The Japan Foundation Touring Film Programme 2019: Dear Etranger (2017)

Often when a film explores the underlying rage of an middle-class, middle-aged, middle-management type, it will explode in a terrible act from which there is no turning back. Yukiko Mishima's "Dear Etranger", however, chooses not to go for the sensational, and is an exploration in how it's easier to simply lose it rather than stick to the straight and narrow.

Makoto (Tadanobu Asano) is a man struggling between two families. Divorced and re-married, he struggles to balance keeping contact with his daughter from his first marriage, Saori (Raiju Kamata), and treating his two stepdaughters, Kaoru (Sara Minami) and Eriko (Miu Arai) as if they're his own.

Playing the good husband and father, he doesn't stay after work to drink with colleagues, takes all of his annual leave and tries as much as possible to include his two new daughters in his life. However, his good intentions at home see him first for the chop when his company restructures, leaving him relegated to working in a warehouse.

At home, while Eriko plays along with the scenario, the elder Kaoru is less happy to play along at happy families, wanting to see her real father, the way he meets with Saori. Adding a further difficulty to his situation, his new wife, Nanae (Rena Tanaka) announces she is pregnant, leaving Makoto wanting to cut his losses and move on.

However, when looking at two other fathers: Kaoru and Eriko's real father, Sawada (Kankuro Kudo); and Saori's stepfather see him stick to being a father to all four of his children, the tension released and returning to normal.

Throughout the first half, Mishima keeps a kick drum soundtrack playing, signifying the tension building under the surface for Makoto. Despite all the negative points coming to his life, he keeps going with a stoic attitude. But the repetition and constant grief he receives from Kaoru, along with the news of the pregnancy, cause this tension to rise to the surface. Kaoru's words both push him over the edge and bring him back from the brink when she compares him to her real father.

Makoto's anger comes out in realistic and unspectacular bursts. Rather than simply lashing out, his nature is more passive aggressive, carrying out Kaoru's request in anger. Asano's performance and Mishima's direction create a believable response to the situation and feels a truthful reflection of family tensions. Though the spiteful nature of Kaoru might seem a little strong for some, but she is a girl struggling to accept the situation.

No one character is portrayed as a hero, however, or indeed a monster. Sawada may be shown to have been a terrible father in flashbacks, but on meeting him today, he is very aware of how he is when it comes to children and his thoughts on parenthood; a life he simply doesn't wish to have. Makoto also is guilty of unconscious bad habits, pointed out to him ex-wife Yuka (Shinobu Terajima). Her words clearly sit with him in his better understanding of Kaoru, becoming a guiding father to her, rather than simply forcing her to call him "Dad." All can learn something from one another.

Mishima paces the film well, switching between the present day and flashbacks of key moments in the previous marriages. In a career that hadn't quite hit the heights until now, "Dear Etranger" is a mature film, and shows that there is potential for Mishima to develop into a consistently strong director. Asano's performance also shows his versatility; an older man now, giving an equally mature performance as a man trying to keep his tensions under control, and not always succeeding. Both create a realistic character and show that it's more difficult to keep your cool and keep going than to let it all out in a violent outburst.

The Japan Foundation Touring Film Programme 2019: Her Love Boils Bathwater (2016)

I love Japanese cinema. There, I've said it. Putting "love" in this year's theme for the Japan Foundation's TouringFilm Programme ("People Still Call it Love: Passion, Affection andDestruction in Japanese Cinema") should have been a sure-fire hit for me then. Sadly, my love for other things as well meant I only committed to watching two films of this year's selection.

As the title suggests, love in Japanese cinema is very much a double-edged sword, having seen many a life destroyed by it on the screen over the years. As such, I imagine we can expect many a moment of over-acting, pain and struggle...

So, from one of two, "Her Love Boils Bathwater"...

It's funny how some coincidences happen. Just before going to watch Ryota Nakano's "Her Love Boils Bathwater" I read Mark Schilling's review of Seijiro Koyama's "Sakura" from his book "Contemporary Japanese Film". To start, he quote Donald Richie with whom he watched the film: "Now that was a Japanese movie." This is a statement that could be lodged firmly at the start of any review for Nakano's film.

So I went there. Featuring a cast of people you have definitely seen in other films, this is a classic Japanese movie of a constant barrage of turmoil heaved our heroine's way, forcing her to dig deep to overcome adversity, with a big dollop of "we can succeed if we all pull together" spirit.

Futaba (Rie Miyazawa) is a single mother to her sole daughter Azumi (Hana Sugisaki). Living at their now defunct public bathhouse - the owner, her husband, having "disappeared like steam" - she works in a bakery while Azumi struggles with bullying at school. On learning she has terminal pancreatic cancer, she feels it's time to re-ignite an old flame.

Having located her husband Kazuhiro (man of hair Joe Odagiri), via a Japanese staple PI (Taro Suruga), she drags him, and his illegitimate daughter Ayuko (Aoi Ito), back to the bathhouse to open its doors once more. As Futaba's illness worsens, so do Azumi's school troubles, but tears provoke strength in her daughter to overcome the bullies and take on her share of responsibility for the bathhouse.

Planning one final road trip with the girls to see Mount Fuji, Futaba has one final revelation for Azumi: she is not her real mother. It is following this that Futaba's health takes a turn for the worse, seeing out her final days in a hospital bed while her family keep the bathhouse waters running.

In the world of "Her Love Boils Bathwater", the turmoil that needs to be overcome seems to be that of abandoning mothers: Ayuko has been abandoned by her mother, left with her loafing buffoon of a father; PI Takimoto is always accompanied by his young daughter after his wife died in childbirth; and as we discover, Azumi is not Futaba's daughter, but the child of the deaf-mute ex-wife of Kazuhiro.

All of these young women find a surrogate mother-figure in Futaba, showing her strength of character to help raise and comfort them, despite, as we learn, having been abandoned by her own mother when a young child. All this doesn't exactly paint a great image of mothers, but also makes Miyazawa and her relationships with her fellow cast members the strength of the film.

Nakano tried to build close relationships between the cast during shooting, creating an almost temporary family among them. And this works. The young "daughters" respond well to Futaba when she's at both her most strict and caring, and grow as Futaba declines. This is a far cry from Odagiri's performance as the seemingly apathetic Kazuhiro. He seems to perpetually play the role of an eighteen year-old boyfriend responding to his girlfriend's calls to meet her parents, while smoking a cigarette, but he does this with an effortless cool; the perfect foil to Futaba's strength.

But while the acting and character relations are strong, the Japanese movie Richie was referring to perhaps sends this film into overkill territory. Adversity is slapped around our faces like a wet fish, with tears thrown straight into our eyes by the bucket-load. This somewhat detracts from the power of Futaba's struggle, with certain elements that could have been removed. Poignancy can come a little more subtly.

When I watched Akio Kondo's"Eclair" I was perhaps somewhat naive in my conclusions. While indentifying the over-sentimentality on display, I should have perhaps been more aware of the staple diet of Japanese commercial cinema and its need to tick boxes. You simply must have someone give someone a bike ride. The "all pulling together" spirit of the film's conclusion is as cheesy as it is sickly sweet.

Put forward as Japan's 2017 Oscar submission, this is a film that certainly represents Japanese film. The fact that it wasn't put forward for nomination, however, reflects its overall quality.

Japan Foundation Touring Film Programme 2018 Part IV: The Joy of Man's Desiring

There seems to be an increasing need among filmmakers to document a factual event on screen, trying to find the balance between not coming "too soon", but within enough of a time frame to ensure that it hasn't left the general public's consciousness, and thus unmarketable.

Having lived through the Great Hanshin Earthquake of 1995 in Kobe; and obviously in reaction to the Tohoku Earthquake and resulting tsunami three years previous, Masakazu Sugita's 2014 "The Joy of Man's Desiring" focuses on the destruction of one family following an unspecified earthquake.

Her house destroyed, twelve year-old Haruna struggles through the rubble to find her family. But her parents are dead and we are quickly moved to their funeral. Her injured pre-school younger brother, Shota, does not yet know of his parents' fate as he recovers in hospital. Now without their parents, arguments start among relatives as to who shall take them in, resulting in their aunt and uncle inviting them to live with them.

Starting a new life, Haruna strives to fit-in at her new school, while Shota blissfully goes about his carefree days, before gradually starting to wonder as to the whereabouts of his parents. Causing difficulties in their new family home between their aunt, uncle and cousin, the siblings runaway; their survival seemingly more a burden for others than a blessing.

Tackling a sensitive subject matter such as this requires a certain amount of tact from the filmmaker. Sugita's tactic is to take a child's perspective on events: a position that could make things even harder. The irresistibly cute Shota creates nothing but kawaii feelings for the audience, but also acts as the perfect foil for the horribly tragic events that know no sympathy. His ignorance to his situation, only heighten the inevitable heartbreak to be felt at some point in a film such as this.

But Sugita avoids too much over-sentimentality. Initially, none of their relatives seem keen to take them in, and those that do feel the strain of their being there. Their cousin, Katsutoshi, soon resents his kin: Shota inheriting his clothes; and more painfully for Haruna, her aunt sees her as the daughter she always wanted - it just took the death of her parents for her to get it.  

With their emotionally-absent uncle, over-doting aunt and resentful cousin, the pair are made to feel a burden, soon finding rejection and treated as someone else's problem. No doubt a comment from Sugita as to some reactions to those whose lives were destroyed in the aforementioned natural disasters. 

The deception of her younger brother taking its toll on Haruna - Shota waiting each day by the port for his parents to arrive by boat - the ending sees the pair runaway seemingly to find "home". This creates an awkward moment for the audience, as a twelve year-old girl breaks down in tears, though there is no other way it could be. Things are then left ambiguous as to what is next for the siblings, on both a metaphorical and literal open road.

A debut feature for Sugita, there are some bumpy moments along the way, but overall the filmmaking is strong. Long takes of slow movement allow pauses for audience reflection and the at-times-harsh soundtrack accompanying shots of Haruna feel reminiscent of the much more bumpy "Himizu", but effectively demonstrate her inner turmoil of fake smiles on the surface, hide an eruption of tears.

And remember, if you live in one of these following cities: Belfast, Birmingham, Bristol, Chester, Colchester, Derby, Dundee, Edinburgh, Exeter, Inverness, Kendal, Leicester, Lewes, Manchester, Nottingham, Sheffield or Stirling, sort your life out! Or, go and watch some of the films offered by the Japan Foundation Touring Film Programme 2018.

Japan Foundation Touring Film Programme 2018 Part III: Mumon: The Land of Stealth

I must say, I was a little apprehensive going into this one, what with such ridiculously high ratings on IMDB. And that scepticism proved justified in a film that is perhaps more a vehicle for idol Satoshi Ohno. Having never lived in Japan, but spent some time there, I can confirm that it will not take too long channel-surfing to find this boy's face on the idiot's lantern.

If I had to summarise "Mumon" in one word, it would be "silly." But the plot is rather complex, sort of. The land of Iga is surrounded by lands controlled by Nobunaga clan. As such, the twelve elder statesmen of Iga decide to put their in-fighting to one side in order to fight off the advances of invading forces. Though numerous deceptions along the way cause the Nobunaga clan to proceed with caution.

Offering the land to them, the ninjas of Iga build a castle for Nobunaga in order to earn good wages from the outsiders for the work. But once finished, they soon destroy the castle, prompting Nobunaga to take the land by force. But with no offer of payment for defending the land, the ninjas of Iga choose to flee, leaving Iga there for the taking.

But, persuaded by his strict wife, Mumon (Ohno), Iga's strongest ninja, shows that the people of Iga are not simply money-grabbing mercenaries, but slightly decent people. This leads to a series of dramatic, highly choreographed, cheaply-CGIed and down-right silly fight scenes with inevitable conclusions.

There are some things that "Mumon: The Land of Stealth" does well, but there are also many bad points. To start, the silliness is comical, but not always in the intended way. As such, it becomes a film that it is a little too difficult to take seriously. This sees some poor CGI in place for over-the-top moves and give the impression of a film that is just badly made, which in parts can be true. The ridiculous close-ups of Ohno while in battle are comic, but clearly idol work at its most blatant.

The serious messages that conclude of endless double-crossings, showing a peoples fuelled only by greed and selfish ends that will happily see their own children die, as such lose some of their impact when placed alongside the silliness. The strength of "Mumon" is in its depiction of a differing view of the ninja: a clan of soulless creatures that will only lift a finger if money is involved, lazy, conniving and deceitful - logical for those made famous for sneaking-up behind others and attacking them.

The fight scenes switch from the entertaining to the sketchy to the ludicrous, leaving the audience a little unsure as to which frame of mind to be in throughout. Somewhat disappointing from Yoshihiro Nakamura, director of "Fish Story".

When it works, "Mumon" is okay; when it's bad, it just looks a bit cheap and silly, and like the ninja themselves, perhaps not deserving of such a favourable reputation.

Japan Foundation Touring Film Programme 2018 Part II: Room for Let

Comedy films are always a tricky thing to get right. Over an extended time period, a little more substance is required than a simple stream of jokes that gradually becomes tiresome. Indeed, it is often non-comedy films that end up funnier than most comedies, using more subtle jokes, with the comedy as a side, rather than the main draw.

"Room for Let" is a comedy that treads the balance between constant humour and enough of a story to keep the whole thing held together, immediately throwing us into a world of eccentric characters. Straightaway, we are introduced to the whole cast in somewhat compromising situations through the gaze of Yumiko, who has come to visit Goro, a known "fixer" and jack-of-all-trades whom she is seeking for help to promote her new pottery exhibition. There being a room to let at this quirky little enclave on the outskirts of Osaka, for some unknown reason Yumiko chooses to occupy the vacancy and place herself in this mad world.

The more time we spend in this world, the more we see that Goro is a man who simply can't say "no" to the endless list of requests thrown his way, helping others at the hindrance of his own life. Eto is a hapless student with a seemingly endless stream of cash constantly popping by to ask Goro to sit another exam for him due to the fact they are of the same height. While others come to him to help forge deals, take deliveries, collect rent and have sex with their vivacious wife.

Yumiko's reason for moving in gradually becomes clear: her feelings for the ever-diligent Goro. But with his constant helping of others, he seems afraid of acting on his own feelings, leaving the obviously willing Yumiko to lie alone. Tired of the endless examinations and lengths he has to go for to help Eto, he chooses to run away to Beppu and help at a friend's parents' onsen, leaving it up to Yumiko to bring him back, before a somewhat abrupt ending as the chase is on.

Made in 1959, after the "golden age" of Japanese cinema, but before the approaching new wave, "Room for Let" is somewhat risqué for its era, with a lot of jokes about undergarments, quick slapstick and the closing scene of a man urinating openly into the Osaka skyline. Indeed, many jokes, such as Goro's accidentally leaning on his organ creating a false dramatic effect and the bar scene in which the pair in conversation continually move around the set to avoid eavesdroppers, have been seen repeatedly since and are comedy classics.

However, with many comedies of the era, as well as others, it has tendencies to descend into farce, with over-acting that hinders scenes and the film as a whole. Luckily, this doesn't happen too often, with enough of a serious edge to keep it on track.

Now, I have to admit, I'm not a man who watches many old films, like "Back to the Future" or "The Goonies" (hilarious!), but Yuzo Kawashima's "Room for Let" is a film that - 1950s BOARD-y humour aside - has enough to entertain a modern audience...Mainly as we spend much of our time in the Twenty-First Century pissing into the wind.

Japan Foundation Touring Film Programme 2018 Part I: Gukoroku - Traces of Sin

"What A, B, C and D say to members of their group is quite different from what they say to outsiders. Japanese find it very easy to make this kind of shift. In trying to get along with the person in front of them, they will say what that person wants to hear, even though they may say something entirely different to someone else. Outsiders can't help thinking that, because Japanese change their story depending on whom they are speaking with, they are liars."

- Juzo Itami speaking to Mark Schilling, 1997

Sometimes, the theme of the annual Japan Foundation Touring Film Programme (JFTFP (JFTFP!)) feels a little spurious. But this year's theme, (Un)true Colours: Secrets and Lies in Japanese Cinema, seems to be one that works, at least if you're Juzo Itami.

A theme such as this could come with countless examples of cinematic works, so the selection process must have been difficult to avoid selecting the obvious; keeping the programme varied and novel enough for a UK audience.

Having already seen "After School" and "The LongExcuse" - the latter a film that shows how one's hair will get worse the more you hide your grief - I chose a selection of this year's films that I was able to schedule in, what with many social activities coming up (larks!). Starting with Gukoroku - Traces of Sin, with screenwriter man Kosuke Mukai the man in attendance.

As ever, the JFTFP (JFTFP!) is starting off at the ICA in London, but remember, if you live in one of the following: Belfast, Birmingham, Bristol, Chester, Colchester, Derby, Dundee, Edinburgh, Exeter, Inverness, Kendal, Leicester, Lewes (Lewes?!), Manchester, Nottingham, Sheffield or Stirling, I feel sorry for you...

Gukoroku - Traces of Sin

Tanaka (Satoshi Tsumabuki) is a journalist, somewhat docile, but keen to re-open an old wound of a near-year-old murder case of a young family butchered in their home. With his sister, Mitsuko (Hikari Mitsushima), recently arrested for child-neglect - her three year-old daughter found malnourished - Tanaka's boss allows him to pursue his personal interest in the story to take his mind off his own personal problems. Though Tanaka's problems are even greater than his persona lets on.

After the scenario is established, the film splits into two separate story arks: Arranging meetings with people connected to the murdered couple, Tanaka conducts a series of interviews with various former university friends and acquaintances; while Mitsuko has numerous sessions with a psychiatrist to establish her mental state.

Adapted from Tokuro Nukui's novel of the same name (which I, of course, haven't read), "Gukoroku" originally used Akutagawa-style "In A Grove" confessionals from each of those interviewed, with director Kei Ishikawa and Mukai choosing to add in a lawyer who accompanies Tanaka and the psychiatrist character to give the testimonies more of a rounded story fitting for a film.

The film, therefore, has a lot going on, with the various monologues of the individuals acted out, each recalling different past memories. This leaves a lot of characters and scenarios, with stories within stories, creating quite a complex narrative for the audience to follow, particularly with two separate story arcs that gradually merge together. What starts as a murder mystery, gradually becomes a tale of Tanaka and Mitsuko's troubled upbringing, as well as an [**SPOILER ALERT**] incest sideline.

It's fair to say "Gukoroku" is a bleak film. None of the confessions look back on the past with fondness, but more recollections of individuals that caused them troubles earlier in their lives. Adultery, social deceptions, peer pressure, failed relations and, you heard, incest all feature. The tricky subject matter is handled fairly well, though perhaps not offering any revelations that haven't come before. Though in terms of fitting the Japan Foundation's central theme of deception, this is a banker, with cover-ups, and constant deceptions to gain a better social standing for oneself.

The cinematography from Polish Piotr Niemyjski is solid throughout, with Mitsuko's struggles in prison effectively showing her inner-torment. The soundtrack is also strong in what is a solid film without ever getting too close to "excellent" territory. It is interesting to see the Office Kitano ident before a film again...

Odd Obsessions - Desires, Hopes and Impulses in Japanese Cinema

This year, the Japan Foundation, London want us to look at what drives us to action and the different factors that lead to life's choices. The 2017Touring Film Programme, therefore, offers a challenging collection of films that will dare audiences to put themselves in the shoes of the protagonists and understand why the Hell they are doing all this crazy nonsense.

Of the fourteen films offered, I, for the first time in a while, gave myself the opportunity to watch the films I most wanted to see - throwing caution to the wind in the face of work and family responsibilities. Of the four films I saw most are, at times, difficult viewing, but their intense nature put you 'in the moment', making them more experienced than simply watched, particularly one, anyway.

So, shall we take a look?

Destruction babies

Good ol' Third Window Films have been tagging this new release from Tetuya Mariko as 'The most extreme 108 minutes in Japanese cinema history.' Not 97 minutes, or even 124 minutes. Specifically 108. Now, lines like this will typically only ever lead to disappointment. But, trusting Adam Torel at Third Window's cinematic filter, I went into this one with anticipation, but a slight air of trepidation.

We open with a scathing guitar over shots of a sleepy harbour, where Shota spies his brother, Taira (played by the now more grown up Yuya Yagira), being beaten up by a gang of local thugs. Chased off by Taira's boss, he dusts himself off and chases off into the distance, to escape his everyday life and court death.

The next sixty (not quite 108) minutes or so are a beat 'em up style journey as Taira makes his way into town, picking a fight with literally any male he comes into contact with. He provokes, encourages and goads any would-be opponents to hit him, taking some beatings, but always coming back for more. Without a thought in his mind, like a rabid dog, he only wants to fight.

His rage of destruction leaves a trail and soon gains him attention, picking up the cowardly Yuya along the way, an irritating accomplice that films his actions; a youth desensitised to morality, taking satisfaction only in what he can share on social media, eventually building up the meagre courage to hit those weaker than him; while Taira hits out at anybody in his path.

This is quite uncomfortable viewing. The fights are often filmed in single takes, with actors tiring, turning fights into grapples, rather than the cinematic endless fist fights often portrayed in movies. The impact of blows is felt through the screen, without dramatic sound effects in accompaniment, leaving their severity to speak for themselves. The first two-thirds are simply violence without any real purpose, other than the understanding that Taira has lost all sense of meaning for the world. In parts, this is delivering on its extreme promises.

However, with films of this nature, an endless stream of violence will only end up becoming boring for the audience. Once seen long enough, you too will become desensitised to the violence. This is perhaps where 'Destruction Babies' starts to lose its way, if Taira already hadn't. Fleeing the town with the kidnapped Nana, they lack a clear direction, as does the film momentarily, sitting in wait until Nana's fury is unleashed at her situation resulting in murder. A brief return to senseless violence draws the trio's screen presence to a close.

We then switch back to Shota, where we started, searching for his fugitive brother to no avail. It is in Taira's opposite, his more sensitive younger brother, that we find a sense of meaning in all this violence. His earnest search for his brother fruitless, he is left abandoned by friends and family, the result of violent self-interest.

Just before the film's conclusion, we see the traditional portable shrine race, with two competing groups vying for superiority. A raucous and violent affair, we see all men pushing and fighting each other for position. The event is eluded to throughout the film, indicating violence is all around us, celebrated and nothing new, and these 'destruction babies' are a product of a long line of history and cultural norms. Though this violence now takes new forms: Yuya's cowardly ways of attacking those weaker than him, filming the deeds for prosperity, and social media sharing, perhaps the most destructive of a youth seeking faster and more immediate extremes.

Taira's re-emergence in the final shot states that violence is here to stay, with the path to destruction for humanity only to continue.

Kabukicho Love Hotel

'Kabukicho Love Hotel' is another example of how English titles are often designed to draw in Western audiences. 'Sayonara Kabukicho', the original title, is much more befitting, though that wouldn't suggest sex scenes to the ignorant among us.

Young Toru is supposedly an ordinary young man trying to make his way in the world, with plans to marry his musician girlfriend. It just so happens he manages a love hotel in Kabukicho, Shinjuku's slightly seedier part of town. Pulling an extended shift, we follow a day in the life of the hotel, with focus on a select few that tread its dirty carpets, all seeking an escape route.

Cleaner, Suzuki has just two days to wait before the case dangling over her fugitive lover will be closed, allowing them to come out of hiding. 'Delivery girl' Hena hopes to return to Korea to open a boutique having now saved enough money. And young Toru, with aspirations of fronting a top hotel, spends the day discovering his younger sister is a porn star and that his girlfriend is taking less moral routes to the top. None are there by design, nobody is, and it is now time to break free.

This is not a film about sordid sex, therefore, but more about escape, as the Japanese title would suggest. Though Ryuichi Hiroki's early days as a pinku eiga director are put to use, with a couple of rather graphic fruit 'n' veg fondling scenes accompanying some more tame efforts, in the overarching storyline. These scenes are perhaps not necessary, as we all know what goes on behind these closed doors, though thankfully they don't detract from the film's narrative flow.

The character's are written to know that their situation isn't a great one, all aware that their place of occupation is below society's moral standards. This self-awareness creates sympathy with the characters that fate has led them here, with the film acknowledging that everyone has their reasons for ending up in a place like this, and they probably don't need to be spoken about.

This film, and indeed the Japanese title, are perhaps in response to the 2013 awarding of Tokyo as host city for the 2020 Olympics. Much as London soought to bulldoze most of Stratford and ensure that the Tube actually worked for once for 2012, Tokyo intends to paint a good international image for itself. Therefore, Kabukicho, sitting in the heart of Tokyo's Shinjuku hub, will be taken to the cleaners; the area ridden of all the seedy activities and establishments.

By the film's conclusion, escape from the district brings with it a sense of relief and looking to the future. Whether the same will be said for the city at large, is another matter. 

The Mohican Comes Home

'The Mohican Comes Home' follows a similar fish-out-of-water theme as Shuichi Okita's earlier films, 'The Woodsman and the Rain' and 'The Story of Yonosuke'. But, slightly unusually, this time around it is returning home that sees the protagonist seem out of place, to start with at least.

Eikichi is somewhat distant from his own life. The front man for a death metal band, he seems to let life pass him by with a rather casual, absent-minded stare on his face. His band is struggling financially, his girlfriend whom he plans to wed is pregnant, but these don't particularly seem to be key things on his mind. When he returns home with Yuka to visit his family home in a sleepy, seaside town, therefore, announcing his current life stage seems like nothing to him, but, of course, is much more to his parents. However, his aging father is suffering; his body riddled with cancer. At this, Eikichi is rather glum-faced, to start.

But, the more time he spends with his sick father, the more he feels that there is perhaps more that he should be doing in life. He makes it his aim to help out at home and fulfil his father's dying wishes, resulting in a strange pizza-eating scenario, improvised musical performance and masquerading as his father's hero, Eikichi Yazawa, his father's singing idol whom he was named after.

But this is not an altogether serious film, and Okita finely balances each and every scene with enough comedy to take it away from over-sentimentality; but enough seriousness to stop it becoming too farcical. A stand out moment when Eikichi takes his father to the beach, with his father's deteriorating state becoming evident as he talks to Eikichi as if he has yet to leave for Tokyo, still a teenage boy. While a failure in the eyes of many, his father still wants his son to keep trying to succeed at what he does.

While 'The Mohican Comes Home' has good balance, it does leave it not veering one way or the other, left as a 'nice' watch, lacking in a well-executed ending, as in 'The Story of Yonosuke'. In fact, the ending is perhaps the film's weaker point: the hastily put-together wedding scene stretching a bit too far in to 'goof-ball' comedy, out of sync with the rest of the film.

The line 'go back to Tokyo' is a recurring one, with his mother keen for him to get out from under her feet and his father wanting his new-found kindness to stop reminding him he is about to die. Eventually he does, realising he is not so out of place in his hometown after all, leaving with a new sense of purpose for when he returns.

Pieta in the Toilet

Whichever way you look at it, 'Pieta in the Toilet' is not an easy film to watch: A film about a failed artist-cum-window cleaner diagnosed with cancer is never going to be a laugh riot, and so the life and times of a 28 year old destined to die young has its ups and downs.

Sonoda's reaction is one of apathy to his news. He tries to keep on working as if nothing has happened, initially rejecting his parents' concerns and treatment in hospital. A failed artist, he chooses to sulk himself to an early grave. But it is in two chance encounters at the hospital that he is brought back to life a little.

He intervenes to help young Mai, a schoolgirl he befriends after a you-scratch-my-back exchange. Their relationship is an awkward one: He a young man about to die; she an underage school girl, unloved at home with a chip on her shoulder. Her push-pull attitude towards him becomes annoying, with Sonoda struggling to understand what she wants from him, but this perhaps suggests a well-developed character, perhaps from a male perspective anyway, of a difficult to read teenager.

While someone he would rather escape, his ward-mate, the perverted Yokota, played by the increasingly popular Lily Franky, provides some humour in the bleakness, and someone that Sonoda eventually comes to empathise with and seek support. The meeting with Yokota leads him to the children's cancer ward, where he humours the young children , particularly Takuto for whom he draws his favourite comic books heroes.

The story is inspired by the diaries of Osamu Tezuka towards the end of his life and sees Sonoda want to leave something behind after he dies, as well as pay tribute to the mother of Takuto and Mai simultaneously, recreating the image of Pieta, naturally in the toilet.  

Little about this film is easy, director Daishi Matsunaga drawing on various sources of inspiration and references. The switching of emotions and somewhat blandly unnatural scripting to facilitate the story can make the viewer feel a little unsure as to how to respond, though this is perhaps by design, as Matsunaga gets you inside the shoes and minds of the characters, unsure what to make of their lot.

Want to learn how you should act on a Japanese-inspire impulse? If you live in the non-London UK cities of Manchester, Sheffield, Bristol, Belfast, Nottingham, Exeter, Derby, Leicester, Kendal, Stirling, Edinburgh, Inverness, Birmingham or, most importantly, Dundee, the Japan Foundation's Touring Film Programme is heading your way, unless it already has, as I'm writing this mid-tour. 

IKIRU: The highs and lows of life in Japanese cinema

London, late-January/early February sort of time, and e Japan Foundation presents its annual Touring Film Programme, starting off at the ICA and moving to the more artistic cinemas in various cities up and down the UK. And every year there must be a theme.

This year's theme is quite a good one: Ikiru, the Japanese verb 'to live', and the name of a famous Akira Kurosawa film (no, not 'Throne of Blood' fans of Stewart Lee's Comedy vehicle Series 3'). In Japanese cinema, this is a genre - if you'd call it that - of cinema typically associated with Yasujiro Ozu and his portraits of change in ordinary, everyday Japanese life; a theme carried on into the new millennium by Kore-eda Hirokazu.

Far from grand samurai classics and out-of-this-world anime, these are slower films, films to provoke more introspection, films to make you laugh and cry, and then vomit while reading this. This, the thirteenth JFTFP (JFTFP!), saw me see fewer films than I typically would, driven largely by busy-ness, seeing Tony Law and not wanting to watch four straight films on a Saturday, especially as Villa had won for once, so I had to watch Match of the Day.

In the words of Scha Dara Parr, let it flow, again...

Cheers from Heaven (Tengoku kara no eru; 天国からのエール)

'Cheers from Heaven' is probably a bit mainstream for me; it's a fair example of low-level mainstream cinema that's decent, not amazing, forcing emotions on its viewers with a tad too much sentimentality. Saying that though, I had to see this one of all the films shown as part of this year's programme.

In a small Okinawan town, a group of not-particularly-musically talented school children struggle to find anywhere to practice their not-particularly-impressive talents. Annoying adults, local bento supplier, Hikaru, disillusioned by a lack of community spirit, takes the group of children in, allowing them to play in a spare area behind his kitchen. But being essentially open-air, this doesn't really solve the problem. But, never one to give up easily, he takes it upon himself to start building a studio for the children to use freely (in each sense), but as long as a community of sharing is followed.

The kids delight in this, and suddenly every child in the town has a guitar and comes knocking on the door. But Hikaru's focus stays on the original group he took in, becoming a manager of sorts in helping them pursue their dream, for reasons that become quite sentimentally apparent. In true light movie fashion, they succeed.

The content meant little to me, however. 'Cheers from Heaven' is set and filmed in the northern Okinawan town of Motobu, where my wife and I stayed as part of our honeymoon. The real life Ajisai studio, opened by once real life man Hikaru Nakasone, was on the winding hill path that we walked passed each day en route to our guesthouse. For the majority of the film, therefore, I was sat looking at the scenery and remembering what I did there, such as the public lavatory I once stood outside, where the headline act's drummer and guitarist have a fight.

Famous Motobu toilet

The 'living' element of this film is a tale of a man perhaps a little fed-up with how things have become, in his own life and society in general, feeling the need to make some sort of change and realise a dream, before it's all tragically too late, if a little forced by the conclusion.

This is a nice film, a steady film, a decent film that perhaps needs to stop trying so hard by then end to get its message across. But for me, it probably serves more as a holiday memory.

I'll Give it My All, Tomorrow (Ore wa mada honki dashitenai dake; 俺はまだ本気出してないだけ)

'I'll Give it My All, Tomorrow' is a title I liked the moment I read it, particularly as it came accompanied by a photo of a man in boxer shorts. It's fair to say, this is my kind of comedy.

In his forties, Shizuo gives up his salaryman job to work part-time in a fast food bar and sitting about playing an 'important match' of his Playstation. Living with his father and seventeen year-old daughter, his slack attitude soon frustrates his family and Bob, the foreign employee in the fast food bar. See as a superior by those younger than him, but a waste by those by those who depend on him, he soon makes it his life ambition to become a manga artist...at some point, some time.

This is a film about the life that happens when you're making plans, too busy sitting about and thinking about what you should do rather than getting anything done. While the earnest desire is there, the proactive motivation is somewhat lacking, resulting in a limbo. A mid-life crisis finds your average salaryman working alongside and socialising with young adults still trying to find their place in the world, naturally to the amusement of the likes of me.

'I'll Give it My All...' captures well that somewhat naive compulsion that men have to pack it all in, fight the system and sit in their pants playing Playstation while the rest of society moves on; the freedom we all want, but is probably quite dangerous in misguided and confused hands.

Shinich Tsutsumi is well cast as the anti-hero, seemingly confident to those his junior, but unable to achieve and get his life moving, and Yuichi Fukuda's direction works well in magnifying his shortcomings, as a forty-two year old man asks his seventeen year-old daughter to lend him twenty thousand Yen.

If you too would like to learn about how mundane your life is, the Japan Foundation Touring Film Programme travels to the likes of Leicester, Bristol, Birmingham, Derby, Sheffield, Aberystwyth, Dundee, Edinburgh, Kendal, Exeter, Nottingham and Manchester...though you're probably already aware of said fact.