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The Growth After Love (“Josee, The Tiger and The Fish”)

Isshin Inudou’s Josee, the Tiger and the Fish (Japanese title; Joze to tora to sakana tachi), released in 2003 and written by Watanabe Aya, was cinematized from a novel by Tanabe Seiko. The lead actor is Tsumabuki Satoshi, and the lead actress is Ikewaki Chizuru. Inudou Isshin and Tanabe received high evaluations for dramatizing Tanabe’s short story. The genres of Josee, the Tiger and the Fish are drama and a modern romance between ordinary university students Tsuneo and Kumiko (Josse), who is disabled in the lower half of the body.

Tsuneo is a university student working part-time in a mah-jong parlour. One day at work, he hears a couple/a few customers talking about a strange old woman who is seen pushing a baby carriage through the streets. They wonder what is being concealed in the baby carriage and the guesses range from her dead child to drugs. One day, the owner of the mah-jong parlour asks Tsuneo to take out his dog for a walk. Tsuneo encounters the old woman with the baby carriage rolling down from a hill to guardrails, and when he goes to help, he finds a young woman in the carriage who thrusts a knife at him. This is how Tsuneo meets the girl who calls herself Josee (Kumiko). She is unable to walk, thus her grandmother takes her out early every morning in the old baby carriage. To return Tsuneo’s favor, they offer him breakfast, and Tsuneo finds it delicious. After few encounters with Josee, Tsuneo begins to fall under her unusual charm.

The entire film portrays Tsuneo’s development through  his parting  with Josee. Tsuneo is an ordinary student who enjoys drinking, having  parties with his friends and sleeping around while not studying or working; however, one day, he meets Josee. Theirs was not the usual encounters between a man and woman in a loving relationship; instead, their unexpected encounter starts with the unanticipated breakfast. After Tsuneo had the delicious breakfast, he starts to open his mind to Josee’s peculiar charms. Tsuneo falls in love with Josee while listening to her admiration of the external world that she could not see due to her disability, her desire for a future despite her disability, and her warm heart with her lavishing attitude towards Tsuneo. Unfortunately, Tsuneo’s love is reckless as much as it is pure. He is too young to become Josee’s legs. He continuously faces negative views on their relationship from other people, and is subtly discouraged in their relationship. Just like the lines from Francoise Sagan’s novel by Josee, implying their parting, Tsuneo’s pure love towards Josee withers away. Finally, Tsuneo realizes that he cannot go further with Josee. The baby carriage he renovated with a skateboard becomes as neglected as a lump of scrap metal, and there is silence between Josee and Tsuneo. Their parting is calm. There is no crying or argument between them. After noticing that they cannot get through this, Josee decides to let him go. While walking away from Josee, Tsuneo wails in front of his new girlfriend. However, he does not go back to Josee. A happy reunion ending, which many people may expect, does not exist in this film. Although many films end ‘happily ever after’ with the overcoming of some difficulties, many loving relationships collapses in front of the realities of real life. At the last scene, viewers can see that Tsuneo has changed and grown up after the parting. Tsuneo soliloquizes that there were not many reasons why they broke up. The only reason is that he just ran away after facing reality. The film does not show how Tsuneo has changed after the parting; however viewers may guess that Tsuneo may not go back to his normal life. The pain he suffers from leaving Josee and his tears may make him grow up. Through portrayal of Tsuneo’s development, this film tries to console couples who suffered in their loving relationships.

The title, “Josee, the Tiger and the Fish” is an important metaphor reflecting the inner state of Josee. Firstly, the name Josee shows her wish to become a heroine in her life and relationship with Tsuneo. Kumiko has named herself as Josee after the heroine of a novel by Françoise Sagan and Tsuneo comes to call her by that name. At this point, we can assume that Josee (Kumiko) gives herself the name of the heroine in the novel. Just like one’s identity is built with one’s name, she may want to rebuild herself with a new name. She wanted to set herself free from Kumiko – who has a disabled body – and become a heroine in the relationship with Tsuneo, like Josee in the novel. She indeed becomes a heroine in her relationship with Tsuneo. Secondly, the tiger symbolizes scary parts of her reality such as the discrimination or disdain she faces. The tiger is the most fearsome animal that she wants to see when she meets the man she loves. Because others call her a ‘disabled person’, she has had to face the negative views of the people who discriminate and disdain her. During her relationship with Tsuneo, she is used to being confronted with the discrimination rather than hiding. However, she cannot simply change Tsuneo’s negative views on disabled people despite the baby carriage which Tsuneo renovated to aid her mobility. The reason she could face the scariest animal was because she met Tsuneo and she could overcome the scariest/most terrifying realities with Tsuneo. The last scene in which Josee rides a scooter alone supports this. Viewers may assume that she earned the will to confront the scariest things after seeing the tiger with Tsuneo. Thirdly, the fish is a metaphor that reflects Josee, and her deep and lonely soul. In their final trip, Josee also wants to see a fish, the animal which she most likes. However, it was impossible to see the fish, and instead, they stay in a hotel room which displays some fish shaped lights on the ceiling and walls. She tells Tsuneo to close his eyes and starts a story, which is about her from a deep ocean. In that ocean, she tells that there was nothing but herself. After Josee finds Tsuneo, she gets out of the ocean; however, after Tsuneo leaves her, she becomes alone again. She says she cannot go back to the ocean. The deep ocean signifies her loneliness and the fish represents herself. She wanted to think about her past and future while watching fish.

Throughout the entire film, this love story illustrates the discriminatory views held by society towards a disabled person. . Even though Josee’s grandmother feels ashamed of Josee’s disability numerous times, Josee and Tsuneo have different views. After facing reality, however, Tsuneo runs away from Josee. This implies that the prejudiced view towards disability is from the people surrounding the person with disability, and it has a negative influence on people with disabilities. Tsuneo might learn that it is hard to live under discrimination. Secondly, the title of the film was worked as a metaphor for Josee’s hurt and her inner side. Josee is well-paralleled with the title in this sense. This metaphor was brilliant to arouse the interests and the depth of the film.

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gendai-geki

The Significance of “Tokyo Sonata”

Tokyo Sonata (Tôkyô sonata), released in 2008, is a film that can be classified as gendai-geki in its strong contemporary setting dealing with highly relevant topics of today’s society, and alarmingly realism despite its dramatic storyline. Written and directed by Kurosawa Kiyoshi, its depiction of the effects of economic society on an ordinary family stays true to the themes seen in most of his movies, making the film significant to an audience living in a similar reality. Concentrated on one particular family, the cast is quite small and intimate, mainly including prominent actors Kagawa Teruyuki and Koizumi Kyôko, as well as new talents Koyanagi Yû and Inowaki Kai. Full of dramatic tension from beginning to end, the film’s greatest strength lies in what is not said or directly explained, with Kurosawa creating a greater final impact by presenting the audience with storytelling that is not too excessive, and allowing the truth and depth behind the story to develop in a natural, subtle way.

The film focuses on the lives of the Sasaki family – father Ryûhei (Kagawa Teruyuki), mother Megumi (Koizumi Kyôko), eldest son Takashi (Koyanagi Yû), and youngest son Kenji (Inowaki Kai). Presented as a relatively average family, the Sasakis’ lives all begin to change in a domino effect after Ryûhei loses his job as Administrative Director in his company, and attempts to keep his sudden unemployment a secret. Showing Ryûhei’s struggle to stay fed, find a job, and retain his dignity, Kurosawa highlights the sad reality that many face in today’s competitive economic society. Shortly after Ryûhei discovers that his good friend Kurosu (Tsuda Kanji) is in a similar predicament; he has no choice but to resort to the same dishonesty and denial that is helping his friend survive. Meanwhile, signs that his wife is also having problems of her own go unnoticed by Ryûhei, and he fails to see Megumi’s growing frustration at her robotic-like existence and her longing for adventure. Their eldest son, Takashi, in a similar quest for meaning in his life, turns to enlisting in the US Army with or without his parents’ approval, and shows no interest in remaining close to his family. Kenji, the youngest, expresses his interest in practicing piano, and goes against his father’s wishes by taking lessons paid with monthly lunch money, unbeknownst to anyone. The web of lies, deceit, and rebellion amidst the family eventually escalates to the point where the Sasakis are completely apart from each other, each trapped in their own version of suffering and feeling hopeless. As truths come out and the recognition of reality sets in, they each discover that there are indeed two distinct answers to the resounding question that is constantly asked in the film: “From this moment on, do you think I can start over?”

Much of the film’s strong impact is a result of Kurosawa’s focus on subtle details, which can be seen in his cinematography. Throughout the film, Kurosawa’s camerawork includes several shots that linger and concentrate on very specific images, often doing so without any accompanying dialogue or explanation. By using this style of filming, Kurosawa allows the audience to pause along with the camera, emphasizing the emotions evoked in the moment. An example of this can be found in a scene when Ryûhei returns home late one night to find his wife asleep on the couch. After he wakes her up and asks her why she hadn’t gone to bed properly, she begins to explain that she was worried and was waiting for him to have dinner. Within the wide shot of the camera, the audience sees that Ryûhei simply ignores her and heads upstairs to bed, leaving Megumi alone as she raises her arms, asking for him to help her up. The camera then takes a lingering close-up shot of her raised arms – from Megumi’s first-person perspective – as she asks, to no avail, “Somebody, please help me up.” By making the audience focus on this simple moment and literally come closer to the character’s personal perspective, Kurosawa hints at the emotional suffering that is slowly surfacing in Megumi, and the viewer is able to share her feelings of emptiness and loneliness. Although a rather small incident, the strategic camerawork adds depth and significance without excessive explanation, leaving a lasting impression that also contributes to the overall storyline of Megumi’s character.

Such moments also present metaphorical images that shed light on important themes of the film. For instance, there are several shots of borders that are roughly hand-carved into the wooden floor around the perimeter of each of the boys’ rooms. These images of borders are never truly explained by the boys or any of the other characters, but can be seen as symbolic references to the idea of longing for security and protection, which can be seen as one of the key themes in Tokyo Sonata. They may also just as easily be a representation of the private lives that each member of the family leads, lacking any true openness or communication. In a sense, the viewer is free to explore his or her own opinion of what makes the focal image significant to the film, and is not coerced with explanations within the dialogue to come to one particular conclusion, but is merely guided by the director’s camerawork.

A more literal way in which the film can be seen to draw strength from what is unsaid is through the lack of open communication among the characters. Not only does a refusal to admit the truth dramatically affect the relationships between characters, but it also creates a feeling of constant tension and uncertainty that is critical to the tone of the film. When Kurosu (who has been faking employment for almost three months) invites Ryûhei to his house for dinner in an effort to ease his family’s suspicions, there is an overwhelming sense of discomfort throughout the scene. With the audience aware of Kurosu’s elaborate methods of lying to his family in a desperate attempt to maintain his dignity, the scene becomes truly poignant and tragic. Adding to these strong feelings is the tremendous amount of guilt that is obviously felt by Ryûhei, who is not only helping his friend temporarily fool his family (and perhaps even himself), but is also coming to sadly realize what he in turn is doing to his own family. In this way, the storyline of the movie is just as much driven by what is not said as what is said in the dialogue and actions of the characters. The lack of communication and honesty between characters creates a tension within the film that continuously escalates, and makes the film unpredictable and moving as it builds up to a powerful ending.

Kurosawa’s method of holding back and not using explanations and dialogues to excess also applies to his choice in scoring the film. Although the film’s title alludes to music and would suggest a strong presence of music throughout the film, this is not exactly true. Instead, the events of the film mostly take place in silence. Kurosawa limits the use of music within the film to specific critical scenes, and even then, most of these instances are quite short, quiet, and relatively unnoticeable. As a result, the audience is encouraged to put more focus on the finely tuned camerawork and limited dialogue, and the music that would normally fill in any gaps or pauses is instead replaced by an overwhelming silence, adding to the sense of tension and suspense. By the end of the film, when the use of music becomes more significant, it becomes obvious that Kurosawa strategically refrains from its overuse in order to create a stronger impact, and to reach a point where he then allows music to speak for itself in turn.

Having won several awards, including Best Film at the 2009 Asian Film Awards and an official selection for the 2008 Cannes Film Festival’s Un Certain Regard, Tokyo Sonata is undeniably recognized by many to be a great film. Although its overall message is powerful and hard-hitting, Kurosawa gradually builds up to this lasting image of the film through the subtle and strategic usage of camerawork, dialogue, and music. By making the audience continuously derive their own meaning from the film, he also brings attention to the truth and reality behind the characters of Tokyo Sonata, proving that the film is relatable and significant to the modern audience. Much like the idea behind a Sonata in its title, the message behind the piece is not simply sung or directly stated, but instead allows its feelings and emotions to come about naturally from the audience, letting their own individual experiences bring meaning to the film.

Categories
gendai-geki

Shall we Dansu?

The 1996 gendai-geki film by Suo Masayuki titled Shall We Dansu? (Shall we Dansu?/Shall We Dance?), is a dramatic, contemporary portrayal of an everyday Japanese “salaryman” (businessman) (Sugiyama Shohei, hereon Sugiyama) expressing his self-worth and cultivating it through dancing. The joy and satisfaction it brings makes him feel complete and fulfilled, bringing a sense of meaning into his life as a whole (i.e. work, family). Sugiyama, the protagonist of this film is played by Hashimoto Kōji, known for his role in the US films, “Memoirs of a Geisha” and “Babel” (2005, 2006 respectively). Kusakari Tamiyo (a famous Japanese dancer from the Maki Asami Ballet Company) is the beautiful woman whom is responsible for drawing Suigiyama to the dance studio where he begins to allow himself release his inhibitions.

The plot of this film is focused on Sugiyama, who is portrayed residing in the bustling city of Tokyo, where he has accomplished all that a salaryman as an individual within a collectivistic society (Japanese society) hopes to attain. It is when Sugiyama successfully attains everything he’s hoped to gain over the years, working hard as an accountant (devoted wife, loving child, a house he owns), a revelation occurs where he still feels a sense of incompleteness internally despite his external accomplishments. A reoccurring scene shows Sugiyama going about his daily routine where he goes straight to work and back home again only to eat, sleep, enjoy the ofuro [bath] and religiously start the day over again without deviating from this.

Shall we Dansu? is a reoccurring theme on its own that is brought to the forefront repeatedly.  It is represented in a variety of different forms to emphasize its importance; firstly, the title of this film is appropriately named Shall we Dansu?, secondly, it is the name of Rodgers and Hammerstein’s song titled “Shall We Dance” in the 1956 film The King and I which is frequently played throughout the film, thirdly, there is a poster Mai makes and posts on the dance studio’s window so Sugiyama can see it and read it as he looks up from the train station to convince him to continue to dance, and lastly as each dance number is performed throughout the film, whether during rehearsal or during the competition, it is repeatedly asked if not physically gestured (palm facing up, arm extended towards partner).

The emergence of the contemporary stereotype of the typical Japanese man as a salaryman is also another theme distinctive to this film. Depending on an individuals’ cultural background, one may interpret the film differently, mainly noticing cultural traits familiar to oneself. Myself being westernized and a Japanese, I contemplated that a westerner who may not be privy to extensive knowledge of contemporary Japan may miss the key elements and may not even know the concept of salaryman, which is usually described as the modern-day samurai: disciplined, hard-working, and loyal to the company. There is a misconception that samurais always exercised bushidō (the way of the samurai) however it wasn’t until the Meiji period (1868-1912) until Japan’s interaction with the West (involving war) did they feel the need to be disciplined and focused. Typical traits of a salaryman, to name a few that are represented in this film, are their religiously rigid daily schedule, constant overtime at work, after hours socializing with co-workers, long commutes home, and arriving home late, only to go straight to sleep to start the same routine again. Most westerners might not think anything of Sugiyama’s reoccurring habits and routines but they are very much characteristic of a Japanese salaryman. You will find that the only mode of interacting and socializing with the outside world Sugiyama has would be limited to his immediate family and his co-workers alone until he participates in dance class. I recommend reading Tetsurō, Kato’s ”Sayonara Salaryman” in the January 5th edition of the Economist to better prepare oneself to watching the film to provide adequate enough knowledge to get the full experience of the film.

I must clarify that this film is not limited to Japanese culture alone, but it is imperative to distinguish the differences in perspective (the West vs Japan) regarding ballroom dancing; the focal act central to this film and to Sugiyama’s personal escape. Western culture seems to perceive ballroom dancing as old-fashioned and very much accepted in the norm whereas in the beginning of this film, we are quickly informed by the voiceover that Japanese culture believe otherwise; they use the word ‘suspicious’ to sum up their description. While westerners feel quick to conclude that Sugiyama is suffering from a mid-life crisis, Japanese people will disagree, quietly relating to Sugiyama on a personal level. There is a reason why the opening scene was of ballroom dancing done in the West and not in Japan, the sheer judgment society has on such an activity is still very strong today. Japanese people will most likely make out the message of this film to be indirectly expressed through ballroom dancing which is to be true to oneself, to allow oneself to find a sense of fulfillment as an individual in a society where it is considered shameful to think just for oneself and in Sugiyama’s case, it is his curiosity to learn the art of ballroom. Sugiyama does not mention his new-found after-work activity to anyone at work let alone his family. There is a point where he starts the beginners’ class where you’ll find the other male individuals too are making up reasons to join the class when the reality is that  they have ulterior motives. The harsh judgment of individuals wanting to express themselves is so strong that only later does Sugiyama discover his own co-worker, Aoki in incognito as a long –haired, tanned, Latino-like man (you’ll have to screen the film to find out why!) when he is naturally a bald, pale, nerdy-looking individual.

As you’ll soon discover, Sugiyama represents the everyman that every cultures’ male individuals’ can relate to on some level. The film’s ability to transcend to other cultures enables its success to reach out and captivate a larger audience. I would not consider it a Japanese film at all but very much an international one for its capacity to convey a universal message. The casting choice of Hashimoto Kōji was a successful pick, I could not picture any other actor to communicate and express Sugiyama’s character nor do the film justice as a whole. I highly recommend watching Shall we Dansu? and then watching the 2004 western version: Shall We Dance? starring Richard Gere and Jennifer Lopez to see cultural differences and how they’ve interpreted them in the West.

Bibliography

Paterson, Colin. Shall we Dansu? – Shall we Dance?. Businessmen in Japanese Culture. N.p. April 2004. Web. 20 Oct. 2010.

Shall we Dansu? Dir. Masayuki Suo Perf. Kōji Hashimoto, Tamiyo Kusakari. Toho Company, 1996. DVD.

Tetsurō, Kato. “Sayonara Salaryman.” Economist. January 05, 2008: 68-70.

Categories
jidai-geki

Ran

Ran (乱), which was released in 1985, is based on legends of the daimyo Mōri Motonari and the Shakespearean tragedy King Lear. This film was directed by the Japanese filmmaker Kurosawa Akira. The screenplay was written by Kurosawa and Hideo Oguni. This film is a jidai-geki (Japanese period drama). The title of this film, Ran, means chaos. This film makes us think about humanity, and how it is degenerated by war and power. This theme is illustrated through different characters, especially the two women in this film. They have similar experiences in the same conditions, but they have quite different personalities and values. The use of bright colors in this film makes the scene look like a living theatre, and also gives us a strong visual effect to strengthen our impression and understanding of this film.

This film is set during the age of feudalism in Japan. It is about sibling rivalry and the thirst for power in the Ichimonji clan. The great lord, Hidetora, leads the Ichimonji clan to gain control of a great deal of territory. When he feels he is old, he decides to abdicate and give control of his dominion to his eldest son, Taro; he also gives regional control of two smaller castles to his second son and third son, Jiro and Saburo. Taro and Jiro appear happy and supportive of this decision.  Only the third son, Saburo, opposes this decision, and he even says his father is foolish because of this decision. Thus he is banished by his father. However, just after Hidetora abdicates, his eldest son’s wife, Lady Kaede, begins to play her husband against his father.  Hidetora feels extremely disappointed in his eldest son and moves to the Jiro’s castle, but he receives the same treatment from his second son. Thus he sets up residence in the third castle, which is unoccupied because of Saburo’s departure, with his small army. Taro and Jiro join forces In order to destroy their father’s army and castle under Lady Keade’s guidance. Hidetora loses his entire army and begins a life of wandering with his court jester, the only other survivor. Jiro also takes this opportunity to kill his brother, Taro, and tries to become the ruler. In the final battle between Saburo and Jiro, Saburo comes to his father’s rescue.  Lady Kaede has achieved her purpose but all the others lose everything in the end.

In this film, there are two women who have quite similar experiences and circumstances, and even their endings are the same. However they have very different personalities and lives. They are Lady Kaede, Taro’s wife, and Lady Sue, Jiro’s wife. Hidetora killed their parents and pushed them to marry his two sons. Facing their enemy, these two women treat him in very different ways; Lady Kaede seeks revenge against the entire Ichimonji clan by successfully playing her husband against her father. After her husband dies, she threatens Jiro with a knife in order to keep her position, and then she sucks the blood from the cut she made in his throat, successfully seducing him and becoming his mistress.  She then forces him to kills his wife, Lady Sue, thereby obtaining her revenge and destroying the Ichimonji clan. She schemes to seek revenge against and destroy the Ichimonji clan. Before she dies, she says that she never regrets her actions; her purpose is to destroy the whole Ichimonji clan. She is just like a poppy which is beautiful but poisonous; she always sets herself in an advantageous position. Unlike Lady Kaede, Lady Sue is always a weak person. Although Hidetora forces her to marry Jiro after killing her parents, she treats her father-in-law quite differently. She is always peaceful and meek; facing her personal enemy, Hidetora, she is a filial daughter-in-law. She never hates him, and also tries to use Buddhism to influence and direct him.  Facing her blind brother, she is a loving and caring sister. She is killed when she tries to recover her brother’s beloved flute. Her desire is to withdraw from public life and live in peaceful seclusion. She is the embodiment of virtue in this film. She is like a pure lotus, which grows up from the filthy mud without being polluted. Kurosawa reinforces the contrast between these two women through the settings where they appear. Lady Kaede always appears in the castle’s throne room, which shows her position and power in society.  But Lady Sue always appears outdoors and alone except occasionally when she is with her blind brother and an attendant. It shows her powerlessness, and she exists on the margins of human society. In this film, Lady Kaede gives in to evil desires such as revenge while Lady Sue is able to remain unpolluted by power and war. These two women are like the same seeds that grow up in the same land, but blossom into different flowers.

Although this film is a tragedy, the color motif is bright. The scenery in this film is filled with a variety of colors most of the time. The contrast of colors is also very strong: Taro and his army are always presented in yellow; Jiro is red; Subora is blue; and Lady Kaede is white. Using these colors not only symbolizes the different characters’ personalities, but also enhances the visual effects of the film. For example, Jiro is presented in red, and his army also wears the red armor with red flags. The red colors look like blood, which represents bloodiness and violence; it also matches Jiro’s actions and his personality, which are bloody and violent. He joins his brother to fight and destroy his father’s army, and then he kills his brother to become the ruler. Moreover, the film also presents white clouds, blue sky, grass, dark castles, and soldiers dressed in colorful armor. These colorful scenes make the film look like a historical scroll painting, and also reflect the characters’ inner worlds and the development of the storyline. For example, clouds appear throughout the whole film, although there are only three scenes in which they are the focus. In the beginning of the film, Hidetora and his three sons are hunting in the paddock. They look like a harmonious family. Then the shot stops for a few seconds on the clouds.  The clouds seem pure white, in slow motion, and dignified, but a few black clouds appear indistinctly in the white clouds, which seem to hint at the despair under the harmonious surface. And so Hidetora gives his power to Taro (who is an insincere and unfilial person), and banishes filial Saburo (who is his only filial son) and a loyal minster.  Kurosawa also uses a feature of painting, the pure landscape, in making this film.  He uses landscapes to fill up the scenes with the characters set in a small place. It can make a strong contrast between humans’ smallness and nature’s magnificence. In the last scene, Lady Sue’s blind brother stands alone on the top of the city wall. The painting of Buddha suddenly slides down to the city wall below from his hand.  Meanwhile, the camera pans the shot; under the pale yellow background, the image of the blind brother grows smaller, until his silhouette almost blends into the background. This scene gives viewers a dismal, powerless and vacant feeling, as if the tragic fate will not stop with the ruin of the Ichimoji clan. The tragedy is like karma, which will continue forever.

In conclusion, this film was made by Kurosawa later in his career, and it is permeated with thoughts of humanism. It reveals humanity, and gives us heavy thoughts. In the end of the film, the only survivor is Tsurumaru, Lady Sue’s blind brother. Because he is harmless and ordinary, he survives. This film is filled with chaos, such as the jumbled battlefield, ethics, family and colors.  In the chaos, the ugly aspects of humanity emerge; it brings to the audience many thoughts about the sadness of troubled times, frightfulness, and goodness of human nature, and the ridiculousness of history.

Categories
anime comedy

Totoro: The Spiritual Guardian

The 1988 Studio Ghibli film, Tonari no Totoro (English title: My Neighbor Totoro), written and directed by Miyazaki Hayao, is a fantasy-filled anime well-known to most Japanese. The main characters are the Kusakabe sisters – Satsuki (Hidaka Noriko) and Mei (Sakamoto Chika), and Totoro (Takagi Hitoshi).

When Satsuki and Mei move to Matsugo, the countryside, with their father to be closer to their hospitalized mother, they are thrilled by the discovery that the forest surrounding their rickety, “haunted house” is inhabited by magical creatures. They are left dubious upon finding acorns falling from the ceiling as they explore their new home. The girls first encounter makkuro-kuro-suke or susuwatari (black soot), when they open the back kitchen door. The grandma from next door explains that these creatures are only visible to children. When four-year old Mei finds a number of shiny acorns consecutively as she plays in the garden, she picks them up one by one until she spots a little half-invisible to solid white creature. As she follows the creature, it is joined by another medium-sized gray creature. They go into the forest, into the hole on the bottom of a huge camphor tree, where Mei meets an even larger creature of the same kind, named Totoro. She befriends Totoro and before long, she falls asleep on his tummy. She is awakened by Satsuki, who finds her younger sister sleeping on the forest ground. Though Mei tries to find Totoro to prove that she met him, she is left frustrated, unable to revisit her recent adventure.

Satsuki meets Totoro when she and Mei wait for their father to come home in the rain at the bus stop. Entertained by the sound of the raindrops falling on the umbrella, Totoro takes the black umbrella that Satsuki lends him on to the cat bus that picks him up. In return, he gives the girls tree seeds wrapped in bamboo leaves, which they plant in their garden. After the night they experience the magical workings of Totoro, the sisters are convinced that the magic was “a dream but not a dream” – that the magical creatures as portrayed in their picture book are real in their eyes. Finally, when Mei is disheartened by the news of her ill mother not being able to come home for the weekend, she gets into an argument with Satsuki that provokes her into running off on her own, determined to go to Shichikokuyama hospital. Satsuki, with the help of the villagers, search for the missing Mei. After long hours of searching and the villagers losing hope, Satsuki is struck with an idea that she believes is the last resort.

The family-friendly anime reflects the typical Japanese family lifestyle, as well as the culture and traditions embedded in the theme of spirituality. The ritual of taking a bath at night, especially parent-child bathing, is a common practice for Japanese families, and is a way of bonding. This is portrayed when Satsuki and Mei are bathing with their father. They are frightened by the strong wind blowing outside, but with good times and laughter, they weather all fear, even the makkuro-kuro-suke that are said to reside in dark, empty houses. Hanging laundry outside in the morning is also another standard custom, as the sun rays entail purification. These scenes imply the concept of driving evil or unwanted spirits away, only welcoming the good ones, like the “ghost” Totoro. The fact that Totoro is a favorable spirit is made apparent when the girls and their father greet the camphor tree to show respect as new residents in the village. The sweet corn that Mei picks from the vegetable farm of the grandma next door symbolizes a cure for her ill mother, as the grandma tells the girls that vegetables from her garden are healthy and can cure all diseases. Believing the corn would heal her mother, Mei takes it with her as she tries to find her way to the hospital after the quarrel with Satsuki. Other scenes suggesting Buddhist/Shinto values common in traditional Japan include one where Satsuki and Mei pray to Ojizôsama (stone statues of the Jizô) as they shelter the sisters from the pouring rain; and the scene where the grandma is found ardently praying with the one sandal in her hands that was found in the rice fields, believing it was Mei’s. Such scenes emphasize the conclusive theme of spirituality.

Satsuki, being the eldest, is characterized as a mature girl with a motherly role despite her still being in the early years of elementary school. She prepares breakfast and obentô (lunch boxes) for her family, and the way she interacts with Mei depicts the way mothers deal with their children. Satsuki carries Mei on her back when Mei is falling asleep as they wait for their father at the bus stop; and their quarrel indicates their level of maturity. She does however also have a childish side, which is displayed in cases when she and Mei scream when they are scared or nervous as they explore their new “haunted

house;” and also when they dance around the planted tree seeds and experience magic with Totoro and his friends. Mei on the other hand has more solid traits of being the spoiled but sweet and playful little girl. Her stubbornness is eventually what makes her run away, but the combination of her and Satsuki’s character is what allows the film to successfully portray the strong bond of the sisters that only tightens with the climax of the film.

Tonari no Totoro is an excellent fantasy-adventure film that illustrates modern-day rural Japan with a touch of creativity most enjoyable for families and children of all ages. It is a must-see for viewers hoping to get a gist of Japanese culture and traditions in anime form. Children will definitely come to adore Totoro, just as Satsuki and Mei grow to treasure their magical friend and spiritual guardian.

Categories
comedy drama, melodrama literary adaptations

Nodame Cantabile: The Final Score – Part I

Nodame Cantabile: The Final Score – Part I (のだめカンタービレ 最終楽章　前編) is a romantic comedy which was released in December of 2009. The movie was made as a sequel to the drama and released in two parts, the first part released in late 2009, and the second part released in early 2010. This is probably because the director wanted to give a full round up of the story instead of shortening and fitting everything into two hours. The story is originally a manga written by Ninomiya Tomoko. Followed by the popular response from a large fan base of josei (female) readers, it was made into an anime (2007) and also a live-action drama (2006). The director of the drama is Takeuchi Hideki, who is also the director for this movie. The live-action drama also had a huge fanbase and that was why Takeuchi decided to make a movie for it. Tamaki Hiroshi (Chiaki-senpai) and Ueno Juri (Nodame) are the lead characters in the drama and the movie. Their great compatibility with each other is shown through the screen since they have worked with each other before. Other big names in this movie also include popular talents like Eiji Wentz, Becky, and Yamadu Yuu. Since it is not the first time the cast has worked together, everything in the movie has a great flow.

While Chiaki has become the new permanent conductor for the Le Marlet Orchestra, he soon finds out what an unfortunate situation he has been drawn into. The Le Marlet orchestra used to be one of the most prestigious orchestras in Paris, but as conductors changed, the players in the orchestra also quit and changed around often. Having a lack of budget and fans, the orchestra is going downhill. Chiaki works hard to make his orchestra rise back up in status and he is one that does all he can in order to achieve a goal. On one of the upcoming performances, his only celesta (a piano-like instrument) player quit and he is once again in a crisis. He wants Nodame to play for him and Nodame is happy to be able to fulfill her wish to perform on stage with her Chiaki-senpai. But due to a misunderstanding, Rui (Nodame’s love rival) ends up taking her part. The performance ends with the audience laughing and applauding which is another big blow for Chiaki. He still has a long way to go to reach his goal. Nodame on the other hand is also practicing hard for her graduation exam. But of course Nodame does not function without always thinking about her Chiaki-senpai. She also works hard to help promote his orchestra so that people will once again go listen to them. This part one of the movie focuses mainly on Chiaki’s struggle to find his place in the orchestra and slightly hints about the troubles of Nodame trying to find her place in Chiaki’s life.

Lots of special effects are used in order to enhance the characters’ emotions. Tamaki Hiroshi and Ueno Juri uses lots of facial expressions and overreacts to things in order to portray the animated-like quality of the characters. Exessive use of facial expressions does not hinder the performance, but in my opinion it makes the movie even more comedic and enjoyable. The camera also works well with the acting, because there are many close-up shots of the facial expressions. This allows the audience to fully experience the emotions that are portrayed. Nodame’s character is very innocent and acts childlike at times. She always falls into her own little world when she is feeling a sense of happiness. This is when the director uses animated animals, rainbows and sparkles to surround Nodame in her fantasy world. Chiaki also has animated emotions, just like when he is shocked that he became the permanent conductor of a failing orchestra, he literally falls into an unending dark hole in space. This contrasts Chiaki who is serious and thinks a lot and Nodame who is very innocent and revolves life around Chiaki. But in a way, they balance each other by having what the other is lacking. The casts’ great acting skills plus the use of special effects really gives this movie a quality that no other has.

Nodame Cantabile is a story about young people who live in the world of classical music. So of course, this movie uses a lot of classical pieces from Chopin, Liszt, Mozart, and Beethoven to name a few. It is important that popular pieces were used so that the audience can recognize and feel the sense of closeness to it. Music is played almost non-stop in the movie, even if it is very quietly. The climax of each piece of song played also parallels the climax of something Nodame is doing. Like when she was about to fall into a fountain while getting a toy boat for a kid, the music playing is near the climax and increases in volume as she falls. Scenes changes a lot with the music too, like back and forth between what Chiaki is doing and what is happening to Nodame.

One thing I dislike about this movie was the flashbacks from the drama being too long. It is great for those who did not watch the drama because it tells you a bit about where the story is at, but for fans who have watched the drama, it was really boring and long. Overall I enjoyed this movie a lot because I am a huge fan of the drama. Vivid colours, good music, decent camera work, great scenery and a great cast. I would recommend this movie for those who enjoy classical music or just want a comedy to watch.

Categories
J-horror literary adaptations

“Uzumaki”: Dangerous Obsession

Higuchi Akihiro’s Uzumaki (Spiral, 2000), based on Ito Junji’s horror manga, is a horror film of Goshima Kirie’s (Hatsune Eriko) experience when the population in her small hometown becomes bizarrely obsessed with spirals. Goshima is unaware of this strange obsession until her boyfriend, Saito Shuichi (Fhi Fan) warns her about the strange situation with uzumaki. Higuchi has also adapted Ito Junji’s Long Dream (Nagai Yume, 2000) into a television film, but both of these films are not internationally well known.

The story is separated into four chapters, “Premonition”, “Erosion”, “Visitation”, and “Come into the Uzumaki”, and each has significant events. Goshima Kirie narrates the film in regards to her experience with her hometown’s strange behavior and deaths related to uzumaki. At first, she comes across Mr. Saito’s (Ren Ohsugi), Saito’s father, attraction to film the slow movements of a snail on an alley wall. Soon after, she engages in a conversation with Saito about his father. Saito says that his father’s interest in spirals is not just a hobby. It has become an obsession and it is changing him to the point that he is now a father Saito no longer knows and understands. Mr. Saito not only has a huge collection of spiral-related objects, but things are clearly out of control as he only eats things with spirals in it, such as Japanese fish cakes (naruto, fish cakes with a pink spiral), and can drink miso soup only after he creates a spiral with the spinning motion of chopsticks. Mr.Saito’s obsession with spirals soon spreads to Goshima’s father (Tarô Suwa), a ceramist, when Mr. Saito suggests to him that uzumaki is the highest form of art and must be incorporated into his ceramics. The power of uzumaki rapidly spreads throughout the town, and one by one they quickly fall to their inevitable deaths, by turning into human snails, having hair coiled into uzumaki that defies gravity, or turning into uzumaki by committing suicide in a washing machine. The story reaches its climax when Goshima finally realizes that uzumaki has possessed this town and needs to find a way to escape this terrifying power.

The film’s theme, terror of spirals, is simple and yet interesting. Uzumaki clearly depicts the horrors of spirals. Firstly, it presents spirals as an unbelievable attraction just like many illusions and puzzles. However, in uzumaki one can never escape once they have been drawn in. Other than the characters dying in a series of accidents and suicides due to obsession with uzumaki, there are many little spirals that are lurking within the film, such as the close-up shots on the spinning wheels of a bicycle or cars, the wind blowing leaves in a circular form, the spiral staircase, and the random spirals occurring in the sky, and on the floor. Higuchi also choose to film with green colour filters causing the whole film to have a greenish background. The greenish colour adds to the creepy nightmarish atmosphere and gives the town a characteristic of deterioration and destruction. Higuchi also uses spinning shots often with the characters’ head in the middle. This strangely attracts attention and causes an unsettling feeling. The image of uzumaki is situated in every part of the film in a variety of ways. While Uzumaki takes over the lives of the characters, it is not until the end that one realizes that the film was taken over by uzumaki at the very beginning.

The character Goshima Kirie is very interesting because she never demonstrates any sign of extreme fear facing the obsession with spirals situation. Even after witnessing the death of a classmate failing off a spiral staircase, she is able to recover soon after. Moreover, a few days later, when she witnesses the death of Mr. Saito in the washing machine, she faints after the incident but she is able to recover the next day as if everything is back to normal. She is definitely aware of spirals taking over but does not acknowledge it as a problem and something she should worry about. Even when Saito warns her as he becomes more and more suspicious about the power of uzumaki, she is merely listening to his observations. She is a passive character, who does not actively look for how to fight against uzumaki, or run away from it. Nonetheless, it is because she is such an innocent and simple-minded character that audiences are able to enjoy the story in an unbiased, and surrealistic manner.

The film contains many disturbing and bloody scenes and viewer’s discretion is advised. The film’s theme of spirals is twisted and may cause uneasiness for the audience. After the screening of Uzumaki, one may never look at spirals in the same way again. It was not a great film, but it was still an enjoyable film. The story’s idea is simple but extremely bizarre. This film is recommended to those who wish to see a creepy and unsettling thriller.

Categories
action extreme

“The Machine Girl”

The Machine Girl is an action film from Nikkatsu Productions, directed by Iguchi Noboru, and stars Minase Yashiro as the main character Hyuga Ami , a high school girl out to avenge the death of her little brother. The movie also stars Sugiura Asami as Sugihara Miki and Ishikawa Yuya as Sugihara Suguru, parents of Ami’s brother’s friend, who help Ami with her revenge. The main antagonist in this movie is played by Shimazu Kentarou, who is Kimura Ryugi, a yakuza leader of a gang that was descended from a ninja clan. This is a simple action B-movie with lots of gore, but I found the draw of the movie lies not in its excuse plot or static and stereotypical revenge-story character behaviour. The draw was in the quirky character designs, which I shall elaborate on later. The movie starts off with a gang of students bullying a boy by practising throwing knives at an apple above his head. They are about to bombard him with knives, but our protagonist, Ami, intervenes. She tells them that their gang killed her brother, and proceeded to cut off one of the bullies’ arms. Then she shows them her missing left arm, which she then attaches a machine gun to, which is the movie’s way of telling us that she’s the titular character. After the bullies are dead, Ami begins a flashback which tells us how she lived before, how her brother died, and how she lost her left arm and gained a machine gun. The movie then shows us Ami’s revenge against those that killed her brother, with some bizarre fight scenes and lots of blood thrown in.

When they are first shown, the good main characters look very ordinary while wearing their everyday clothing. The bizarreness starts when they pull out their weapons. The main antagonists almost always look gaudy. In Ami’s first scene, she pulls out what looks like a kusari-gama, which is a sickle-like weapon for ninjas, and while it’s not a commonly seen weapon, is not very impressive. However, the kicker is her arm-mounted machine gun, which, in its first appearance, Ami spectacularly makes a show of putting it on her arm stump. I’ll admit that I thought that looked really cool, albeit a little cheesy. The mildest example of the villains is Kimura Sho, the person bullying Ami’s brother, who wears a standard boy’s school uniform, but with a clearly expensive leopard fur jacket. Even unnamed characters get a chance at being weird; one of the bullies’ parents look like a typical husband and wife, although more good looking than most couples would be when their son is of teenage age. The father suddenly pulls out a golf club to attack Ami, and then uses two as the fight continues. What I find to be the most ridiculous of the designs is in Kimura Violet, Sho’s mother. She wears a lightly decorated kimono but with its chest area exposed, thus showing her bra, which is typical attire for a sexy villain. However, her bra itself is a different story; it’s a drill, and it functions as her weapon. If this doesn’t get you to go, “Wait, what?” you need to tell me what you’ve been watching as it is clearly more ridiculous than this movie.

The lighting during the scenes is another aspect of the film I’d like to talk about. It’s easy to notice that during the ONE true happy scene in the movie, which is when Ami plays basketball for the first time in the movie, that the lighting is much brighter compared to the rest of the movie. The colours are much more vivid and you can actually see colour in the faces of the characters, which is best seen in the following scene where she jokes around with her brother. The rest of the movie looks like it was filmed through a grey filter to show the grimness of the situation. This is especially evident in the very first scene where Ami saves the student from the bullies, where, except for the blood, it seems like the film is black and white. The second time we see Ami play basketball still has an uplifting mood, but this event is after we find out her brother was being bullied, and the lighting is no longer bright. Then the movie throws a more complicated situation. Ami, when starting her revenge, gave us a happy psychotic smile as she kills the family of one of the bullies, but the lighting is bright, perhaps to suggest that, while the movie is going towards a less depressing tone, it’s not going to return to the innocent tone it had at the beginning.

I’d give this movie a solid 7 out of 10, as I really liked the general weirdness feel of the movie, which most Hollywood action flicks don’t have today. The characters are kind of unlikable, but I don’t think the director wants us to like them, seeing as they’re all morally deficient in some form or another. While some villains can be extremely likeable due to how awesome they are, like Heath Ledger’s Joker in The Dark Knight, none of the characters here, including the protagonists, was able to pull that off. The one thing I really liked about this movie compared to Hollywood is the camerawork during fighting, which, unlike Hollywood, is not shaky and focuses really well on the actions being taken. This serves to highlight the mediocre choreography and emphasizes the gore. So if you’re sick of being unable to see anything during fight scenes in movies, as long as you can handle cheesy special effects and fighting, movies of this genre may be a good place for you to start. This movie is definitely not for the faint of heart, however, especially with all the bizarre tortures and deaths.

Categories
anime drama, melodrama literary adaptations

The Sea of Decay: Miyazaki and “Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind”

Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind (Kaze no tani no Naushika) was originally released in 1984, prior to the establishment of Studio Ghibli. It is artfully directed by Miyazaki Hayao who has gained a deserved reputation for other better-known works such as the Academy award-winning Spirited Away or My Neighbor Totoro. The film is based on the manga of the same name, written and illustrated also by Miyazaki. The first English release of the movie was in 1985; the film was cut and re-titled Warriors of the Wind and it was not until 2005 that the uncut English version of Nausicaä was released with Disney’s collaboration. The English dub in the uncut release was performed by now-famous names such as Uma Thurman (Lady Kushana) and Shia LaBeouf (Asbel); however, this review is based on the subbed version of the film, with the original Japanese voice actors: Shimamoto Sumi as Nausicaä, Naya Goro as Lord Yupa, and Sakakibara Yoshiko as Lady Kushana.

Like much of Miyazaki’s work (Kiki’s Delivery Service, Princess Mononoke), Nausicaä follows the story of a young female protagonist. The heroine in question here is, of course, Nausicaä, a princess who resides in a valley near a toxic wasteland known as the Sea of Decay. Hers is a post-apocalyptic world, one that has been devastated—as the titles inform us—by a thousand-year war, but pockets of humanity continue to survive scattered over the planet. Though skilled in combat, Nausicaä is presented as having an enduring compassion for all living things, whether they are human or giant insects. She has a natural gift with animals and she makes frequent visits to the toxic jungle in an attempt to find a way to purify the polluted land. When two nations bring their war to her home, she is left with little choice but to fall into the middle of the conflict before what remains of the world falls under further destruction.

The message of the film is not especially subtle, but it is subtle enough to prevent from distracting the viewer while watching the plot unfold. Although the toxic forest is originally presented as responsible for the uninhabitable state of much of the planet, we quickly learn that it was the war itself that had damaged the ecosystem—the responsibility, therefore, falling squarely on human shoulders. This type of damage to the environment is eerily similar to the wasteland images one might imagine when considering a nuclear fallout; as Miyazaki had written this story in the early to mid-1980s in the midst of the Cold War, it is not surprising that he has chosen to go with this line of thought. The theme of fear as a motivator for violence also runs throughout the film: Nausicaä tames what seems to be a ferocious little creature by telling it not to be afraid and later, Lady Kushana explains that her reason for invading another country was fear of their growing power, and that she was seeking to obtain a powerful weapon before they could. Again, there is a strong parallel between the film and certain events occurring in the world at the time.

Perhaps one of the most impressive aspects of the movie, though, is the carefully rendered world in which the characters reside. There is a tragic beauty to the forest. Full of toxins and strange plants, not to mention large, vicious insects, the forest is tinted a cool translucent blue that suggests a lack of warmth and a kind of deadness—yet the scenery literally glows with life. The humans, by contrast, live in a harsh landscape of dry desert; while the sun shines brightly, the desert is devoid of any signs of environmental life. Through these images, Miyazaki seems to suggest that despite outward appearances, the forest teems with potential while the desert has been stripped of it. Beyond thematic significance, however, the aesthetics of the film are simply a visual pleasure to watch. The opening scene in particular, where Nausicaä explores the forest, resembles a series of soft watercolour paintings in motion. The variety of plants and creatures are wonderfully imaginative, but contain edges of familiarity (dragonfly-like insects, squirrel-like pets), giving audiences a world that is exotic yet at the same time recognizable enough to not be mistaken for another planet altogether. It is Earth as it would be if we are not careful.

The one element that occasionally seems out of place is the music. Although the score is beautifully haunting at times, the use of a synthesizer in several of the action sequences is somewhat jarring where one might have expected more of a traditional orchestral tone. Nevertheless, it is a minor quibble that does not take away from the rest of the film. Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind is overall a tightly crafted, well-paced story, accompanied by an impressively delicate style of animation and sympathetic characters. While it is arguably not Miyazaki’s strongest work, the film is still well worth viewing.

Categories
comedy drama, melodrama gendai-geki shomin-geki

Let’s Dansu and Not Tell

A man is taking the train home after a night out with his co-workers. He looks up out the window and spies a beautiful woman in a building across the street, staring out of her window with an expression of longing like Gatsby imploring his green light. The man, stuck in a stolid home life and in a rut at work, becomes immediately fascinated by her: what does that melancholy look on her face mean? He has to meet her.

Suo Masayuki’s Shall We Dansu?(1996) is a not-so-light shomin-geki drama/comedy hybrid that contains an serious undercurrent of criticism of Japanese social norms. This is nicely established in the films’s introductory scene. There is an overhead crane shot of couples in a dance hall, gracefully gliding across the floor. This imagery of personal closeness and connection is subverted by an ironical voice-over narration: we are told that “in Japan, ballroom dance is is regarded with much suspicion. Married couples don’t go arm in arm, much less say ‘I love you’ out loud”. We learn that dancing in front of others is embarrassing, and dancing with strangers would “prove most shameful”. This conceit is what drives the film: if a person is not to truthfully express themselves with their own family in their own home, must he turn to strangers to do so? The man, Sugiyama Shohei (Yakusho Koji) seems to be going through a mid-life crisis. He has a wife, a daughter, and he’s just bought a house. He realizes that he is going to to work as an accountant the rest of his life to pay off his debts. A fine sequence early in

the film telescopes his plight: he comes home after work exhausted, says “Hello” to his wife, and then goes directly to bed. The next thing we see is his waking to his alarm clock, having to get up and do it all over again. Is this a life?

Sugiyama realizes that the woman in the window is a dance instructor. He decides to take dance lessons at her studio as a pretense to get to know her. In the class he meets a few other students, all men, all misfits. The instructors are the brash, robust Toyoko (the wonderful Watanabe Eriko), Tamura Tamako (Kusamura Reiko), a mature lady who runs the school, and Mai (Kusakari Tamiya), the beautiful object of his desire. Sugiyama begins group lessons with Tamako-sensei while keeping his eyes on Mai. Sugiyama finds out the Mai is a great competive dancer, and that she’s competed at Blackpool. Something happened with her dancing partner, however, and she won’t publicly dance any more. Sugiyama continues to take classes while telling his wife that he is blowing off steam with his office co-workers after hours. His wife, becoming suspicious yet not wanting confront her husband directly, hires private detectives to follow him. She is told what he has been up to. Then one night after classes, Sugiyama asks Mai to dinner. She refuses, informing him that if he is taking the classes to get to her, he is seriously misguided. One studies dance for the sole reason to learn dance. Sugiyama begins to find that he does indeed love the art of ballroom dancing, leading to Mai’s rediscovery of what dance means to her.

Most of the scenes take place in the dance studio itself. The studio is portrayed in a brown hue, very comforting and warm. It is like a second home for these characters-a place where they can be themselves. There is a hilarious scene in which Sugiyama realizes that a somewhat obnoxious Latin-dance loving student is in reality his co-worker, Mr. Aoki (Takenaka Naoto). Aoki tells Sugiyama that when he’s dancing he’s “…so happy, I’m completely free! You know how it is for me at work.” Sugiyama knows. We come to see Mai’s constant searching gaze out of the window as being symbolic of the emptiness that all the characters share. It is significant that many scenes feature Tamako-sensei seen in a one-shot, talking directly to the camera as she instructs her class. Every one of her students and teachers is longing for something. Tamako becomes the guiding force that directs all under her roof to their full potential. There is a wonderful scene of she, Sugiyama and Mai gazing in genuine awe at couples waltzing in a dance hall. Sugiyama and Mai see the wholeness they are lacking in the art and beauty of the dance.

This film could be seen a a fairy tale: all of these people, students and instructors alike,are put together under one roof to achieve self-discovery through Tamako-sensei’s wisdom. We get a hint that we are being told a “tale” through the use of a Shakespeare quote in the opening scene. The movie was a great success in Japan and the US (even being remade in the latter as Shall We Dance? in 2004 directed by Peter Chelsom). The film begs an interesting question: how far is one allowed to go to find self-expression? Sugiyama is happiest when he is dancing, but as he doesn’t tell his wife his family suffers. He’s obeying cultural expectations and rules, but he is being dishonest to his wife. Sugiyama follows the social code that has been established for him. He works hard to provide for his family (“Not a matter of like or dislike; it’s my job”) but he has no closeness with them. It would be improper for he and his wife to communicate real feelings with each other. Early in the film we see Sugiyama’s wife, Masako (Hara Hideko) say to their daughter, “It is good that your Dad goes out now and then. He works so hard” yet later scenes will show her alone at the dinner table, her husband’s food cooling. Sugiyama deserves some happiness, but is he being fair in making it so that his family can’t participate with him?

Sugiyama’s involvment in the class is the catalyst that enables everyone in it to realize themselves. However, he still has to rebuild his family dynamic. Like Bill Murray’s character in Groundhog Day (Ramis, 1993), he must accept that active involvement in all parts of his life, even the mundane, is essential in being. The most beautiful moment in the film is the second-to- last dance Sugiyama performs, which quietly refutes the social conventions conveyed to us at the top of the film.

Shall We Dansu? is an entertaining, often charming film that is quite funny at times. You will be rooting for every character in that dance studio to excel. You will cheer them on as they strive to be the best that they can be on the ballroom floor. Let your partner lead, though: this film has a footstep as light as a feather but a very heavy heart.

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