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anime literary adaptations

“The Girl Who Leapt through Time”: Time Waits for No One

The Girl Who Leapt through Time (2006) is an anime film directed by Hosoda Mamoru. Hosoda Mamoru is a Japanese animator and director whose work includes such feature-length films as Dijimon (1999) and Summer Wars (2009). The Girl who Leapt through Time is a film sequel to the novel Toki o Kakeru Shojo (1967) by Tsutsui Yasutaka. Released in 2006, the film won several awards for best animated picture, including the Animation Grand Award for the year’s most entertaining animated film and the Gertie Award at the Catalonia Sitges International Film Festival. Though not a box office success when initially released, the film would attract through ‘word of mouth’ a growing audience. The Girl Who Leapt through Time is a touching film that examines friendship, love, and the nature of time through the eyes of an ordinary high school girl.

Seventeen-year-old Makoto is a tomboyish girl who appears to be happy with her life just the way it is. Like the three musketeers, she and her best friends Chiaki and Kousuke are inseparable. One day, while dropping off some career surveys at the science lab, Makoto accidentally falls on a strange object, which imprints a number on her arm. Shortly after this incident, she escapes a near-fatal accident by moving backwards through time. Thus she discovers she has the ability to “time-leap”. From that day forward, Makoto uses her new power for the most trivial purposes such as improving her school grades, gaining additional time on the karaoke stage, and raising her batting average. But a problem arises when Chiaki confides his feelings for her. Embarrassed and unaware of her true feelings for him, Makoto decides to prevent Chiaki from making his love confession by time leaping. It is only later that she discovers that the number on her arm indicates the number of times that she can time-leap. She further discovers that time-leaping can adversely affect others.

With only one leap remaining, she witnesses Kouske and his girlfriend die in a bike accident. She has every intention of preventing this accident, but instead, uses her last time leap to prevent Chiaki calling her on the telephone to ask if she knows about time-leaping. As Makoto is watching the accident unfold, time suddenly stops and Chiaki appears. He tells her that he is a time traveler from the future and then disappears. Only then does Makoto realize her true feelings for Chiaki. She looks for him everywhere but to no avail. Having revealed his identity, Chiaki has no choice but to disappear. Meanwhile, Makoto discovers that because of Chiaki’s time leap she has gained one additional time-leap. With one time-leap chance left, Makoto uses her last leap, and then the thrilling conclusion takes place.

This film explores an intriguing subject: time travel. Her ability to time leap allows Makoto to relive as well as alter the past. However, in the scene where she reveals this newly acquired power to her aunt, Hosoda offers another interpretation regarding time leaping. After Makoto reveals her ability to time travel, the aunt remarks that this kind of experience is not uncommon for girls her age, implying that Makoto may only be fantasizing about possessing a supernatural power. The aunt’s interpretation is plausible if one considers those occasions when Makoto engages in time leaping: when her best friend Chiaki confesses his love for her; when she wants more time at the karaoke; when she wants to eat something that she had yesterday; when she is late for class. Most of these occasions have one thing in common: they are the kind of circumstances that any teenage girl would wish either to avoid or experience again. There is an obvious desire here to escape from embarrassing moments or from an uncertain destiny. Makoto’s time-leaping has a dream-like quality about it in that it defies the laws of logic and of space and time in order to realize the dreamer’s wishes.

This anime film has a forceful message: “Time waits for no one”. These words appear repeatedly throughout in the film, written on a classroom black board. Makoto uses her power to alter what are really trivial events, because she does not wish to change; rather, she wishes to change the situation. Ironically, when she feels ready to accept change—for example, when she realizes that she loves Chiaki—time will not wait, and the opportunity with all its promise is lost forever.

The adage that “Time waits for no one” not only means that time does not wait for the individual to think and act; it also means that “The time we have right now will never come back”. Moreover, in a scene where Makoto uses her power to travel into the past, she realizes that despite the changes that occur through time, there are some things that do not change, such as Chiaki’s love for her. She also comes to realize that the time one has right now, will not come again, and because it will not, it is so special and valuable.

One thing that saves this anime film from becoming a cliché is that the protagonist is responsible for her actions. Most films allow the protagonist to learn his or her lesson in time to make everything right. However, in this film, Makoto learns her lesson too late to avoid the terrible consequences. The message Hosoda has for us applies to everyone, not just teens. Because time leaping is impossible, the film advises, enjoy every moment and love as much as possible, for the past cannot be relived. As the old saying goes, “Time waits for no one”.

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action drama, melodrama jidai-geki literary adaptations

A Double-Edged Sword: The Duality of “Lady Snowblood”

Ever wonder where Quentin Tarantino gets his ideas? In the case of Kill Bill (2003-04), his most significant source of inspiration was Fujita Toshiya’s Lady Snowblood (Shurayukihime, 1973). Fair warning for the potentially squeamish: Lady Snowblood was several decades ahead of its time in terms of its frequent depictions of stylized violence. Based on the manga by Koike Kazuo (who also wrote the film’s screenplay), the film is a jidai-geki with a twist – not to mention a snap, a slice, and a gush of blood. Set in the late nineteenth century, Lady Snowblood follows the story of Kashima Yuki (Kaji Meiko), a sword-wielding heroine on a quest to avenge the beating and rape of her mother Sayo (Akaza Miyoko), as well as the murder of Sayo’s husband and son. Yuki herself is conceived for the sole purpose of revenge, as Sayo realizes that she needs  a progeny to track down and exterminate the three people who took part in the heinous attack on her family. After Sayo’s death in childbirth, Yuki embarks on a life of training in weapons and martial arts in order to prepare her for her ultimate destiny: confronting her mother’s attackers one by one, with predictably graphic results.

Lady Snowblood’s strength lies in its duality. The film explores problems associated with modernity and Westernization, but does so through a complex and modern narrative structure, an unorthodox visual style, and the presence of a powerful female protagonist in a genre usually dominated by male characters. In this respect, it’s at once conservative and progressive – a not insubstantial degree of thematic depth given that Lady Snowblood is a film best known for its blood and gore. Set during the Meiji period, the film depicts the era as being overrun by the potential pitfalls of modernization: organized crime and the yakuza, gambling, corruption, duplicity for the sake of money, and militarism run amuck. The criminals’ most horrific crime – the murder of Sayo’s family – is fundamentally rooted in their capitalistic lust for money; they set up an extortion scheme to exploit the local villagers’ fear of the military draft (a by-product of modernization and Japan’s desire to achieve military parity with the Western powers).

Symbols of modernity and Western influence are also present throughout the film. Two of the criminals, Tsukamoto Gishirô (Okada Eiji) and Kitahama Okono (Nakahara Sanae), use guns, while Yuki prefers the more traditional sword. In addition, the film’s climax takes place at a Western-style masquerade ball, where Tsukamoto mingles with foreign dignitaries and members of high society as part of his work as a weapons dealer. The linkage created between militarism and growing Western influence stands as a condemnation of some aspects of modernization, and indeed lends the film a degree of topical relevance (both in the 1970s and today) given ongoing debates in Japan concerning Westernization and traditional Japanese culture. The final image of the ball sequence – a dying Tsukamoto falling from a second-story railing, over which are draped side-by-side American and Japanese flags – is representative of the film’s philosophical underpinning. Tsukamoto, the embodiment of all of the negative aspects of modernization, pulls the Japanese flag down to the floor with him as he falls, implying that Japan itself is being pulled down by its abandonment of traditional principles like honour, integrity, and family. Yuki’s traditional dress and strong family allegiance to the mother she never knew posit her as the defender of these traditional values.

Standing in contrast to the film’s thematic conservatism are its strong female protagonist and non-traditional structure. In spite of her traditional costume and values, Yuki herself is arguably a progressive figure; she wields a sword and defeats legions of dangerous men, taking a beating and somehow always emerging alive and (relatively) unscathed. This type of female protagonist is absent from most other jidai-geki but makes sense within its proper historical context; it serves as a vaguely feminist reaction to earlier Japanese films, as well as fitting in with the cycle of rape/revenge movies made all over the world in the 1970s, including Sweden’s Thriller – A Cruel Picture (Bo Arne Vibenius, 1973) and the United States’ I Spit on Your Grave (Meir Zarchi, 1978). In Lady Snowblood, Yuki uses the expectations of her male antagonists to her advantage, both in terms of their objectification of her and her perceived weakness.

The style and structure of the film itself is likewise untraditional. Fujita employs an incredibly complex narrative structure, including long flashback sequences and, in one instance, a flashback within a flashback. Maps and documents are also shown to provide necessary exposition, and voice-over narration conveys relevant information to the viewer. Furthermore, the controversial content of the film – explicit violence and some sexual imagery – seemingly contradicts its more traditional thematic elements, as does Fujita’s use of unorthodox photographic techniques, including extreme camera positions (low-angle shots, extreme close-ups, and canted angles) and jarring snap-zooms. In several scenes, the non-diegetic music utilized is completely anachronistic, seemingly inspired more by the 1970s funk music evident in American exploitation films of the era than by any traditional Japanese sources. These elements result in a style of filmmaking that comes across as ultra-modern, adding to the film an intriguing interplay between traditional themes and non-traditional storytelling techniques.

Elements of Tarantino’s Kill Bill that have been inspired by Lady Snowblood are too numerous to list, but they include the film’s revenge plot, its jumbled narrative structure, blood that shoots like a faucet, Lucy Liu’s character’s costume (a replica of Yuki’s), and the use of Lady Snowblood’s theme song (“The Flower of Carnage”), sung by Kaji Meiko herself. Discussing Lady Snowblood merely in relation to Kill Bill, however, is unbefitting its quality. Like Gojira (Honda Ishirô, 1954), Lady Snowblood uses genre cinema as a means of exploring pressing social and political issues. As long as you don’t mind the occasional severed torso, the film is both fascinating and fun.

Categories
drama, melodrama gendai-geki shomin-geki

The World through a Different Pair of Glasses

Megane, known as Glasses in North America, is a shomin-geki film directed by Ogigami Naoko. This 2007 release showcases the talents of actors such as Kobayashi Satomi, Mitsuishi Ken, and Motai Masako. It tells the story of a woman named Taeko (Kobayashi Satomi) who, in an attempt to escape from the everyday grind of big-city life, plans a trip to a quiet and peaceful island in the southern part of Japan.

The opening sequence features the arrival of the mysterious and cheerful Mrs. Sakura (Motai Masako), who is an annual springtime visitor of the island. Whether it is from a subtle change in the wind direction or an intangible change in the island’s atmosphere, the permanent residents seem to possess an inherent ability to sense her arrival. The audience is then introduced to first-time visitor Taeko as she attempts to find her way from the island’s airport to Yuji’s (Mitsuishi Ken) residence. Upon arrival, Taeko does not seem to carry herself in as calm and contented a manner as Mrs. Sakura. She continually shoots down Yuji and Mrs. Sakura’s offers, and seems quite hesitant in forming a positive opinion of the island. As the days pass by she becomes aware of the quirky and humorous habits of the island community. These include the intrusive morning greetings by Mrs. Sakura as she kneels beside Taeko’s bed, the “merci” exercises led by Mrs. Sakura every morning, the idea of “twilighting” or finding oneself lost in his or her beautiful surroundings and the present moment, and the ultra-simplistic lifestyles led by everyone she comes in contact with. Eventually, Taeko becomes unsettled with her current situation and decides to spend the rest of her trip at a different resort which is misleadingly called “Marine Palace”. Once she arrives she learns that the vacationing conditions are less than ideal. Her new scenery lacks any redeemable quality and it is revealed to her by her overly energetic landlady that she will be expected to perform back-breaking labour in the fields. In other words, it is an echo of the same environment which caused Taeko to take a trip in the first place. Not surprisingly, she swiftly returns to Yuji’s house. From here on, the audience is able to see an interesting change taking place within Taeko as she starts to open her mind to a much more carefree lifestyle, and begins to meditate on what it means to appreciate the small things in life.

Ogigami continually utilizes repetitive imagery throughout Megane. The movie’s Buddhist-like theme regarding living in the moment, and being ever conscious of what is happening in the present time is effectively conveyed to the viewer through the many scenes involving the preparation and consumption of food. Yuji and Mrs. Sakura prepare their meals with a sense of purpose, and eat with a sense of awareness; ever conscious of what he or she is doing. This is evident in the first meal shared together. A subtle polarity between the enlightened Mrs. Sakura and Taeko is apparent from the beginning of the meal. Before starting to eat, Yuji and Mrs. Sakura say “itadakimasu” without any hesitation. This roughly translates into English as “I humbly receive this meal”. However, Taeko appears to say it with some apprehension, possibly illustrating reluctance on her behalf to be conscious of her current actions. Contrastingly, various shots during the meal show Mrs. Sakura gazing into the distance as she meditates on each bite of food she swallows. As more and more meals are prepared and consumed, Taeko’s transformation begins to take place. This is most obvious when she decides to try some of Mrs. Sakura’s shaved ice. Ogigami chooses a close-up frontal shot to capture Taeko’s contemplative face as she thinks about the treat being eaten.

One of the most striking characteristics of Megane is its overall simplicity. Ogigami in terms of her camera work is quite minimalistic. She uses long continuous shots with very few reverse angles, and often chooses to shoot her scenes from a distant front angle. The plainness in her camera work emphasizes the slow and uncomplicated lifestyle that the characters in her movie choose to lead. Another noticeably simple element is a lack of meaningful dialogue between the actors. This is not to say that the characters fail to say anything of great significance; however, Ogigami chooses to place greater importance on each character’s actions, and the way they interact with their environment in order to relay the movie’s messages. Finally, the musical composition scattered in the film tends to reinforce the movies theme of simplicity. Very seldom does the soundtrack feature more than two instruments at a time. The ability of the uncomplicated notes to elicit such strong emotion in the viewer illustrates Ogigami’s belief in the effectiveness of minimalism.

Megane is a reminder to members of modern day society to not get caught up in the stresses and hardships of everyday life. It is an invitation to revel in the moment, not worry about tomorrow, and to be ever conscious of the often overlooked riches of life. I admit that the slowness of the movie and its lack of plot initially left me antsy and fidgety. Nevertheless, by the movie’s end, I was calm and at peace. Just like Taeko, I too was embarking on my journey to enlightenment.

Categories
comedy drama, melodrama gendai-geki shomin-geki

Dance with the “Hula Girls”

Hula Girls was a film made by Sang-il Lee and produced in 2006. This film was based on a true story about how a group of girls take up hula dancing to save their village. The main actresses are Matsuyuki Yasuko and Aoi Yu. Hula Girls won several awards upon release, and it was also a very well known gendai-geki and shomin-geki style of film.

The story happens in the Northeastern Japan of Iwaki city in 1965, where the country has started to shift from coal to oil. The small town is facing unemployment due to the long slow decline of the old mining town. The leaders and mining company officials come up with an idea to develop Japan’s first Hawaiian Village called “Joban Hawaii Center”. Hirayama Madoka is a professional hula dance teacher from Tokyo; she is a very important character in this film, as will be discussed later. Sanae convinces her best friend Kimiko to join the dance school with her, and these two girls are the first two students in school. However, things aren’t easy for them in the beginning, as the girls don’t know any basic skills from dancing. But as training continues, more girls join the school even though their family members are against it. Sang-il does great work portraying each character, and it is very interesting to see each character change throughout the film.

One of the most touching scene for me, and I believe it was also the climax of the film was when Kimiko’s mom watches her daughter dancing in the dance room. Kimiko wants to show her mom what she has gained in the past during her dance training, as well as wanting to prove she made the correct choice. In the first part of the film, Kimiko has an argument with her mom about joining the dance school. She disagrees with her and claims, “If I turn pro, I’d learn more than working at the mine.” She determines that “women can be anything they want, they can choose what kind of life they want.” In fact, this is also the reason that Kimiko leaves home. Their relationship has a dramatic change later in the film, especially the part where her mom saw her dance. In this scene, Sang-il also does great camerawork. He establishes slow motion on Kimiko’s movement and her mom’s facial expression. Mom doesn’t say anything after seeing the dance; instead, she begins to collect stoves to save the palm tree. Her personal view has now changed and she is determined to give her daughter a chance to live her dream.

Another important character, which is also the lead character throughout the film, is Ms. Hirayama Madoka. She doesn’t really want to teach them dance because the girls lack basic skills. She didn’t even want to come to this small town. However, as they accomplish the first tour, the relationship between them gradually builds up. Later in the movie, when Ms. Hirayama wants to take the responsibly for not returning to the town immediately after the death of Sayuri’s father, she is also forced to leave Iwaki. The girls, however, persuade her to stay and continue teaching them. There was a scene where Ms. Hirayama is sitting in the train, and the girls are shouting at her outside. She turns her head towards the opposite side because she knows that she won’t leave if she sees them. Kimiko and other girls start to use the hula hand signal, as Ms. Hirayama had taught them “Every hula move has a meaning behind it.” This was also my favorite scene in the film and matched up with a very soft background music.

In conclusion, Hula girls is a very well-known Japanese film. As a teenager, I would like to highly recommend it because this film tells us to live in our dreams. People shouldn’t give up their dreams easily, and we have to make our life fulfilled so that we won’t regret as life goes on.

Categories
action anime anti-war literary adaptations

“Akira”: A Review

Akira is a beautifully composed and philosophically rich anime film written and directed by Otomo Katsuhiro in 1988, based on his hit manga series of the same name. Set in a futuristic “Neo-Tokyo” in 2019 that is recovering from an apocalyptic “World War Three”, the film centers on the characters of Kaneda (voiced by Iwata Mitsuo) and his close friend Tetsuo (Sasaki Nozomu), who are members of a tough adolescent biker gang. During a violent encounter with a rival gang, Tetsuo stumbles across a disfigured child who has escaped from the confines of a government testing facility. The Japanese military, in hot pursuit of the young escapee, interrupts the gang battle and takes the child back into their custody. Heavily injured, Tetsuo is also taken to be rehabilitated, and soon undergoes extreme experimentation under the orders of Colonel Shikishima (Ishida Taro) after discovering Tetsuo’s unique, super-human mental frequencies.

Kaneda takes off on a quest to find Tetsuo, where he joins a group of revolutionaries and falls in love with a young rebel named Kei (Koyama Mami). Upon finding the military base where Tetsuo is being held, Kaneda and the rebels witness the government experiments as they go horribly wrong, causing Tetsuo to gain extremely unstable telekinetic abilities. Here Tetsuo transforms from a friendly member of the bike gang into a ruthless, psychopathic super-villain. Tetsuo’s obsession with his newfound power corrupts his personality, and he sets off on a mad rampage, threatening anyone around him, including Kaneda. The lifelong friendship between the two reaches a breaking point as Kaneda reluctantly chooses to protect Neo-Tokyo and the rest of humanity from his destructive friend. An epic battle ensues between the two, and the end result leaves the viewer in complete visual and thematic awe. Issues of government versus the people, corruption versus morality, power versus love, and even the origin of the universe tangle together in a heart-wrenching conclusion, where only one of the two friends can be left standing.

This work of anime is of particular interest because of its cultural relevance to the real-life, post-war psyche in Japanese society during the 1950’s. For instance, Akira reveals societal fears that one could more readily expect from films closer to the conclusion of World War Two, such as Gojira’s (Honda, 1954) undertones of war and atomic destruction. The fact that Akira was made more than 40 years after World War Two and still conveys fears of the threat of wartime bombing clearly shows the longevity of such an entrenched concern in Japanese culture. Further, the morbid, apocalyptic imagery at the hands of Tetsuo’s wrath is strikingly similar to the historical images of destruction from Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Indeed, it can be argued that Akira’s opening images of a massive explosion directly reflect the outcome of World War Two. Thus, there is ample evidence in Akira that speaks to Japan’s unique history and reveals the nation’s most intimate cultural fears.

Perhaps the most important element of Akira’s cultural relevance is how it reflects the post-war Japanese desire to reconstruct a new identity on their own terms, liberated from the restrictions of the American occupation government and rising from the ashes of wartime devastation. Certainly, Akira’s Neo-Tokyo is on the brink of falling apart, and Tetsuo’s rampage opens a window of change and opportunity where the citizens begin to question the ills of their society and government. One quote from a government test-subject in the film sums up the post-war Japanese mindset perfectly: “There ought to be a future we can choose, and it is up to us to find it”.

As an anime film, Akira’s magnificent visual backgrounds deserve mention. The majority of the film is set in Neo-Tokyo’s inner-city, and Otomo creates a glamorized, yet representative portrayal of Tokyo’s dense metropolitan atmosphere. City scenes are dominated by the bright, never-ending sea of lights from apartments and skyscrapers that loom ominously in the background of nearly every shot as Kaneda’s bike gang weaves their way through Neo-Tokyo’s never ending streets. These metropolitan backdrops are so imposing that the viewer does not see a single speck of the night sky, visually reinforcing the inescapability of the bikers’ dangerous lifestyle and the complete corruption of Tetsuo’s personality due to his newfound powers. In addition, these backgrounds greatly heighten the film’s aesthetic value: it is almost as if we are viewing a piece of art rather than a film. Indeed, this is what one desires from a filmic adaptation of such a vibrant Japanese manga series, and in this respect Akira does not disappoint.

The true mastery of Akira’s backdrops are revealed when we reach the climax of the film, as we escape from the claustrophobic cityscapes into the vast expanse of blue sky depicted over the final battle between Kaneda and Tetsuo. Here the artistic choice to dominate the frame with a natural, wide-open sky serves a deep purpose; it foreshadows and symbolizes Neo-Tokyo’s potential liberation from Tetsuo’s destruction.

Overall, Akira deals with numerous themes of power and corruption, post-war Japanese politics, love, honor, destiny, and even the elusive search for the origin of the universe. For some, the film may try to include too much thematic meaning or address excessive cultural and philosophical questions that could overwhelm the viewer. Certainly, it is nearly impossible to wrap one’s mind around the scope of the film and its profound moral, cultural, and metaphysical avenues by viewing Akira just once. However, from an artistic standpoint I highly recommend this film, as it lends its magic through magnificent aesthetic detail in every scene, as well as its awe-inspiring use of backdrops which “set the stage” perfectly. One must view this film with respect for its artistic creativity, where Otomo’s attention to detail is invaluable, regardless of minor issues in conveying clear and concise themes. For a younger audience, some discretion is advised, as the film contains a brief moment of nudity and excessive violence and gore. However, in accordance with the rest of the film, these instances are so dramatically depicted that they themselves mesh harmlessly into the gorgeous visual spectacle that is Akira.

Categories
J-horror literary adaptations

Stepping on Eggshells: A Review of Nakata Hideo’s “Ringu”

The original 1998 feature film The Ring (Ringu) was diected by Nakata Hideo and was loosely based on a novel of the same title by Suzuki Koji Suzuki.  The anxiety-driven J-horror film was then adapted into a popular North American version in 2002 starring Naomi Watts and Martin Henderson.  The story follows an attractive young journalist named Matsushima Nanako (played by Asakawa Reiko) as she investigates the mysterious deaths of a group of high school students who after an encounter with a strange videotape are given one week to live.  While in the midst of gathering evidence for her work, Nanako soon finds that she and her beloved family have fallen victim to the supernatural killer-video.  Ringu then becomes a race against the clock.  Will Nanako be able to life the curse or will she and her family end up like all the rest?

The film begins with two lively teenage girls as they share scary stories about a cursed videotape with one another while conveniently managing to avoid their homework.  While the scene begins with laughter, the film’s tone quickly darkens as the girls begin to realize that the stories they are telling are in fact, not stories at all.  Soon after, we meet Matsushima Nanko, a courageous mother and reporter who has been sent to interview local high school students in regards to the suspicious deaths that have been occurring around town.  After rushing around and gathering information, Nanako is eventually led directly to the videotape that ends with a deathly phone call and seven-day warning.  In attempt to save herself and her young son from becoming the next videotape victims, Nanako seeks help from her ex-husband in hopes of tracking down the original filmmaker in order to lift the curse and potentially outlive their fatal doom.

Nakata’s use of special effects is perhaps one of the most horrific aspects of a film filled with such dreadful imagery. The most powerful effect includes a dead girl climbing her way out of a well before crawling out of the television set, straight into a living room.  While the carefully crafted scene would have included hours of tedious editing and green screen work, its gruesome effect and use of juxtaposition (literally linking the real world and the televised world together) help bring the film to its climax.  Other special effects worthy of mention include the film’s disturbing use of hair and makeup to portray a living dead girl.  The girl’s fingernails appear to be bloodily ripped out from continuous scraping and scratching at the well’s wall, while her long hair hangs limply over her disturbing blood-shot eyeballs (which are powerfully presented in an extreme close-up toward the end of the film).

Another aspect of the film worth mentioning is the overall tone.  From the beginning of the film we are presented with a reference to the date and time in which the scenes are taking place.  This trend continuous throughout the narrative and adds a sense of urgency and pressure to the already tense situations that the characters find themselves in.  With the constant reference to time and the seven day-deadline hanging over head, the film becomes darker and darker (literally, as many scenes take place inside of a well towards the end).  The darkening tone of the film becomes all the more horrifying when paralleled with the actually death-video footage, responsible for killing many of the film’s characters.  This gritty, green-tinged video includes unsettling images of a woman brushing her hair in a mirror, a human figure standing with a bag over their head and a still shot of a well looming in the distance.  These images are intended to shock and horrify viewers while promoting a sense of dread.  As a result, the film’s tone is responsible for creating such severely nerve-racking levels of anxiety and fear amongst viewers.

While the film’s disturbing and at times, grotesque content may be too much for sensitive viewers to handle, it is filled with many jaw-dropping effects and opportunities to scream in terror for those who are accustom to the genre.  I would deem this film a necessity for any horror fan or lovers of the 2002 North American version who have not yet explored the roots of the pre-existing narrative.  Viewing Nakata Hideo’s Ringu is sort of like tiptoeing around eggshells, the film seems steady and endurable until eventually, an egg is stepped on, resulting in complete panic and utter chaos.

Categories
drama, melodrama

“Dolls”

Dolls, directed by Kitano Takeshi in 2002, is an emotionally haunting and sentimentally moving masterpiece that delivers three intertwined tragedies with a sense of aesthetic beauty. The genre of the film can be classified in either drama or romance, and using romance as its means to convey the dangerous nature of love. The film departs from Kitano’s well-known gangster thrilling style, in which violence is prevalent, and implicitly presents itself as a new kind of brutality that involves psychological pain and silent bloodshed.  ]

The film involves three episodes of tragic love stories, that are all short in length and with a common theme that make them intertwine in illustrating the jeopardy of blind love and sacrifice. First story beings with the “bound beggars,” a young couple are tied to each other with a vivid red rope; they are stumbling with no destiny throughout the four seasons, mourning for what they have lost in a tragedy. The second story surrounds the life of a yakuza boss, as he returns to the park in the hope of encountering his long-past girl friend and is murdered upon his departure. The third story involves a blind sacrifice of a fan to a pop star, and his ultimate heartbreaking fate.

The film features amazing view of the landscape and vivid blend of colors that are stimulating to the viewers’ sight and causes the viewers to be incredibly attracted to the brilliant scenery of the background.  The stories are told through images instead of dialogue or action-filled character interactions. Kitano is wise to utilize the beauty of the scenery to contrast the agony shared by the characters, as they stand out from the landscape due to the irreversibility of their bliss that is incongruent to the splendor background. However, Kitano also dresses the characters in bright colors that match the color of nature and of the amazing scenery they are in, suggesting that the characters are still well blended within the physical surrounding, but their psychological pain separates them from such perfection, to the extreme, the opposite of what is around them. Such as the character Sawako is often dressed in scarlet red that blends into the bright red of the maple leaf valley.  As we speak, the choice of color is also prominent throughout the film, such as the prevalent color red dominates the film from beginning to end. The color red repetitively reinforces the notion of threat and tragic fate through blood, red maple leaf, red rose blooming field, red dress, and red rope. The film is largely silent and motionless; however, the hint of red in the background is so stimulating to the sight that it serves as a reminder to the viewers of the fatalness of blind love even with the absence of explicit violence.

The order of events is also outstandingly presented with the use of analogy and flashback.  First of all, the film both starts and ends with the puppet theater play, which suggests the strong connection between the play and the lives of the characters.  The film opens with a bunraku performance involving puppet prologue, a scene from Chikamatsu Monzaemon’s “The Courier from Hell.” The puppet theater play illustrates a courtesan begging her lover to stop committing foolishness for her sake, which not only directly echoes the name of the film (Dolls) but also serves to foreshadow the tragic fate of the stories that are about to follow. In the end, the young couple from the first story change their clothes to the customs of the puppet dolls, further indicating an explicit link between the couple and the courtesan and her love, and generalizing the same connection to the other characters within the film and the stories are intertwined in nature. The use of flashback also is commonly facilitated by Kitano, such as the flashback of the young couple’s joyful moments in the past while they are in the presence of utter sadness wandering in the snow. Flashback, thus, serves to reinforce the inevitable fate and the irritability of reality; this intensifies the despair of the characters and provokes the viewers’ sympathy to them.

The film is emotionally moving by integrating the brilliant view of the background with limited dialogues among the characters in conveying a sense of stillness and despair, forcing the viewers to bear with the heavy atmosphere.  Despite the fact that there are scenes of bloodshed, the film is not recommended for those who seek thrilling action. Overall, Dolls is a legendary work that transforms physical violence to a form of silent brutality; it is beautiful yet depressing, gentle yet fatal.

Categories
shomin-geki

The Drifting of “Floating Weeds”

Floating Weeds (Ukikusa) was produced in 1959 and directed by Ozu Yasujirô. He first produced a black and white silent version called A Story of Floating Weeds (Ukikusa monogatari) in 1934, and Floating Weeds was a remake of it. This is a typical shomin-geki style film; the lead male actor is Nakamura Ganjirô, and the lead female actor is Kyô Machiko. In this newer version the colors are vibrant, yet the cinematography is contemplative.

Komajurô is the lead owner and actor of  a troupe of travelling players. On one occasion, the troupe visits and performs in a small town during a hot summer. Komajurô takes advantage of the opportunity to see his former lover Oyoshi and his son Kiyoshi, who now works in a post office. Komajurô believes that his low status as an actor will tarnish his son’s future, so he keeps his real identity to himself. However, Sumiko, the lead actress and also Komajurô’s current lover, is really angry and wants to take revenge when she finds out about this secret. She later asks Kayo, a young actress from the troupe, to seduce Kiyoshi. The two young people then engage in a relationship which the adults do not approve of.  Meanwhile, the troupe is forced to be disbanded because business is bad. Komajurô at this point is facing many difficulties so he is considering staying with his family.

Ozu always use the contemporary Japanese family as his theme: the love between parent and child, the reconciliation between husband and wife, or the mischief of children. In Floating Weeds, he presents the conflicts between the father Komajurô and the son Kiyoshi. This is also one of the most important storylines in this film. Komajurô regrets that his own difficulties have prevented him from giving Kiyoshi a complete family life. Near the end of the film, Komajurô is angry when he finds out that his son is dating Kayo. He is not only mad at him but also feel disappointed because Kiyoshi doesn’t value his sacrifice: he hid his identity as Kiyoshi’s father because he wanted his son to have a bright future. However, Kiyoshi doesn’t realize this and carries on a relationship with an actress. The film reaches a climax when the son pushes his father and stops him from slapping Kayo. When the mother Oyoshi reveals the truth about his birth, Kiyoshi refuses to accept it and insists that he has no father. It is understandable that Kiyoshi cannot face the truth at this moment. After this incident, Komajurô makes his own decision and decides to leave. He thinks that his leaving will benefit both his son and himself. I think it might be a bit sad for them not to stay together here; however, this gives the audience room to think about their future.  The conclusion leaves events uncertain.

The brilliant use of cinematography is also an important aspect in this film. The four establishing shots in the beginning of the film make a strong impact. The lighthouse is a fixed object in each shot, and it is very meaningful. A lighthouse is a tower to guide ships and help people know which direction they are going. Ironically each character in the film seems get lost in his or her own way.  Sumiko feels extremely angry when she knows that Komajurô is dating his former wife. She thinks that destroying Komajurô’s family is the only way that Komajurô will come back to her; however, this eventually only serves to widen their distance. Moreover, in the beginning of the film, Ozu focuses on a close-up shot of the post office, a place where people send and collect their letters, and a place where communication starts. However, some of the characters, for example the father and the son, show a lack of communication. This huge gap between these two generations is something that can never be recovered.

Floating Weeds is one of the four color films that Ozu made. I was amazed by Ozu’s perceptiveness in portraying each characters. He successfully demonstrates the conflicts between the son and the father from his own perspective.  His superb cinematic technique was also very impressive. Overall, Floating Weeds is a highly recommended film; people will enjoy many of the beautiful settings and culture backgrounds during that period of time.

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shomin-geki

Record of a Tenement Gentleman

An Analysis of Ozu’s The Record of a Tenement Gentleman

The Record of a Tenement Gentleman (Nagaya Shinshiroku), directed by Yasujiro Ozu and starring Chouko Iida as Tane and Hohi Aoki as a young boy, was released in 1947 by Shochiku.  It narrates the story of small Japanese town a few years after the Second World War.  Focusing around events in a small tenement housing, a lost boy is entrusted to Tane by a neighbor after the boy refuses to be left alone on the streets to wander.  The story then focuses on the personal conflicts experienced by Tane, specifically on her seeming confusion about whether to allow the boy to live with her, or to force him to return to the streets.  This kind of film borders on the drama/melodrama shomin-geki genre, which emphasizes human emotion and its propensity to relate to the hardships being experienced by other people, and the inherent character of every person to desire to offer assistance to others who are in need, resulting in a film that exhibits a theme basically entrenched in the human consciousness.

There are examples that prove the validity of this film as being solely focused on human emotion.  First are the conflicts that show the superficiality of human characters who refuse additional duties and responsibilities.  This can be evidenced in the initial stages of the story, when the self-declared astrologer/artist first brings the young boy into the tenement, showing the other characters who are reluctant to assume the responsibilities of parent.  It is worth noting that the problem is only solved through deceptive techniques, which eventually force Tane to accept responsibility.  In another instance, the human psyche is again revealed after Tane fails to return the boy to his original family in a town far from her own.  Despite her anger for such failure, she still provides the boy with a few pieces of bread.  It clearly reveals that despite her anger, Tane could not resist the desire to offer her help, which shows a facet of her humanity.  Lastly, the scene that shows Tane admonishing the young boy and ranting, “Your father’s a hard-hearted man.  You didn’t get lost, you were deserted” (Ozu, 1947), shows the inherent human tendency to blame others for problems that she is experiencing.  Here, it is likewise evident that despite her disgust, she has already learned to love the boy and intends to keep him as her own son, as evidenced by her sadness over the boy’s later disappearance.  In all of these instances, it is evident that the film intends to convey the true nature of the human psyche; that we are naturally inclined to care for others and that despite of what we may vocally imply, we are truly compassionate beings.

In its attempt to illustrate life in its most honest and truthful depiction, the film incorporates several techniques.  Firstly, costumes convey the specific representation of  each character.  Hence, we see Tane with cheap kimonos that clearly highlight her domestic and less affluent lifestyle, her rich friend has expensive kimonos  implicative of her high social status, and the young boy who is always in street clothes, indicating his role as a wanderer.  Also, a deliberate effort is made to justify the plot as being a war-torn town. This can be seen not only with the extensive coverage of the destruction, but also with the seeming simplicity that the houses and set designs portray.  This depicts a country presently recovering form the economic crisis brought on by war.  Lastly, the clear attempt to convey this film as a shomin-geki, or a film about everyday people, can be expressly distinguished by all of the characters presented in the film, both major as well as insignificant participants.

Concerning the relationship between the film’s technicality and its effectiveness, the several techniques are used.  First, there are the camera shots consistently remain at eye-level throughout the film, at times even engaging in close-up shots of Tane to capture her emotions.  This allows for the audience to view themselves as part of the story by being able to view all the scenes from a normal perspective.  Also, it is apparent that several images were repeated to emphasize on a particular theme of a specific scene, such as the repetitive camera panning of the war-torn city horizon that seems to constantly remind the viewer of the film’s plot.  Another instance of this technique can be found in the scene where Tane is trying to abandon the young boy by outrunning him by the seashore, especially with the scene being taken that portrays the two characters in silhouette forms on top of the sand mounds.

After watching the film, I am inclined to believe that the film is able to confirm its effectiveness through simplicity, both in its technicality and in its artistry.  This observation is not in any way meant to diminish its quality, but rather to emphasize that its minimalist approach perfectly accentuates the artistic style that the film intends to convey.  As such, the film does not find it necessary to result to violence, offensive language, or sexual depictions just to relate its intended theme, but has in fact proven that methodical employment of cinematic techniques such as camera panning, set designs, and theme-enhancing repetitive techniques, among others, are more than enough to effectively communicate with its audience.

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drama, melodrama experimental extreme J-horror literary adaptations new cinema / new wave cinema

A review of “Blind Beast”

The Blind Beast, also called Mōjū, was released at 1969 and directed by Masumura Yasuzo who was recognized as the starter of Japan’s “New Wave” of the 60s. And the story itself was primarily written by Japan’s leading horror writer whose name is Edogawa Rampo. Other film cast members include Funakoshi EIji, Midori Mako and Sengoku Norijo. This movie was ranked as the number-one grotesque story in the Asahi National Newspaper between 1931 and 1932.

There are two main characters in the film. One is called Michio, a blind sculptor who is fed by his mother. His mother is a pedophile and gradually misrecognizes him as her husband. Another character is called Aki, a shapely young model, who is the only victim to form the basis of Michio’s latest project. The movie starts from Michio’s Art Studio when he seeks a suitable female model to construct into a perfect sensual sculpture. Aki, as an applicant, goes to the studio and is finally kidnapped by Michio. The rest of the scenes happen in the same place, which is the secluded warehouse where Michio lives.  The warehouse is designed very strangely. It contains a huge room with no lights and two of the walls contain large reproductions of female anatomy. In the center of the room, two giant nude sculptured bodies are lying on the floor. At first, Aki is distraught and threatens to kill Michio and his mom but gradually she begins to love him even though she has already tempted Mochio to kill his mother. The rest of the film is seriously filled with sadomasochism, sex, and violence.

The most important aspect of this film is characters because it is produced 50 years ago and there was no one making this kind of movie before its success. There are many naked and extremely violent scenes in this movie such as Michio chopping off Aki’s arms and legs. Those scenes required actors to devote themselves because no one knows whether this film is successful or not.

Another aspect of the film is camerawork. In order to make the horrific scenes, the director utilizes the static shots with huge body parts crowding into the full screen. And also, at the end of the film, most audiences can feel scared because the director delivers all the chopping detail to them.

Michio’s world is just like all simple animals because he can only know things by touching and smelling them. He only knows what he wants and just like this simple. This is pathetic of course. However, in my opinion, the “blind animal” should be Aki rather than Michio. There are many scenes contained in this movie that can prove this. For example, after Michio’s mother dies, he and Aki crazily make love in the dark warehouse. Therefore, Aki gradually loses her sight because she stays in the dark environment too long but she feels happy because she now is the same as Michio.

Another scene also can prove my opinion. At the end of the film, Aki asks Michio to chop off her arms and legs in order to obtain greatest happiness through this sadomasochistic action. This is never adapted by a normal person but Aki accepts this because she has already become blind and will never be a person. This film contains extreme violence and sadomasochistic sex. I would suggest anyone who wants to see this film that stays away from child. I would not recommend this movie to classmates.

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