Raindance Film Festival 2015: Fires on the Plain

At the less-than-half-full UK Premiere of Shinya Tsukamoto's 'Fires on the Plain' at London's 2015 Raindance Film Festival, the question seemingly everyone wanted to ask was: 'In light of recent changes to the Japanese constitution, what message did you want this film to say about war?' A question he pretty much answered - via an interpreter - as 'war is Hell.'

For me, you don't so much watch a Tsukamoto film as experience it. His 2014 adaptation / remake of Ooka Shohei's / Ichikawa Kon's book / film of the same name certainly fits that statement. He stated he wanted this film to remind people that war is not a positive thing; something he feels has been lost among the new generations of Japanese. With this film, he certainly sets some reminders.

A nameless solider, suffering from TB, is sent to see the medic during Japan's fighting in the Philippines. deemed not unwell enough to be there, he is subsequently sent back and forth between his base and the medical base, seemingly unwanted by either. The medical base destroyed by fire from above, he is left to wander aimlessly around the jungles and field of the Philippines, surviving as best he can.

Tsukamoto claims that he is faithful to the original novel, depicting the natural beauty of the Philippines against the violent, graphic and intense scenes of war; perhaps hinting at some sort of stupidity of war. Well, I've not read the book, or even seen the original film, so I can speak with great authority about this. However, there is a definite contrast between serenity and the frantic Hell of war, which Tsukamoto balances nicely.

As with all his films, there is quick, frantic camera work and intense acting to create a similar emotion in the viewer. However, as with his other films, there is always that feeling that it's on the edge of being comical/annoying in its frequency. War films always get a bit repetitive for me and are never the easiest viewing, and 'Fires on the Plain' is probably that. His previous films just about get the balance right by being entertaining in their urban settings. However, here perhaps the intensity gets a bit too much after a while, relieved only by shots of Filipino landscapes.

'Fires on the Plain' is not Tsukamoto's best work, though probably isn't his worst either. It is stapled all over with his standards of good cinematography, hand-held camera work and making use of a limited budget in an imaginative way. Maybe a larger budget would  have allowed him to do more and make a better film, maybe not. But one thing is definite: Tsukamoto is a clear master of creating some intense cinema, that'll leave you sitting un-comfortably (Garth Marenghi).

Every 14 Days...(28)

The Bluest Eye (Toni Morrison)

My introduction to Toni Morrison's first novel, 'The Bluest Eye', was via the unlikely source of the liner notes of hip hop album. But hip hop ain't all ig'nant sheeeeet, with the more thoughtful 'Mos Def and Talib Kweli are Black Star' album featuring the track 'Thieves in the Night', with its hock borrowing heavily from one of the novel's closing passages.

I first read this as a suitably foolish twenty-one-year-old, largely in Newcastle's Heaton Park, and probably then I didn't quite grasp the power of the book. So now, reading it a decade later, did it register a little more?

The answer is yes. As a woman narrates, reminiscing on her childhood in 1940s America, the book explores race, the concept of beauty and the evils of modern communities when looking down on those they deem below them.

The story is fractured, splitting between the narrator's story, the past events that worked towards creating that time and a picture of an 'ideal' family. As the story continues, earlier passages become more powerful as their meaning becomes more and more clear.

Despite her own criticism of the work, it is elegantly written, reading with a flow that could inspire any hip hop, worth every moment of its second listen.

Days to read: 12

Days per book: 14.8

Robin Ince's Bad Book Club (Robin Ince)

When it comes to films, it's not the awful, 1-star films that should never have been made, it's those non-descript, neither good nor terrible, unmemorable, mind-numbingly average films that should never have been made. Most films starring Vince Vaughn, perhaps. If you know something isn't going to be a critical success, you may as well make it awful; it's more purposeful that way.

When it comes to books, in comes Robin Ince. Beautifully angry Ince had toured his 'Bad Book Club', reading aloud on stage from those books that should never been written - but deliciously, that is the very reason why they should exist. Setting himself the task of only reading books purchased second hand from charity shops and second hand bookshops while bored on tour for a price of under £3, this book - which category it fits in, you decide - is a summary of some of his favourite awful books.

Split into sections, Ince forces his way through biographies, Mills & Boon, thrillers, self-help guides, horror, religion, journalist collections and more, all finding themselves deemed necessarily awful. Quoting passages, there are moments of hysterics as you question why anyone would ever want to read it, or indeed ever sit down to write it.

So much terrible material can, of course, drag a little when reading, and there are moments when the reader can find themselves drifting in and out of concentration. Though you have to commend Ince's dedication to unearthing pure nuggets of fake gold descriptions of women's breasts, painful Syd Little anecdotes and the dietary requirements of Jesus. 

We'd all like to think that we're intelligent consumers of high art that many cannot understand, but there is something wonderful about the completely awful and what it tells us about humanity.

Toilet book? It certainly is full of shit.

Days to read: 18

Days per book: 14.8

Hear the Wind Sing / Pinball, 1973 (Haruki Murakami)

I'd already read all of Murakami's books, by which I mean, of course, I hadn't - I'd read all of his books that someone had bothered to translate into English. I'd seen academic English translations of his first two novellas, though being academic texts, they cost more than any student could afford, so I thought better of it.

But now, given his popularity in the West, someone has finally bothered to mass produce translated versions of his works he wrote while a Tokyo jazz bar owner - because no one really wants to read anything by a Japanese amateur unless they go on to have two and a half decade's worth of success.

So, what of these first two works by the young amateur? Well, not a huge amount really; very much what you'd expect from a young amateur. These are essentially two stories around the same characters at two points in time. Little really happens other than drinking in bars, buying records and playing pinball. You wouldn't be missing a great deal if these were never translated.

What you do get, however, is a sense of his style developing that he has maintained throughout his whole career. The characters are young - sometimes students - men unsure of their direction in life, spending their days in bars and beds, all to the accompaniment of specific music descriptions. The switching between narratives he most famously used in 'Kafka on the Shore' is also present in an early form.

Probably one (of two) more for the hardcore fans this. I can now actually say I have read all of his works, though I probably haven't learnt a great deal more as a result, apart from his introduction giving a little more detail as to why he first started writing: baseball is the answer we all knew it would be.

Hear the Wind Sing

Days to read: 6

Days per book: 14.8

Pinball, 1973

Days to read: 7

Days per book: 14.7