Raindance Film Festival 2017: Love and other Cults

Lost and out-of-control youth is not uncommon in Japanese cinema, with the rigid formality of Japanese schools countered by the over-the-top rebellion of kids who see no place for themselves within the education system. The second collaboration between British-born, now Japanese-living Third Window Films and director Eiji Uchida after "Lowlife Love", "Love and other Cults" is a film that follows similar lines of others in terms of theme, though the final destination isn't as per the usual.

Ai (Sairi Ito) is a girl who comes in many guises: the daughter of a serial religious and cult follower, she finds little place for herself at home; her mother often distracted by the new fad in her life. Eventually sent by her mother to a cult commune under Mount Fuji at a tender age, she soon finds happiness, before the cult's exposure and mass arrests leave her again without a place to find herself. Growing out of hand, she dyes her hair and shacks up with her boyfriend and his drug addict family of friends by her mid-teens.

Bumping into brief former classmate Ryota (Kenta Suga), she hangs out with him and his gangster mates after being ditched by her boyfriend, but lovingly welcomed by a class president Yuka's (Kana Matsumoto) family. Here, she switches between domestic bliss with her adopted family and her double life working in a hostess bar. Eventually found out, she moves back in with her mother - her apathy no longer a cause for concern - and works as a call girl.

Meanwhile, Ryota, our narrator, holds a torch for Ai, even when they drift apart at various moments. A bit-part player in Kenta (Antony) and Yuji's (Kaito Yoshimura) gang, he quietly keeps his head down, trying to gather together enough money to escape small town blues. Yuji himself has designs on becoming a yakuza, while natural gang leader Kenta gradually begins to reject the life upon meeting, Reika (Hanae Kan), an underwater photographer who shows an interest in him.

What runs throughout the film is the sense that none of the characters are happy. Whether a member of a religion, a cult, a gang, a school group, none feel they have found the place that's right for them. In doing this, despite the central focus on Ryota and Ai, Uchida switches the storyline to Kenta and Yuji and how their lives play out, as all four look to make a life-changing move to find their place, however unusual they may be.

Ryota and Kenta both reject the criminal life: Ryota going to university in Tokyo; Kenta leading a quiet life with Reika, deep-water diving. Being that this is partly based on the true story of a porn star whom Uchida noted for her cult followings, Ai works with Lavi (Matthew Chozick), the former leader of the cult where she was once happy, as a porn star, finding minor fame.

There are warnings that trying to escape a doomed fate are not always easy: Reika abused for Kenta's decision to quit the gang; Ryota losing his savings along the way. But, where other films about lost youth may build to exaggerated and frantic endings, or leave things open without established consequences, the characters of "Love and other Cults" are able to find a place where they are comfortable. The one unable to find this peace, Yuji, is left alone by his yakuza lifestyle. Wherever it may be, and with whoever it is with, the closing theme is one of changing for the better.

Much like the characters' lives, "Love and other Cults" is perhaps a little bumpy along the way. While probably a step-up in terms of production quality from "Lowlife Love", it is not as well crafted and witty. There are many twists of fate along the way that require leaps of faith in the audience, leaving the story flow a little unnatural in parts.

But the sense of peace reached in the film's ending is refreshing from how films of this nature can pan-out. Where the likes of "The World ofKanako" can build into messy, over-zealous finales, the stepping-down a tone by the film's end is welcome, despite the rather choice appearance of a school girl panties porn film script. But then, there is love...and other cults (sic).

Raindance Film Festival 2017: Junk Head

Stop-motion animation is one of those things that you thought might die-out with the Nineties, much like shell suits, Aston Villa footballing success and that Prince song. But, while sometimes employed due to budget constraints, has created some very effective moments in cinema, giving many works a charm not possible with modern CGI. Takehide Hori's debut feature "Junk Head" may be lacking in certain areas, but charm is certainly not one of them.

Essentially self-made, with the help of Yuji Sugiyama and Atsuko Miyake, much like Nick Park with "A Grand Day Out" which took years to make, "Junk Head" is four years in the making and a clear labour of love. And while watching a stop-motion film in 2017 may feel a bit backward, the fact that it takes you back to the days of yesteryear is part of the attraction to "Junk Head", with a soundtrack and style that feels straight out of the Nineties.

Humans have modified themselves to the point where they can live with vastly expanded life-spans; though the price for this endless living is the loss of ability to reproduce. With the need for greater manpower, human clones were created to take on the workload, though inevitably they rebelled. Forced to live underground, the "unstable" clones have taken on a number of differing forms: some mad; some evil; some funny; some friendly; all seemingly straight out of a creative art studio.

With the need for humans to learn more about how to reclaim the ability to reproduce, volunteers are sent underground to learn how it may be possible again. One such volunteer accidentally crashes underground; only his modified head surviving the journey.

Found by a trio of eccentric hunters, the head is taken to a doctor who transfers his mind into that of a boy robot. Understanding that he is of human form - the master race of creators - the clones revere him as a god. But confused by his new body and surroundings, the human runs in panic. To start, this leads to many scenes of running through seemingly endless corridors, trying to avoid the monstrous clones that lurk behind each and every corner.

Eventually plummeting further into the depths of the Earth, he is again found in a heap on the floor in need of reconstruction - his next incarnation as a mute worker robot. Getting lost on an errand, he again finds himself in an endless maze avoiding monsters everywhere, before being reunited with the original hunters to try and find the secret of reproducing.

Plot-wise, with a newly created world, there are many gaps, and we are thrown into a scenario knowing about as much as our dazed and confused hero. To start, there is a feeling that this could be two hours of endless running through corridors to Nineties-esque electro. But as the bumbling hero's story develops, you do follow him on his journey, with the animation style soon feeling less of a novelty as it progresses. Sadly, however, just as you're getting into the characters and their various quirks, the film comes to a somewhat abrupt, and inconclusive, end.

Humour is laced throughout "Junk Head", from the movements, to character traits, to the down-right strangeness of the character design, particularly the hunters. The obscure, distorted language in which all characters speak starts off as potentially irritating, but gradually you feel as if you almost comprehend it. Indeed, "Junk Head" is a film that you grow into in the unique environment, much like the human in the underground setting.

But for all its charms, "Junk Head" perhaps needs a more satisfying conclusion, particularly with the running time in a challenging style to hold an audience's attention. Originality of themes may not be as strong as it could be also; many ideas feeling likes those you may have seen before. In that sense, developed from a short, as a feature it is a little lacking overall.

But in a day and age where "quick and easy" (I say with no authority) computer graphics are starting to rule, the heart and soul of "Junk Head" are there to see, despite its hero lacking either. The sped-up shots of the three man crew during production over the end credits are a nice touch, though with so few people working on the film, these are over far too quickly. A shame for a film that took so long to make...

Every 14 Days...(39)

The Melancholy of Resistance (Laszlo Krasznahorkai)

Pressing on to get all of Krasznahorkai's novels polished off within an extended length of time, "The Melancholy of Resistance" is the next on the list. As with his other novels, again he uses the extended passages of punctuation-less text to allow you to get deep into the heads of the protagonists. This style worked best in his "War and War", though "Melancholy..." is more along the lines of "Satantango" in that the chapters switch between different individuals, rather than the story taking place inside the mind of one man alone.

Like "Satantango", a desolate village is the setting. But instead of awaiting the return of its prodigal son, the village in question sees a circus move into town; a circus with the unique selling point of a stuffed, life-size whale. But along with it, the circus sees a ragged bunch arrive in the village, simply laying in wait, following the circus from village to village, leaving chaos in every location they venture to. After some time in the village, the men begin to wreak their havoc, destroying the already destroyed, leaving the locals simply powerless to resist. A village where nothing ever happens, the individuals of focus respond differently to the riotous behaviour: wanting to either hide away; observe it as it happens; or take it an opportunity to seize power within the village.

Written in the late Eighties, this definitely has more in common with "Satantango" than his other works in terms of story and setting, though the revelations towards the end are similar to those of "War and War"; though is perhaps weaker than both, not that this fact makes it a poor book. The men of the riotous mob blindly follow, with havoc leading to yet more havoc, to the point where no one knows as to why they are doing what they do: A juggernaut that cannot be stopped, though nobody knows as to why.

Days to read: 17

Days per book: 15.2

Dogs and Demons (Alex Kerr)

With his first book "Lost Japan", Alex Kerr showed himself to be a man in a love-hate relationship with his adopted home country. But while "Lost Japan" looks at how the things he loves about Japan are  slowly disappearing, his second book "Dogs and Demons", published around nine years later, shows how they are well and truly dead.

Dividing aspects of Japanese society into different chapters, what follows is a tirade against all aspects of modern Japanese living, systems, governance, art, education, landscape; you name it, Kerr will shame it.

Now, I am always a little sceptical of books of this nature; books that are largely designed to criticise can tend to look for statistics that support arguments, leading you to wonder as to the source as well as any possible balanced counterarguments. Lots of numbers are thrown around here, and while I'm sure these have been thoroughly researched, more balance is needed. "Dogs and Demons" becomes far too one-sided in its arguments, making it a little tedious, repetitive and ultimately depressing.

While Kerr's passion of Japanese culture is without question, and his writing this book is aimed as a wake-up call to the Japanese to correct their errors, the good points it makes get lost in a stream of figures and criticism. The book lacks a natural flow to read, piling on extra bits to further the argument and as such could have been shorter to avoid repetition in places.

But what is interesting is that written many years ago now, with its criticisms of destroying landscapes, extensive bureaucracy, wasteful education systems, etc., etc., in criticising Japan for being behind the times, Kerr has unwittingly almost written the blueprint for many nations subsequently. As London chooses to build odd-shaped skyscrapers and tasteless housing, in this sense, Japan was ahead of the times.

The message of this book is clear, and certainly good points are made along the way, with much that needs to be heeded for things to improve. The journey, however, is not always so enjoyable.

Days to read: 22

Days per book: 15.3

The Gate (Natsume Soseki)

Every now and again, I feel "Ooo, I should read some Natsume Soseki." That recently happened again, and choosing between the various (three in total) different editions of "The Gate" that Foyles of Charing Cross Road had to offer, I opted for the cheapest.

Sosuke and wife Oyone rent their lodgings in Tokyo. Here they live a relatively quiet and peaceful life, where little happens and that's the way they intend to keep it. But while little happens on the surface, there are undercurrents of a troubled past, disputes with relatives over finances and Sosuke's younger brother's potential slip into alcoholism, as well as the hanging cloud of their childless marriage.

The couple try and avoid direct confrontation as much as possible, always putting off problems that need to be solved until another time. As such their lives are constantly on edge due to their lack of activity, as tomorrow will always be there.

As ever, Natsume's working of a story about the inner-workings of the human soul and how this affects outer lives is expertly crafted, with some brilliantly written passages that can only suggest that my reading "now and again" should be "very often." Why put things off until tomorrow?!...

Days to read: 17

Days per book: 15.3

Sixty-Nine (Ryu Murakami)

After some heavy and/or politically-charged writings about the human condition, some light relief was called for. "Sixty-Nine" by Ryu Murakami was one such book. Not about oral sex, it is in fact set in the year named after the sex act.

Set in Murakami's hometown of Sasebo about a seventeen year old in '69, there is definitely something of an autobiographical slant to this work. Written from the viewpoint of a thirty-something narrator looking back on his teenage school years, this is a tongue-in-cheek memoir full of self-deprecating humour; with grandiose recalling soon shot-down by the reality.

Murakami's novels can tend to be quite sex-heavy, but despite its name, "Sixty-Nine" has more innocence to it than its antithesis, "Almost Transparent Blue". The latter looks at disaffected youth, in days of hedonism with sex and drugs and rock n roll; whereas the former looks more at the naivety of everyday teenagers. While wanting revolution, the characters' motivations are hollow, purely to get the attention of girls in attempts to lose their virginity; which of course, they do not. There is little referencing to drug taking; and music is a passion of youth, rather than a temporary voice for the disenfranchised.

"Sixty-Nine" isn't what you'd call groundbreaking, but is a nicely written pseudo-memoir that flows easily in the mind.

Days to read: 5

Days per book: 15.2

Charity Shop Vinyl II

Found in the British Heart Foundation, Balham.

Hours of fun for £1.50.

The Unrecorded Jasper Carrott and The Best of Tony Hancock. 

You may laugh...you probably won't...

 

Cafe Lumiere

2003 marked the centenary of the great Yasujiro Ozu's birth, and as such, films in tribute were made. One such film was Taiwanese director Hsiao-Hsien Hou's "Cafe Lumiere". With Ozu so associated with deep Japanese family drama, it may seem difficult to believe that a non-native can take on a film in tribute to him. But with subtle styling and nuances, Hou shows clear touches of Ozu's influence, while still maintaining enough individuality to steer it away from becoming an Ozu paint-by-numbers work of nothingness.

Yoko - played by Taiwanese-Japanese musician Yo Hitoto - is some sort of reporter-type who switches her time between Tokyo and Taiwan. Researching Taiwanese composer Wen-Ye Jiang (for some reason), she seeks out a cafe/bar the composer frequented when based in Tokyo. And that's about that: a film low on plot and slow in pace, it's in the nuances along the way that make this a tribute to the Japanese master.

Family and its changing nature is a theme hinted at throughout, with Yoko pregnant by her boyfriend in Taiwan. However, she has a somewhat blasé attitude towards the pregnancy, and indeed her boyfriend, unconcerned as to whether she sees him again, let alone allowing him to father his child, reflecting a modern decline in the nuclear family, and particular Japanese attitudes to sex and declining birth rate.

Her father seems unimpressed with her attitude, while her step-mother tries to do what she can to please her. Living in the countryside, their visiting her in her small Tokyo apartment is reminiscent of Ozu's "Tokyo Story", with the elders feeling out of place in the modern metropolis; her father maintaining a silence. Her lack of hospitality, with little to offer her parents - having to borrow food and sake from her older neighbours - shows a further distance from the family unit of today's youth, solely concerned by her own endeavours.

This mirrors Ozu's take on the empowerment of women, as seen in the likes of "Late Autumn", with young females shunning the traditional expectations placed upon them. Obviously four decades along the line, Yoko is quite content to tackle the pregnancy alone and go about her daily life as she pleases, continuing her research of Jiang - though still in early days, it would be interesting to see how this would continue, finding herself alone on a train station platform, feeling sick.

Trains are an important theme in "Cafe Lumiere", Hou choosing to use extensive shots of Tokyo's various forms of railed transportation. This again is reminiscent of some of Ozu's later works, with Tokyo's morphing into a modern day megalopolis - a confusing and sprawling mass of rail networks - a modern equivalent of Ozu's shots of neon lights growing on the landscape.

Sexpot Tadanobu Asano plays Hajime, Yoko's book shop worker friend and Tokyo rail network obsessive: recording the various sounds of Tokyo's trains and creating digital artwork based on trains. The sounds he records, such as the infamous Yamanote Line station announcements are part of modern day Tokyo life. As an outsider, it's clear that the transport network was a distinctive point of Tokyo for Hou.

The extensive use of shots of changes slowly moving across bridges and weaving between bridges while a disgustingly beautiful shot the modern world summarise the film's slow pace. Low on story, you can't help but feel that the film's running time could be drastically cut. Hou captures life as it happens: trains trundle along; Yoko walks around Tokyo's various districts, taking breaks to sit in cafes and chat in bookshops. This is a documentation, the cast less acting, but filmed as they go about the tasks they are asked to perform. Watched in sections, "Cafe Lumiere" can work, but altogether, it can perhaps be a little repetitive and needing a bit of a kick-start.

This is not masterful work, but a well-considered homage and "Cafe Lumiere" can stand alone as a good piece of cinema, though perhaps knowing it is an Ozu tribute adds a little more to it in the audience's mind. Though perhaps this restaurant main could have been condensed to a cafe light lunch.

Love & Pop

Switching from animation to "live action" is always going to prove interesting as to how a director approaches the new medium, particularly when that director previously held the reigns over "Neon Genesis Evangelion". His first feature featuring real humans, the anime background of Hideaki Anno is clear in his film "Love & Pop", as well as some of the themes present throughout his career.

To start, it is clear that we are not watching a film from a conventional director. Numerous handheld cameras are used in close proximity to the cast, covering every conceivable angle, resulting in an endless stream of edits, that leave the viewer disorientated as to who and what they are seeing. "Love & Pop" is a film that many could quickly turn off within the opening couple of minutes; plot and characters difficult to initially establish. But, for those of us that realise that some of the quick edits include under the table shots of girls in short skirts, the more of the film that is watched, the more the collection of edits grows into an innovative film mirroring the youth culture it captures.

Hiromi, Nao, Chisa and Chieko are four (count them) friends who spend their days around the concrete playground of Shibuya, Tokyo. Though with the onslaught of edits, it's a little difficult to really establish who is who and any nuance of character. But what becomes clear is that these are not girls up to innocent activities; but are partaking in enjo kosai: high school girls performing various acts in exchange for rectangular pieces of paper with dead people's faces and numbers printed on them.

Acquiring a phone with which they can leave flirtatious messages, the girls wonder the streets over a twenty-four hour period, meeting various men along the way. Shopping for bikinis for a planned trip to the beach, the story develops when Hiromi spies an expensive ring in a department store. Needing money, the girls set about earning enough to buy it.

It's at this point when focus switches more to Hiromi, and you feel the editing and camera movements calm down a little (whether they actually do or not). Meeting two men in separate encounters, she is forced to realise that quick money earned may get her the things she wants, but will leave her feeling less-than-positive about herself.

After meeting with a shut-in to accompany him on a trip to the video store (which results in a session of unwanted pocket billiards), she then converses with the mysterious "Captain X" on the phone the group have been using. Being that this is a film made within two years of the new millennium, Tadanobu Asano takes up this role, taking her to a love hotel, only to angrily berate her for stripping naked in front of a man she has just met in exchange for money.

Slowing the pace down towards the film's conclusions, Hiromi meets with the phone's owner who provides words of advice for her, which leave her feeling she is better off at home with her family, rather than wondering the streets in seedy encounters. The ring left un-purchased, despite raising the funds, Hiromi is more assured is herself than the lost girl of the film's beginning.

The film's progress adequately reflects Hiromi, starting as a messy collection of shots, Hiromi unsure of what she really wants in life, distracted by the endless flashing lights of the various media that surround the modern world. But gradually, these become more focused, resulting in two key scenes which leave an impact on her, ending in a more settled and calm manner. In this sense, Anno's live action debut is accomplished filmmaking, putting the audience through a day in Hiromi's head.

Looking at the lives of teenage girls and youth searching for direction, this is very much in keeping with much of Anno's anime work, though more importantly tackles the phenomenon of enjo kosai and how quickly and easily teenage girls find themselves in dangerous situations in the simple pursuit of a few quid. Based on Ryu Murakami's book "Topaz II", Anno neither glorifies nor vilifies the girls - or indeed their male clients - showing it as an almost normal part of daily life. And this is perhaps where the problem lies.

Perhaps fittingly for a film of such high editing, the end credits accompany a long take of the four girls walking through the sewage ways of Shibuya in unison to close an unconventional approach to cinema, but one that definitely has its merits. Followed by "Ritual" a couple of years later, it is perhaps a shame that Anno has stuck to working mainly in anime - the recent "Shin Godzilla" aside - though one's lost will always be the other's gain.