Hana vs See You Tomorrow, Everyone

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Third Murder

"I've only made two so far and I want to try making a wide variety of films. I want to make action films, period films."

(Kore-eda Hirokazu, 1999)

Speaking with Mark Schilling for Premier back in 1999 with only "Maboroshi no Hikari", "After Life" and his documentaries under his belt, it was clear Kore-eda was going down the route of the auteur, though his penchant for the unconventional family drama was still some years to come. Since 2008's seminal "Still Walking", "Air Doll" aside (which is probably where it can stay), his work has seen weak father figures, bickering couples, children fending for themselves and grandparents that know best.

But with 2006's "Hana" Kore-eda's biggest step into new territory so far with a period piece, his latest film "The Third Murder" sees him take on the courtroom drama: a genre typically building suspense to the inevitable plot twist reveal.

Misumi (played by hair connoisseur Koji Yakusho) confesses to the murder of a local factory owner: his former boss. A convicted murderer on two counts in his native Hokkaido, it comes soon after his release form his thirty year sentence, and as such, he is likely to face the death penalty. Up steps Shigemori (taller-than-average Masaharu Fukuyama) and his legal firm to defend Misumi: their sole purpose to reduce his charge from murder and burglary to murder and theft, thus potentially seeing Misumi cheat death.

Misumi, playing the sap, goes along with Shigemori's idea, but the more Shigemori delves, the less it seems a clear, open-and-shut case. "Links" are uncovered between Misumi and his former boss' widow and their daughter, Sakie (our little sister Suzu Hirose) - seemingly the victim of her father's abuse. As such, Shigemori  starts to question the true motives of Misumi, not just as a legal case, but as to the true nature of justice.

With so many lives affected, a selection of narrative options are offered, without giving a firm conclusion as to which was the true course of events, leaving Shigemori questioning his role, as Misumi realises his end goal.

Plot twists in suspense dramas compare to trying to make people jump in horror films: they're a cover for lacking anything truly captivating to say or show. As such, the nature of offering many potential stories could lead to a confused mess of a film, but Kore-eda, while working in a different area, is becoming something of a master at evaluating the human condition, using the contradictory narratives to leave you questioning truth and motive, rather than a simple twist at the end to try and keep you interested.

Social comment as to the justice system is offered throughout, perhaps sometimes a little too plainly, though always aimed at the morality and ethics of an organised justice system. Misumi may have admitted to the murder, but the more he reveals, the less straightforward his guilt becomes. Shigemori - oft referred to as a lawyer who keeps criminals from facing their guilt by family and foe alike - simply deconstructs narrative to fit his case for the defence.

As with "Like Father, Like Son", the lead characters' differences create archetypes to help Kore-eda in making his point. Shigemori, as with Nonomiya, starts from the moral high ground, but soon realises he is the one who needs to ask himself some searching questions. Shigemori and Misumi hold an obvious - and sometimes literal - mirror to each other, with Fukuyama's character again having to be the one to concede, much as Hiroshi Abe finds himself in "Still Walking" and "After the Storm". 

Stylistically, there are perhaps some more mainstream cinema staples put to use, Kore-eda perhaps trying to take himself out of the comfort zone he may have slipped into. Shigemori's dream sequence is somewhat out-of-the-norm, as well as attempts at more poignant visuals to music, in an attempt to create iconic shots. For some this may be seen as a further decline into mainstream cinema, away from the more masterfully understated work of his first two films. However, it could also be perceived as a bridging of a gap, with the film taking the top awards at the Japan Academy Prizes a step in the right direction for Japanese cinema: one of the nation's best working directors getting his just rewards.

A legal drama, "The Third Murder" doesn't necessarily rely on the suspense of a thriller, but still keeps you watching as to what transpires before you. Despite some differences, this is very much a Kore-eda film: Shigemori, Misumi and Misumi's victim all play the role of weak father figures, with Shigemori's father the grandfather with greater knowledge. No easy solutions are offered, with greater happiness found away from one's initial objectives.

The "face-to-face" scene between Shigemori and Misumi towards the film's end offers some of the iconic shots perhaps aimed for, with Yakusho cementing himself as one of Japan's all-time great actors, deserving of his Best Supporting Actor gong at the Japan Academy Prizes. What starts off as a seemingly bumbling, forgetful and absent-minded fool, develops into a character of many layers. The truth is that Misumi wants to control people. By changing his story, resulting in the outcome Shigemori fought against, Misumi, the murderer, certainly held power over the lives of others.

Every 14 Days...(42)

In the Mood for Love (Tony Rayns)

Released in 2000, Wong Kar-wai's "In the Mood for Love" is possibly the last great film. Rayns, a translator, discusser and faller-outer with Wong, writes a two-part look at what is also probably Wong's last good film.

The first part is a scene-by-scene description of much, if not all of the film, making you recall just how housewife's choice Tony Leung Chiu-wai dabs his mustard, I think. Even for someone like me who has watched the film many times, a better person detailing the film in this way does add some new perspectives on things.

The second half places the film in the context of Wong's wider work and what was happening in the build-up to its filming and release, including photo shoots of films never made, offering yet more insights galore.

Obviously, this is one for the film-nerd / loyal Wong fan, but perhaps is more important looking at a film that sees a turning point in cinema and how the Twenty-first Century is lagging well behind the Twentieth in delivering a level of quality in film.

Days to read: 4

Days per book: 15.1

How Not to be a Boy (Robert Webb)

It's pretty much obligatory now for a comedian to write a book, often about themselves. But with this the case, it does require one to do a little bit more than just write a self-indulgent drinking anecdote.

Possibly - if you're cynical, like me - Robert Webb chooses to build on recent social media trending around gender and whether it's nature or nurture and all that jazz (though he wasn't raised on jazz music alone), seemingly taking some cues from Caitlin Moran's books. Depending on which side of the fence you sit, or which side you dress, this autobiography could be seen as a bold cry against social traditions, or an annoying gender agenda.

So, on which side of this fence do I sit? Probably on it - the easy option. This isn’t Lewis Hamilton “boys don’t wear princess dresses” bashing, but more a self-exploration of Webb’s desire to not become his father. A less-than-perfect picture is painted of his father, and indeed his stepfather, with his mother and elder brothers fitting more into the hero role; his brothers more in-line with the male archetype.

Preferring his mother in all areas, he soon shows traits supposedly not befitting a teenage boy, such as an interest in the performing arts and other boys, sort of. As such, it’s more of a finding your feet memoir than a full-blown gender politics attack, though may take the latter route occasionally.

As such, it has enough of a balance to not simply laugh the notion of male gender conditioning off, but also avoids forcing the reader as to what to believe.

Days to read: 14

Days per book: 15.1

The Master of Go (Yasunari Kawabata)

I was yet to read any of the works by Yasunari Kawabata, but he's one of those names you see on bookshelves next to other authors' with surnames starting with the same letter. Looking at one of those bookshelves, I opted for "The Master of Go": a book, that while an easy read, I imagine is not representative of the body of his work.

A collection of his newspaper reports covering the 1938 go match between an ageing master and his young challenger, formed into a novel years later, "The Master of Go" is a series of short chapters covering each day's play, as well as those in between, of the six month match, which resulted in inevitable defeat for the master in his last match.

The outcome of the match is made clear early on, making this not so much about the match itself, but the contrasting behaviours of the two competitors in their down time. The master cannot switch off from competition, always wanting a game of chess or billiards; while his young opponent spends time with his young family, preferring to rest when possible.

This is welcome to someone like me who knows nothing of the game of go, and so the coverage of the matchplay, tactics involved and point scoring is more a collection of words on a page. But while shaping a story, this still is very much reporting on the match played over six months and so maybe does not paint the best picture of Kawabata as an author for the novice in numerous ways.

Days to read: 11

Days per book: 15.0

The Miner (Natsume Soseki)

I'm making it a mini-mission to get through all of Soseki's works by the end of 2018. Not really much of a challenge, but like myself in a urinal, I aim low.

"The Miner" is the collection of Soseki's serialisation in the newspaper Asahi Shimbun and is certainly one of the more ironically titled of his works. A middle-class nineteen year-old of education and no work experience from Tokyo heads north in search of a place to quietly die, for quite meaninglessly middle-class reasons. During his search, he meets a man who promises him money if he takes work with him. With quite literally nothing to lose, he follows the man to see where the journey takes him.

Eventually, he ends up at a nameless mine buried in the mountains, though he soon finds himself alone, his original guide disappearing once he has his "recruitment" money. Unwanted by the miners, whom he sees as inferior beasts, and hounded by bedbugs as he tries to sleep, he soon finds that the world of mining is not for him after being taken for a tour of the mine on his second day there. Encountering a miner who was once in a position similar to his own, though probably more earnest, he is fully convinced that he doesn't want to set foot in the mine again, taking a *SPOILER ALERT* role as a bookkeeper for the mine for five months before returning home.

Written as a memoir, the author frequently references how this is no novel. And, written in serialised parts, this is more an extended train of thought, but strangely has no natural breaks that staggered publishing might suggest. But largely, this is just rambling, similar to "Botchan" with a young Tokyoite looking down at country folk, though with somewhat more awareness of his naivety.

But the fact that it is halfway through the novel before he actually reaches the mine - and subsequently fails to forge a career as a titular miner, returning to his parents - this is where Soseki's comedy comes in as the novel concludes; the whole journey seemingly a waste of time, the protagonist having learnt little from his experience.

Soseki's "experience" of mining came from discussion with a young former miner, perhaps why there is much more focus on the journey there, and little actual working as a miner explored. As such, this is no novel, more an account of observations from an extended journey into the depths which can be escaped at any time for our "hero", placing it stylistically closer to Orwell's "The Road to Wigan Pier" or "Down and Out in Paris and London" than most storytelling.

Days to read: 11

Days per book: 15.0

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...