Fireworks

There are two challenges in building a life with the help of art.

The first challenge is the matter of finding good art, sorting it out from background noise. Good art is a communication from a transcendent place through a person or group with the skills to deliver it coherently. This is rare enough. All good craftsmen think they are artists and sell themselves that way.

This film is a work of art. Yes, quirky. Yes, some elements are clumsy. He has some paintings he wants us to see, so he shoehorns in a suicidal painter. He needs a suicidal painter, so he...

But we tolerate these misfits because the nature of the story follows the Japanese gangster movie convention of being a bunch of borrowed quotes from elsewhere. Borrowing these from Takeshi's artistic world is as fair as from the pop vocabulary. All these projects reference the outside.

So this is good art. It resonates. I recommend you look at it.

But the second challenge with art is deciding how to relate to it, to use it to build your mind, to work and extend your imagination. You are what you eat artistically. I cannot eat this.

No, it is not the violence. Violence in film is merely cinematic tension, to be used like smoke. It is the world that matters. Art is a gateway to a world and you have to be disposed to the target: can you use it? Will it help?

What's wrong here is that this the flip side of noir. Noir defines a world of random pain, animated by some conspiracy between the viewer and a disembodied fate. But it comes from an intent of humorous exploration, capricious hazard but hazard for mischief, not deliberate pain. Its the deliberate pain we get here, the incessant grinding of the human spirit, and incidentally some valiant tolerance, but only incidentally.

If I clove this into my mind, I would be another half step closer to suicide myself. So watch it... from a distance.

Ted's Evaluation -- 3 of 3: Worth watching.

'Hana-bi' is one of the most impressive movies I've seen in the last ten years. Writer/director/star Beat Takeshi (Takeshi Kitano) is best known in Japan as a comedian and TV personality, so this movie is even more astonishing to outsiders like myself. Takeshi has a very laconic and charismatic screen presence, and is no slouch as a director either. It's difficult to describe the feel of this movie, and its poetic use of violence. Peckinpah's brilliant and misunderstood 'Bring Me The Head Of Alfredo Garcia' comes to mind, as does Cassavetes' 'The Killing Of A Chinese Bookie', Ferrara's 'King Of New York' and 'Bad Lieutenant'. 'Hana-bi' reminds me of those movies but Takeshi adds his own unique voice to the material. I was knocked out by it, and I cannot recommend it highly enough to movie fans who are fascinated by the relationship between art and violence. I don't think calling this movie a masterpiece is an exaggeration. Absolutely essential viewing!

It was frustrating at first- I couldn't work out what the plot was, wasn't really caring for the characters, and didn't know whether it was in non-chronological order or not. At a point, I unconsciously stopped worrying about those things, and started to enjoy it more. It felt less about having a conventional narrative and more about simply evoking some powerful- yet sorta hard to describe- emotions. The visuals are largely great and go a long way in making the film oddly beautiful and hypnotic, and the musical score is outstanding. I could see myself really liking this on a rewatch at some point, when I know what I'm in for, and therefore aware of the best mood to experience such a film in.

Nishi is a cop who is very good at his job but whose personal life is impacted with loss – a dead child and now a dying wife. When his partner is put in a wheelchair by a criminal and another officer is shot dead, Nishi finds himself plagued by guilt over his part in it all. Blaming himself Nishi tries to do the right thing by his partner Horibe and the widow of cop, while also trying to salvage some happiness in what remains of his time with his wife.

I came back to Takeshi Kitano about the same time as I left the Movies You Should See podcast. I left it because I don't think it is as good as it could be and at times offers no real insight into a film other than describing "bits" however I give them a mention because they reminded me that I had only ever seen one or two of Kitano's films and that it had been some time since I had even seen those. So it was that after watching Brother, my rental site threw me Hana-Bi and I was looking forward to it due to the praise on this site and indeed the podcast itself. The expectation was not unjustified as Hana-Bi is a film of pain and beauty that is well worth seeing even if it is not the image of perfection that some would have you believe.

That statement is bound to attract a low vote on IMDb but what can I tell you? That it was slow and quiet is not a problem for me but it is a feeling you get watching the film and it is not helped by some scenes feeling irrelevant within the context of the story. This is not a real killer but I felt that the slow pace needed support and seeing two minor characters argue about a fender bender (for example) saw my interest dip and the slow pace start to be felt. Otherwise though, the silence and pace suits the material and the style of the film. The violence is quite subdued (in regards what you actually see) because it occurs in the edit of the action – so the actual impact is mostly unseen. It doesn't matter though because the main thrust of the film is less the outward violence but the internal suffering of all the characters. The film does wear this aspect a little heavily at times and some will feel that some sequences are right on the edge of being pretentious and there is no point in denying that it does walk this line here and there.

However for the majority it is a really well observed and emotionally engaging story built on the silent but emotive presence of Kitano as writer, director and star. As writer he has, it could be argued, left a lot to the actual making process itself since the script must have been a few pages. As director he sets the pace and I like the way his static style works within this story but it is his work as actor that always mystifies and impresses me. How he can convey so much while also appearing to be doing nothing at all I'm not sure but it somehow works and fits his style in other disciplines. He is well supported by Kishimoto, with whom he has genuine chemistry without betraying his character's nature. Osugi is not that great and it is with his character that I found the film close to being pretentious, not the actor's fault of course but I never felt for him as I did for Nishi.

Hana-Bi is very slow and quiet and I can totally understand why some viewers will throw it in very early on. However sticking with it reveals a film that manages to be violent, introspective and emotionally engaging at the same time, all wrapped in the style of Kitano, who is creative across the board.

It's lyrical poetry: sensitive, eloquent, visual, hard and soft edges simultaneously, and sparing dialog. There's no need to tell all -- all is conveyed in the paintings presented, in the words spoken by supporting characters, in facial expressions and gestures. It's minimal -- nothing's gratuitous. The story is told mostly visually, unhurried, not even a hold-up scene -- that feels leisurely, too.

It's a story about a cop, miles apart from Hollywood commercial productions. The treatment writer-director Kitano delivered is unlike any seen before. The central character, Nishi, he has guts to live or to die. "He's a darn good cop," Horibe his partner confirmed. (Horibe, whose poignantly restrained performance by Ren Osugi, is more than just a supporting role in the film). Nishi has two close partners: one (Tanaka) died in action and left a widow, the other crippled in action and confined to a wheelchair. His wife Miyuki (a wonderfully quiet performance from Kayoko Kishimoto) is in the hospital; she's been ill for two years; their daughter died earlier. These details are given to us through casual conversations from supporting characters and flashback memories reflecting Nishi's constantly attentive mind in spite of his mostly blank face.

He's a caring man. But when he is ignited, incensed by injustice or anyone's action or words that get in his way, his reaction is the other extreme of his subdued gentleness inside: an unhesitating steady strike or continuous multiple blows, or "emptying his bullets into a corpse." He has a lot of pent-up emotions ready to explode. Nishi is an honorable man; he felt responsible for the misfortunes that occurred to his two partners. Perhaps it's guilt; he has to do something to amend the situation. There are crime depictions, including Yakuza related segments. His physical reactions to thugs are unflinching to the point of brutal yet they are essentially graphic -- at times in powerful silence.

He's a pensive man -- we can tell he's constantly thinking. There are occasional comic relieving pauses: we see him taking a moment and even breaking into a smile, e.g., when he beckons to play ball with the two workers on the street while at a stake out; his brief exchange with the junkyard owner was revealing. It's all paced in good measure.

It's a quiet film yet strong and deep, filled with human frailties and vulnerable situations. The relationship between he and his wife is beyond words. There are little mutual gestures between the two of them -- so much is expressed silently. Sometimes it's straight to the point short questions from Nishi to his wife -- and this could be delivered to us in voice-overs. The camera gives us serene scenic landscapes: seaside view with a horizon -- waves rolling in being a repeated theme; snow scenes; a temple with a big bell and a few wandering cats. It also embraces the paintings and still lifes (e.g., a wooden puzzle game and two dessert plates on a table), giving us deliberate meaningful close-ups. In HANA-BI, silence speaks louder than effects of any kind.

The film touches on aspects of life and living -- relationships of working partners, husband and wife, and being human. It's a canvas Kitano thoughtfully creatively painted on film -- broad strokes, little poignant details here and there, vibrant solid colors and imageries. Words are sparse. Simple and yet not at all simple. It could be evident that perhaps he did it all for love? His love for his wife certainly shows. Throughout the film, his face seemed void of emotions -- hardly flinches -- and in the end, possibly a flinch or two did cross his face. Perhaps he's resigned to fate?

The music by Jo Hisaishi at times is reminiscent of European film scores, e.g., flowing tune following a car leisurely cruising along the seaside road at some Riviera of Italy or Southern France. It complements the story in soothing tempo from beginning to end. Kitano's "FIREWORKS" is in perfect cadence -- an excellent piece of film expression. A rare gem.