Our Little Sister

I'll forego my typical ramblings about Kore-eda Hirokazu's works being a post-modern, new millennium equivalent of the works of Yasujiro Ozu. We've all had and dismissed that theory now. But so comes his most recent release - and inevitable Cannes nomination - 'Unimachi Diary' ('Our Little Sister').

Based on the manga of the same name, the film is about three sisters attending their estranged father's funeral, where they meet his third wife/widow, stepmother to the daughter he had with his second wife, with whom his affair led to the break-up of his first marriage, which spawned the three original sisters we previously discussed.

Meeting their younger half-sister for the first time, Sachi, the eldest and most sensible of the three, decides to immediately invite little Suzu to live with them in the family house they share in Kamakura. And life starts to turn out perfectly.

Apart from all the confusing inter-relations and paternal death, the first hour of the film is fairly easy-going stuff. The now four sisters go about their business, settling into their new scenario as Suzu acclimatises herself to her new coastal surroundings. It's when the estranged mother of the three eldest sisters arrives in town for her mother's memorial that things start to develop in terms of the social comment that Hirokazu tends to work into his films. Suddenly, Suzu becomes aware of her place as the daughter of a homewrecker; Sachi comes to terms with her fallout with her mother; party girl, Yoshino, soon realises she may need to do more in her career than just earn money for beer; and bohemian child, Chika, tries to learn how to fish.

Inevitably, everything ends up jolly.

'Our Little Sister' is a further evolution into more mainstream films for Hirokazu. Starting with 'I Wish' in 2011 and following-up with 'Likefather, Like Son', his greater exposure globally has led to his films becoming more accessible for the audience, unlike the more challenging works of his early days, such as 'Maborosi' and 'After Life'. There is a nicer, more gentle edge to this film, with more attempts at humour and a more positive and standard ending, rather than his usual, more complex compromises, as life offers no easy answers. Here, while bad things happen, the outcome seems to turn out fine.

'Easy' is probably the word to best summarise this film. The first half of the film is fairly easy-going, and the scenario is one lacking as much depth as his previous. One criticism of 'Like Father, Like Son' is that the clash of characters was designed to facilitate the story better. In 'Our Little Sister', the same could be said, with the three elder sisters having opposing personality types to show different ways of coping. The speed of the inviting of Suzu to come live with them also seems a little too simple to feel natural. Sachi's affair with a older doctor serves as an obvious plot device, making her no better than Suzu's mother, leaving it something for her to have to come to terms with.

But it's how forgiving all the women of the film seem to be towards the unseen father that seems a little too easy. Despite his affairs, he is seen as a 'kind man,' only criticised for being a little 'useless.'

'Our Little Sister' is an entertaining and enjoyable film, but confirms a more mainstream move for its director: She ain't heavy, she's our little sister, but she's alright at football, apparently.
 

Every 14 Days...(31)

Opus (Satoshi Kon)

Despite my love of all things Japanese (well, apart from the bad things), I've never been much of a manga reader. While I have dabbled here and there, I have not got through many in my time. I am, however, a fan of all things by the late Satoshi Kon. A fan of his anime, I decided to give one of his manga a try.

'Opus' is an incomplete serial he worked on in the mid-Nineties, recently re-released in a near-complete form. Perhaps somewhat appropriately, it centres around a mangaka struggling to complete his manga serial 'Resonance'.

Pressured, suffering from writer's-block and unable to put pen to paper, the lines between fiction and reality are lost, as he becomes literally consumed by his own work. Once inside, he is considered 'God' by his characters and he has to deal with the consequences of his creation. He is questioned as to the lack of detail in backgrounds leaving an incomplete world and as to why he writes his characters' deaths.

Maybe this isn't anything too original, with the creator becoming an unsuspecting god, but you do get a sense of a semi-autobiographical nature from the work, written largely before his rise as a director. This is another strong addition to his body of work, setting a theme that would be throughout his feature films.

Days to read: 12

Days per book: 14.7

Colors of the Mountain (Da Chen)

While I was doing my Master's dissertation at University - which partly featured a cultural look at China - I read Xin Ran's 'The Good Women of China'. Oh, I wish I hadn't. While others may like it, my English cynicism had me reading a book I found horribly over-sentimental, to the point where I found it difficult to read. The whole thing was far too 'tragic lives' for my liking. So, when my wife bought me Da Chen's memoirs for Christmas, maybe I was a little sceptical.

Now a celebrated flautist in the US of States, the first of Da Chen's memoirs focus on his school years in his home town of Yellow Stone in southern China, telling of his family's struggles as former landowners in Communist China and the daily abuse it brought them. Knowing the importance of family ties in Chinese culture and this being very much a family-driven affair, it can at times become a little too sentimental as he reminisces about the first fifteen-or-so years of his life. His family's past a constant burden for them, I feared this too would become a tale of a life tragic.

Luckily, however, Chen's status led him to befriend a group of street rascals, allowing for enough tales of boyhood hijinks to bring in some comedy and tales of doing those things teenage boys do to stop it becoming a little too heavy of the emotional superlatives.

This is a little of a bumpy ride, switching between boyhood pranks and family sentimentality, that can at times be good; at others be less so. But all-in-all this gives a good account of some of the difficulties that life in the second half of the Twentieth Century in China posed for people of certain backgrounds.   

Days to read: 15

Days per book: 14.7

Easily Distracted: My Autobiography (Steve Coogan)

If there's one thing that prompts immediate hatred inside my loins, it's naming your autobiography 'My Autobiography'. Public figures that have done this include Alex Ferguson and Rio Ferdinand; you know, that type. Here now comes another such memoir from a another man associated with Manchester; another man who thinks he's IT.

Maybe I'm being harsh (not on Rio Ferdinand) on Mr Steve Coogan here, however, for this is a man whom naming his autobiography 'MY Autobiography' might be something of a statement. This isn't Alan Partridge's autobiography - he's already co-written that - it's his, and you can see mild attempts to keep Partridge on the sidelines throughout, though always there.

Attempting to unearth the 'real' Steve Coogan is something that's been attempted before, and it's a bit cliché to write about how one of the country's most famous character actors struggles to find himself. Of course segments feel like they could have come from the mind of a Norwich-based radio DJ, but it is a part he's played for over two decades now, and so is part of him; this is perhaps why the book starts at the end, focusing on more recent works, such as 'Philomena' and his part in the hacking scandal.

The book then moves into his childhood - a major focus of the book - gradually building to drama college and early breaks into comedy and performing, occasionally veering here and there along the way.

He's a man that probably hasn't done things through the typical routes, perhaps to the annoyance of some around him, seeking both success and critical acclaim hand-in-hand. This isn't the best autobiography - not the deepest or most revealing - and so doesn't leave you feeling a better understanding of the man of certain mystery, though that's perhaps the role he chooses to play most when in the public eye.

Days to read: 14

Days per book: 14.7

A Brief History of Seven Killings (Marlon James)

This book is a bit of an epic. A nomination for the Man Booker Prize brought this to my consciousness; and its winning of said award prompted me to mention it enough to my wife while I saw someone reading it on a flight to Budapest to force her to buy it for me as a Christmas present. You soon discover you are one of the crowd reading this.

Telling the story of an assassination attempt on Bob Marley at his Kingston home in 1976, this book morphs into something so much more, with 'the Singer' more a symbol than an actual character throughout. The attack is placed in the context of gang violence, political turmoil - with the CIA's attempts to fend off Communism - and change in Jamaica from the Seventies to the Nineties, following the fates of the men that carried out the attempt on Marley's life.

This book is massively ambitious and clearly one that took a lot of research to build: It has many layers, many voices and, as a result, many pages. The continual changing of the narrator keeps it from dragging too much, however, and it finishes a rewarding work, if maybe a little inconsistent along the way.

But, being a book loosely themed around Bob Marley and its recent successes will mean that this is a book that is clearly 'cool' to be seen reading, as the daily readers on London's Northern Line confirmed each day.

Days to read: 37

Days per book: 14.8

Sounds of the River (Da Chen)

'Sounds of the River' is the second half of Da Chen's grandfather's verse, and the memoir of the second phase of his life, having left Yellow Stone to start University in Beijing, studying English language.

This is a slightly different time in a big city, with the Cultural Revolution now over and a more modern outlook on the world surrounding the young man. Thoughts now turn to fashions, foreign cigarettes and translating for NBA stars.

Again, the book is a little bumpy, switching between moments of humour, but then being far, far, far too joyful in his descriptions of everyone that crosses his path. Towards the end though things get all a little too much for me as his dreams of reaching America grow nearer. While you can appreciate his appreciation of his family, it perhaps is given too much emphasis on the book's conclusion, bringing a slightly disappointing end to the memoirs as a whole.

Days to read: 20

Days per book: 14.9

Sampling is Fun 6

Married to it...


...but keep her at home...

The Taste of Tea vs. Maborosi

Asian cinema, good Asian cinema, can typically be hard to come by in the UK, with increasing difficulty, despite the increasing nature of media communications and online shopping and streaming. As indeed there is greater choice available, inevitably the paradox of lack of variety seems to rise. A trend that seems will only continue in the future.

I like my Japanese cinema (well, not mine personally) and I find myself often frustrated with the lack of access to some of the better films on offer. But, with a little bit of hunting, a little extra expense and purchasing from a random stranger in a random country whom you've never met, you can get hold of some gems. Though the viewing experience may have to be less than ideal.

So, locating a Korean, Region 3 DVD copy of Katsuhito Ishii's 'The Taste of Tea'; and sourcing a Japanese (thank God for Region 2!) copy of Kore-eda Hirokazu's 'Maborosi' - both featuring English subtitles - I set about watching two films considered towards the better end of Japanese cinema over the last two decades.

One thing that interests me about both of these films is that their Japanese titles both feature the hiragana の('no'): 'Cha no aji' ('The Taste of Tea')and 'Maboroshi no hikari' ('Illusionary Light'). Both incorporating the Japanese possession particle, I thought that good enough a reason for comparison. The Japanese have noh theatre, so here's a bit of 'no' cinema...Both also star TadaNObu AsaNO.

Starting with 'The Taste of Tea', as I watched that second, we see a film that can be described by unimaginative minds as 'quirky.' Looking at the lives of the HaruNO family, each has their own little story within the film and a mini-battle they want to overcome: the young daughter keeps seeing giant versions of herself; the son struggles with the fairer sex, hoping his go skills can woo; the uncle wonders aimlessly on his visit from Tokyo; the mother tries to re-ignite her animation career; the grandpa with his unusual habits. The most ordinary member of the family is the father, regularly away at work, but acting as the straight man to keep the extraordinary bunch together.

And so is the situation in the lives of this Tochigi family, going about their strange ways each day in their sleepy town. But as the film develops, each family member unwittingly looks to another for support in overcoming their personal strife: the uncle helps the daughter with a 'crap' story from his childhood; the son practices go with his father; the grandpa poses for the mother's animation design; as well as helping out with the studio recording of the estranged brother's strange musical ambitions.

'The Taste of Tea' is a typical film about nothing, with no real plot to speak of, but more a series of scenes between the main characters. With a long running time, it could perhaps bore many, though the film has enough humour to keep entertained, with various sub-plots switching the attention so as not to make any one character become tired.

But the real story here is one of family and how they all keep each other going, however unconventional the methods may appear. The bizarre grandpa proves to be the head of the family, watching over them all in his own idiosyncratic way.

The characters are strange, the special effects are strange, yet it is somewhat of a familiar portrait of family life.

Kore-eda Hirokazu is a director that is known for his films about stranger aspects of modern family life, with abandoned children, separated siblings and half siblings and switches at birth. However, whereas Ishii's is more a view of the strength of family ties, Hirokazu looks more at the strain the unusual scenarios can put on families in the modern world.

One of his earlier films, 'Maborosi' looks at another unusual family scenario: Yumiko has a seemingly idyllic life in Osaka with her young husband - they are able to laugh and joke and look forward to the birth of their unborn child. However, unexplained and suddenly, Ikuo, her husband, commits suicide on local train tracks, leaving Yumiko's life in twilight. Re-marrying a steady widower, she moves to his small fishing hometown to live with his father and daughter.

However, Yumiko's life lacks colour, seemingly in a daydream, struggling to come to terms with the loss of her first husband and the mystery around his death. 'Maborosi', therefore, is somewhat of a bleak film, creating a feeling of numbness.

With the situation unresolved for Yumiko, Hirokazu chooses to shoot the entire film in twilight. The translation of the Japanese title, 'Imaginary Light', fits the film's tone perfectly. Similar to 'After Life', the colours of the screen are incredibly vivid and memorable, with a unique and haunting quality. In that sense, 'Maborosi' is a visual masterpiece of cinema, using colour perfectly to reflect the story.

One of the best reviews I've read of 'Maborosi' described it as a if having 'read a haiku.' This is perhaps the best way to summarise this film: it paints a perfect picture of a woman's torment at her husband's death, yet maybe lacks any sense of journey; it paints the picture of an emotion, rather than telling a story. The film's revelation at the end comes as fast and as sudden as Ikuo's death, though maybe feels somewhat cheap and easy. This is a masterclass in the use of colour in a film, though  perhaps the story and characters could be painted with a little more of that colour as well.

'The Taste of Tea' and 'Maborosi' are two films about unconventional families, though that is perhaps where the similarity ends. Both are slow films with little in the way of plot, but their outlook and style couldn't be more polemic. The joy of family life in 'The Taste of Tea's' is counteracted by the brooding mourning of 'Maborosi'.

Colour is a word important to both: 'The Taste of Tea' brilliantly creates colourful characters and anecdotes to entertain; whereas 'Maborosi' uses colour to further the tone and mood of the film. While for different reasons, both are examples of brilliant film-making in their own right...It might just depend what mood you're in, no?! 

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.  

Grand Form - P&M Remix (Punch and Mighty Feat TAKE-T)

First video for a while. Punch and Might's P&M Remix of 'Grand Form' featuring TAKE-T (incorporating Crooklyn Dodgers' 'Crooklyn') to some lovely honeymoon snaps from Kansai, Ryukyu and beyond (i.e. Kyoto, Kinosaki, Naha, Motobu, Ishigaki, Taketomijima, Osaka, Koyasan)...

Every 14 Days...(30)

Through no clever intention on my part, I have recently read three biographies by comedians. However, to call these autobiographies might be a little confusing. What follows is a selection of works by British men of the funny, but either written by or from the perspective of an alter ego. Much as Stewart lee will refer to the ‘character Stewart Lee,’ here we see a collection of comedians showing their schizophrenic sides. Comedia schizophrenia, as it were.

Me:Moir (Vic Reeves/Jim Moir)

To start, we see beloved funny man Vic Reeves writing on the childhood upbringing of James Moir, or ‘Rod’ (his middle name) as he was known to his family. That’s a confusing start.

Here, the fictional Mr. Reeves describes the first eighteen-or-so years of his life from his first days in Yorkshire, to County, to eventually moving down to London to start his journey to adulthood. Accompanied by his own doodles throughout, there are elements of Reeves' trademark eccentric humour throughout, though it's difficult to say if these were early seeds or embellishment by his adult self.

This is a steady effort, but nothing too sensational. Focusing more on his youth, this doesn't go into the origins of his 'Big Night Out' and starting in comedy, making this very much a book about James 'Rod' Moir than Vic Reeves. Though, the fact that this comes with the addendum 'Volume One' this may be to come.

Days to read: 13

Days per book: 14.7

My Perfect Cousin (Kevin Eldon)

Here, ‘The Actor’ Kevin Eldon writes a true biography…about someone who doesn’t exist. One of Eldon’s best-known works as a stand-up and performer is as his poet alter ego, Paul Hamilton. Seen as part of Cluub Zarathustra, Eldon has gone on to feature him in much of his stand-up work, and on the Radio 4 – hahaha – comedy ‘Poets’ Tree’.

Eldon writes as a version of himself, the cousin of fictional poet Hamilton, writing a biography on his ‘perfect’ family member as he was commissioned to write a book but simply had no idea what to write about. The book is a collection of extracts from interviews with Hamilton himself and various people in his life, cobbled together by Eldon’s storytelling.

Much like ‘I, Partridge’ before it, this is a book to give extra depth to a comedy character, writing a full biography on the made-up. Hamilton, as the character has always been is pompous about himself and the life he has lead. Things are made to be much grander or dark than the complete normality featured when taken from his perspective. What adds the comedy here is the perspective of others: His parents, on-off girlfriend, former work colleagues, The League Against Tedium, all paint the picture of a sad little man. A poet with only a handful of poems ever written; a man with a string meaningless odd jobs, whose life has been paid for by his parents and wealthy girlfriend.  

Being that it’s fictional, there is no sense of ‘having learnt’ a lot about the character, as maybe I’d never thought about Hamilton in such a way. What this certainly is is entertaining, and so leaves plenty of room for poetic license.

Days to read: 12

Days per book: 14.7

Becoming Johnny Vegas (Johnny Vegas/Mike Pennington)

Much like 'Me:Moir', 'Becoming Johnny Vegas' is the story of the early years that formed Mike Pennington's transformation from that of new-born baby to internationally-known stand-up of different name.

From a random collection of memories of his working-class upbringing in St. Helens, Pennington made the decision at a young age to join a seminary and train to become a priest. However, instead of taking him down the straight and narrow, his short time there led to the first 'seeds of Johnny' being sewn.

A prodigal son, he soon became a failed art student, spending days between his Argos job, art college and time in the pub. But it was these days as a trainee potter and barman that began to mould his comedy career, eventually arriving on stage while studying in London. On arriving back in St. Helens, the act was developed and Johnny Vegas was born, with Edinburgh awaiting.

This does not focus on the successes and life after fame, but specifically looks into the moments that shaped his on-stage persona. As expected from his act, this isn't always a pleasant ride, with numerous tales of revulsion.

Written from the perspective of numerous voices, one of which is Vegas; one Pennington, this is an essay on the multi-personality disorder that is stand-up comedy.

Days to read: 20

Days per Book: 14.7

Rashomon and Other Stories (Akutagawa Ryunosuke)

How did this get in there?! Well, I had no new books on me and I was approaching a five-day weekend away, so I grabbed whatever. But, this maybe something a little more appropriate than it initially seems.

Something I've read a number of times before, 'Rashomon and Other Stories' is a short collection of Akutagawa's works, featuring his most famous 'Rashomon' and 'In A Grove'.

With the differing stories of the three main protagonists of 'In A Grove', this could be interpreted as a tenuous link to the art of stand-up comedy that I am making right now. With stand-up a form where different people express their differing opinions on everyday life, 'In A Grove' shows how we all see things differently.

Anyway, enough wankery...

Days to read: 7

Days per book: 14.7

Are you Dave Gorman? (Dave Gorman and Danny Wallace)

Speaking of multiple personality disorder, here's one man's search for fifty-four versions of himself. Well, two men's search. Enjoying the BBC TV series that covered the same journey, I first read the story of Dave Gorman and Danny Wallace's quest for well over a decade ago. But, with Christmas looming, not having any new books at my disposal and not being allowed to buy myself anything, plus thinking this would be a nice addition to my schizophrenic comedians angle, I decided to read once more.

Switching between the alter-egos - and indeed alter-persons - of Gorman and Wallace, it tells the story of a drunken bet gone too far with too much time and credit card limit at their disposal, as they travel Europe, the US and the Middle East to meet Gorman's namesake: fifty-four, to be exact.

This was a silly bit of fun, but what's depressing reading this so many years later is just how this would not happen in this day and age of fast Internet access and social media. What was months of searching through telephone directories, random e-mails and a little bit of luck, would now be a simple search on any social media platform, finding as many as possible the world over. This shows that creativity and invention are no longer really required in 2016, with the end result more important than the journey. But it's the journey that provides the story.

It's now five years that I've been doing this pointless exercise. Blimey!

Days to read: 17

Days per book: 14.7