Every 14 Days...(43)

The World Goes On (Laszlo Krasznahorkai)

One thing I know when I pick up a Krasznahorkai book off a shelf is that I'm in for a couple of weeks (I hope) of unrelaxing Tube journeys. A series of shorts - some much shorter than others - this isn't quite in the same vein as "Seiobo There Below".

However, while not being a series of self-contained stories that somehow come together under a theme, there feels a lineage across all of what you read (I've had a beer). All (or at least most of) the stories follow the theme of man hitting a moment of truth; something that may seem insignificant, but can be a huge turning point for the individual. From a man about to set-out on a journey to a Chinese translator waking up hungover in the centre of a network of overpasses, Krasznahorkai digs deep to deliver an in-depth analysis of a single moment.

"The World Goes On", therefore, seems like a collection of extensively rambling haikus, which is probably a huge contradiction in terms, but captures a collection of points in time that could form a single lifetime as man laments, laments and laments. References to his earlier works, notably "The Melancholy of Resistance" crop up from an uncertain lecturer.

Rambling in both sentences and geographical location, as appears Krasznahorkai's life, "The World Goes On" is again a work of obscurity, thought and long sentences...contained largely between Tooting Bec and Goodge Street stations if you're me, where I fail daily to come across any moments of truth...and then I got off the bus (Tube).

Days to read: 14

Days per book: 15.0

The Book of Dave (Will Self)

Will Self appeared a lot on "Have I Got News for You" in yesteryear. Apparently he's written a book. Several in fact. And for a long while I've been trying to bring myself to read one. £2.99 in the Balham Oxfam for 477 pages eventually got me there.

To start, I was mighty confused. "The Book of Dave" is perhaps both an excellent and terrible starting point for Self at the same time. We start in a future, where London is divided by both extensive waters and dialects. It is almost written in "that foreign," and as such, is a rather irritating read to get into to make the 0.63p per page seem justified. But then we get to the second chapter, and things start to become a little clearer.

Taxi driver Dave, left by his wife and son, descends into middle age world-weary and bitter. He pens a rambling book as to his worldview of how families should be structured for his son, but after being committed and having therapy, decides to write it off as drivel. However, unwittingly, the book becomes a holy text of the future; his views on family structures followed to the letter by future generations.

With the splitting between the present and the future, "The Book of Dave" is an inconsistent read: The present the more enjoyable half; with the future more a ramble of nearly incomprehensible words that become a struggle to follow. However, the nature of the book means that this is necessary, not that makes reading these chapters any more enjoyable.

As such, it becomes quite easy to drift in and out of the long read, at times a good social commentary, at others a dull struggle. Whether or not I choose to take the plunge with another Self-penned (haha) book is undecided, but the more surrealist elements of his work may prove something of a barrier.

Days to read: 28

Days per book: 15.1

The Secret Diary of Adrian Mole, Aged 13 3/4 and The Growing Pains of Adrian Mole (Sue Townsend)

Born in 1983, Adrian Mole is one of those things that I recognise but can't actually recall. For me, Adrian Mole is a book with a tube of toothpaste on the cover and the theme song to the ITV adaptation. But, I don't remember actually having read any of it. Adrian Mole was only ever a teenager (aged 13 3/4 to be exact) in my memory, though I do also seem to remember something about "Dan!" from Alan Partridge.

In fact, Sue Townsend mapped out a whole lifetime for Adrian Mole over a series of books; the image of him as a perennial teenager perhaps coming from 1980's television, though the BBC did adapt one of the later books ("The Cappuccino Years") starring Stephen "Dan!" Mangan. But what of the books? Well, starting with the first two, we see Adrian in the first half of his teens getting to grips with spots, sex and the Falklands War.

Reading them now, aged 34 and several months, the first thing that strikes is the comic timing. Written as diaries with a paragraph or so serving each day, what seems an innocuous comment one day, builds up the laughs for several days in the future. His teenage naivety as the world around him is in chaos, his mundane, self-absorbed obsessions see him unable to detect his mother's affair, his parents' separation, his mother's subsequent pregnancy and dad fathering an illegitimate child.

Throughout, we are not laughing with the young "intellectual", but thoroughly at him, in much the same way many comedians bring out their teenage diaries on stage to recount what massive bellends they once were (and still possibly are). A mother at a young age, Townsend clearly draws on her experiences with her own children, and as such, these are very much books for those a little older than 13 3/4, though can be appreciated by any age.

The early teenage angst is the Adrian Mole I have non-existent nostalgia for. But, will I like the man he will become? Perhaps I'll try volume three, or leave the idiot where (I believe) he belongs.

The Secret Diary of Adrian Mole, Aged 13 3/4

Days to read: 6

Days per book: 15.0

The Growing Pains of Adrian Mole

Days to read: 8

Days per book: 15.0

Isle of Dogs

Wes Anderson's "The Grand Budapest Hotel" didn't feature one shot of the Hungarian capital, so it was much to my further annoyance at the director's geographical ignorance that his latest animated feature, "Isle of Dogs", didn't go anywhere near E14. In fact, it's set in a fictional city of the other side of the planet!

Resulting from an age-old family feud, Mayor Kobayashi (voiced by co-writer Kunichi Nomura) of Megasaki, a cat-lover, paints dogs out to be a diseased species and banishes them all to Trash Island; an island as its name suggests. The Mayor's nephew Atari, a dog-lover, seeks his pet dog and bodyguard Spots and flies to Trash Island. The islands new natives do not trust humans and their English is incompatible with Atari's Japanese.

The Mayor angered, he sends in the troops to bring Atari back. Though with a band of newly found "man's best friend" voiced by a list of star names, Atari flees and locates Spots, but finds he has started a new life on the island as its mythical leader. Back in Megasaki, Kobayashi seeks to destroy evidence of dog serums created by dedicated scientists to bring all canines back; to much protest from a group of student activists.

Returning, Atari delivers a rousing speech to shame his uncle, releasing the serum and reviving the dormant dog-lover in the citizens of Megasaki. The end.

One word to describe "Isle of Dogs" is "nice." The animation is well-executed, though you don't feel it anything too innovative; it looks very nice, but is far from delivering anything too dramatic; a nicely put together, extensive ensemble cast creates a lot of draws, though the delivery at times can be a little flat, perhaps due to actors taking on voice acting roles. The film is not greater than the sum of its parts, with the aesthetics giving a feel of style over substance, with no real depth when you wash away the level of trash.

In an interview at Berlinale, the writing team suggested that a dog trash island was the starting point for the film; the Japanese setting coming later. The decision to set the film in Japan seems aesthetic as much as anything. References to the films of Akira Kurosawa are made throughout and acknowledged by Anderson. But it could easily have been set in France.

"Isle of Dogs", therefore, would appear a more Tarantino-style homage piece than cultural appropriation that has caused debate. The incorporation of a Japanese to the writing team gives some additional authenticity in cultural reference points, as well as a Japanese cast delivering Nihon-go, giving a Japanese audience a little something extra.

However, much like last year's "Ghost in the Shell", the intended target audience means that American voices still dominate. The student protest is driven by foreign exchange student Tracy (Greta Gerwig); and while a stylistic choice, simultaneous translators talk over much of the Japanese dialogue. The inconsistency of the direct translation of text versus none for dialogue could perhaps irk some viewers also.

Though, in general, the film feels good-natured and too light-hearted to intentionally create the controversial debate which arose - though this is perhaps an unconscious given in Hollywood in this day and age. In fact, that is perhaps where the film falls short: Perhaps aimed at a younger audience, the storyline is a little too light and breezes through with ease and little in the way of real bite.

August Without Him

Hirata Yutaka, as a public figure in Nineties Japan, probably represented a lot of mainstream Japanese society's fears: an openly gay man diagnosed with AIDS, he would probably not have been welcome in many households; his outspoken nature would have seated a few uncomfortably as well. Probably the sort of challenging character a young documentary maker would relish.

In terms of entertainment, this isn't a documentary to keep you excited. As the title suggests, Kore-eda spends the August looking back at memories of his time with his subject, now that he has gone, though the majority of the film sees Yutaka bedridden, discussing his daily thoughts and opinions as he approaches death.

Though despite his illness, he is able to publish a final book, celebrating it with a beer and able to laugh at the title ("I Want to Live a Little Longer") which he chose to reject, but somehow ironically reflects his feelings. Throughout he maintains a childlike enthusiasm with a charm that keeps the camera engaged. He is still very much a child at heart - though quite understandable in his position - he relies heavily on the support and help of others around him, such as his dutiful flatmates, almost taking a glee from it. Though this again is all part of his charm, with a playful spirit shining through, despite approaching death.

Though this childlike enthusiasm is a double-edged sword, revealing a man who simply can't help himself. Despite being near death and his body sapped of energy, he still calls on call boys to visit him. He also travels to his hometown to visit his father's grave, though avoids visiting his surviving mother; perhaps his outspoken nature causing difficulties within the family.

These points, however, are not fully explored. Instead the focus is still very much on Yutaka's discussions with the camera, which he appears to thoroughly enjoy. The crew simply seem to enjoy spending time with him, noting how they break the fourth wall to help out here and there where they can. This approach was also seen in "Without Memory"; the crew offering to be filmed to help the subject with his loss of memory.

As a documentarian, Kore-eda is an ethnographer, becoming a part of his subjects' lives. This breaking of the fourth wall is perhaps what gives Kore-eda's films a realism; exploring characters in depth, as opposed to more out-and-out storytelling.

Hana vs See You Tomorrow, Everyone

Limited, small community settings are more the focus for television soap operas than cinema, well, more commercial cinema at least. Lacking in action and excitement, two films that look more at the inner workings of the human condition rather than delivering out-and-out entertainment are Kore-eda Hirokazu's 2006 "Hana" and Yoshihiro Nakamura's 2013 "See You Tomorrow, Everyone".

"Hana", Kore-eda's sole dip into the period drama, is set in a small community of early Eighteenth Century row houses. Souzaemon moves into the community as an obvious outsider: a middle-class samurai, he has no place being among society's low reaches. But his reason for being there is to seek out the man who murdered his father: the head of his clan.

Souzaemon, however, is far from his father, clearly as out of place as a sword-carrying samurai as he is in the Edo milieu he finds himself in. Despite having located the murderer, he stays where he is, teaching the neighbourhood children and gradually integrating himself into part of the community, much to the chagrin of his clan back in Matsumoto who demand action for the regular funds supplied to him.

Nakamura's "See You Tomorrow, Everyone", an equally slow-paced film, follows Satoru and his seemingly meaningless life living in a Tokyo project. Since leaving school, Satoru has spent his days doing his patrols, essentially keeping tabs on all the other inhabitants of the artificial community. One-by-one, those close to him move away to start new lives, leaving him alone, unemployed and with little prospect of a life beyond idolising his karate heroes.

Feigning purpose with his daily rounds of his neighbours, his meddling soon upsets those around him and he is forced into making choices: he starts a job at a cake shop within the complex; gets engaged; and befriends a young Brazilian girl with a troubled home life, though again his interfering is unwelcome.

Both are films set in low-income housing, though at different periods in time. "Hana" is set in a peasant dwelling, where people just about scrape enough money together to not pay the rent. These are people seeing little hope of a better life, and so accept the lot of where they are. "See You Tomorrow, Everyone", however, is a modern day equivalent: once seen as the artificial community of the future, it is now becoming a baron wasteland populated by single mums, the elderly and immigrant workers. People only see their future in escaping from it, something which Satoru cannot face-up to.

The two leads are reluctant heroes: their situations both caused by a single violent act. Souzaemon is expected to follow the samurai tradition and seek revenge for the murder of his father, but never a swordsman of any skill, he stands little chance of carrying out his proposed destiny, as well as lacking any will to cause harm to his fellow man.

A social problem in Japan, Satoru imprisoned himself at home in the projects after a school knife attack left him fearful of the outside world. Life has become theory that fails to ever get put into practice until a meeting with a young Brazilian girl who is outcast by her mother's Japanese boyfriend sees him look after their home and stand-up to the bad guy.

Both have a villain to face, but where Satoru finally learns to stand-up to his enemy, Souzaemon makes the decision to befriend his father's killer and build a new path for his life. Both have found themselves in situations in which they were comfortable in life, too comfortable. Souzaemon found it easier to teach local children, living off the funds sent to him - funds for him to enact revenge. He hides from his social status as samurai and suffers from the inner conflict of his desire to be kind-hearted against his clan's expectation that he will fulfil his duty.

Satoru's fears of the outside world keep him trapped in a prison of his own making. Ever since that day at school, he has been unable to step outside his self-imposed boundaries, oblivious to what is actually happening around him, despite believing himself to be the guardian of the complex. The world will move on until he is left behind and alone.

Souzaemon's actions are considered and he is becoming a man - though different from what is expected - who chooses to lead his own life. Satoru, however, is unconscious in his life. His fears have seen him create his own world and his place within it, and while he insists on staying inside it, everyone else has chosen to leave. The act that sees him eventually break free from this world is an unconscious reaction without a moment's thought.

Despite being a different setting for Kore-eda, "Hana" fits his usual slow-paced style, though perhaps with a bit more tomfoolery than usual. "See You Tomorrow, Everyone" is very slow in pace and development, though the timing of revelations are well worked and is a strong point of Nakamura's developing of the story.

But being a period piece, there is a little less social comment at work than one would expect from Kore-eda. "Hana" looks at close community and as the film develops, Souzamon's friends increase in number. This is the opposite for Satoru, however, who can count the numbers reducing by the day. Nakamura comments on the gradual loss of community: the sad result on what was once considered to be the bright, hopeful environment of the future. People only want to move away and escape with little or no real knowledge of those who live around them. Those still there are the ones ignored by society and hidden away.

Perhaps reflecting the difference of the period settings, "Hana" sees Souzaemon find a home, as well as himself; while "See You Tomorrow, Everyone" finds Satoru needing to escape the prison modern society has created.