Air Doll

Sex dolls are a thing now, aren't they, Richard Herring?! And for certain corners of the world a part of everyday life. For some even part of the family: not just a sex doll but a surrogate family member for the lonely to love, cherish and woo-hoo as a significant other.

That's the life of Hideo (Itsuji Itao) anyway, and his charming "wife" Nozomi (perky-breasted Bae Doona - though initially an actual blow-up doll). The couple live together is Hideo's small apartment, him working long hours away at a restaurant, coming home to Nozomi to have dinner with her and then take her to bed, always remembering to remove and clean the detachable vagina afterwards.

That is until one day when the naked Nozomi - again left in Hideo's bed - wakes up and becomes human. As Hideo has a fully stocked wardrobe of clothes for her in true Barbie doll fashion, she is able to get herself dressed and walk the streets...and browse the local video store...and get herself a job in said video store.

Nozomi soon carves out an actual life out for herself, becoming a part of the team and getting intimate with work colleague Junichi (ARATA). Hideo soon is just someone she has to make sure she is waiting for in bed each night. Though eventually Hideo soon has no need for Nozomi - finding himself a newer model. Nozomi, therefore, reveals her new trick and promptly walks out on him, straight to the bed of Junichi. But while becoming human in form, Nozomi is still far from human in soul, resulting in tragic consequences at her lack of understanding of human life.

"Air Doll" is the exact type of film you would expect to come from Japan, being unusual, perverted, but with an interesting layer sitting beneath the surface. Nozomi looks at Tokyo life from an outsider's perspective and maybe isn't always too impressed with human kind, least of all Hideo. Dolls are an important feature of Japanese culture which has a penchant for creating mascots and characters that become almost real for their admirers; taking various forms and styles as if celebrities reinventing themselves.

Like a baby with a teddy bear, Hideo creates a character for Nozomi that is his artificial ideal, rather than trying to interact with other humans, mirroring the hikikomori phenomenon of the recluse in Japanese society. As with the Puppet Master in "Ghost in the Shell", Nozomi is the child of a detached society where humans have rejected basic human interaction.

Written and directed by Japan's foremost director Kore-eda Hirokazu, alongside "After Life" this is one of his oddest films, and unusual in his oeuvre, featuring more explicit scenes than one would expect from him. The look and feel of the film is also different from his other works, feeling more like Shunji Iwai or Jun Ichikawa. And while a distinctly Japanese film, the cinematography comes from Taiwanese Lee Ping-bin, with South Korean leading lady Bae Doona taking on the title role.

Speaking of the aforementioned, the cinematography reflects the artifice of the metropolis as Nozomi wanders the streets of the lesser-known parts of Tokyo, with an evening twilight feel throughout. Bae Doona also gives a believable (if it can be that) performance as a blow-up doll come to life. Her movements are naturally unnatural, and perhaps the casting of a non-Japanese suited the outsider gaze necessary for the role.

Kore-eda takes his unconventional family dramas to a new level with "Air Doll", and perhaps in doing so he has made his worst film. The everyday is what works best for him, and "Air Doll" of course lacks that. But the worst of an excellent bunch isn't too bad, and while lacking reality, there is a realism in Nozomi and the scenario that she finds herself in. The end for Nozomi is one that will always prove the case when dealing with that which is disposable. But perhaps humans are now treated this way too easily.

After Life vs. Departures

To paraphrase Nobu-san, our guide around the Okunoin cemetery at Koya-san: "In Japan, when we are born, we have Shinto rituals. When we die, we have Buddhist rituals. My mum got married in a church: New Caledonia."

Buddhism in Japan is often associated with death. When one dies, the ceremonies that take place will often be Buddhist, but as Donald Richie explores, these could be as much for functional purpose as religious belief. But, obviously of course, no one knows what actually happens when you die. Or do we? It depends whether one is thinking about it from the perspective of the body or the soul. 

Yojiro Takita's Oscar-winning 2008 "Departures" see cellist Daigo's (popular hair model Masahiro Motoki) orchestra disband in Tokyo, leaving him doubtful of his talent and so his future. On a whim, he convinces his wife - with little coercion - into moving back to his small hometown in Yamagata, moving into the cafe his mother left him.

Needing work, he responds to an ad with few details, but nice pay packets, and is immediately hired. It soon turns out that his job will be as an "encoffinfer", performing the Japanese noukan ritual of preparing the body before it is placed into the coffin (and then burnt, of course). Not an easy job, he struggles to cope at first and soon feels society's evil eyes once his new job is learnt: perceived as a dirty man for his handling of dead bodies.

As the film progresses, so does his skill, winning over his doubters, including his wife, and finding what would appear to be a true calling: sending the bodies of the recently deceased on their final journey, coming to terms with some of the opportunities missed in life.

Ten years earlier, Kore-eda Hirokazu released his second feature film: 1998's "After Life" (or perhaps its more appropriate Japanese title "Wandafuru Raifu"). Here, there after life probably isn't quite what you expected. Upon dying, you enter a somewhat New England-esque academic building, taking a ticket as if a doctor's waiting room.

On this "Monday morning", you are assigned a counsellor who will pose you the situation: You have a week to choose the one memory of your life which you will take with you for eternity. This memory is recreated by a somewhat haphazard film crew, starring your good self, and the film is then shown to you in a cinema. Once viewed, you disappear for eternity, locked in that memory.

Somewhat fanciful, the counsellors are all people that were either unable, or refused, to make the choice, and thus stay in a purgatory of administration and archiving, forever reliving Monday morning. A series of interviews are conducted with the various recently deceased, with now long-experienced - but still youthful in look - Takashi (Arata) given the task of counselling the man who married his fiancée after he died. Opening up some old wounds, Takashi spends the week contemplating his own favourite memories and finally makes his choice.

The outlooks of the two films are quite different in their thoughts on death. "After Life" plays little on the sadness of having died. Those that enter are quite chipper, one must say, on learning that they've just kicked the bucket. As the Japanese title suggests, it's very much about celebrating the most precious, and wonderful, memories that we have of our lives. This could perhaps be down to Kore-eda's combination of actors and real-life ordinary folk discussing their favourite memories. Using his documentary skills, this is as much an exploration of memory than a mourning of death.

"Departures", however, is very much aware of the sadness of death. Very reminiscent of Shunji Iwai's "Love Letter" in numerous ways, there are moments of sentimentality, tugging at the heartstrings, as well as plucking on the cello strings. Tears and emotion run throughout; the sadness of the families a key theme. A shot of a young child's body being prepared for their coffin accompanied by their smiling photo, hitting home the sadness in the simplest of ways. Though family tears and timely music perhaps dominate, going for more conventional crowd-(dis)pleasing.

This is absent from "After Life", laying people's memories out before them to celebrate and chew on; more philosophical than sentimental. If death hurts those left behind, "After Life" is the memories of life for the deceased; whereas "Departures" is the final memory for the mourners. 

If we're looking at religion in Japanese death, however, "After Life" perhaps lacks any religion. Death is a bureaucratic process than a passing over. As seen in other films, such as Tim Burton's "Beetlejuice", death is likened to the administrative Hell on Earth of waiting rooms, form-filling and box-ticking.

It's also a strange film in that it's very much of its time, serving as a time capsule, with the provision of lo-fi VHS cassette tapes for "clients" to view moments from their lives to help them in their choice. Surely the after life's administrative team can come up with a less archaic system! The recreations also seem to be more "human" and of the "real world", made to a seemingly small budget and limited time frame, far from Hollywood glitz and glam that many of the dead may have wished to achieve in the film of their life. A theme running throughout Kore-eda's body of work, this is perhaps as much a comment on the modern nature of memory and how we try to recreate it in permanent form rather than live in the moment of emotion. A comment as relevant now as ever.

"Departures" features the religious ceremony of the noukan, placing the body in ritual dress, with accompanying make-up. But with even this dying out with the elderly, it perhaps reflects Richie's doubts as to the true religious nature of these "performances". Making the dead look their best is perhaps purely for aesthetic purposes, giving mourners one last perfect memory.

Daigo's skill is very much in-line with Japanese aesthetics: The almost perfect folding with due care and attention of the deceased clothes, creating an intimate one-on-one with the body. "After Life", with its counsellors getting deep into their clients personal lives and directing them towards their perfect choice: Ones who struggle are probed to search deeper; those who go obvious, are challenged to look more inwards, creating an intimate one-on-one with the soul.

Mono no aware, the Japanese sense of the fleeting nature of beauty and the impermanence of all things is alive in both films. Daigo's hard work and skill is - for want of a better word - in vain; the bodies made beautiful, only to be burnt at cremation soon after. "After Life" forces the choice of the single moment that defines a whole existence (and they only give you a week!). The last memory for the living versus the eternal memory for the dead; and perhaps a more Japanese sense of religion than any organised belief system.

Distance

Before his more mainstream success, kick-started by 2004's "Nobody Knows", Kore-eda Hirokazu was a documentarian who branched out into an interesting brand of cinema with slow pacing, mood lighting and naturalistic acting. His documentary experience had been put to use, with the use of long takes, improvised dialogue and even clips from previously filmed interviews.

Starting with the mournful "Maborosi", followed-up with the inventive and thought-provoking "After Life", 2001's "Distance" is the third in his initial trio of films that are similar in style and unlike his subsequent films that would see him garner more mainstream recognition abroad.

Obviously based on the Aum cult and the Tokyo gas attack of 1995, the "Ark of Truth" cult attack three years previous on water supplies to the city left dozens dead. As an annual remembrance, four relatives of members of the cult meet and visit the lake where they were based, but the reasons for this act are unclear.

Having their transportation mysteriously stolen, they are left stranded out in the forest with no phone signal for help. It is here their party becomes five, as former cult member Sakata (Tadanobu Asano) - though he abandoned them before the attack - also finds his bike stolen and unable to get home.

He takes them to his former living quarters while he was with the cult to spend the night. Here they discuss their family members and Sakata's recollections of them and muse on how things came to be; before going their separate ways in the morning to meet "same time next year."

With the picnic, day out feel, the film is shot largely in a homemade style, with handheld cameras and grainy footage, adding to the sense of mystery and intrigue. These blurred images are contrasted with the more conventionally shot flashbacks that each of the five have as to their family members as they first started to realise they were members of a cult. Though these images' greater clarity do not make the picture any clearer for those left behind.

The interactions between the five are natural for a group that has little in common other than being relatives of cult members. Perhaps reflecting the fact that Kore-eda saw the film evolve and gave the cast members differing direction, forcing improvisation within the long takes, handled well by the cast of Asano, ARATA, Susumu Terajima, Yusuke Iseya and Yui Natsukawa. Indeed, the film is littered with shots of the five positioned together, but looking in various directions or visibly apart; distant from each other, as well as their loved ones. Though as a double-edged sword, the documentary nature of the filming and dialogue may frustrate some viewers, as he favours naturalism over entertainment.

Perhaps intentionally, much like "Maborosi" before it, there is no concluding answer, as the motivations behind such acts will forever be unexplained. Though if "Maborosi", as has been described, is a haiku, then "Distance" would perhaps be better as a novel: An exploration of mindset, but unable to deliver the rounded conclusions required in the cinematic form. Indeed Kore-eda went on to spend much of the time after making "Distance" writing. One almost feels that if you were to combine "Distance" with the interviews of "After Life" you would have something along the lines of Haruki Murakami's "Underground" on the Aum attacks.

Kore-eda offers something of an ending to a story, though it is one with open ends in-line with the rest of the film. Atsushi (ARATA), the supposed brother of one of the cult members with whom Sakata was close, may not be the man he claims. Some beautiful cinematography from Yutaka Yamazaki to close reveal he is perhaps the estranged son of the cult leader, a man to which the others will no doubt hold some contempt. But this only furthers any confusion that may already be present in a film that asks many questions.

Alongside "Hana" and "Air Doll", "Distance" is in the trio of Kore-eda films to gain most criticism, for being a slow and drudging watch with a lack of satisfying conclusion to justify it all. But with the naturalism, air of intrigue and lack of conclusion as an end in itself, "Distance" has strong elements of good filmmaking and it is wrong to call it a bad film, rather one requiring more form to satisfy a wider audience.