Lee Sang Il's Rage (Ikari) begins with a grisly double murder. The film then splits into three narratives, all involving people with mysterious pasts. One of these three people may have committed the murder. But who?
Much like his film Akunin (2010), Rage is based on a novel, and contains copious amounts of emotional violence. At the same time, it ruminates on the concepts of guilt, shame, and anger in Japanese society. It can be read as a reflection of this anger in its lynchpin story, paralleling Japan's strained relationship with US bases in Okinawa.
The anger in this film is not the kind of anger that displays itself openly, through a person's tatemae or facade, instead, it focuses on the rage building up on the inside, fomenting in the honne of the Japanese psyche. This rage is tempered by shame and regret, but it tears up its victims, burning them alive from the inside out. Whether it be the shame of an act that never be avenged, or the shame of hiding one's true self or a dark past, this shame haunts the characters of the film up to its inevitable conclusion.
On the other side of the coin, the film talks about trust - in each of the three stories, our drifters are met with differing reactions from the characters around them - they are either trusted too much, distrusted too easily, or some combination of the two. The film can also be read as a treatise on how the Japanese treat people on the fringes of society - themes that are not uncommon in Lee's other works such as Scrap Heaven or the aforementioned Akunin. Lee himself is a Zainichi Korean, a group which was itself marginalized for a long time after WWII, so it can be easy to see why this film may be personal as well.
The ensemble cast is excellent as always, but props have to go out to young newcomer Suzu Hirose, whose performance in this film proves she isn't only suited to teenybopper or cutesy roles. The film's heavy emotional weight is underscored by Ryuichi Sakamoto's score.
The film's final act may seem a bit too melodramatic to some, but it underlines the film's main thesis - that healing begins when rage is released via catharsis. It might not sit well with foreign audiences, but it's an ending that feels Japanese, if that makes any sense.
Once in a while a movie comes along that reminds me why I love watching movies so much. This year, it's Makoto Shinkai's Kimi no na wa (otherwise known as Your name.) Although objectively his earlier Garden of Words is better conceptually, this movie simply hits all the right notes, creating an unforgettable experience, anime or not.
The movie is best seen blind, but if you want to know the basics of the plot: it involves a strange phenomenon where Tokyoite Taki and country girl Mitsuha start switching bodies. It's an anime trope that's been used before, but not this well in my opinion. Through their interactions in each other's bodies, they learn even more about each other, and strike up a weird friendship (though they never meet each other during this time).
Soon the plot drives forward in unexpected ways, and the movie takes us through every twisty step. It also has a lot of the romantic tones of Shinkai's earlier 5cm per second and Garden of Words, as well as a tinge of magical realism.
It's also a very relevant film that seems to follow the cinematic themes of Japanese film post 3/11: Kimi no na wa's themes of remembering a loved one probably rings true with many Japanese audiences, especially after the great loss the country incurred during the recent earthquake and tsunami. It establishes remembrance as a way to keep people in one's heart forever. At the same time, it's a movie that greatly respects the unity of traditional and modern Japan, Taki and Mitsuha embodying both aspects of Japanese culture that are distinct, yet symbiotic. Its emphasis on understanding is made literal as the two characters wear each others' shoes, and learn something about themselves in the process.
As with all Makoto Shinkai movies, the visuals are gorgeous, and it was an absolute treat watching this in a proper 4K cinema (watching a Makoto Shinkai movie in less than 720p resolution is an absolute travesty in my opinion). The Japanese band RADWIMPS takes care of the soundtrack, and their post-rock inspired tunes suit the movie very well.
With that all said, Kimi no na wa is one of Makoto Shinkai's most realized films (if not his most realized film). And it's simply one of my favorite films of the year. It's visually gorgeous, and its story is heartwarming and tender. That's as good a recommendation as I can give you.
Mozu The Movie is the sequel to a two season police procedural/mystery drama series, and relies heavily on said drama for background information. Since I haven't seen the series yet, I basically had little idea what was going on at any one time. Nevertheless, the movie does have a few interesting moments that keep it from being totally incomprehensible.
The film's plot, based on what I can piece together, involves a shadowy organization controlling Japanese politics, a league of mysterious children with barcodes on their napes, and a group of cartoonishly hammy assassins. The movie seems to be pulling out all the stops, even though it doesn't seem to be necessary. It might have been the same tone as the original drama, so I don't know either way.
Most of the film is shot in Manila, with extended scenes of our characters eating at a karinderia, fistfighting and blowing up stuff at the Pier area, going on extended car chases near Market Market, running through slums, or waxing poetic near the PNR tracks. The characters even speak Tagalog in parts. But wait, it isn't the Philippines, it's a fictional Southeast Asian country called Penam, no doubt because it shows the grimiest most unflattering areas of the city. The weirdness of it is actually quite entertaining, though most of the mirth may have been lost on Japanese and (in this case, Hong Kong) audiences.
If you take it only for the action, Mozu isn't so bad, but those looking for a story without the proper context should probably take their movie money elsewhere.
At the age of 85, veteran filmmaker Yoji Yamada still churns out a movie every few years. this 2015 film, Nagasaki: Memories of My Son, was selected as Japan's entry to the best Foreign Film Oscar race. While it's a straight out melodrama, it really doesn't reach cheesy levels and remains poignant, touching and even funny in some parts.
The film revolves around Nobuko (legendary actress Sayuri Yoshinaga), who has lost her entire family thanks to the war, last of all her son Koji, who was a victim of the atomic bomb dropped on Nagasaki. However, he comes back as a ghost, helping Nobuko with her acceptance, and reminiscing about happier times as a family.
The setting of the movie is postwar Japan - a country reeling from its humiliating defeat in World War II. The war took its toll on the people as well, as many people lost their families during the war. War always takes away, the film admonishes, it never gives. Nagasaki deals with the aftermath of the war and the devastation, as well as the economic hardships suffered by the Japanese during this time, and the futility of war itself. Despite this, Nobuko keeps steadfast, dutifully preparing a meal for a son that will never come home (at least, not as a ghost.) It's a reflection of her job as a midwife, someone that brings new life into this world, as opposed to taking it.
Nobuko's story is filled with quiet flashbacks of her life with her son as she watches him grow up. Even though the setting of the film is incredibly depressing, the film manages to find a modicum of hope and optimism in Nobuko's situation. Even though she has lost her entire family, others still care for her in their place. Its themes of family resonate throughout Yamada's works, even his earlier films. Even his later films operate on this premise - one of his later works is a remake of Ozu's Tokyo Story.
The ending might strike some as a bit hokey, but it signifies a peace of mind that can only come with acceptance, or the will to move on despite the odds.
And finally, I treated myself to a special advance screening of Midnight Diner 2 (otherwise known as Zoku Shinya Shokudou; the movie doesn't formally premiere in Hong Kong until December), the second movie adaptation of the wildly successful TV drama that has proven popular in a lot of Asian countries, especially Korea, who has made their own version of the show. If you haven't seen the show yet, I wholeheartedly recommend it - you can find the first season on Netflix.
On the other hand, Midnight Diner 2 is pretty self contained, as it adapts the same episodic formula as the original series and the first movie. It's basically three standalone episodes merged together to form a feature length feature. This is in no way a bad thing, as the individual stories are just as interesting as any episode of the series.
The film's stories deal with moving on, letting go of the past, and death (funerals figure in a major way during the first of the three stories). They range from simple, to heartwarming to emotionally devastating (the third story, about an amnesiac granny that everyone helps out, is particularly affecting.) It's all served with the distinct flavor of bittersweetness that exemplifies the show as a whole.
While it stands alone just fine, the movie does throw in a few treats to people who have seen the series. Various characters from the first three seasons of the show appear in supporting roles at one point or another. The acting is generally excellent across the board (and it's fun to see Mikako Tabe again after a long time not seeing her in anything.) All in all, it's really enjoyable stuff, and if this is your introduction to the Midnight Diner series, I recommend checking the rest of their stuff out.
With that all said, Kimi no na wa is one of Makoto Shinkai's most realized films (if not his most realized film). And it's simply one of my favorite films of the year. It's visually gorgeous, and its story is heartwarming and tender. That's as good a recommendation as I can give you.
The film's plot, based on what I can piece together, involves a shadowy organization controlling Japanese politics, a league of mysterious children with barcodes on their napes, and a group of cartoonishly hammy assassins. The movie seems to be pulling out all the stops, even though it doesn't seem to be necessary. It might have been the same tone as the original drama, so I don't know either way.
Most of the film is shot in Manila, with extended scenes of our characters eating at a karinderia, fistfighting and blowing up stuff at the Pier area, going on extended car chases near Market Market, running through slums, or waxing poetic near the PNR tracks. The characters even speak Tagalog in parts. But wait, it isn't the Philippines, it's a fictional Southeast Asian country called Penam, no doubt because it shows the grimiest most unflattering areas of the city. The weirdness of it is actually quite entertaining, though most of the mirth may have been lost on Japanese and (in this case, Hong Kong) audiences.
If you take it only for the action, Mozu isn't so bad, but those looking for a story without the proper context should probably take their movie money elsewhere.
The film revolves around Nobuko (legendary actress Sayuri Yoshinaga), who has lost her entire family thanks to the war, last of all her son Koji, who was a victim of the atomic bomb dropped on Nagasaki. However, he comes back as a ghost, helping Nobuko with her acceptance, and reminiscing about happier times as a family.
The setting of the movie is postwar Japan - a country reeling from its humiliating defeat in World War II. The war took its toll on the people as well, as many people lost their families during the war. War always takes away, the film admonishes, it never gives. Nagasaki deals with the aftermath of the war and the devastation, as well as the economic hardships suffered by the Japanese during this time, and the futility of war itself. Despite this, Nobuko keeps steadfast, dutifully preparing a meal for a son that will never come home (at least, not as a ghost.) It's a reflection of her job as a midwife, someone that brings new life into this world, as opposed to taking it.
Nobuko's story is filled with quiet flashbacks of her life with her son as she watches him grow up. Even though the setting of the film is incredibly depressing, the film manages to find a modicum of hope and optimism in Nobuko's situation. Even though she has lost her entire family, others still care for her in their place. Its themes of family resonate throughout Yamada's works, even his earlier films. Even his later films operate on this premise - one of his later works is a remake of Ozu's Tokyo Story.
The ending might strike some as a bit hokey, but it signifies a peace of mind that can only come with acceptance, or the will to move on despite the odds.
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| (this is a poster for the first film) |
On the other hand, Midnight Diner 2 is pretty self contained, as it adapts the same episodic formula as the original series and the first movie. It's basically three standalone episodes merged together to form a feature length feature. This is in no way a bad thing, as the individual stories are just as interesting as any episode of the series.
The film's stories deal with moving on, letting go of the past, and death (funerals figure in a major way during the first of the three stories). They range from simple, to heartwarming to emotionally devastating (the third story, about an amnesiac granny that everyone helps out, is particularly affecting.) It's all served with the distinct flavor of bittersweetness that exemplifies the show as a whole.
While it stands alone just fine, the movie does throw in a few treats to people who have seen the series. Various characters from the first three seasons of the show appear in supporting roles at one point or another. The acting is generally excellent across the board (and it's fun to see Mikako Tabe again after a long time not seeing her in anything.) All in all, it's really enjoyable stuff, and if this is your introduction to the Midnight Diner series, I recommend checking the rest of their stuff out.
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