This year, the Japan Foundation, London want us to look at what drives
us to action and the different factors that lead to life's choices. The 2017Touring Film Programme, therefore, offers a challenging collection of films
that will dare audiences to put themselves in the shoes of the protagonists and
understand why the Hell they are doing all this crazy nonsense.
Of the fourteen films offered, I, for the first time in a while, gave
myself the opportunity to watch the films I most wanted to see - throwing
caution to the wind in the face of work and family responsibilities. Of the
four films I saw most are, at times, difficult viewing, but their intense
nature put you 'in the moment', making them more experienced than simply
watched, particularly one, anyway.
So, shall we take a look?
Destruction babies
Good ol' Third Window Films have been tagging this new release from
Tetuya Mariko as 'The most extreme 108 minutes in Japanese cinema history.' Not
97 minutes, or even 124 minutes. Specifically 108. Now, lines like this will
typically only ever lead to disappointment. But, trusting Adam Torel at Third
Window's cinematic filter, I went into this one with anticipation, but a slight
air of trepidation.
We open with a scathing guitar over shots of a sleepy harbour, where
Shota spies his brother, Taira (played by the now more grown up Yuya Yagira),
being beaten up by a gang of local thugs. Chased off by Taira's boss, he dusts
himself off and chases off into the distance, to escape his everyday life and
court death.
The next sixty (not quite 108) minutes or so are a beat 'em up style
journey as Taira makes his way into town, picking a fight with literally any
male he comes into contact with. He provokes, encourages and goads any would-be
opponents to hit him, taking some beatings, but always coming back for more.
Without a thought in his mind, like a rabid dog, he only wants to fight.
His rage of destruction leaves a trail and soon gains him attention,
picking up the cowardly Yuya along the way, an irritating accomplice that films
his actions; a youth desensitised to morality, taking satisfaction only in what
he can share on social media, eventually building up the meagre courage to hit
those weaker than him; while Taira hits out at anybody in his path.
This is quite uncomfortable viewing. The fights are often filmed in
single takes, with actors tiring, turning fights into grapples, rather than the
cinematic endless fist fights often portrayed in movies. The impact of blows is
felt through the screen, without dramatic sound effects in accompaniment,
leaving their severity to speak for themselves. The first two-thirds are simply
violence without any real purpose, other than the understanding that Taira has
lost all sense of meaning for the world. In parts, this is delivering on its
extreme promises.
However, with films of this nature, an endless stream of violence will
only end up becoming boring for the audience. Once seen long enough, you too
will become desensitised to the violence. This is perhaps where 'Destruction Babies'
starts to lose its way, if Taira already hadn't. Fleeing the town with the
kidnapped Nana, they lack a clear direction, as does the film momentarily,
sitting in wait until Nana's fury is unleashed at her situation resulting in
murder. A brief return to senseless violence draws the trio's screen presence
to a close.
We then switch back to Shota, where we started, searching for his
fugitive brother to no avail. It is in Taira's opposite, his more sensitive
younger brother, that we find a sense of meaning in all this violence. His
earnest search for his brother fruitless, he is left abandoned by friends and
family, the result of violent self-interest.
Just before the film's conclusion, we see the traditional portable
shrine race, with two competing groups vying for superiority. A raucous and
violent affair, we see all men pushing and fighting each other for position.
The event is eluded to throughout the film, indicating violence is all around
us, celebrated and nothing new, and these 'destruction babies' are a product of
a long line of history and cultural norms. Though this violence now takes new
forms: Yuya's cowardly ways of attacking those weaker than him, filming the
deeds for prosperity, and social media sharing, perhaps the most destructive of
a youth seeking faster and more immediate extremes.
Taira's re-emergence in the final shot states that violence is here to
stay, with the path to destruction for humanity only to continue.
Kabukicho Love Hotel
'Kabukicho Love Hotel' is another example of how English titles are
often designed to draw in Western audiences. 'Sayonara Kabukicho', the original
title, is much more befitting, though that wouldn't suggest sex scenes to the
ignorant among us.
Young Toru is supposedly an ordinary young man trying to make his way
in the world, with plans to marry his musician girlfriend. It just so happens
he manages a love hotel in Kabukicho, Shinjuku's slightly seedier part of town.
Pulling an extended shift, we follow a day in the life of the hotel, with focus
on a select few that tread its dirty carpets, all seeking an escape route.
Cleaner, Suzuki has just two days to wait before the case dangling over
her fugitive lover will be closed, allowing them to come out of hiding. 'Delivery
girl' Hena hopes to return to Korea to open a boutique having now saved enough
money. And young Toru, with aspirations of fronting a top hotel, spends the day
discovering his younger sister is a porn star and that his girlfriend is taking
less moral routes to the top. None are there by design, nobody is, and it is
now time to break free.
This is not a film about sordid sex, therefore, but more about escape,
as the Japanese title would suggest. Though Ryuichi Hiroki's early days as a
pinku eiga director are put to use, with a couple of rather graphic fruit 'n' veg
fondling scenes accompanying some more tame efforts, in the overarching
storyline. These scenes are perhaps not necessary, as we all know what goes on
behind these closed doors, though thankfully they don't detract from the film's
narrative flow.
The character's are written to know that their situation isn't a great
one, all aware that their place of occupation is below society's moral
standards. This self-awareness creates sympathy with the characters that fate
has led them here, with the film acknowledging that everyone has their reasons
for ending up in a place like this, and they probably don't need to be spoken
about.
This film, and indeed the Japanese title, are perhaps in response to
the 2013 awarding of Tokyo as host city for the 2020 Olympics. Much as London
soought to bulldoze most of Stratford and ensure that the Tube actually worked for
once for 2012, Tokyo intends to paint a good international image for itself.
Therefore, Kabukicho, sitting in the heart of Tokyo's Shinjuku hub, will be
taken to the cleaners; the area ridden of all the seedy activities and
establishments.
By the film's conclusion, escape from the district brings with it a
sense of relief and looking to the future. Whether the same will be said for
the city at large, is another matter.
The Mohican Comes Home
'The Mohican Comes Home' follows a similar fish-out-of-water theme as Shuichi
Okita's earlier films, 'The Woodsman and the Rain' and 'The Story of Yonosuke'.
But, slightly unusually, this time around it is returning home that sees the
protagonist seem out of place, to start with at least.
Eikichi is somewhat distant from his own life. The front man for a
death metal band, he seems to let life pass him by with a rather casual,
absent-minded stare on his face. His band is struggling financially, his
girlfriend whom he plans to wed is pregnant, but these don't particularly seem
to be key things on his mind. When he returns home with Yuka to visit his
family home in a sleepy, seaside town, therefore, announcing his current life
stage seems like nothing to him, but, of course, is much more to his parents.
However, his aging father is suffering; his body riddled with cancer. At this,
Eikichi is rather glum-faced, to start.
But, the more time he spends with his sick father, the more he feels
that there is perhaps more that he should be doing in life. He makes it his aim
to help out at home and fulfil his father's dying wishes, resulting in a
strange pizza-eating scenario, improvised musical performance and masquerading
as his father's hero, Eikichi Yazawa, his father's singing idol whom he was
named after.
But this is not an altogether serious film, and Okita finely balances
each and every scene with enough comedy to take it away from over-sentimentality;
but enough seriousness to stop it becoming too farcical. A stand out moment
when Eikichi takes his father to the beach, with his father's deteriorating
state becoming evident as he talks to Eikichi as if he has yet to leave for
Tokyo, still a teenage boy. While a failure in the eyes of many, his father
still wants his son to keep trying to succeed at what he does.
While 'The Mohican Comes Home' has good balance, it does leave it not
veering one way or the other, left as a 'nice' watch, lacking in a
well-executed ending, as in 'The Story of Yonosuke'. In fact, the ending is
perhaps the film's weaker point: the hastily put-together wedding scene stretching
a bit too far in to 'goof-ball' comedy, out of sync with the rest of the film.
The line 'go back to Tokyo' is a recurring one, with his mother keen
for him to get out from under her feet and his father wanting his new-found
kindness to stop reminding him he is about to die. Eventually he does,
realising he is not so out of place in his hometown after all, leaving with a
new sense of purpose for when he returns.
Pieta in the Toilet
Whichever way you look at it, 'Pieta in the Toilet' is not an easy film
to watch: A film about a failed artist-cum-window cleaner diagnosed with cancer
is never going to be a laugh riot, and so the life and times of a 28 year old
destined to die young has its ups and downs.
Sonoda's reaction is one of apathy to his news. He tries to keep on
working as if nothing has happened, initially rejecting his parents' concerns
and treatment in hospital. A failed artist, he chooses to sulk himself to an
early grave. But it is in two chance encounters at the hospital that he is
brought back to life a little.
He intervenes to help young Mai, a schoolgirl he befriends after a
you-scratch-my-back exchange. Their relationship is an awkward one: He a young
man about to die; she an underage school girl, unloved at home with a chip on
her shoulder. Her push-pull attitude towards him becomes annoying, with Sonoda
struggling to understand what she wants from him, but this perhaps suggests a
well-developed character, perhaps from a male perspective anyway, of a
difficult to read teenager.
While someone he would rather escape, his ward-mate, the perverted
Yokota, played by the increasingly popular Lily Franky, provides some humour in
the bleakness, and someone that Sonoda eventually comes to empathise with and
seek support. The meeting with Yokota leads him to the children's cancer ward,
where he humours the young children , particularly Takuto for whom he draws his
favourite comic books heroes.
The story is inspired by the diaries of Osamu Tezuka towards the end of
his life and sees Sonoda want to leave something behind after he dies, as well
as pay tribute to the mother of Takuto and Mai simultaneously, recreating the
image of Pieta, naturally in the toilet.
Little about this film is easy, director Daishi Matsunaga drawing on
various sources of inspiration and references. The switching of emotions and
somewhat blandly unnatural scripting to facilitate the story can make the
viewer feel a little unsure as to how to respond, though this is perhaps by
design, as Matsunaga gets you inside the shoes and minds of the characters,
unsure what to make of their lot.
Want to learn how you should act on a Japanese-inspire impulse? If you
live in the non-London UK cities of Manchester, Sheffield, Bristol, Belfast,
Nottingham, Exeter, Derby, Leicester, Kendal, Stirling, Edinburgh, Inverness,
Birmingham or, most importantly, Dundee, the Japan Foundation's Touring Film
Programme is heading your way, unless it already has, as I'm writing this
mid-tour.
