The Third Murder

"I've only made two so far and I want to try making a wide variety of films. I want to make action films, period films."

(Kore-eda Hirokazu, 1999)

Speaking with Mark Schilling for Premier back in 1999 with only "Maboroshi no Hikari", "After Life" and his documentaries under his belt, it was clear Kore-eda was going down the route of the auteur, though his penchant for the unconventional family drama was still some years to come. Since 2008's seminal "Still Walking", "Air Doll" aside (which is probably where it can stay), his work has seen weak father figures, bickering couples, children fending for themselves and grandparents that know best.

But with 2006's "Hana" Kore-eda's biggest step into new territory so far with a period piece, his latest film "The Third Murder" sees him take on the courtroom drama: a genre typically building suspense to the inevitable plot twist reveal.

Misumi (played by hair connoisseur Koji Yakusho) confesses to the murder of a local factory owner: his former boss. A convicted murderer on two counts in his native Hokkaido, it comes soon after his release form his thirty year sentence, and as such, he is likely to face the death penalty. Up steps Shigemori (taller-than-average Masaharu Fukuyama) and his legal firm to defend Misumi: their sole purpose to reduce his charge from murder and burglary to murder and theft, thus potentially seeing Misumi cheat death.

Misumi, playing the sap, goes along with Shigemori's idea, but the more Shigemori delves, the less it seems a clear, open-and-shut case. "Links" are uncovered between Misumi and his former boss' widow and their daughter, Sakie (our little sister Suzu Hirose) - seemingly the victim of her father's abuse. As such, Shigemori  starts to question the true motives of Misumi, not just as a legal case, but as to the true nature of justice.

With so many lives affected, a selection of narrative options are offered, without giving a firm conclusion as to which was the true course of events, leaving Shigemori questioning his role, as Misumi realises his end goal.

Plot twists in suspense dramas compare to trying to make people jump in horror films: they're a cover for lacking anything truly captivating to say or show. As such, the nature of offering many potential stories could lead to a confused mess of a film, but Kore-eda, while working in a different area, is becoming something of a master at evaluating the human condition, using the contradictory narratives to leave you questioning truth and motive, rather than a simple twist at the end to try and keep you interested.

Social comment as to the justice system is offered throughout, perhaps sometimes a little too plainly, though always aimed at the morality and ethics of an organised justice system. Misumi may have admitted to the murder, but the more he reveals, the less straightforward his guilt becomes. Shigemori - oft referred to as a lawyer who keeps criminals from facing their guilt by family and foe alike - simply deconstructs narrative to fit his case for the defence.

As with "Like Father, Like Son", the lead characters' differences create archetypes to help Kore-eda in making his point. Shigemori, as with Nonomiya, starts from the moral high ground, but soon realises he is the one who needs to ask himself some searching questions. Shigemori and Misumi hold an obvious - and sometimes literal - mirror to each other, with Fukuyama's character again having to be the one to concede, much as Hiroshi Abe finds himself in "Still Walking" and "After the Storm". 

Stylistically, there are perhaps some more mainstream cinema staples put to use, Kore-eda perhaps trying to take himself out of the comfort zone he may have slipped into. Shigemori's dream sequence is somewhat out-of-the-norm, as well as attempts at more poignant visuals to music, in an attempt to create iconic shots. For some this may be seen as a further decline into mainstream cinema, away from the more masterfully understated work of his first two films. However, it could also be perceived as a bridging of a gap, with the film taking the top awards at the Japan Academy Prizes a step in the right direction for Japanese cinema: one of the nation's best working directors getting his just rewards.

A legal drama, "The Third Murder" doesn't necessarily rely on the suspense of a thriller, but still keeps you watching as to what transpires before you. Despite some differences, this is very much a Kore-eda film: Shigemori, Misumi and Misumi's victim all play the role of weak father figures, with Shigemori's father the grandfather with greater knowledge. No easy solutions are offered, with greater happiness found away from one's initial objectives.

The "face-to-face" scene between Shigemori and Misumi towards the film's end offers some of the iconic shots perhaps aimed for, with Yakusho cementing himself as one of Japan's all-time great actors, deserving of his Best Supporting Actor gong at the Japan Academy Prizes. What starts off as a seemingly bumbling, forgetful and absent-minded fool, develops into a character of many layers. The truth is that Misumi wants to control people. By changing his story, resulting in the outcome Shigemori fought against, Misumi, the murderer, certainly held power over the lives of others.

Every 14 Days...(42)

In the Mood for Love (Tony Rayns)

Released in 2000, Wong Kar-wai's "In the Mood for Love" is possibly the last great film. Rayns, a translator, discusser and faller-outer with Wong, writes a two-part look at what is also probably Wong's last good film.

The first part is a scene-by-scene description of much, if not all of the film, making you recall just how housewife's choice Tony Leung Chiu-wai dabs his mustard, I think. Even for someone like me who has watched the film many times, a better person detailing the film in this way does add some new perspectives on things.

The second half places the film in the context of Wong's wider work and what was happening in the build-up to its filming and release, including photo shoots of films never made, offering yet more insights galore.

Obviously, this is one for the film-nerd / loyal Wong fan, but perhaps is more important looking at a film that sees a turning point in cinema and how the Twenty-first Century is lagging well behind the Twentieth in delivering a level of quality in film.

Days to read: 4

Days per book: 15.1

How Not to be a Boy (Robert Webb)

It's pretty much obligatory now for a comedian to write a book, often about themselves. But with this the case, it does require one to do a little bit more than just write a self-indulgent drinking anecdote.

Possibly - if you're cynical, like me - Robert Webb chooses to build on recent social media trending around gender and whether it's nature or nurture and all that jazz (though he wasn't raised on jazz music alone), seemingly taking some cues from Caitlin Moran's books. Depending on which side of the fence you sit, or which side you dress, this autobiography could be seen as a bold cry against social traditions, or an annoying gender agenda.

So, on which side of this fence do I sit? Probably on it - the easy option. This isn’t Lewis Hamilton “boys don’t wear princess dresses” bashing, but more a self-exploration of Webb’s desire to not become his father. A less-than-perfect picture is painted of his father, and indeed his stepfather, with his mother and elder brothers fitting more into the hero role; his brothers more in-line with the male archetype.

Preferring his mother in all areas, he soon shows traits supposedly not befitting a teenage boy, such as an interest in the performing arts and other boys, sort of. As such, it’s more of a finding your feet memoir than a full-blown gender politics attack, though may take the latter route occasionally.

As such, it has enough of a balance to not simply laugh the notion of male gender conditioning off, but also avoids forcing the reader as to what to believe.

Days to read: 14

Days per book: 15.1

The Master of Go (Yasunari Kawabata)

I was yet to read any of the works by Yasunari Kawabata, but he's one of those names you see on bookshelves next to other authors' with surnames starting with the same letter. Looking at one of those bookshelves, I opted for "The Master of Go": a book, that while an easy read, I imagine is not representative of the body of his work.

A collection of his newspaper reports covering the 1938 go match between an ageing master and his young challenger, formed into a novel years later, "The Master of Go" is a series of short chapters covering each day's play, as well as those in between, of the six month match, which resulted in inevitable defeat for the master in his last match.

The outcome of the match is made clear early on, making this not so much about the match itself, but the contrasting behaviours of the two competitors in their down time. The master cannot switch off from competition, always wanting a game of chess or billiards; while his young opponent spends time with his young family, preferring to rest when possible.

This is welcome to someone like me who knows nothing of the game of go, and so the coverage of the matchplay, tactics involved and point scoring is more a collection of words on a page. But while shaping a story, this still is very much reporting on the match played over six months and so maybe does not paint the best picture of Kawabata as an author for the novice in numerous ways.

Days to read: 11

Days per book: 15.0

The Miner (Natsume Soseki)

I'm making it a mini-mission to get through all of Soseki's works by the end of 2018. Not really much of a challenge, but like myself in a urinal, I aim low.

"The Miner" is the collection of Soseki's serialisation in the newspaper Asahi Shimbun and is certainly one of the more ironically titled of his works. A middle-class nineteen year-old of education and no work experience from Tokyo heads north in search of a place to quietly die, for quite meaninglessly middle-class reasons. During his search, he meets a man who promises him money if he takes work with him. With quite literally nothing to lose, he follows the man to see where the journey takes him.

Eventually, he ends up at a nameless mine buried in the mountains, though he soon finds himself alone, his original guide disappearing once he has his "recruitment" money. Unwanted by the miners, whom he sees as inferior beasts, and hounded by bedbugs as he tries to sleep, he soon finds that the world of mining is not for him after being taken for a tour of the mine on his second day there. Encountering a miner who was once in a position similar to his own, though probably more earnest, he is fully convinced that he doesn't want to set foot in the mine again, taking a *SPOILER ALERT* role as a bookkeeper for the mine for five months before returning home.

Written as a memoir, the author frequently references how this is no novel. And, written in serialised parts, this is more an extended train of thought, but strangely has no natural breaks that staggered publishing might suggest. But largely, this is just rambling, similar to "Botchan" with a young Tokyoite looking down at country folk, though with somewhat more awareness of his naivety.

But the fact that it is halfway through the novel before he actually reaches the mine - and subsequently fails to forge a career as a titular miner, returning to his parents - this is where Soseki's comedy comes in as the novel concludes; the whole journey seemingly a waste of time, the protagonist having learnt little from his experience.

Soseki's "experience" of mining came from discussion with a young former miner, perhaps why there is much more focus on the journey there, and little actual working as a miner explored. As such, this is no novel, more an account of observations from an extended journey into the depths which can be escaped at any time for our "hero", placing it stylistically closer to Orwell's "The Road to Wigan Pier" or "Down and Out in Paris and London" than most storytelling.

Days to read: 11

Days per book: 15.0