Kotoko

This is quite an unknown film, in fact I know of no one who has actually even heard of this let alone seen it. Therefore, I'm braving new territory. I'm pleased to report that this is exceptional filmmaking. A young single mother suffers from a mental illness that enables her to see double, questioning what is reality and what is fantasy. Tsukamoto has achieved excellence with Kotoko. He is able to convey the solitude and disparity of a fractured mind with visceral filming techniques. The transition from slow camera movements to explosive shakiness (albeit over accentuating that movement slightly too much) highlights the violence that she suppresses and unfortunately succumbs to. There is self-harming. There are visions of horrific imagery that no parent (or anybody) would ever want to see. Yet, it's imperative that these are shown. The complexity of her illness makes her a liability, her eventual loneliness only worsens the situation and I believe it's important that the bloody violence conveys that raw emotion. You feel helpless watching her. Both the internal and external struggles of this rare psychological detriment are explicitly portrayed where all of your emotions are drained. This is a relentless drama, and I admire the personable perspective. A feature film debut for singer-songwriter Cocco who delivers an outstanding performance. There is a stunning one take scene of her belting out a melancholic song, and I was transfixed. She held my gaze, grabbing my eyes and refusing to let go. Just masterful. The loud piercing noises throughout increases the broken nightmarish reality that she lives. The story does lack some attention towards the psychological aspects of this illness, where certain scenes do feel slightly too ambiguous for its own good. Also, a vision involving her son towards the end was too violent. However Tsukamoto's heartbreaking drama remains grounded throughout and holds one of the best debut performances I've seen. It's not an easy watch, but do check this out and give it some adoration.

Tormented by frightening visions, a single mother who struggles to take care of herself and her newborn child realizes that the key to figuring out how to save herself is with a new relationship only to realize her madness hasn't left her and is always close to being fully unleashed on others.

This was a fantastic effort with a lot to enjoy about it. One of the finest aspects of the film is the strength of the central character who has so much going on that she's worthy of being this kind of central figure. Being given such a strong personality, the film gets quite a lot of mileage out of her. The torment she feels trying to raise her child alone in the city causes such stress and frustration that she frequently daydreams about killing it to start her life over, so the peace and tranquility she feels being around her sister out in the countryside is a welcome relief contrasting with the cold city scenes. To top it off, she also struggles with an ability to separate fantasy from reality where she constantly imagines evil doppelgangers of those around her who often viciously attack her that forces her into a self-destructive pattern of self-mutilation and creates an overall frantic central premise here. Still, this one doesn't forget it's a horror film at its heart so there are plenty of fantastic scares here. These revolve around the doppelganger attacks which are striking and utterly haunting here with frantic editing, chaotic sounds blaring along through the sequence and a dark intent behind them rushing towards her, these scenes leave a strong impression with the feverish intent and frequency that they're featured in the first half. There's a brutality on display here with the way these occur which gives this a striking tone and feel that goes hand-in-hand with the madness she displays, which is furthered by the scenes of her cutting herself or the way she beats up those that try to get between her and child as this is quite the dark and frantic tale. While these here offer up plenty to like, the film does have a few minor issues on display. The vast majority of the film is a character study so those expecting traditional jump-scares or slashings will be disappointed. This takes it's time to tell this story, so although the horror scenes do occur and are absolutely stellar during those times, frankly the film doesn't have that much else going on. It still moves along well but it's mostly brief spurts of action followed by other scenes that focus on her madness and lost sanity so the action doesn't get featured here at all. This can leave the film feeling dull for long stretches of time to some which really is the main problem.

Rated Unrated/R: Graphic Violence, Language and scenes of violence towards children.

Few directors have so consistently blurred the line between agony and ecstasy as Shin'ya Tsukamoto. Ever since 1989's 'Tetsuo: The Iron Man' fused flesh and metal into a shrieking, psychosexual nightmare, Tsukamoto has been both a chronicler and an architect of urban alienation- a filmmaker obsessed with the violence of existence in an indifferent world. His jagged, intimate films pulse with bodily horror and emotional extremity, but beneath the rust and blood there's always a yearning for connection.

That yearning takes a harrowing new shape in his 2011 offering 'Kotoko', where Tsukamoto turns his lens inward. Gone is the clash of man and machine; in its place, a quieter but no less brutal war- between mind and body, sanity and survival. The film follows the titular Kotoko, a single mother whose grip on reality is fraying. She suffers from a rare psychological condition that causes her to see double, perceiving people as both kind and cruel, safe and threatening, often simultaneously. This duality plunges her into a state of constant fear and confusion, where even the most mundane interactions become battlegrounds for her sanity.

It's a fascinating premise, and one that makes for an unflinching film. 'Kotoko' doesn't follow a conventional dramatic arc, instead unfolding like a fever dream. Fragmented and elliptical, Tsukamoto's narrative structure mirrors the disintegration of its central character's psyche. The story is intimate to the point of claustrophobia, often trapping one in Kotoko's perspective as reality warps around her. This approach can be disorienting, but it's also deeply immersive, forcing one to experience her confusion, terror and longing, firsthand.

Tsukamoto's characterisation is nuanced and unsparing, while his film has much to say about mental illness, albeit without any easy answers. There's no romanticism, no tidy diagnosis- just the lived experience of a mind in freefall. The narrative eschews resolution in favour of revelation, peeling back layers of trauma, fear and fractured love until all that remains is a raw nerve. It's a harrowing portrait of psychological collapse, and a haunting meditation on what fragments of humanity might still be salvaged from the wreckage.

Still, the film isn't without issue. A few sequences- particularly those involving singing- linger longer than necessary. While clearly well-intentioned and thematically resonant, their extended duration has a tendency to dull their emotional impact. What begins as poignancy risks tipping into indulgence, slightly undermining the immediacy the film otherwise maintains. While these moments don't break its spell, they do strain its impact somewhat- a reminder that even the most affecting motifs benefit from restraint (and a tighter hand in the editing booth).

Visually, 'Kotoko' is as restless as its protagonist. Tsukamoto's cinematography leans heavily on handheld, shaky camera work, amplifying the film's tension. Jittery framing mirrors Kotoko's unstable mental state, pulling one into her disorientation and dread. At its best, this technique is visceral and effective, heightening the emotional stakes with raw urgency. However, its overuse can become wearying, occasionally distracting from the emotional core rather than enhancing it.

The sound design is sparse but razor-sharp, punctuating moments of silence with sudden bursts of noise that jolt the viewer into Kotoko's fractured headspace. The score- minimal, often built around the haunting vocals of star Cocco- functions as an extension of Kotoko's psyche, oscillating between lullaby and lament. Meanwhile, the production design is stripped-down and intimate, favouring cramped interiors and bare, weathered spaces. There's a palpable tactility to the environments- scuffed floors, peeling walls, dim lighting- grounding the film's more hallucinatory flourishes in a grim, tangible reality.

Cocco, best known as a singer-songwriter, delivers a startling turn in the title role. Her portrayal of Kotoko is unflinching- a painfully authentic fusion of fragility and fury. Fully inhabiting the character, she channels her anguish in a most affecting way. Tsukamoto, in a supporting role, offers a quiet counterpoint: his presence is restrained, almost spectral, allowing Cocco's emotional volatility to dominate proceedings. Although dialogue is relatively sparse, their physical, emotive performances speak volumes without the need for words. Further, their supporting cast's understated contributions add texture to the film's emotional landscape.

Shin'ya Tsukamoto's 'Kotoko' is not an easy watch, nor is it meant to be. It's a film that demands emotional surrender, confronting the viewer with the unfiltered reality of psychological collapse. Though not without its faults, it finds a strange kind of grace in its unrelenting intensity. Tsukamoto's vision is uncompromising, and Cocco's performance unforgettable. Together, they craft a work as bruising as it is beautiful: a howl from the depths, a wounded plea for connection in an uncaring world.

I find it sad that this provocative, challenging film has such a low rating. This is a film about a serious subject (mental illness) that is portrayed through intense visuals and expressionistic performance. The director positions you so that you feel like you are inside the characters head and its a very distressing place to be. There is strong violence and the film is very tragic but there are also moments of beauty such as when Cocco sings and dances. Yes, the camera work is very "shaky" buy the purpose is to create a realism and disorientation as experienced by the character. If the film had been shot formally it would have lost its impact. This is not a film for mainstream cinema fans. It is a challenging and artistic piece of work that deserves serious attention.

Tsukamoto's "Kotoko" is a disturbing, Heartbraking, and shocking masterpiece, with great images and cinematography.

This film describes the nervous breakdown of a single mother, who suffers from severe mental problems, such as paranoia, double vision, anxiety and deep depression.

Her mental state is shown very differently throughout the film. Her state gets better, when she sings or is near her son, otherwise she is paranoid, anxious, and self harming.

Throughout the whole film, her state gets all the way worse, represented in both shocking, and beautiful images.

Cocco's acting is phenomenal. As a viewer, you can really feel what she is going through. When she is singing in her soft and calm voice, you can really calm down for a while, otherwise you are in a state of constant discomfort.

The camera shows off her mental health in either a really shaky, or a really calm camera work.

The film has no soundtrack, but thats not necessary at all.

This film is not for sensitive persons, it shows shocking and disturbing images of self harming and paranoid behaviours. This film needs your whole attention, otherwise you dont get into it.

Story: 10/10 Acting: 10/10 Cinematography: 10/10 Camera: 10/10 (If you dont like shaky, found footage like movies, dont watch this)

Total score: 10.