Cinema Talk

In an earlier post I mentioned Mikio Naruse recently being tagged as an “underrated” director. Considering how underrepresented he is on R1 DVD, I agree with this claim. Even more upsetting is how overlooked Naruse is as humorist, even among his own fan base. Certainly humor isn’t completely separated from the rest of Japan’s humanist directors, but none are able to blend comedy with drama as effortlessly as Naruse. Lightning (Inazuma) is a perfect example.

Kiyoki is 23 and living with her mother. She has four older siblings and all of them have a different father. Despite her modernity, Kiyoki is being pressured into marriage. Her sister, Mitsuko is miserable and much of it has to do with her marriage. Kiyoki’s relationship with Mitsuko grows and both drift apart from the third other sister, Nuiko, who is looking forward to marriage. Kiyoki decides to be independent and moves out. She rents a flat and meets Tsubomi and Shozu. Romantic feelings are implied towards to Shozu, but are never acted upon. A truthful and painful touch reminiscent of Il Posto.

Two years prior, in Ginza Cosmetics, Naruse laid out a lot of the themes he would dive deeper into with his later films. The narrative of Ginza is quintessential Naruse: An aging geisha (played by Kinuyo Tanaka) tries to juggle her personal life, emotional trauma and her job. Lightning similarly lays out a lot of the humor he would later use. There is also a couple small visual motifs that Naruse would repeat throughout his career: a pesky cat, kids lighting fireworks, Takamine leaning on a wall and so on. The visual style actually feels closer to Yamanaka’s Humanity and Paper Balloons with fairly long static shots and compellingly detached.

The only familiar face here is Hadeko Takamine and she’s amazing as always. Outside of Daughters, Wives, and a Mother, this is her most downplayed (in terms of actual screen time) performance. Even though I love familiarity it’s nice to see so many new faces delivering such excellent performances.  The final sequence between Kiyoki and her mother cannot be described accurately. It’s something that you just have to witness for yourself.

I assume most readers are well aware of Yoji Yamada’s 48 episode film series, Tora San but I’ll provide a little background information anyway. Each episode concerns the heartbreak of a traveling salesman, Torajiro. According to wikipedia, the “standard plot” leads to him unintentionally setting up the woman he has fallen for with another man. The series is based on the Japanese television program Goofy Brother and Wise Sister, which aired from 1968 to 1969. Shochiku was understandbly skeptical about a full feature spin-off but Yamada convinced them otherwise. It’s these films that forever put Yamada on the Japanese cinema map.

The series’ first film definitely fits the mold of the narrative in the later films, but I think there’s actually some themes that are a bit more prevalent. We’re introduced to Torajiro (Kiyoshi Atsumi in a career-defining role) via voice-over. He’s going back home after running away twenty years ago. We learn that both of his parents are dead and that his Aunt and Uncle have taken care of his sister, Sakura. This is where the most important relationship in the film is introduced. Torajiro doesn’t mope around about being heartbroken for ninety-one. That doesn’t even come up until the very end of the film. Instead, it’s sort of he and his sister getting to know each other better.

The film does take quite awhile to get into a flow. Torajiro is annoying at first then unlikable. Thankfully, the film is able to get out of it’s rough patch even with the excessive amount of slapstick humor holding it down. It’s probably the point when Hiroshi is introduced that he begins to at least be somewhat likable. At the same time, this is when Sakura becomes slightly less of a factor. Her friendship with Torajiro never gets past the wacky antics he performs in the first act. The “heartbreak” story starts to kick in and the brother-sister relationship starts to fade away; the two overlap at the wedding reception.

Speaking of which, Sakura and Hiroshi’s wedding is probably one of the more memorable sequences I’ve seen in a long time. I’m not sure if this means I completely loved it or if I completely hated it. It’s just memorable. One of the more realistic receptions I’ve ever seen depicted in film. Yamada carefully tip-toes his way along a line of melodrama enough so that it feels real but isn’t subdued to pointlessness. Hiroshi’s fathers give a speech that does feel a bit too theatrical but Torajiro’s response (providing a hug amidst awkward silence) saves it. It’s one of those poignant, elusive moments in the film that propels it beyond a cute drama.

Yamada had not developed anything aesthetically unique at this point. At times, this feels almost a bit on the conventional side. Yamada occasionally strikes visual gold (look at the saturation in the picture below) but his style lacks defiance. This is a very performance-driven film, though, and doesn’t really call for any technical virtuosity. Actually, it’s probably better the visuals are so 70s (this was made in ’69) as it directs the audience’s focus towards the important stuff, i.e Torajiro himself. Even as an old salesman, he’s easy to relate to, that is, as long as you don’t judge him while he’s intoxicated.

The whole concept of a “coming-of-age” story has been trivialized in the past couple years by the countless Rushmore rip-offs. I won’t get into what’s wrong with these films or if there is something wrong with them. I am more concerned (or upset) about the lack of creativity in teenage angst films. The countless indie teenage flicks make angst seem more sillier than it really is. In Between Days is not one of those films and since it doesn’t view its characters condescendingly, many may accuse it of being too whiny. I’d say, if anything, it’s too truthful.

Aimie is an exchange student, whose best and only friend is Tran. Over time she begins to develop a crush on him. The big problem with Tran is that he’s more socially adaptable than Aimie. He can chat up women far more easily than Aimie can chat up men. Her attempts at making him jealous are unsuccessful and only create unnecessary friction in their already complicated relationship.

This is So Yong Kim’s first film and it doesn’t really standout in terms of narrative. Again, it’s easy to group it under the very common “troubled youth” category. Not only that but this is another case of a film overusing that “handheld, shaky cam” look. There is some nice cinematography, though, and none of those problems really affect the film. The “plot” is really just a setup to watch Aimie’s life unfold in a very real way. It also helps that all the performances are great. A lot of directors try really hard to be “spontaneous” now a days and they usually fall flat. Acting usually doesn’t hold so much value for me in films, but it’s probably the most important aspect in a film like this.

More than anything, this feels like the film Lukas Moodysson would have made in between Fucking Amal and Lilya-4-ever. The obvious similarities with the former in growing up and being in love. Reminiscent of the latter with the themes of a lost family member, being confined/stuck in your house. The relationship between Aimie and Tran is also similar to the one between Lilya and Volodja. I mentioned before that Kim goes a bit overboard with the intentionally sloppy camera work. Moodysson is also a victim of this.

I am a bit lost for words with this film. It’s one that either gets to you or doesn’t. You relate with Aimie and find her interesting in every way or you think she’s whiny and hopeless; It could be seen as a less formal update on Mouchette. It might just be that this tries too hard to be intimate. This is not a fault at all, it’s a genuine film and that is very rare in modern cinema. Everything is really in place for me to love this but I guess it’s missing something intangible that all my favorites contain.

I’ll be the first to admit that I don’t see Akira Kurosawa as the great director that many make him out to be. I’d even go as far as to say that those samurai films are downright awful. Still, I was pretty sure I’d love this. To a degree, I did. There’s some moments that are just as good out of anything in The Lower Depths, which is probably my (now 2nd) favorite Kurosawa film. That claim doesn’t really amount to much since I don’t outrightly “love” that film, either. I can, however, admire Kurosawa’s intention on making much more character-driven films in contrast to his more popular samurai epics.

Kameda (Masayuki Mori) is a man who has avoided a death sentence. This makes him emotionally unstable, to say the least, and makes him very prone to blackout. His mental problems collide with his emotional ones; he’s caught in a love triangle between Taeko and Ayako played by Setsuko Hara and Yoshiko Kuga. At the same time, his friendship with Akama (Toshiro Mifune) is experiencing turmoil.

All the performances are really wonderful. Kurosawa doesn’t have a way with his actors as much as his peers did (at least he didn’t beat them a la Mizoguchi) but he definitely had some luck here. Mori is great even as a sort of proto-Rain Man/Forrest Gump character. Obviously, this is way better than either of those films. Hara is great as always, even as a completely different character from the one she plays in Ozu’s films. Yoshiko Kuga is very good too, much better than in Cruel Story of Youth (don’t remember her character) but not quite as great as her much more subdued persona in Equinox Flower. Even Toshiro Mifune, who I am almost never a fan of, is pretty good. He does get theatrical at times, but that’s pretty much what his performance called for. He downplays a lot of the violent instincts that I tend to associate with his acting style.

My problem with the film seems a bit superficial unfortunately. At times, it’s downbeat enough to feel like a less aesthetically rigorous Ozu film. Other times, it doesn’t feel that different from a lot of the melodramas that were coming out of America at the same time. Some of the dialogue is so stilted and laughable. “I’ve never met a man with heart that was so pure and true!” or something along those lines. This especially feels awkward put up against the very dated “emotional” score that is far too dominant in the film. Unfortunately, Shochiku cut about 100 minutes from the original version which leads to some very awkward pacing sequences. Towards the beginning, there’s intertitles that serve no purpose other than exposition and explaining what the scenes that were most likely cut. Thankfully, this goes away no more than twenty minutes into the film.

This is definitely a good film and perhaps under different circumstances, I can acknowledge it for the masterpiece that it’s made out to be. I have to agree with a lot of the films detractors, though. I think Kurosawa may have been literally when he adapted Dostoyevsky’s original story. I think the film would have benefited if a lot of the overly-dramatic sequences had been taken out, but I guess Kurosawa really just wanted to see all of the story on screen. Really all of my gripes with this are just things that are simply “not my style” which can be said for a lot of Kurosawa’s work. However, most of this is “my style” and maybe that’s why I think it’s Kurosawa’s best.

Kon Ichikawa, unfortunately, has a bit of a reputation as a completely technical director. He has been criticized by many people as having no true interests in what he films. Instead, he shows more interest in understanding all the complexities of film-making. Many claim that there is no thematic consistency in his films. The Burmese Harp and Fires on a Plain show a interest in the “horrors of war through pathos” type statement but that seems a bit critical. There’s a lot more to those films than just “war is bad!” Both films were novels adapted into screenplays by Ichikawa’s frequent collaborator and wife, Natto Wada and both were my introduction into Ichikawa. Perhaps, Ichikawa himself, shouldn’t be shunned for the eclecticism in his films. Instead, he should be praised that he is viewing certain themes and topics through his very own vision.

My problem with An Actor’s Revenge (a remake of Teinosuke Kinugasa’s 1937 film of the same name) has nothing to do with it being consistent with the rest of Ichikawa’s filmography. In fact, I would almost go as far as to say that everything great about the film can be attributed to Ichikawa’s very particular and very beautiful visual style. It takes a very special director to photograph a film that, at least seems to take place on a built set. There’s a self-conscious “theatrical” vibe flowing through the whole film. Not different to Kurosawa’s Lower Depths, actually. I could never say I’m a fan of such over the top, forced drama but it is a neat way of connecting the main character (who is a Kabuki actor) to the film’s style.

Even with the far fetched occurrences and melodramatic acting, this is a very beautiful film. I knew from watching Fires on a Plain and The Burmese Harp that Ichikawa had a great eye for visuals but this is ridiculous. Cinemascope, technicolor, tightly framed, and wonderfully composed. It’s as though Ichikawa and his cinematographer, Setsuo Kobayashi, tried to fit in as many new photographic ideas in a shot as possible. The stylistic flourishes in the opening sequence cannot be explained by words and yet, this feels intrusive. I could say that the cinematography is “too good” for the story being told here and it really is, but at the same time, it perfectly compliments the time period of which the story takes place.

I suppose I could take time to explain narrative, even though it makes me feel like I’m mocking the film. Yukinojo, a kabuki performer, spots the three men that are responsible for both of his parents’ suicide. One of these men, Dobe, has a daughter infatuated with Yukinojo. This is how he begins to carry out his revenges. That’s it really. There’s a few secondary characters that appear and die, a few subplots that share a similar fate too. I guess, in a way Yukinojo’s relationship with Dobe’s daughter is interesting, if not completely befuddling. The scene where they confess their love for each other is so bad, but I’m pretty sure it’s suppose to be. Because of this, it’s hard to really see Yukinojo’s personal feelings, which makes him intriguing enough. Don’t go in to this expected a nuanced relationship-type drama. You’ll probably have better luck just enjoying the very nice visual composition and wacky humor.