High Kick Girl

Enough said.

Lower Your Brows

So I just watched Tokyo Gore Police again, and I was in the process of typing up a blog post about it when I happened to refresh GreenCine Daily. Apparently I've been beaten to the punch! I don't mind though, because this post, which you should click on and read immediately, captures the film perfectly. If reading that post gets your blood boiling and makes you want to watch it right then and there, you will love the movie. And you should probably get off the goddam internet and watch it right then and there. But if the GreenCine post makes you go a big rubbery one, or just doesn't interest you, then TGP is probably not for you. And I'll be the first to admit: it's not for everyone. But if you're the kind of person who gets excited about "the cinematic equivalent of a Gwar concert," then for fuck's sake call up some like-minded folk and pop in Tokyo Gore Police.

I Am a Gross Straight Man

It's true. I am a gross straight man, and that's a major influence on my cinematic input. For instance... do you know what I love? Unapologetic, unadulterated, exploitation schlock. I love to go see a movie that doesn't waste time on things like plot and character development, but instead focuses on (crazy!) sex and (brutal!) violence. And as with most film experiences, this is best accomplished with a large audience of like-minded folk. Before coming to San Francisco this was a much more difficult task to orchestrate, but now that I'm here I can't seem to walk two blocks without tripping over a schlocky genre festival. Another Hole in the Head, Dead Channels, Shock It to Me... and so on. It's goddam overwhelming.

Onechanbara is a perfect example of the kind of glorious film experience this city has to offer, assuming you know know where to look. (Hint: try the Roxie.) This is exploitation pure and simple. You might imagine the film's conception as something like the following: "Let's see... what's popular these days? Oh, I know! Zombies! And babes! And killing! Let's make a movie of that." This is surprisingly close to reality. The only difference is that Onechanbara is actually based on a Japanese video game (series) of the same name. But video games can be exploitation too! And exploitation movies based on exploitation games are like extra-bonus exploitation. You can't really get much better than that without making the transition to hardcore porn (which I'm not necessarily against).

There is nothing you can dislike about this game (assuming you're a lusty heterosexual male).

To be honest, I wish we had more of this kind of thing in American cinema today. It just doesn't seem like there's much of a market for low budget wonders like these, nor is there really a system in place to answer the pitiful demand that does arise. It's easier in Japan for the simple reason that they already have various frameworks in place to pump out waves of cheapo films. If we had something like Japan's V-cinema or pink film industries... well, life would be sweet. In the US, shitty cinematographers like Yohei Fukuda would never get the chance to direct shitty (awesome) movies about girls with swords. And that's sad. Think of what could be!

(Anyone interested in learning more about pink films--or who doesn't believe that worthwhile art can rise from the depths of the low-budget sex-film industry--should probably check out Jasper Sharp's new book, Behind the Pink Curtain. And by the way, I'm not suggesting that Onechanbara is a pink film. It's clearly not. It just got me thinking along those lines.)

So the rest of us have to rely on the likes of Quentin Tarantino, it seems. And while any true exploitation fan probably has somewhat ambivalent feelings toward Tarantino, I'll be the first to admit: I think the guy's got his heart in the right place. He loves schlock, and tries his damnedest to spread that love as far as it will go. For me, that simple fact outshines any shortcomings he may have, artistic or otherwise. I may let my frustration slip out a bit occasionally, but who doesn't?

Notice a pattern? Neither do I...

Luckily we (which is to say the US) also have a pretty decent independent schlock scene, so we're not totally deprived of low budget exploitative crap. But distribution is few and far between, naturally. Unless you're catching these movies at festivals (like Another Hole in the Head), you're probably watching them on DVD at home. If there's ever an exception, I try my best to be on top of it. Zombie Strippers, for instance, played a short run at the Lumiere Theater here in the city, and I made sure to be there at midnight on day one for the special opening "event." Unfortunately I was one of fewer than 10 people, 1 or 2 of whom were asleep moments into the show. Fuck! (The movie was hilarious, by the way. Not great by any means, but wonderfully disgusting. And the amount of dead nudity was... well, a lot. It will make you uncomfortable.)

Jenna Jameson is a talented actress.

Actually, talking about dead nudity just reminded me of the Masters of Horror series on Showtime. This is probably the closest thing we have (had, rather... or is it still on?) to V-Cinema schlock. A bunch of filmmakers get a bit of a budget to make an hour long horror film, which then goes straight to TV and DVD. There's not too much risk, so the directors can fuck around and make some really weird stuff without too many (financial) repercussions. A lot of these are terrible, but a few of them are totally worthwhile. (I think Argento's Pelts is the best of them, personally.) And they're all fun to watch!

Incidentally, if you missed Onechanbara and are looking to make up for it you can catch Machine Girl and Tokyo Gore Police this weekend (at midnight on Friday and Saturday, respectively) at the Roxie. I've seen both of these a few times now, and you're missing out if you can't say the same. And having seen them both on DVD and in the theater, I can tell you without hesitation that it's better in the theater (obviously). Not to mention the fact that it's being presented by Another Hole in the Head, which means there'll likely be mountains of free Red Hook to quench your thirst. No one has an excuse to miss this. (And for anyone participating in the Month of Terror, these totally count as horror films. Another bonus!)

What would Freud say?

Um... shit. I just realized that I sat down to write about Onechanbara specifically, but ended up getting completely sidetracked. Oh well, no big deal. The important thing is for everybody to go see it if/when they get the chance. And support your local purveyors of filmic filth! Honestly, where would you be without them?

Neither Fast Nor Furious

I feel as if I should apologize for my lack of posts lately, especially considering I've just been welcomed into the LAMB. But here's the thing: Netflix has been sending me disc after disc of Mr. Show and The Office, which has caused my cinematic intake to dip pretty drastically. You may remember I mentioned something earlier about summer being a time of media binges? Well summer rages on. Mr. Show is of course an old favorite I haven't watched in a while, and The Office is something I've only recently begun to enjoy. (It fucking rules, by the way. Can't wait to check out the British version.) Anyway, I finally pried my eyeballs away from television long enough to watch Satoshi Miki's newest film, Adrift in Tokyo. It's been doing its thing at festivals for a little while now (NYAFF, for one), and it came out on DVD in Japan sort of recently. I've been hearing nothing but good things, so I checked it out. Not for everyone, I'd say, but I enjoyed the hell out of it.

Actually, I liked it so much that I'm planning on writing something real about it in the near future, though for now I think I'll just throw up (which is to say vomit) the (stilted/semi-shitty) review I wrote for Midnight Eye. Prepare yourself for a disturbing lack of expletives.

And I quote (myself):

Satoshi Miki’s Adrift in Tokyo is a difficult film to categorize. Is it a road movie? A city film? A buddy movie? A comedy? A drama? The short answer is: yes. It’s each of these things, and when put together, it becomes something substantially greater than the sum of its parts. Miki has managed to craft something touching, hilarious, informative, and brimming with a subdued sense of adventure that one can only get from exploring a seemingly familiar city with a fresh perspective.

Joe Odagiri: best hair in the history of time.

The film (more or less) follows the perpetually blank-faced Fumiya (Joe Odagiri), an eighth year law student who has managed to rack up over 800,000 yen in debt, and naturally has no way to pay it back. While sitting in his apartment contemplating the finer points of three-color toothpaste, Fumiya is assaulted by ruthless-looking debt collector Fukuhara (a mullet-wielding Tomokazu Miura), who gives him three days to pay back the cash. The days pass and Fumiya makes a series of characteristically half-assed attempts to raise the money, but gets nowhere. Ready to give up, he’s approached once more by Fukuhara, who surprisingly says he will pay a total of one million yen if Fumiya accompanies him on a walk around Tokyo. It might take days, weeks, or months, he says, but after they’re finished his debt will disappear. Having no choice, Fumiya accepts the offer and the film kicks into gear.

As we follow the two through the streets of the city, their lives unfold by way of conversations, squabbles, confessions, and the occasional shouting match. We discover that Fumiya was abandoned by his parents as a young child, leaving him without a soul to depend on. With this revelation Miki subtly transforms Fumiya’s attitude of blank detachment from a comic device into something deeper, while still keeping the atmosphere light. And we learn that Fukuhara, the strangely sensitive thug, has killed his wife. He plans to wander the streets of his city, rediscovering old memories and creating new ones, before turning himself in to the police and resigning himself to prison. This kind of multi-layered emotional content is typical for the film, and it’s not unusual for any given scene to first lift, then break your spirits as each of the characters unfurls into an actual multidimensional human being. It takes a delicate hand to strike such a perfect balance of humor and (I hesitate to even call it this) drama, but Miki has succeeded brilliantly. It’s completely possible to see Adrift in Tokyo as nothing more than a breezy comedy, full of first-rate performances and hilarious gags, but the viewer who digs past the surface will be rewarded with something surprisingly touching, and undeniably beautiful.

Speaking of gags, Miki’s particular brand of out-of-left-field humor runs steadily throughout the film, and there are plenty of moments that might confuse a viewer searching for clear-cut linearity beneath the lingering narrative. But if it starts to seem like he’s losing track of his characters, try to remember that the city itself is being developed just as much as Fumiya or Fukuhara. For example, consider the seemingly unnecessary B story involving Fukuhara’s wife’s coworkers, and their trek across the city. Whenever these characters take center stage, every ounce of a typical viewer’s narrative training suggests that Miki is building toward some concrete connection--a bridge with the central characters that is just never going to form. It’s normal for loose ends such as these to cause frustration, but perhaps things aren’t quite as open ended as they initially appear. As these characters run around the city, gossiping and laughing and finding excuses to go from one place to the next, it’s simply one more slice of Tokyo that Miki is baring before his spectators. Any connection these people might have to the two "main" characters is incidental. The only truly important link they share is one that should be obvious from the story’s opening moments: they are, along with those watching the film, adrift in Tokyo.

End quote!
(Expletives motherfucking resumed.)

This is another flick that might be a bit tough to get ahold of (surprise surprise), but if it sounds at all up your alley then it probably is. Have you ever seen somebody smell their own head? You will. And it's just as great as it sounds. Possibly even greater.

No, I Won't Shut Up About Kiyoshi Kurosawa

Here's a rarity for you: a short post. Well I've struck some blog gold and wanted to share. Michael Guillen of The Evening Class is hosting a Kiyoshi Kurosawa blogathon. There's more great reading about a great filmmaker there than I can even begin to talk about. (You may even find a reference to my own humble Kurosawa post from months past.) If you don't know shit about Kurosawa, here's your chance to learn. If you do know shit about Kurosawa, then write a damn blog post!

So go to Le Video (or your local equivalent), get a stack of Kurosawa flicks, put on your Face Eyes, and sit in your Body Chair dammit.

12 Reasons Not to End Your Life (Just Yet)

It would seem I've been chosen by Scott of He Shot Cyrus to blow your fucking minds. I hope that's cool. Specifically, Lazy Eye Theatre is hosting the 12 Movies Meme, in which some of us internet jerks pretend we have some place to show great movies besides our stupid apartments. The idea is that if Diablo Cody can do it, then actual, real human beings who know things about movies can probably do it even better.

So the rules are basically:
1) Pick 12 movies
2) Explain yo' damn self
3) Pick 5 more people to carry on your wretched torch

By now pretty much every non-famous person's blog that I read has already been nominated, so I'm just going to skip that last part. Or how about this: if you're reading this, have a blog, and haven't been nominated, I nominate YOU. Get to work!

On to my selections. You'll notice that only 7 of the 12 are Asian (and one set in Asia, I guess). I feel that I've shown considerable restraint here. You, collectively, should be proud of me.

Night 1: Consumerism Is Kind of Rad?

Dawn of the Dead / Chopping Mall
Do you like consumerism? Well you probably shouldn't! But don't take my word for it. Just watch these two horrifying cautionary tales.

Night 2: Lock and Loll!

Linda Linda Linda / Wild Zero
In Japan, Rock and Roll still means something.

Night 3: Eastern Westerns

Exiled / Sukiyaki Western Django
What happens when people from Asia make westerns? Let's find out together! Hugs!

Night 4: Everyone Loves... Homoeroticism!

Dead Ringers / Gozu
Do you think that it is bad for a man to give another man kisses, or do you agree that it is okay?

Night 5: Remember When Exploitation Didn't Have Anything to Do With Tarantino? Neither Do I!

Lady Snowblood / Ilsa, She Wolf of the SS
Ironically (not really), Tarantino is actually mentioned on that Lady Snowblood poster. Fuck that! What this world needs is a real grindhouse double feature.

Night 6: Girls I Am Pretend-Married To

Chungking Express / Lost in Translation
In case you're confused, the girls I'm referring to are Faye Wong and Scarlett Johansson. I'm actually pretend-married to Tony Leung as well, although he did recently get married for real (not to me).

So... what do you guys think? Would this be a successful near-week of movie watching glory? I'm inclined to think so. If anyone has a spare theater lying around, let me know and we'll find out for sure.

The Bright Side of Life

Anyone who keeps up with Asian film is probably well aware that the New York Asian Film Festival is raging at full blast right now, giving the residents of that cursed coast their fill of all the best Asian flicks the rest of us will probably catch next year (if we're lucky). Well, with a few exceptions. Tokyo Gore Police played at a special closing night at San Francisco's very own Another Hole in the Head festival, along with Machine Girl. And Sion Sono's Exte was there, though that's hitting DVD in July anyway. And we got Dai-Nipponjin at the SFIFF I suppose. Bah! Anyway! The point is that a great way to keep up on future cult favorites, or even just regular favorites, is to be aware of what's going on in NY right now. Or, since so many great movies from years past have yet to reach our shores, know what went on in NY last year, or the year before.

For instance, know what won the audience award at last year's NYAFF? I'll give you a hint: you're looking at its poster right now. Yup, Tetsuya Nakashima's tragic fairy tale, Memories of Matsuko. You may remember Nakashima from such previous favorites as Kamikaze Girls, and... well, that's probably all you know him from at this point. That's the only one of his films that's really "made it" over here so far (not that he's done too much more than that, cinematically speaking). Anyway, let's take a look at Memories of Matsuko. At the very least, maybe we can get to the bottom of what the hell that wonderfully vague phrase "tragic fairy tale" even means.

Kamikaze Girls... cute!

The film kicks off with Sho, a typical young failed musician type, getting dumped by his girlfriend. Apparently life with him is "a bore," and she wants out. Not one to be beaten down, the not-quite-heartbroken Sho hits Tokyo with a bottle in hand and a furious war cry familiar to all love-scorned young men: "SEX!"

Cut to him passed out in his tiny apartment, surrounded by porn videos, being shaken awake by his father, whom he hasn't seen in two years. He comes bearing the ashes of his estranged sister, Sho's aunt, Matsuko Kawajiri. Apparently she was recently murdered, and Sho's father needs him to clean out her apartment, and take care of a few local details in Tokyo. With an obvious disapproving glance his father takes off, leaving Sho to his work. It's a touching relationship, much like every other father/child "bond" throughout the movie. One has to wonder what Nakashima's relationship with his dad was like...

So Sho heads to Matsuko's place. What he finds there, aside from the endless piles of trash and boy band posters, is a note scrawled on the wall that reads "sorry for being born," apparently written by Matsuko before her death. He also finds a strange picture of her making an oddly hilarious face. His curiosity kicks in, and he goes about trying to discover what the hell this aunt of his was all about. The film unfolds from there in a series of flashbacks, each furthering Matsuko's story a bit more. Sho encounters various friends and acquaintances from Matsuko's past, and with each meeting her life becomes a little clearer. She begins as nothing more than a name attached to a "meaningless" life, and evolves into a complete human being. And naturally, Sho feels the weight of her death grow with every new detail he uncovers. The viewer, of course, is right there with him. As Matsuko's story expands, our emotional connections deepen as well, and the tragedy of her death really starts to pack a whallop.

This makes a lot of sense to me.

Despite how cheesy this all sounds, it's actually surprisingly powerful. Critics have compared Matsuko with the work of Naruse or Mizoguchi, and with good reason. Those familiar with Kamikaze Girls may be surprised to know that this is actually a very serious melodrama... sort of. I mean, if that was all there was to it, it probably wouldn't be worth your time. I certainly wouldn't have gone too far out of my way for it. What makes Matsuko really interesting is what Nakashima does with such a (typically) tragic story. Here's where those familiar with Kamikaze Girls probably won't be surprised. The treatment of these issues is so lighthearted, so happy-go-lucky, that it's almost unbelievable. As we witness Matsuko's life go steadily downhill--through prostitution, abusive boyfriends, murder, loneliness, and more--things couldn't possibly seem more upbeat. Everything is incredibly fantastic, with intensely bright colors and surreal set designs. There's also a healthy dose of animation, with cartoon birds soaring around Matsuko's head as she descends into her own personal hell. And I haven't even mentioned the copious musical numbers. Given this strange visual and tonal style, I feel pretty safe in saying that Nakashima is a fan of Jean-Pierre Jeunet. But then, so am I.

Remember in Kamikaze Girls when Momoko suddenly flies into the air with a sprinkling of fairy dust? Just think of that, but mix it with Matsuko's boyfriend beating the shit out of her. Or Matsuko stabbing her pimp to death, covered with a mist of blood. Or her being disowned by her family after attacking and nearly killing her sickly little sister. And so on. When I say "melodrama," I mean it. It's just the oddest damn thing.

There's been talk in various reviews about this being a film that supports the the Japanese patriarchy, and shows a woman that she needs to be "kept in her place." Some see Matsuko's struggle to find a man, and therefore happiness, as a lesson to other women. "You see what happens when you don't have a husband to keep you in line? Insanity, prostitution, prison, death. Get back in the kitchen." Frankly, I think that's bullshit. I can't possibly believe that Nakashima isn't dealing with the thickest possible layer of irony. Just look at the damn movie! How can you have a woman, beaten to a pulp, on the run from the yakuza that have nearly killed her boyfriend, limping down a road that would fit effortlessly into a PBS children's show, complete with cartoon birds and a face in the moon? I'll tell you how: IRONY. Oh, sweet irony. Nakashima is clearly showing us that life is no fairy tale. It's fucked up, it sucks, it's brutal. It never goes as planned. You start as a fairy princess and end up a hideously obese bag-lady, beaten to death by the side of a river. Get back in the kitchen indeed.

If anything, the film clearly shows why it's a terrible idea for a woman to spend her life struggling to find a man. Instead of actually living, Matsuko spends her entire existence pining after any guy that gives her the slightest amount of attention. This lack of independence is her downfall, and is not in any way celebrated by the film. Well, except for in the various musical numbers, which I've already established are just lousy with irony. They're practically slick with the stuff. So again, I'm afraid I've got to call bullshit on those who take these things at face value. It's like the end of Life of Brian: a group of people crucified, singing "always look on the bright side of life." So it's a happy ending, right? I mean... they're singing!

So that's Memories of Matsuko. It's good, it's strange, it's worth tracking down. Not on DVD in the US yet, no surprise there. But it's around if you know where to look. If Kamikaze Girls is any indication, it'll be out here eventually. And this year's NYAFF promises plenty more gems to watch out for. Strawberry Shortcakes in particular is playing right now, and I can say firsthand it's pretty damn good. Maybe I'll write about that one later. I'd like to watch it again anyway.

Oh, and Nakashima's newest film is coming out later this year (in Japan): Paco and the Magical Picture Book. Having seen the teaser, I can say it definitely looks like a straight-up kids film, but still pretty interesting. Worth keeping an eye on, anyway. Plus, there's a frog prince/knight looking guy in it, who will immediately remind any well-informed person of Frog from Chrono Trigger. Seriously! Get out your SNES if you don't believe me.

Actually, Gang Violence Is Awesome

It's a tough gig being a Takashi Miike fan. One must constantly battle the naysayers (of which there are plenty), and make an effort to somehow keep current with a director who makes movies faster than a normal person can watch them. And it's especially difficult to do from the US, given that most of his films don't come out here for at least a year or two after the fact. And with a handful of new movies every year, it's easy to overlook most of them for the one or two that are getting attention (positive or otherwise). For instance: last year (2007), what was the Miike movie that had everyone talking? Sukiyaki Western Django, of course! No surprise there. It made the rounds at Venice, TIFF, and some others... you'll find no shortage of reviews and discussions about it. I bought the Japanese DVD, and I can say firsthand that it's great. But what about the rest of Miike's 2007 output? What about Like a Dragon, and specifically for this post, what about Crows Zero?

Granted, Crows isn't the kind of movie that will garner any kind of international attention. It's basically a genre pic, though when you're dealing with Miike that means almost nothing. Sukiyaki Western is a genre pic. Gozu is a genre pic. If you've seen either of these movies, you know what a stretch it is to call the former "just" a western, or the latter a plain old yakuza film. So when I say that Crows is a high school gang movie, you can take that for what it's worth (not much). What it definitely is, however, is a commercial film, and one that's aimed straight at the youth of Japan, right down to the teen heart-throb casting. Not exactly the kind of flick to sweep the arthouse circuit, in other words.

I wondered why it was called "Crows" until I saw this shot

The film is a prequel to the Crows manga series (hence: Crows Zero), which is HUGE in Japan. I have a feeling its genesis was exactly the opposite of the kind of twisted alchemy we all assume goes into the conception of a Miike picture. It was likely the brainchild of some marketing a-hole, and it wouldn't surprise me if the only reason they asked Miike to direct was that they knew he could finish it faster/cheaper than anyone else. But that's all speculation. And besides, some of Miike's best work came into being that way.

The setup is a little video game-ish, but it's perfect for a manga series (and by extension, a series of films). Genji, the hardass son of a hardass yakuza boss, transfers to Suzuran High, the toughest school in Japan. His plan? To form an army of followers, and to battle his way through the opposition in order to "conquer" the school. This supposedly impossible feat is the goal of every student in attendance, and the various classes form themselves into ad-hoc armies, with the strongest among them naturally rising to leadership positions.

When Genji arrives, the school is under the thumb of Tamao Serizawa, the one closest to uniting all of Suzuran under his rule. His second in command is Tokiyo, who (naturally) is Genji's childhood friend. Oh, the drama! Given the nature of the plot, character development takes a back seat to the near-endless string of savage gang rumbles, though Miike does manage to scatter little chunks of romance and friendship throughout. With each victory, Genji claws his way a little closer to the inevitable final battle against Serizawa... the battle that every single audience member just knows is going to be bad-fucking-ass.

And it is. Anyone who's seen Dead or Alive knows that Miike never disappoints when it comes to a final showdown.

Which brings up an interesting aspect of the film: it totally glamorizes brutal gang violence, and in the context of a school, no less! Now don't get me wrong, I'm not saying this is bad--I think it's hilarious. Of course there are the obligatory little clues here and there that fighting may not solve life's problems, but those are completely swept aside by the glamor and excitement that beating the shit out of your classmates promises to bring. I can't imagine a little kid watching this and not being inspired to kick the hell out of everyone he meets. Miike just makes it look so cool. I was half tempted to start a gang war among SFSU's grad programs, just to see who really runs this school. (Of course I know very well that we cinema studies kids are the top dogs... but it'd be nice to bust some heads and get the recognition we deserve, right!?)

Like any Miike film, Crows is strange, and a little uneven. The overall tone completely threw me off until I started thinking of it in more manga-like terms. The abrupt shifts from over-the-top slapstick to brutal violence to actual emotional intensity are a little strange, and those unfamiliar with manga (or anime) will find themselves scratching their heads during quite a few scenes. (For instance: when the most powerful fighter in the school hilariously crashes a minibike into the side of a van, complete with cartoon sound effects. See also: the human bowling pin scene.)

And yet, also like any Miike film, there are plenty of moments that shine through all the genre schlock, the kind of tidbits that fans like me live for... when Miike lets down his guard and squeezes a little brilliance in with the standard (though delightful) B-movie fare. There's an oddly-shifting ratio of brilliance in Miike films (Gozu being an example of 100% brilliance, I would say), but it's always there if you look for it. Despite his best efforts, Miike continues to create art... and Crows is no exception. I won't go into detail here, mostly because I'd hate to throw out too many spoilers before people in the US can even watch the damn thing.

Now that I think of it, that's one major problem with the movie: it's not out here yet. The Japanese DVD came out in April, but unfortunately it lacks English subtitles. So... shit! Sucks for you guys! At the current rate Crows Zero 2 will be out before the first one hits our humble shores. But if it follows the pattern for Miike sequels, it will likely be ten times the movie the original was, and will share almost no connections whatsoever. So no big loss!

I'd like to close with a quote from Tom Mes' review of Big Bang Love, which I think sums up the Miike experience perfectly, and is just as applicable to Crows as any of his other films:

"Yes, but is it any good? This is a Takashi Miike film. It will make you wonder, curse, marvel, tremble, scratch your head, grow bored, and awaken rudely. Celebrate it."

The Other Kurosawa

It's strange to me that Kiyoshi Kurosawa is so strongly associated with J-Horror. Maybe it's just a personal thing. I don't really like connecting a director I have a great deal of respect for with a genre that I find to be... well, lacking. With a few obvious exceptions (Kaidan anyone?) I'm just not attracted to the setups, the actors, the imagery... I'm basically just tired of scary little girls with long wet hair, which in my mind is the most elementary building block of any J-Horror film.

Yet then there's Kurosawa, who isn't working in any genre, really. Suspense, maybe? But that's such a vague a classification. Charisma is an interesting example, and one that's discussed a lot less than his better known (masterpiece?) Cure. The plot is either entirely inexplicable or completely mundane, depending on your point of view. Basically: a disgraced cop leaves Tokyo, heads to the middle of an unnamed forest, and ends up stranded. He meets three weird groups of people, whose actions all seem to revolve around a strange tree in the middle of a clearing. He ends up living in an abandoned sanitarium with a former mental patient who uses whatever means necessary to ensure the safety of the tree (which he calls "Charisma"). Oddness ensues.

"Charisma" in all its glory

Tom Mes, in his review, draws connections between Charisma and Suna no Onna. He doesn't go into great detail and neither will I... the parallels are there if you feel like drawing them. Yet while I was watching it I wasn't thinking of Teshigahara (or Kobo Abe for that matter), but was instead reminded of Haruki Murakami, that other brilliant Japanese author.

It's tough for me to say why, exactly. Granted, I'm a little biased--Murakami's been my favorite writer for some years now--but it's not just that. There are links between the two, stylistic and otherwise. Charisma's protagonist, Yabuike, is strangely detached, and overly accepting of whatever's presented before him. In an otherwise "real" world, he finds nothing odd about a seemingly enchanted tree, or any of the other bizarre elements of the story. Given no other choice, both he and the viewer have to deal with the dissolution of reality in the best way they know how. And this is another thing that brought Murakami to mind: the fragmentation of reality, especially within some isolated, obscure, enclosed setting. His writing is rife with buildings, rooms, forests, and (especially) wells, all of which exist in their own unique "reality." Whatever happens there isn't strange--it makes perfect sense according to the rules of that place. And there's always the chance that these places aren't "places" at all, but something far more subjective and abstract... closer to a state of being, you might say (though I don't think that's entirely accurate either).

Nonsense!

And much like Murakami's writing, Kurosawa's lens presents this strange existence in a straightforward, unintrusive style. Wide shots, long takes, little to no camera movement--we get the necessary image, and no more. In fact, in keeping with a typical Japanese aesthetic, he manages to give us just a little less than we'd normally expect. The viewer is almost always kept outside the action, looking in. In another film we might consider this a voyeuristic gaze, but here it feels like something different. The image isn't obscured as much as it's framed by these enclosures.

Outside looking in

I suppose I should clarify one thing: I'm not suggesting that Kurosawa is in any way influenced by Murakami directly (although I certainly can't be sure either way). It seems more likely that (at least with Charisma) Kurosawa is working within a very similar--but unrelated--aesthetic and thematic realm. I've actually noticed a unity in style among almost all Japanese directors who cut their teeth working in V-Cinema, churning out endless straight-to-video yakuza pictures. Takashi Miike, in particular... if any consistency whatsoever can be claimed across his heroic oeuvre, it's an adherence to this particular style of shooting. Long takes, wide shots, little camera movement. My personal belief is that what began as economy evolved into aesthetics, but I'll leave that discussion for another time.

The typical setup for a Kurosawa dialogue scene

Now that I think about it, I suppose the strongest connection I can draw between Charisma and Murakami's writing is a little vague, and entirely personal: they both leave me with a similar feeling, a certain undefinable taste in my mouth. One that I quite enjoy, obviously. It's not even that it's a such great film, necessarily. It just... appeals to me. I guess it might be useful to stop comparing them to each other and instead look back further to a body of work that likely spawned both Murakami and Kurosawa: namely, Kafka. But I'm tired, and this is probably already too long.

This post brought to you by several tasty bottles of Guinness, which I blame entirely for any lapses in spelling, grammar, or logic.