Fireworks

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.

A slow burning movie, full of brooding atmosphere, lots of fierce stares and minimal dialogue. Lots of violence mainly aimed at yakusa so that's OK I guess.

Very good photography, solid music and a soul spiralling out of it's orbit.

Kitano's Hana-bi is something quite special, a film where images of violence and beauty are juxtaposed. The violence is deadly, but certainly not gratuitous or pointless. The beauty is the love story, the happiness between a cop and his wife.

There are 3 main stories in the picture, each one given the time it deserves. The film is beautiful to watch, the camera work is slick and amazing.

The direction is faultless and no frame is wasted. The film's images speak out, they are very powerful. The long silences add so much to the film, the director really knew what he was doing.

The screenplay is almost in the shadow of the awe-inspiring images, but does give the picture a deserving foundation!

The performances are 101% perfect, very authentic!

The film's musical score is beautiful, it feels very isolated from the images which only adds to the raw ambience, it's perfect!

This is a Japanese masterpiece, see it in wide-screen!

It took at least three repeat viewings of this film before I felt I was ready to review it here on IMDB. The first time I played the DVD I felt a strange sense of detachment as I tried to absorb what had been played out before me.

Kitano plays a detective with huge burdens on his shoulders. His wife, Miyuki) is dying from cancer, a trusted partner & friend (Horibe) is in a wheelchair with nothing to occupy his mind other than to paint landscapes & think about suicide now that his wife & family have deserted him. And to cap it all during an undercover operation headed by Kitano a young detective (Tanaka) is mortally shot & killed because of a blunder on Kitano's part.

Having been subsequently kicked out of the policeforce, Kitano has to cope not only with the loss his job (and income) but to come to terms with his guilt regarding the dead detective, Tanaka, his emotional feelings & absent love for Miyuki as she sees out her last few weeks. And finally, Kitano has a great deal of sympathy & loyalty to his former partner & friend crippled in a wheelchair.

In typical Kitano fashion he decides to rob a bank, pay off his debts to the local Yakuza warlords and spend the rest of the money on his crippled friend, Horibe; Tanaka's young widow and Kitano's dying wife.

Being a big fan of Kitano I wasn't disappointed by the style of the movie. His directional trademarks are visible through most of his films: flowers, beach scenes, picturesque landscapes, beautiful & haunting music (by the ever dependable Jo Hisaishi); face-to-camera shots and of course a sense of helplessness & defeatism within the lead actors themselves.

But what I wasn't quite prepared for was the melodrama & pathos the film revealed to me. Unlike most of his other "gangster/police" movies such as Brother, Sonatine & Violent Cop, the violence seems secondary to the moving, sometimes harrowing scenes of Kitano & Miyuki holidaying together, trying to relive some of their past love & passion for each but only to find there is nothing but loss & grief.

Kitano shows a great range of emotions in this film: from being a tough & very unforgiving man with his dealings with the Yakuza (the violence is sharp, sudden & very graphic). While at other times he is a man totally lost in a world of sorrow & pity, a man who finds it hard to grieve, to own up to his mistakes & guilt, a man who only now realises how much he will miss his wife after spending so many years staying away & not appreciating her needs whilst doing his job in the police.

The ending is absolutely gut-wrenching, but to be honest it was of no real surprise since there are similar outcomes in most of Kitano's films, especially Violent Cop & Sonatine.

The cinematography is absolutely outstanding, coupled with the haunting score of Jo Hisaishi (who also did the score for my favourite Kitano film, Sonatine). Kitano's direction is also beautifully paced with very tight editing & not a single shot is wasted.

The acting as well, is top drawer. Nothing needs to be said about Kitano's performance because it is that good. But the support from Kayoko Kishimoto (Miyuki), Ren Osugi (Horibe) & Yûko Daike (Tanaka's widow) is truly excellent and never weighs the movie down with too much manufactured & false melodrama so typical of Hollywood (especially movies starring Robin Williams).

As I said at the beginning of this review I had to see this film at least three times before I felt compelled to write about it, such is the power & strength within this film. Kitano's humanity is very redeeming & reveals to our Western eyes the true values of Japanese tradition & family relationships, especially with regards loyalty, friendship, love & coming to terms with one's guilt.

I recommend this film to anyone who takes an interest in movies of this kind. It may appear to drag at times, and some of the shots seems uneven & redundant on first viewing. But give it a chance because after about the second or third view more & more of the film's inner strengths will brim to the surface leaving you aghast & begging for more.

*****/*****

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.