginative mindset.

It’s certain to say that Go Find a Psychic! is a film that pokes fun at the various extreme lengths that people will go in order to have fame attached to their name. Whether it’s showcasing extravagant abilities that really aren’t extravagant at all, or blatantly lying that one even has such special abilities to begin with, the film offers a humorous atmosphere to the audience by showing the absurdities of such claims that permeate our very own lives. Presuming it’s rather instinctual for many of us to dislike being consider ordinary—or even worse, normal—the film effectively combines this rather minuscule logic with that of comedy, which works out great given the film’s premise. There are some tremendously funny moments within the film, particularly when the psychics are attempting to hide their abilities from the likes of the ordinary people of the world. They really don’t want to be famous and have their abilities exploited for the sole purpose of entertaining others. There is matter of respect for one’s ability, but the film interweaves between showing the rather trivial things they use them for, which often times leads to the numerous comedic scenarios throughout the film.

Considering the large cast at hand, chemistry is essential—and thankfully it works here. The cast ensemble is really a joy to watch—not simply because they play nicely off each other, but mainly because throughout a majority of the film, they are confined to one setting. The setting—Café Telekinesis—provides the characters a great opportunity to share a common livelihood given the rather enclosed nature of the environment. While other films jump from one setting to the next, Go Find a Psychic! plays it low-key on purpose, and with the film being derived from a stage play, it’s crucial for the dialogue and interaction to work out effectively given such a setting. The back and forth dialect is both humorous and emotional given the current state that the individuals live in, which is a life of constant secrecy. Perhaps it’s important to consider that these people don’t want the fame that their supernatural abilities will certain ascribe to them, but choose to remain incognito for reasons most of us would certainly understand given the current affairs of the entertainment business. The way the film delivers different views on how we should approach supernatural abilities is also quite different from many other films—while the true psychics wish to remain anonymous, the fake psychics wish to showcase their fake abilities in an attempt to convince their audience they are true psychics. The obvious problem with the latter is that it’s certainly only for personal fame and wealth—which makes for a very interesting juxtaposition.

Overall, Go Find a Psychic! is delightful film for what it offers. It presents a very intriguing premise not often viewed in other films dealing with similar topics, and as a fun romp into the supernatural, it isn’t afraid to poke fun at the way mainstream society views such proposed phenomena. Director Katsuyuki Motohiro has yet again proven his ability to combine comedic elements with that of the supernatural, in turn essentially creating wholesome scientific comedies. Consisting of a large and diverse cast, humorous dialogue, and an interesting look into the world of exploiting the supernatural, the film is a funny satire on how we view the rather ordinary in the most extraordinary ways, and delivers us back to the possibility that this phenomena could exist out there somewhere in the world—it just hasn’t been discovered yet.

Trailer

Go Find a Psychic! trailer

Nobody to Watch Over Me – Review

Miguel Douglas — Wed, 09 Jun 2010 04:45:01 +0000

Original title: 誰も守ってくれない | Dare mo Mamotte Kurenai | Nobody to Watch Over Me
Release: 2009
Country: Japan
Director: Ryôichi Kimizuka
Running time: 118 Min.
Cast: Kôichi Satô | Mirai Shida | Ryuhei Matsuda | Yuriko Ishida
Written by: Miguel Douglas
Published: 06.08.10

When two children are found murdered, an eighteen-year-old high school student becomes the prime suspect, and the case quickly becomes a media sensation. As both the press and an angry public descend on the home of the accused, his family finds themselves at the mercy of strangers unconcerned with their welfare. Takumi Katsuyoshi is a veteran police detective who is assigned to look after Saori, the fifteen-year-old sister of the accused; while he initially regards the assignment as frivolous, it isn’t long before he sees what kind of toll the attention has taken on the family, and he becomes all the more concerned when he witnesses the reckless behavior of the paparazzi.

The media has always been presented as a controversial topic within films, especially within the realm of American cinema. Whether it be showcasing the absolute abuse of network television to achieve high ratings in the satirical film Network (1976), or the use of media manipulation to hide the adverse effects of smoking in Thank You for Smoking (2006), the promotion of the media as an advocate for exaggerated tales, sensationalist views, and even downright lies has taken center in some of the most interesting films highlighting the media-saturated culture we live in. Culturally, while America might express similar media prominence as the Japanese, Japan has a niche for going far and beyond to not only highlight an individual’s problems within the media, but to also specifically ask them to take account for it and apology publically—even if they were only loosely associated with the accused event or action.

This leads right into Nobody to Watch Over Me as a poignant tale concerning the realm of privacy and its constant struggle with media exposure. Shot in a style very reminiscent to actual media coverage—with restless camera movement and frenzied pacing—the film explores the media and its affect on a young girl named Saori, who just happens to be the younger sister of an accused murderer. With her emotional instability already increasing from her familial situation, it doesn’t help her at all that the press is constantly focusing on her and her parents for the accused actions of her brother. The media slowly begins to view Saori as nothing but a newsworthy scoop, constantly stalking and searching every aspect of her personal life that could lead to some information regarding her brother. Due to the outward pressure from the media to explore every possible facet of her identity, disgruntled citizens begin to view her as an outlet to express their distaste for her brother’s accused actions. When she is put under the watch of police detective Takumi Katsuyoshi, it’s not because she needs to be questioned or evaluated—rather, it’s because she needs to be protected from the brashness of both the media and public.

With the ever-increasing use of the Internet to rapidly spread news throughout countless websites and social networks, Nobody to Watch Over Me relentlessly showcases the hazardous ramifications of such outlets. Presumptive actions displayed on part of the public and media concerning the entirety of the story eventually leads to some hugely dangerous misunderstandings. Misinformation and disinformation are increasingly showcased throughout the film concerning Saori and her family—which is interesting to note because it’s really not them that caused the situation they’re in. Infatuated with discovering why her brother has been accused of such heinous acts, the media constantly shifts and revaluates putting their blame on the family for his supposed violent actions. Jumping to steady conclusions, the mere assumption that the brother has only been accused of the crime—not guilty of it—is sadly overlooked, instead replaced with overt scrutiny by the media that ultimately pervades the family structure and even the police investigation.

This approach by the film to bring awareness to the issue of media scrutiny is an important one primarily due its eventual breakdown of the family unit, ultimately forcing family members to stand alone in a time in which they need each other the most. This is amply shown when another tragedy occurs in which, due to the inner-politics of the police investigation, Saori is not even allowed to visit her own family due to the media presence outside their house. This eventually affects Takumi as well, whom we later learn has had his own dark past to contend with, and the film integrates his journey of redemption through his developing relationship with Saori. Their relationship shares a common connection—that of trying to comprehend the unfortunate circumstances they’ve experienced in their lives, which showcases they have more in common than initially thought. This relationship is kept to a minimum though, and it doesn’t necessarily flourish the way one would expect. While Saori’s situation is front and center throughout a majority of the film, it does take somewhat of a back step towards the end in regards to furthering the exploration of Takumi’s past, with the end result focusing on combining the two to present a rather unconventional conclusion. While Takumi’s past was important, it ultimately seem to somewhat distract from the main story, but it does bring it back to full focus towards the end.

Overall, Nobody to Watch Over Me is an eye-opening film focusing on the detachment of human understanding concerning the media in our modern era—especially in regards to the individual and subsequent family structure. While the promotion of sensationalism has and will probably remain a strong component of the media infrastructure, its influential effects on the individuals outside of the accused is a side not often times viewed within cinema. While we might as public viewers scoff, ridicule, and judge the accused of a crime before knowing proper information to make such a claim, what about the coping of the family? Aren’t their emotional struggles something to be considered? Do we ever think of how we could possibly find ourselves in a similar situation? If so, is this how we would like to be treated? Nobody to Watch Over Me actively explores the tangible as well as psychological influences that the media exerts on even the most vulnerable and innocent of our society, bringing forth some crucial ethical questions for us to consider in the process.

Trailer

Nobody to Watch Over Me trailer

Halfway – Review

Miguel Douglas — Sun, 06 Jun 2010 17:53:11 +0000

Original title: 途中で | Harufuwei | Halfway
Release: 2009
Country: Japan
Director: Eriko Kitagawa
Running time: 85 Min.
Cast: Kii Kitano | Masaki Okada
Written by: Miguel Douglas
Published: 06.06.10

Popular high-school basketball player Shu overhears Hiro rehearsing declaring her love to him and decides to ask her out on a date. However, his plans to move away to attend Waseda University after high school soon put a strain on their developing relationship, and the conflicting choice to stay with her or go is put to the test.

With such a simple plot, one might assume that director Eriko Kitagawa’s Halfway would be more or less a redundant take on teenage love and angst. There have been plenty of films dealing with similar subjects concerning the high-school love dynamic, but Halfway surprisingly establishes itself as a film separate from others. Stemming from a script co-written by Shunji Iwai (Hana and Alice, All About Lily Chou Chou), Halfway tells a delicate tale of separation and independence through the lives of two high-school students. While other films might exploit the element of love and separation, Halfway carefully constructs its tale in an entirely believable and realistic fashion. The meticulous nature of the film only furthers such believability, mainly because it harkens on the time spent between the two as something that should be cherished and appreciated for what it’s worth.

It’s important to note that the film is entirely focused on its characters and their newfound and blossoming relationship. Through its fruition, all the way to it uncertain future, Halfway handles their relationship with such care and intimacy, that we truly begin to care for their future and wellbeing. While other films do explore this dynamic, they usually result in separation through terminal illness resulting in death. Here though, the possibility of separation is presented in a highly likely and reasonable fashion—that of attending schooling away from one another. Everyone has probably experienced this at least once in their own lives—whether it be friends, family, and/or relationships—which in turn brings to the film a universal appeal. It’s this quality that the film presents that makes it all the more relatable to the viewer, bringing about a sense of loss but also eventual reunification. This is strengthened by its willingness to avoid trappings often seen in so many other films, relying on the strength of its cast to support its story, not over sentimentalism.

Considering the cast, this would have to be one of the film’s strongest aspect. Doing a fine job in conveying the emotional ups and downs of the two protagonists, Kii Kitano and Masaki Okada produce an interesting on-screen couple that elicit all the truthful responses one would expect from a young couple considerate of their age. Awkward pauses, emotional outbursts, and charged confessions are all on display here, and the cast does a great job convincingly showcasing those responses. The cinematography was also a highlight of the film as well, and contributed to the film in a significant way. Similar to Iwai’s direction, director Eriko Kitagawa shows fantastic promise in reproducing the same atmosphere present in many of Iwai’s film’s—that of close, natural, and intimate settings that allows the focus on the film’s characters to take center. If one didn’t know otherwise, this could’ve even been mistaken for an Iwai film, which isn’t bad thing to consider in the least. The usage of a documentary-style shooting elevates the film to a more intimate nature, giving the audience a more authentic presentation than most other films fare to lend.

Overall, Halfway is an exceptional exploration of relationships and separation. The realistic approach it takes lends the film a more appreciative value more so than many other films in the genre, and it realizes that the simplicity of its plot provides its greatest strength. While the film focuses entirely on one relationship, those who watch it will certainly feel the sentiment it showcases as something they could easily find themselves relating to at some point in their own lives. Like the title of the film itself, it showcases how we can always find that halfway point concerning our emotions—in truth showing that our minds can be in a different place, but our hearts can ultimately be one in accordance. This is what makes Halfway all the more valued as a quiet and mature film regarding love, sacrifice, and promise.

Trailer

Halfway trailer

Scrap Heaven – Review

Miguel Douglas — Fri, 04 Jun 2010 18:55:48 +0000

Pharmacist Saki, timid policeman Shingo and toilet-cleaner Tetsu find their lives turned upside down when their bus is hijacked by a crazed businessman. When the ride turns violent, the three strangers are forever linked by the incident. Months later, Tetsu talks Shingo into collaborating on a most unique business venture: revenge-for-hire. Anyone with a problem can come to them and they’ll take appropriate, vengeful measures. Meanwhile, Saki, disillusioned and increasingly anti-social, also wishes to take out her own revenge on society.

Scrap Heaven is quite the interesting film considering the various points it seems to address within the space of its running time. It’s a film that can be viewed as an exploration of a multitude of subjects; as a satirical look into the Japanese social construct, an advocate for anarchical behavior, and even a view on disaffected social outcasts. What makes the film work is that all these elements—albeit a little convoluted—contribute towards a film that can be as humorous as it is critical. It’s probably warranted to say that thematically, Scrap Heaven is very similar to that of another film—David Fincher’s Fight Club (1999), mainly because of its equal combination of hilarity and social critique. While Scrap Heaven obviously takes place within Japan and deals with Japanese individuals, director Lee clearly pays homage to Fincher with his tackling of important modern issues that affect the white-collar workingman and social deviants, therein presenting a universal view on the affects of social policy and justice.

Considering this, it would be unfair though to say Scrap Heaven isn’t without its own vision and purpose separate from that of Fincher’s. Director Lee is careful to analyze the state of Japanese social affairs with that of a keen eye, offering a look into a society—which in this case, could be any modern society—that advocates for the balance of social justice, but constantly shifts in how it should be administered. The characters showcased within film are not presented as stereotypical in least—in fact, they are shown as people attempting to make sense of the situation they experienced, to understand why they were involved in such a bizarre string of events. This ultimately leads down a road of revengeful entitlement—to essentially correct the wrong done to them by helping other people conduct their own revenge. Is it socially right to do so? The film never fully answers that question, but it does present a divisive view on justice within the confines of how modern society often times miscalculates its administering.

Unfortunately, the film does lose some of its strength towards the end with its added nod towards nihilism. It’s here that the film becomes separated from its amusing first half, and replaces it with a serious tone that seems oddly unwarranted. While we can understand the actions that occurred throughout the story, here they are pushed entirely over the edge for the sake of advancing the plot towards a controversial conclusion, without really giving a full picture as to why this particular action is performed at all. Its view on absolute destructiveness is not something that was entirely hinted at throughout the film, and to see it take full stride without much explanation makes it seem somewhat contrived. While films like Fight Club naturally progressed towards a similar climax—all the while still remaining humorous—Scrap Heaven strangely decides to drop humor in return for serious drama, and presents a juxtaposition that sadly doesn’t correlate well with the entirety of the film.

Overall, Scrap Heaven is still an interesting film for what it offers the viewer. While it may not have the best scripting—it often times forsakes societal statements for rambunctious humor—it still remains a film that showcases the diversity of director Sang-il Lee. It presents a befitting look into the likes of social deviancy, and equally balances it out with an intriguing cast and quirky direction that will elicit comparisons to other films, but it does offer its own unique twists to establish itself apart. Its rather dark and brooding atmosphere should please fans of such films, but Scrap Heaven is ultimately a film that, like its view on justice, is a divided and confusing matter to comprehend and digest.

Trailer

Scrap Heaven trailer

Akihabara Geeks – Review

Miguel Douglas — Fri, 28 May 2010 22:19:23 +0000

Original title: 秋葉原オタク | Akihabara Geeks
Release: 2005
Country: Japan
Director: Satoshi Kobayashi | Kohei Nagashima
Running time: 43 Min.
Written by: Miguel Douglas
Published: 05.28.10

Akihabara is a neighborhood of Tokyo, Japan known as “Electric Town” for its rows of one-meter wide discount computer and electronics stores. In more recent years Akihabara has evolved into a full-blown Mecca for computer enthusiasts anime and manga fans doll or “figure” collectors video gamers and “Otaku” of all kinds. Because Akihabara caters to interests outside of mainstream Japanese society it captivates an entire subculture of devotees. Join us as we peruse the shops streets and Maid Cafes to present an engrossing day in the life view of Akihabara and focus on the unique people who are passionately plugged into this town.

Akihabara Geeks presents an endearing look into the life of the people that occupy the lights and glimmer of the town known as Akihabara. What this documentary does exceptionally well is that it overlooks the superficialities that we often times associate with a town such as Akihabara, and delivers to us a more detailed look into the various facets that contribute to town’s foundation—in a sense showcasing a realistic look into how it operates on a more personal level. While we still see the familiar elements such as maid cafes and otakus, the film delves deeper to show the often times unacknowledged individuals such as computer over-clockers and electric part storeowners. The film uniquely showcases these people throughout a 24-hour period, which really gives the viewer an insightful look into the daily lives of the individuals who occupy Akihabara. The film intersects to show the various individuals as they perform their duties throughout the day, ultimately telling us what Akihabara means to them personally.

And that’s what primarily makes this documentary so appealing. The people viewed here really showcase some of the more interesting elements that contribute to Akihabara—as well as show the town’s immense diversity. We are first shown Ryukishi07, the creator Higurashi no Naku Koro ni. He got his start in Akihabara, and we follow him through the process of both creating and self-publishing his own games. We then take a look at probably the most common representative associated with Akihabara—the otaku. 20-year-old Ikki Motohara is what you would describe as a hardcore otaku, here shown as having a huge desire to collect items associated with cute female anime characters. He collects an abundance of items, which leaves him sorely having to reduce buying food in order to spend money on items such as posters, pillows, and figurines. We are then shown 51-year-old Kouichi Shimayama, an electronic storeowner. Giving up a high paying job to work his family business, Kouichi spends his days within a small confined space offering electric parts that aren’t normally found in bigger retail stores. We then have 35-year-old Katsumi Ohashi, the world-record holder for the creating the fastest computer—otherwise known as overclocking. We follow him as he attempts to break his own record, traversing Akihabara in search of parts to perform the attempt. And finally, another famous element of Akihabara is shown—the maid waitress. 22-year-old Miss Ichika is a prestigious law student who is also a maid café employee, and we follow her through her job as a waitress.

Akihabara Geeks does an excellent job of showcasing Akihabara as a town with numerous outlets for people to better express their talents, habits, and passions. The film showcases not only the pop culture element the town is famously known for, but also for bringing the viewer a more intimate look into the daily lives of the workers, shop owners, anime enthusiasts, and game developers that contribute to Akihabara. The film is very aware not to fall into presenting just a general view of Akihabara, but rather as showing it as a place of diversity and opportunity. Behind all the stereotypical otaku and made waitresses—let’s not forget that people like that are still ever present—there lives a population that when combined, create a utopia of realized dreams and creativity unlike many other places of earth. All these culminate in presenting Akihabara in an entirely different light, thereby breaking many stereotypical assumptions we might have had before viewing. We also get a brief history of the town itself—from its pre-war usage as a transportation hub, to the future development plans of having Akihabara become one of the biggest tourist spots within Japan—the film presents a great look into how the town came to fruition, and its future potential.

Overall, Akihabara Geeks is an excellent documentary that really gives the viewer a truer sense of what constitutes Akihabara. From the multiple perspectives, brief history lessons, and interesting tidbits, the film truly provides the viewer with a well-rounded and intimate look into Akihabara not only as a town, but as a real place that people live, play, and work, with the film presenting a look into Akihabara free from exaggeration and stereotypes we might often associate with it. While Akihabara may cater to many interests not deemed entirely mainstream, Akihabara Geeks successfully strives to show the people who inhabit it are usually just everyday individuals just like us. While somewhat short in its running time, the film still presents a great wealth of solid, fun, and interesting information. If you are even remotely interested in what Akihabara has to offer, or plan on visiting it some day, Akihabara Geeks provides an excellent look into one of Japan’s most fascinating destinations.

Trailer

Akihabara Geeks trailer

Blood and Bones – Review

Miguel Douglas — Thu, 27 May 2010 22:53:37 +0000

In 1923, the young Kim Shun-Pei moves from Cheju Island, in South Korea, to Osaka, in Japan. Along the years, he becomes a cruel, greedy and violent man and builds a factory of kamaboko, processed seafood products, in his poor Korean-Japanese community exploiting his employees. He makes fortune, abuses and destroys the lives of his wife and family, having many mistresses and children and showing no respect to anybody. Later he closes the factory, lending the money with high interests and becoming a loan shark. The film is told from the perspective of Masao, his legitimate son by his abused and degraded wife, who knows nothing about his father other than to fear him.

Adapted from the semi-autobiographical novel by author Yan Sogiru, Blood & Bones presents the story of one man’s moral descent and utter obsession of obtaining wealth at any cost—even if it means losing the little humanity he has left. Played magnificently by Takeshi Kitano, the main character Kim Shun-Pei is showcased here as a ruthless Korean immigrant living in Japan, whose selfish nature is often times exerted for the sake of power and dominance within his circle of associates, friends, and numerous times, his very own family. What makes Blood & Bones stand out is that it centers entirely on a single Zainichi Korean family and their community—Zainichi being a term used to delegate ethnic Koreans who reside in Japan. It comes at no surprise then that the harsh and turbulent times of the post & pre-war era in Japan are only amplified when dealing with a foreign ethnic group such as the Koreans, who at the time were considered inferior to the Japanese. This eventually results in a people just clinging onto survival—and gives the opportunity for Kim Shun-Pei to exploit every facet of it.

The absolute brutality of Kim Shun-Pei is the prime focus of the film, and Kitano expertly portrays a man who has no sympathy for others. Director Yoichi Sai had reportedly waited six years for Kitano to take up the role, mainly because he felt he could be the only actor capable of such ferocity. He was completely right in doing so—Takeshi vividly conveys the very essence of a character such as Kim Shun-Pei. From his disastrous role as a father and husband, to his brutal domineering of the people within his community, Takeshi presents an emotionally detached individual in perhaps his most realistic and frightening role thus far. Takeshi commands the role and makes it his own, effortlessly demanding every scene he’s in as a character hell bent on obtaining only wealth and power.

For all the harshness showcased throughout the film, Blood & Bones is also a film that focuses on the effects that a character such as Kim Shun-Pei has on his family. The adverse effects showcased are ones of tragedy and despair, all provided from the causation of Kim Shun-Pei’s violent behavior. We begin to view this family as trapped within a social structure they can’t possibly escape from—while the world is changing around them, they are still stuck within the slums of Osaka. It’s this claustrophobic atmosphere that pervades the very essence of the family dynamic within the film. They are trying to break free of the familial bondage they share with Shun-Pei, but the social and economical structure sadly won’t allow it.

Blood & Bones is a film that won’t be easily accessible to many viewers, simply for its utterly brutal depiction of familial violence—more specifically that of the Korean community—within Osaka during the pre-war and post-war era. Director Yoichi Sai doesn’t shy away from showing us how generational violence and greed can ultimately destroy not only the family, but also the individual as well, and courageously showcases the devastation that follows. Blood & Bones is a beautifully directed and superbly acted film, and in many cases is Takeshi Kitano’s career-defining performance. For this alone, the film is worth viewing, as well as for presenting a disturbingly brilliant picture of the immigrant dream of prosperity gone awry.

Trailer

Blood and Bones trailer

Tenshi no Koi – Review

Miguel Douglas — Sun, 16 May 2010 00:00:31 +0000

17-year-old high school student Rio is always the center of attention due to her beauty. Yet, Rio has never cared about anyone but herself due to her traumatic past. Her friends and boyfriends exist only so she can use them for her gains and she is only interested in attaining money. Then one day she meets 32-year college professor Ozawa Kouki and falls in love for the first time. Intrigued by his personality and demeanor, Rio becomes attracted to Kouki and learns what it means to cherish a fragile life and how important it is to treat others the way one wants to be treated. Although Kouki becomes interested in Rio as well, there is a reason he can’t pursue the relationship. He learns that he is diagnosed with malignant brain tumor, and it leaves him with only a few years to live.

Stemming from the ever-so popular cell phone novels that have taking Japan by storm in recent years, Tenshi No Koi is yet the latest film to deliver a story dealing with both love and loss. Considering the immense popularity this formula has had with people within Japan, it should come at no surprise that this film explores similar themes as viewed in other cell phone novel-to-film adaptations, most recently that of Akai Ito and Koizora. Considering this, it’s probably sufficient to say that with popularity eventually comes an oversaturation of that presented ideal or theme—in this case the love/loss dynamic so often conveyed within these types of films. While people might certainly enjoy the repetitious nature of such films, it soon becomes almost exploitative in a sense—more so trendy—to constantly elaborate on the same themes within films and just switching the variables up to make it appear different from others.

Indeed, Tenshi No Koi starts off rather promising—particularly for fans of Nozomi Sasaki. Nozomi does of a fantastic job of firstly portraying the cruel and emotionless Rio, whose sole goal is to accumulate money—to the eventual individual who opens up her feelings and truly cares for the wellbeing of others. Her emotional transformation process throughout is truly engaging, mainly because this is Nozomi’s first lead role in a film. Considering the wide emotional range for her character, she plays it exceptionally well given her relatively new status as an actor. Her love interest in the film, Kouki—played by Shosuke Tanihara—is quite the opposite of her character emotionally. While Rio subscribes to a certain level of egotism, she still remained cheery and emancipated throughout, which is unlike the gloomy and depressing Kouki. Considering the burden of illness he carries in the film, this was completely understandable, but it comes off as a surprise given the establishment of their relationship. The fruition of it comes in the most steadfast ways, and its really disjointing to see how these two individuals connected personally without the obvious forced narrative devices. Their chemistry just isn’t there, mainly because their contrasting personalities don’t allow it to be.

But for what it’s worth, Tenshi No Koi does attempt some new directions in handling its material. For one, the taboo subject of student-teacher relationships is explored. Unlike its predecessors—which concerned individuals around a similar age—Tenshi No Koi showcases a love story centering on two people with significant age differences. While the film plays around with this concept, it’s never portrayed for the sake of realism. Similar realistic themes are explored as well, including that of compensated dating, suicide, and abortion, but never to the extent that one would hope. In fact, most of these themes seem to only further contrive the plot more so than it already is. If the film is stretching for some sort of plausibility—considering the wide range of modern topics it touches upon—the melodramatic inserts do nothing but attempt to derive some sort of forced emotional response from the audience. This would certainly affect many individual viewers who enjoy these types of films, but it presents a haphazardly constructed narrative that attempts to fit too much in without fully resolving any of it in a naturalistic manner. In the end, the film is attempting to present a believable story, but does it in the most unbelievable fashion. I understand that a certain suspension of belief is common in specific films like these—most certainly ones that originate from cell phone novels, where pure coincidence and destiny always seem to clash with the audience—but here, its heavy reliance on coincidental moments to promote the plot remove some of the plausibility that was needed to reinforce it.

Believability aside, Tenshi No Koi is still a beautifully shot film with some consistent acting on part from its two protagonists. For such a diverse role, Nozomi Sasaki handles it with the utmost care. I would enjoy seeing her in future roles, mainly because her acting here shows that she can handle herself well given the complexities of her character. And while Tenshi No Koi does try it hardest to differentiate itself from other films, it soon befalls to the same formulaic approach in the end—and what’s sad is that it starts off so promising. I would have expected more given the interesting first half, but it sadly decides to play it safe by rapidly closing all subplots to make way for some intensive—and constrained—melodrama. Still, Tenshi No Koi should please fans of Nozomi Sasaki and viewers who enjoy a formulaic approach to their love stories—just don’t go in looking for too much originality.

Trailer

Tenshi no Koi trailer