Creepy (60th BFI London Film Festival Part III)

The first lesser-known-Kurosawa film I saw was 1997's 'Cure', an interesting psychological thriller about a detective trying to solve a series of murders. It worked well and didn't fall into any traps that can so regularly happen with films such as this, keeping the focus on the psychological aspects rather than becoming too horrific.

I've since seen a number of his films, including 2008's mini-masterpiece 'Tokyo Sonata', gaining him greater international acclaim, particularly on the festival circuit, and as such his films are met with expectation, though perhaps mixed reviews.

'Creepy' is very much a film of two halves. It pains me to say that this is 'Cure' meets the Shia LaBeouf-driven 'Disturbia; largely for two reasons: for one, I've reviewed a film as 'X' meets 'Y'; and secondly the admission that I have seen the Shia LaBeouf-driven toss bag.

The first half is something like the vein of 'Cure': a former homicide detective and expert in criminal psychology takes a role as a lecturer following an attack by one of his suspects. Soon realising - on what appears to be his first day - that the life of an academic isn't quite as fast-paced, he starts to look at an unsolved case, from a purely research perspective, he tells his wife.

It is here he uncovers a mysterious story of a family that disappears, leaving only the daughter behind; a daughter that can't remember nothing. All this is being played alongside the middle-aging Takakura and his wife moving to a new neighbourhood, next to one neighbour that makes it very clear they couldn't give a damn about you; the other, the slightly odd Nishino, played by strange-faced Teruyuki Kagawa.

Gradually, as Takakura suspects, the two stories start to merge, with Nishino all that he seems on the surface in the head department as well. The revelation, however, sees the film take a turn for the worse. Much like LaBeouf's neighbour in 'Disturbia', Nishino's strange, homemade death dungeon, that seems implausibly dank in a typically suburban household, is uncovered, with all the psychological images you'd formed in your mind now shown to you on the screen.

In the second half of the film, Kiyoshi Kurosawa decides against the psychological, focusing more on showing the crimes in facto (Latin), which takes away all the first half might have been building. The more that is shown, the less 'creepy' it becomes. This is a disappointment from a director that has worked to create such good psychological pieces in the past.

The mystery is too easily solved, and the suspense is lost, feeling more like an out-and-out horror, that isn't particularly, well, creepy.

Tokyo Sonata

It was September 2008 that I first went to Japan, mainly Tokyo; eight years ago to this month. This is around the same sort of time that Kiyoshi Kurosawa's 'Tokyo Sonata' was released. Eight years on, my love-affair with Japanese culture, particularly its cinema, still holds strong, but can the same still be said for the film which I first saw in January 2009.

For me, a real test of any piece of art is: in ten years time will you still be watching/listening/reading/however you choose to consume it? While not quite a decade, I have recently re-watched 'Tokyo Sonata', a film I have now watched a number of times. While it is quite simple in its premise, and possibly in its conclusions also, it is a film that I always find more to appreciate with each viewing.

Around the time of the global 'credit crunch', salaryman Sasaki finds his department being outsourced to China as part of a cost-saving measure. Unable to find any other skill he can offer the company, he is left middle-aged and unemployed, but too proud to reveal his new status to his wife and family. He, therefore, spends his days queuing for free meals, at job agencies and finding ways to pass the time in his suit with briefcase to complete the facade of 9-5 mundanity to his wife.

But he is not the only member of the family keeping secrets: Wife Megumi takes secret driving lessons to attain her license; eldest son Takashi wants to join the US foreign volunteer army; and youngest son Kenji uses his lunch money to fund after school piano lessons. While portraying a perfectly ordinary family unit, the four lack basic communication and any real knowledge of each other's lives.

For a film with Tokyo in the title, this isn't perhaps specific to Japan's capital itself in terms of the modern problems faced. Referencing the global financial crisis of the last decade and war in the Middle East were problems for every country, and so nothing unique to Japan. What does make it Tokyoite though is its use of shots of some of the less obvious parts of Tokyo, focusing on the more mundane and ordinary parts of the metropolis, a far cry from the typical shots foreign-made films will use to portray Tokyo.

Filming much of the piece in more gloomy twilight also adds to this sense of the ordinary, but also the changing of state in the lives of the main characters, as they take a turn for the worse, reminiscent of Kore-eda Hirokazu's 'Maborosi'. While in parts clunky in how they get there, the father, mother and youngest son all find themselves hitting low points: waking in a gutter, an abandoned beach hut and prison cell respectively, as the most ordinary of families finds itself quickly dysfunctional from their own lack of communication.

Kurosawa is perhaps known more for horror, suspense and mystery than Ozu-esque family structures, but here combining the use of twilight with the film's soundtrack create a haunting image of Tokyo, different from most, showing the city in a different light.

While nothing distinctively groundbreaking in terms of moral message, warning of the dangers of modern isolation and its affect of traditional family structures, it is still a message that holds relevant today, despite its distinctively Naughties setting.

While not perfect, there are some brilliant scenes, notably the revelation of Kenji's piano lessons resulting in a trip to A+E and the film's conclusion where, for once, the family listen to each other. While fairly run-of-the-mill in conclusion, the blank-faced audience left watching them is less so, in anticipation of what is to come.

Right Now, Wrong Then (BFI 59th London Film Festival)

Hong Sang-soo's 'Hill of Freedom' was my pick of last year's London Film Festival, as a short comedy about a Japanese man arriving in Seoul, searching for his loved one. Another year and another fish-out-of-water love story comes from Hong for 2015, in what has become quite a familiar pattern of drunken tales of love over alcohol.

To start, you may be confused that you got the film title wrong. The screen fills with 'Right Then, Wrong Now' as director Ham is stuck with little to do in a Suwon, visiting to introduce his film at the local film festival. Spying an attractive, young lady, he starts small talk with her, discovering she's an artist. Moving the conversation about banana milk along, the share a coffee before moving to her studio, out for sushi, ending at her friend's cafe for some further late night beverages. The story comes to an end half-way through, only for the screen to now fill with the film's actual title, 'Right Now, Wrong Then', and the story is played out all over again.

Now, I've never see 'Sliding Doors', and I've never thought about how different my life would be if I had seen it, much like the character's experience resulting from a missed Tube - largely because I know my life would be much the same had I seen 'Sliding Doors', apart from now writing this sentence. But that's sort of how this film pans out: how different would things have been if you'd taken a different approach. It's probably better, therefore, to compare it more to Kiyoshi Kurosawa's 'Serpent's Path/Eyes of the Spider'.

Here, Hong takes the same basic premise, the same characters, but takes a different direction, creating two stories out of one. The first half, 'Right Then...' shows the couple hit it off early doors, with romance developing between the two as the day goes on and the alcohol drowns. However, revelations when introducing her famous new 'friend' Ham to her group of friends make Hee-jeong suddenly feel cheated, with the evening coming to an abrupt end. The second part, 'Right Now...' sees a slow start between the couple, with honest and open comments coming from Ham about his wife and children and critique of her artwork. That out of the way, she has no expectations of him, though gradually she warms to him, with strong feelings developing by the end.

This, therefore, is the same film played out twice, arriving at a different conclusion. Some might say that this film is like Hong's whole career, with a slightly older male (a teacher, a director, etc.) falling for a slightly younger female (a student, novice artist, etc.), played out with a quirky gimmick and lots of long discussions over alcohol throughout, leading to many inebriated revelations. Indeed, you could say that 'Right Now, Wrong Then' has no gimmick, as all Hong's films are similar anyway - making the same characters and scenario simply more of the same, it's just this time he's been more obvious about it.

There is some truth in this, though this is probably something that could be pointed at most directors. While his films are of a similar theme, each has its own charm and level of enjoyment. Whether it's 'Hahaha's' still photos or 'Hill of Freedom's' lack of chronological letters, he adds a little post-modern twist of originality to each of his films, and serve as an example of how a different approach can create a different film.

There's more morality to 'Right Now, Wrong Then', with the humour more subtle than the broken English of 'Hill of Freedom'. In the first half, Ham isn't fully honest with Hee-jeong, or indeed himself, and the relationship develops, only for it to be abruptly ended on a hint of truth being revealed. The second half sees him more open from the start with Hee-jeong, and by the end, she is sad to see him leave, left with only the whimsy of what might have been (awwwwww), and a much happier conclusion for both.

With his style of film-making, with lots of dialogue over long takes, the actors need to have a good rapport and sense of believability within them, and here Jeong Jay-yeong and Kim Min-hee deliver enough of this. The first half sees them carefree and in good humour, while in the second they're more sombre and cold.

The similar scenario of both makes this obviously a little repetitive, and slightly over-long, compared to the shorter and snappier 'Hill of Freedom'. But with this, Hong has created a strong addition to his distinctive brand of cinema, getting it right in the end.

But, taking the moral high ground or not, either way Ham sleeps alone...

Back to the Future: Japanese Cinema Since the Mid-90s

Once again, the Japan Foundation puts on its annual programme and I get all excited in certain parts of my anatomy. Themed, as they always are, this year’s programme focuses on the resurgence of Japanese cinema from the mid-90s, looking at some lesser-known works by some of the biggest directors currently working in Japan.


Offering the chance to see some films that would normally not be released in the UK, I thought I’d make the conscious effort to see as many as possible this year, rather than the usual one or two I typically make it to.


Cure

A series of people are found dead, an ‘X’ carved into their chests, killed at the hands of perfectly normal and calm individuals whom freely admit their part in the crime. The investigating detective uncovers the connection to these murders: a former student, now suffering from amnesia that has a talent for disturbing those with whom he comes into contact with his series of questions about the life they lead.


Coming two years after the release of Se7en, it’s easy to draw comparisons between Kiyoshi Kurasawa’s protagonist and Kevin Spacey’s master plan, with a similar narrative throughout. But that’s not to say Cure is a simple rip-off; the amnesiac’s motivations much different, with no grand conclusion as in Se7en.


A major film in the lesser-known Kurosawa’s career, Cure has a tense and psychological feel throughout, exploring the life of the detective more than the man he chases. With the dirty and grimy look that I like in many Japanese films of the 90s, moving along nicely, planting seeds in the mind of the viewer...though maybe not murderous ones.


The Bird People of China

A few days before going to see this, I watched Dead or Alive; incorporating more into the opening six minutes than the entire archive of Hollyoaks episodes. Much like many of Takashi Miike’s films it’s insane, violent and covered in blood. So The Bird People of China is a surprising piece to come from one of the most known Japanese directors in the West.


A Japanese businessman is sent to rural China to investigate a jade discovery near a small village, followed by a yakuza, keen for the businessman’s company to pay their debts for their dodgy dealings. So far, so Miike. But on arrival in the village, the pair unearth more than jade, finding – in true cinema style – greater treasures that money can’t buy.


The Bird People of China is a good example of exactly what the Japan Foundation were trying to achieve: showing a more unusual work by a big name, that you would normally miss when looking through his oeuvre. Takashi Miike is shown as more than just a gore king, showing the ability to craft an interesting story of personal discovery. Not the best film from his extensive career, but The Bird People of China is certainly a good selection to include, giving the opportunity to see a film easily missed in the UK.


Josee, the Tiger and the Fish

Now here’s a rarity: what would be classified as a more mainstream Japanese film being shown in the UK. Focusing on the love life of a dashing, young student, Isshin Inudo’s work is a relatively standard piece, journeying through ups and downs and various life lessons along the way. But thankfully, the Japanese mainstream isn’t Hollywood, and so ‘She’s All That’ this ain’t.


Student and part-time mah-jong croupier, Tsuneo, is clearly the type that likes to have his way with the odd young lady or two. But on bumping – literally – into an old lady and her disabled granddaughter, Kumiko, he soon finds his life changed as gradually he falls for the moody, but intriguing girl, breaking many a heart along the way.


With a good sense of humour, likeable enough characters and a number of little cameos (YosiYosi Arakawa, woo hoo), Josee, the Tiger and the Fish is a film that doesn’t take itself too seriously, and should be enjoyed as such. The less-than-fairytale ending gives it a good edge, making it a little more rewarding than any old mainstream love affair.


Linda, Linda, Linda

Silly...juvenile...overambitious...but that’s enough about the Tory government. Linda, Linda, Linda is the tale of a group of high school girls looking to play a gig at their school festival and the obstacles that they have to overcome before getting there. To start, they need to find a vocalist after some broken bones and bitchiness force some reshuffling in the line-up. Secondly, the vocalist they do find is Korean and not too sharp on speaking Nihon-go, let alone singing in the language. Thirdly, there is a bit of a lack of talent all round, requiring practice, practice, practice. Left exhausted, the four girls nearly miss their performance, but in true Hollywood fashion make the gig and give the performance of a high school lifetime.


Hopelessly predictable, Linda, Linda, Linda isn’t exactly a complicated or life-changing story, but it doesn’t ever try to be. Focusing more on humour and the music, Nobuhiro Yamashita’s film is a light-hearted comedy about high school life, made by both Bae Doo Na‘s (though unfortunately not getting her baps out) performance as the hapless and often confused Korean, Son; and the catchy title track by The Blue Hearts. The slightly sentimental and predictable ending but don’t spoil the enjoyment too much, and you’ll happily find yourself looking-up Linda, Linda on YouTube.


Go

It’s fair to say the modern world is a diverse and varied place. Isao Yukisada uses various different techniques and styles throughout Go, a story about a Japanese-born North Korean, struggling to come to terms with his own identity. Giving up the authoritarian life of his North Korean school, switches to a Japanese school, finding just as many troubles in the modern, capitalist world.


While not always engaging, the changing of styles and momentum throughout the film keep the viewer’s attention span from ever waning, mixing violence, comedy, love and drama. Yosuke Kubozuka, with his ever-changing haircuts, gives a good performance in the lead role as a man struggling to find his place in this crazy, modern world.


Sawako Decides

When the opening scene is a shot of a woman getting colonic irrigation, one can only hope that the next 112 minutes aren’t just having shit pumped in your general direction. While there is some spreading of human sewage, to say that Sawako Decides is all shit would be harsh.


Charting the distinctly average life of indecisive and alcoholic Sawako as she quits her Tokyo life to take over her sick father’s business, this is a typical Japanese comedy: with unusual characters, each with their own quirks, and situations that leave the viewer – as well as the cast – dumbfounded. Fitting into the same mould of recent works such as Turtles are Surprisingly Fast Swimmers, Fine, Totally Fine and Instant Swamp, the film is rarely serious, breaking up any danger of sombre moments with instant stupidity.


A nice way to end the festival with idiotic fun, relatively new director Yuya Ishii represents the future of Japanese cinema and a continuation of Japan’s recent wave of unique comedies.


Six of the seven film s seen, I have to say they were all pretty good and if you’re unfortunate enough to live in Belfast, Edinburgh, Bristol, Sheffield or Nottingham, maybe you should check it out.


The one film I didn’t get round to seeing was One Million Yen Girl, as I realised that this equates to little more than just over five grand...