Berserk: Egg of the King

ベルセルク覇王の卵 Toshiyuki Kubooka, 2012

ReelAnime 4/4

I was saving Berserk for last. Right off the bat, I had a gut feeling it would be the one I would enjoy the least. It just looked like a mindless medieval battle movie adapted from a mindless medieval battle manga/anime. It seems to me like Berserk has never really been as popular as it is in Japan, I had never really heard of it, except through the music of Susumu Hirasawa, who provided soundtracks for the anime series (his sounds are amazing and body of work staggering, check him out), and I rarely get into anime series anyway because they usually tend to drag on a bit for me. At least this Berserk movie would be bearable because they will condense it into film length and drop all the filler right?

The film is set an unspecified kingdom/land, but a blind man could see the medieval Europe inspiration. From the get go then, we have knights in shining armour on horseback, battling with swords - all the while yelling and carrying on in Japanese like it’s nobody's business. But this is no off putting anachronism; in fact, it’s kind of fascinatingly that this works. The question of believability never really enters into the equation and we are swept up into this bizarre east-meets-west alternate history. The hero of our tale is a swaggering warrior named Guts. I thought for a while that this was a joke, but no, his name is actually GUTS. He is an arrogant brawn over brains style fighter with a sword quite literally as long as he is tall (paging Dr. Freud…?). Guts appears to be working for some kind of clan/guild, but doesn’t really seem to have any strong allegiances. After his gratuitous display of power is spotted by some skilled warriors during a siege upon an enemy castle, Guts is ambushed, bested in battle and persuaded to join their crew. The leader of this group is called Griffin, a mysterious “dude looks like a lady” warrior with an equally mysterious egg necklace. It is from this McGuffin that our film takes its name and not much else.

I didn’t really understand just what all these warriors are actually doing. They are battling each other, but the reasons why are unclear. I thought maybe Griffin and his gang were a bunch of bandits, fighting the powers that be, but this theory was quickly dashed with a scene in which Griffin meets with the king and cracks onto his incredibly clichéd “I detest violence” princess daughter. From what I gather though, Griffin ropes Guts into his team so as to remove him as an obstacle from his quest to seize the throne. Over time, Guts is played by his friend, as he begins to learn of Griffin’s true nature. The film only runs for about an hour and twenty minutes, so just when the plot started not only thickening but taking some twists and turns, and I really found myself getting interested in the story, it was over! By that stage I was quite surprised at myself to think that I would have happily sat through another hour and a half of this blood and swords bonanza. Gutted. 

I think this fast and furious duration is what detracted from the film a little. It almost felt like it wasn’t intended for the cinema. The aforementioned Susumu Hirasawa only gets a few minutes of opening credits theme song, and the cheesy “tune in next time” style trailer add to make this film more of a glorified TV episode. Of course, the battle scenes won’t have the same effect on the small screen, but 80 minutes? At least give me a double bill! Some of the animation also didn’t work for me. The film makes extensive use of CGI animation, and it really sticks out like a sore thumb. Many of the figures clunk around the screen like bobble-headed polygons from a 90s computer game cut-scene. It also feels like the CGI director and the drawn-animation director went for a “you do one scene, I’ll do the next” approach. The difference between the two is striking, giving the film a completely uneven visual feel.  

I’ll be honest; the film contains a lot of macho-bullshit. Women are relegated to supporting roles (classic dark ages, I guess), there is plenty of buckets-of-blood gore and painfully contrived attempts at human emotion. All this is layered with a thick coating of swaggering badassery, thanks mainly to Guts. I wanted more of the lone female warrior whose name escapes me, (and I’m not referring to her jarringly awkward and wholly unnecessary nude scene) she was definitely the most interesting character, maybe we‘ll be seeing her later. The film takes itself quite seriously, like it’s trying to be an animated Game of Thrones or something. But then, maybe it is more self aware than I’m giving it credit for. I mean, Japanese voice actors pronouncing names like Charlotte and Julius is pretty hilarious. I would have liked to have seen a bit more mystical junk though. Dragons, spells, that sort of thing. There was only really one battle with an evil monster, and it was a great scene. I hope that director Toshiyuki Kubooka has more in store for the sequels.

As I said, by the end of Berserk, I really was quite involved in the story. I was not expecting this at all, thinking it would be just a silly exercise in violence aimed at teenage boys. Of course, that’s exactly what it is… but the cliff-hanger that ended this movie is killing me, and I genuinely want to know what happens next! Sure, it’s mindless entertainment, and the characters and their animation have their weak spots, but it’s surprisingly well written. If the giant Warner Brothers logo that preceded the film is anything to go by, we can probably expect to see the rest of these movies in the west. And of course, as Madman was responsible for bringing us ReelAnime, they will no doubt do their damndest to bring them to Australia.

And so ends a bloody ripper ReelAnime, 4 great little movies direct from Japan. Melbournites make sure you catch WolfChildren; its stay has been extended at Cinema Nova, (where I just may see it for a third time, it’s that good) and where From up on Poppy Hill will be rejoining it later in the year.

Children Who Chase Lost Voices

星を追う子ども Makoto Shinkai, 2011
ReelAnime 3/4
 

So we have reached the second half of Madman's ReelAnime 2012. While I did know the first two directors and their work, the remaining two are pretty much completely new to me. It seems Makoto Shinkai is a director who has been making works quite regularly, I have heard of his interestingly titled film 5 Centimetres Per Second, but apart from that, I really don't know anything about him, and haven't seen any of his work available on DVD etc. in Australia as yet.

The film is about a young girl named Asuna, who lives in a picturesque little town near the mountains. Her mother works long shifts at a hospital, so Asuna pretty much looks after herself, and doesn't really have any friends. To pass the time, she sits upon the mountains listening to her makeshift radio that is powered by a crystal shard her deceased father left her. One day when walking home from school, Asuna encounters a terrifying monster, and is saved by a mysterious young boy named Shun, who disappears just as suddenly as he arrives. Determined to find her friend, Asuna learns of and seeks out the legendary world called Agartha, which lies below our earth. Even just from writing this short synopsis, it has made me realise how clumsily the story unfolds. The aforementioned monster appears out of nowhere, Shun, who we assume will be an important role in the story is quickly killed off, and Asuna sets out on an adventure with someone she hardly knows. Her substitute teacher/Agartha expert named Morisaki, the only character who possesses any true (if cliched) motivation for finding Agartha. He plays the roles of substitute teacher, academic, mourning widower and also member of an evil corporate organisation Arch Angel, who intend to find a gateway into Agartha. Asuna blindly follows him through the mysterious underworld, and we never really know why. Is it to find her dead father? Does she still believe Shun, who she knew for less than twenty-four hours, is alive? Story possibilities are introduced then discarded quickly, and much remains unexplained. The evil Arch Angel threat is conveyed as a powerful, evil force, yet is very quickly forgotten about as soon as Asuna and Morisaki enter Agartha, sealing the baddies on the outside and allowing our story to resume its aimless meandering, in an equally horizon-less underworld.

The main problem here is in the characterisation. Asuna is a completely boring cardboard cut-out of a character. She has no heroic personality traits, her voice is annoyingly cute and harmless, and she embarks on an adventure seemingly for no reason other than she has nothing better to do. The obligatory anime young-love story between the two young leads is set up, but hardly even touched upon, continuing Shinkai's trend of throwing out story arcs as he pleases. Every single character is completely dwarfed by the epic ambition of Shinkai's film. It's obvious he has spent most of his time developing and planning the world of Agartha, which could be seen as the film's true main character. Yet even this feels underdone. The characters wander continuosly through a vast and beautifully rendered land filled with... not much. It felt very much to me like a video game, where you are forced to traverse a massive overworld in order to reach places of interest like towns or dungeons. The "dual world" concept, along with certain beasts whose weaknesses are water and light also adds strongly to these video game comparisons. In fact, I'm going to go ahead and say that this film would be much more successful as a video game. I wonder if Shinkai ever played the Super Nintendo game Terranigma, a high concept role playing game dealing with similar parallel world ideas... Children Who Chase Lost Voices is an adventure story, and while it is beautiful to look at, with it's grand visuals realised wonderfully on the big screen, it's never as exciting as it could be. Links to ancient civilizations and influence from fantasy/adventure films like Indiana Jones or Journey to the Centre of the Earth seem quite clear, but Shinkai attempts a difficult balancing act with a large number of philosophical concepts and themes, and as a result, drops some and neglects others while misplacing the sense of wonder and discovery intrinsic to successful adventure stories.

Visually, the film is probably the most vibrant I've seen at ReelAnime so far. The film has a glowing, shiny, look, which lends itself perfectly to the cosmic, alternate world designs, with an eternal twilight enveloping every scene. The attention to detail is incredible. But the fact that the visuals are the film's main success just makes me think of the work as as a meal that looks really delicious, but by the end of it, you're still hungry. Shinkai's designs of the gods/guardians who watch over Agartha are also very derivative. I feel as though I've seen them all before in Miyazaki films, which I find annoying mainly for the reason that I end up mentioning Miyazaki every time I try and talk about non-Miyazaki anime. But when you're blatantly ripping stuff off/taking cues from him, its unavoidable. One scene with a young banished warrior cutting his hair and leaving his village on horseback is lifted almost shot for shot from Princess Mononoke. And the Izuko, evil undead monsters that survive only in the shadows are like something straight out of the Zelda games.

For me the film never reaches its full potential. It is an underdone and uneven affair, with some of the most uninvolving characters I've seen in a while. It really is a film of surfaces, stunning surfaces, but surfaces nonetheless. Shinkai sets up an exciting concept, the underworld of Agartha and the intrusion of the "top-siders" and delivers an average adventure, one that it is constantly trying to catch up with the visuals, which remain miles ahead of any other element of the film. In the end we are left with characters who aren't engaging, and a film too under-developed to be wholly satisfying, and an awful end credits theme-song.

Wolf Children

おおかみこどもの雨と雪 Mamoru Hosoda, 2012
Reel Anime 2/4

Mamoru Hosoda is the most exciting director currently working in animation. His two previous films were incredible, and have proven his ability to merge impeccable visuals with creative concepts while still being entertaining. His anime adaptation of The Girl Who Leapt through Time managed to breathe new life into a classic Japanese story that has been adapted countless times since the 60s, while his previous film Summer Wars, which was shown at ReelAnime 2010, is a modern masterpiece, overflowing with colourful and creative ideas. Earlier in the year I was doing some internet trawling, trying to find out if he would making a new movie anytime soon. I stumbled upon a Japanese “coming soon” style page for his next feature Wolf Children. Ever since then I have been eagerly awaiting it. And thanks to the good ol’ folks at Madman, we haven’t had to wait too long, bringing it to Australia a couple of months after its July premiere in Japan.

Hosoda’s works so far present characters and situations that are firmly grounded in reality, until extraneous circumstances see the arrival of strong fantasy elements. The Girl Who Leapt through Time deals with the use of time travel for a young girl living in contemporary Japan, while Summer Wars presents the internet as an alternate reality, the vastness of which threatens to eclipse the real world. Wolf Children is similar in that it remains very much a film set in the now, but the fantasy elements succeed in creating a world in a magic realism style. Hana is a young woman studying at university. Living alone, she works part time at a dry cleaner’s to support herself. One day she notices a mysterious man in her class who seems quite reluctant to engage in social interaction. Over time she pursues him and they fall in love. One night, the man (he is not given a name) reveals to Hana his secret, he is actually a wolf man. Not a savage, howling, human killing werewolf, just a man who happens to have the ability to transform into a wolf. This revelation does not alter Hana’s feelings, and they remain together, and soon Hana becomes pregnant. After their two children, Ame and Yuki (Japanese for rain and snow, given the weather that accompanied their birth) are born; things take a tragic turn when the wolf man is found dead in a river. Left to raise two young wolf children on her own, the devastated Hana decides they will move to the countryside for a new start.

The first small section of the film is dedicated to Hana and the wolf man, and plays out like a fairy tale love story, until their time together is cut short and the film’s focus widens to explore the children growing up. While watching, I was interested to see just how many of these children’s years Hosoda would track. Ame and Yuki as tiny little kids just may be the most adorable thing I have ever seen in a film. They run around their tiny city apartment, chewing books and table legs, transforming from child to wolf to somewhere in between at will. Hana’s frustration and confusion at these two unique children is played both for laughs and tears. Quick jokes such as Hana puzzling over whether to take a sick Yuki to a vet or a doctor are contrasted with prolonged, overarching themes of family, with Hana constantly giving of herself to protect the children she knows society will never understand or accept. When the setting changes from the city to the country, the film opens up in environment and character development, Yuki soon begins school, while Ame begins to explore the woods that surround their house, discovering his wolf side. The development of these children is beautifully realised. Their changes of heart and personality as they go though life and encounter new people, along with their secret wolf nature is not in the least bit contrived. Of course, the film follows Hana just as much as her children. Her journey from city living Uni student to rural farmer mother of two serves as the foundation from which Ame and Yuki’s stories flourish. There are a few melodramatic encounters, and even Hosoda can’t resist a few howling from mountaintop scenes, but really, all his works have an undercurrent of sentimentality. Interestingly, looking at The Girl Who Leapt through Time to Wolf Children, each of Hosoda’s works is set increasingly further from the city, seemingly favouring an agricultural lifestyle over the alienation of the urban environment.

Hosoda studied oil painting at university, which is no doubt the reason why all of his works are imbued with his own distinctive visual style. The country setting of Wolf Children, along with its surrounding forest and the changing of the seasons, allows Hosoda and his team to go for broke visually, as they ride opportunities to create moments of animated bliss. The arrival of winter is a beautiful and spectacular segment, approaching Fantasia-style levels of cinematic transcendence, while the film’s visuals as a whole is enough to make a glass eye weep. Fluid movement is animated masterfully, Ame and Yuki change from human to wolf in a matter of seconds or small physical movements, conveyed through various visual representations of human-animal hybrid, much like the Tanuki in Isao Takahata’s Pom Poko. Computer animation is also made use of in a few scenes, mostly for point of view shots of the wolf children bounding through the forest, but these are included seamlessly, adding new, dynamic visual possibilities and doesn’t create a jarring distinction with the more traditional animation style visuals at all.

The fact that Hosoda’s films, for me anyway, give an overwhelming sense of awe not present in the majority of the more mass produced style Anime, or even recent Studio Ghibli films is enough to make me hail him as “The new Miyazaki”. But that might be a bit unfair, given they do have their differences. Hosoda doesn’t get as preachy or environmental as Miyazaki sometimes can, and where Miyazaki laments the soullessness of contemporary life, escaping into more surreal or historical places, Hosoda seems much more comfortable or in harmony with it. Interestingly, Hosoda was originally attached to direct Howl’s Moving Castle, but left the project early on, leaving us to torture ourselves imagining how he may have treated that material. Maybe if Hosoda (and indeed others, as I’ve heard Makoto Shinkai’s Children Who Chase Lost Voices, also screening at ReelAnime, is a strong Ghibli de-throning contender) continues making such amazing work as Wolf Children, Ghibli will stop resting on their laurels and Miyazaki will come out of retirement.

It's hard to talk coherently about a movie that so immediately grabs you, I really feel as though I haven't said much at all in this post and have failed to accurately convey just why I loved Wolf Children so. But all I want to do is see it again. This film is like a breath of fresh air, and that makes it a hat-trick for Mamoru Hosoda: Three incredible movies in a row. Funny, moving and visually mind-blowing: I was grinning like a maniac from start to finish. The characters are just so well developed and the story so involving. Movies like this are the reason I go to the movies, and animation like this is the reason I love animation. I loved every minute of it, and while I still think Sumer Wars might be Hosoda’s best to date, Wolf Children is similarly deserving of the title “Masterpiece”. Possibly the best movie I’ve seen all year; Animation or otherwise.

From Up On Poppy Hill

コクリコ坂から Goro Miyazaki, 2011
Reel Anime 1/4
 

Madman's ReelAnime 2012 has kicked off around Australia, showcasing four new anime films direct from Japan. ReelAnime doesn't happen every year, I think the last time was 2010, so when it comes around it's pretty exciting, especially with a line up that looks as good as this year's. The two standout films are most definitely going to be the new Studio Ghibli film From Up On Poppy Hill directed by Goro Miyazaki, and Wolf Children, the new work by Mamoru Hosoda, a director whose work has succeeded in surpassing anything Ghibli has done since Howl's Moving Caslte. My guess is that From Up On Poppy Hill will remain the major audience draw-card however, simply for the fact that it is a Studio Ghibli Film. This hypothesis was proven last night when I saw it at Cinema Nova, where the theatre was almost completely full with both adults and children.

This film had a bit riding on it for me. There are two reasons for this: One, the last Ghibli movie Arriety was not amazing. It was nice, but quite underwhelming. Two, the last Goro Miyazaki film Tales From Earthsea, which was also his directorial debut, is almost universally considered to be the worst Ghibli movie yet made. I didn't think it was an absolute failure, but like Arriety, there was just a huge lack of Ghibli magic. It must be difficult for Goro being the son of one the greatest directors of all time, animation or otherwise, Hayao Miyazaki. It's an enormous shadow to live in, but the good news is that From Up On Poppy Hill is a fairly good sign that Goro is finding his way as a director, and also that Studio Ghibli is still an important force in the animation world.

The film is set in Yokohama 1963. The 60s was a period of rapid economic development for Japan, but also one of great change and confusion following war and American occupation. The film captures this quite perfectly in that there are many instances where the film doesn't feel very Japanese at all. The presence of Coca-Cola and television, along with characters breaking from traditional roles (one is a painter, one travels abroad for study) serve to create a Japan at a crossroads. A time and place that I'm sure carries a great nostalgic power for Japanese people, one only has to look at the enormous success of the sickly sweet Always films, but for me, this was a place that seemed to exist outside of time or place, and all the more so because it was animated. I think this is what makes for the most successful aspect of Poppy Hill. 

Ghibli has produced a few coming of age stories set in modern day Japan, Whisper of The Heart and Only Yesterday, and Poppy Hill sticks to this pretty familiar formula, probably a bit too closely, actually. Umi is a teenage girl who lives in a boarding house on a hill with a bunch of women from all walks of life. Despite her age and school commitments, Umi looks cooks and cleans for all the residents and just generally runs the house, which is owned by her grandmother Keiko. At school, Umi becomes friends with a boy named Shun, who, along with his friends, are protesting the destruction of their style clubhouse. And so begins a story of young love and student politics. Unfortunately, the film is never surprising. We know how it will end and how the obstacles will be overcome, which is a shame, because the film's main plot twist deals with unexpectedly mature issues that are quite interesting given the historical context, but are hastily resolved without issue by the film's end.

Like most Japanese films set in the post-war era, Poppy Hill addresses the "Out with the old, in with the new" dictum that so propelled Japan into the modern era, and It's great to see this from a teenage student point of view. Teenagers don't know who they are or what they want to be as is, but throw them into a social environment still reeling from the effects of war while simultaneously hurtling into the future, the results are quite moving and sometimes hilarious. The school clubhouse stands as a strong if somewhat clichéd metaphor for the loss of history/tradition, but it's design is classic Ghibli. A dark, dusty building full of old junk, that is inhabited by exuberant youths with dreams of changing the world. Throughout the film, the students express a reverence for tradition and integrity that belies their age, while also keeping their sights fixed firmly on the future. In one small scene, the only two remaining members of the Archaeology club are driven to go out and recruit new members rather than sit around contemplating the loss of their clubhouse, exclaiming that they owe it to those who came before them. It seems that Goro shares his father's oft-included themes of loss of culture and also his penchant for female leads. The Kokuriko boarding house is occupied solely by modern young females, while Keiko, the lady of the house, is a kimono-clad symbol of an old Japan quickly fading.

The film's soundtrack was the thing I had the most issues with. Poppy Hill boasts an incredibly jumbled array of poorly executed musical styles, many of which are mismatched to the onscreen visuals. It ranges from plaintive piano music (a mainstay of Studio Ghibli and always done infinitely better by regular collaborator Joe Hisaishi) to Go-go style organ grooves to playful horn-driven jazz which accompanies the cleaning of the clubhouse, one of the rare moments that worked. Ghibli films usually include one or two beautiful vocal pieces that are inserted effortlessly into the film, often over the opening or closing credits, but Poppy Hill's vocal pieces felt quite underdone. Much more successful is the inclusion of the students singing what I'm guessing are nationalistic/school songs acapella to raise morale, and Kyu Sakamoto's pop song 上を向いて歩こう (I Shall Walk Looking Up) which is known in the west as "Sukiyaki" thanks to what was probably an unbelievably lazy/ignorant translation. This hugely popular song was released in the year the film is set, and adds the kind of era-specific detail the soundtrack seemed to be attempting to recreate, but ultimately failed at with its soulless rehashing of 60s music styles. The scenes in which "Sukiyaki" is included are the scenes which really soar, conveying the kind of magic Ghibli has become famous for. Unfortunately, Goro is not able to sustain this magic for the whole film in the way Spirited Away or Howl's Moving Castle do, but the mere fact that there is glimpses of it is enough to make me hopeful for his future works.

I had reasonably low expectations for Poppy Hill, and was pleasantly surprised. The story isn't anything amazingly original, and you can see the ending coming a mile off, but it is quite heartfelt. It doesn't approach anything daddy Miyazaki has done, apart from the visuals, which are absolutely beautiful, but that is something for which Ghibli can always be relied on. All in all, it is a good addition to the less fantasy oriented titles in the Ghibli library, and while he still has some way to go, it is a solid new effort from Goro Miyazaki.

MIFFburgers #5&6: Momo and Mishima

Film festivals can be dangerous. There is so much on offer, you're bound to pick a few duds. So here they are, two in one day no less! (Note how the posters make the films look much more interesting than they are)

A Letter to Momo

 ももへの手紙 Hiroyuki Okiura, 2011

I mentioned in a previous post that this was the only Japanese Anime screening at MIFF 2012, at first I thought I would skip over this film, as it really didn't look all that appealing. I watched the trailer, which didn't help either, as it was very boring. Yet for some reason I booked a ticket. Bummer.

The film follows the main character Momo, a young girl, probably about twelve years old, who has recently lost her father. She has just moved to a small town near the sea with her mother, where they will be living in close proximity to their Aunty and Uncle. Momo and her mother both suppress their grief at their recent loss, and with her mother keeping herself busy, Momo finds herself often all alone in the new house, pondering an unfinished letter from her father that she found after his death that reads only "Dear Momo". The appearance of three magical goblins who only Momo can see triggers the start of a very unoriginal story about self discovery and dealing with grief.

As I was watching this film, all I could think of was, "This has all been done before, and immeasurably better". I know it might be unfair to compare this film to Ghibli Movies, but how can you not? Let's have a look at some of the film's major plot elements. A young girl moves to a new house with a single parent, magical creatures who only the girl can see, and older grandparent figures offer advice and clues to the mystical creatures are huge elements lifted straight out of My Neighbour Totoro. The seaside location, which is beautifully realised and animated, echoes Ponyo. The weird and wonderful cast of spirits with origins in Japanese mythology and folklore recalls Spirited Away. A Letter to Momo retreads all of these ideas, which have all been explored in more artistic and inspired films.

Little kids might enjoy this, but with so much better Anime on offer I'm not sure why you'd go out of your way to see this one. I only found a couple of moments funny and found it hard to believe that fart jokes were actually included. Films still do that? The animation is absolutely beautiful though. The colours are vibrant and the character designs are quite good, in particular the little goblin you can see on the poster above. In spite of this, the film is definitely a minor work and I would probably say don't bother with this one, even if you're a die hard anime fan.

11/25: The Day Mishima Chose his Own Fate

11・25自決の日 三島由紀夫と若者たち Koji Wakamatsu, 2012

Prior to seeing this film, I knew two things about Mishima. One, he was a famous Japanese novelist, and two, he ended up killing himself, hara kiri style. Also, the only thing I knew about the director Koji Wakamatsu was that he was quite prolific in the 70s with his erotic, or pink films. Given my love of trashy films, I would probably enjoy his earlier work much more than this "biopic" of Mishima, which was an absolute shambles.

Despite the inclusion of much archival footage, photos and newspaper headlines, I still had great difficulty fully grasping the political climate of 1960s Japan and just who this Mishima character was. References are made to his successful books and ideologies, yet little to no light at all was shed on his political motivations and reasoning behind his actions. Communists, student riots, the emperor and patriotism are all talked about, but I just couldn't make head or tail of what these angry young men were on about. And I'm pretty sure it wasn't just me and my general indifference to politics. Mishima just seemed to change tack from writer to militant political activist, recruiting young men who shared his views and patriotism for Japan. This resulted in huge homoerotic overtones throughout the whole film. The men sit and talk in saunas, gaze lovingly into each others eyes and profess their devotion to each other and their cause with some of the campiest acting and overdone facial expressions I've seen in a long time. The whole film just screamed "zero budget made for TV (perhaps NHK?) production". Particularly in the scene where Mishima delivers an impassioned speech to a crowd comprised solely of crowd sound effects and blurry archival photos, accompanied by a bizarre and just audible enough to be annoying soundtrack of someone noodling on an electric piano, in desperate search of a melody.

I'm a stickler for details. If you're setting your film in the 60s, set your film in the 60s. Slapping a few headbands on females' slightly coiffured hair and a few houndstooth jackets on males does not give a 60s atmosphere. The scene where Mishima and his mates drive to meet their fate in an automobile of clearly modern production, gaily singing a patriotic song would have been unbearable if it wasn't so (unintentionally?) hilarious. Cameras attached to the ceiling capture shots with a bird's eye view, resulting in some of the most bizarre camerawork this side of Tommy Wiseau's The Room, while a dinner party in what looks like an empty display home is filmed with handheld camerawork that makes it look like an episode of Cops. Indeed, many people in the cinema could not contain their laughter at the ludicrousness of this production. One bloke even got up and yelled "Good riddance!" as he stormed out of the cinema.

In the end, I left the cinema knowing not a whole lot more about Mishima than when I entered. I'm still trying to work out whether Wakamatsu set out to create a hammy pisstake of a historical Japanese icon, or earnestly tried to represent his one of his heroes, and just failed miserably. I had some huge laughs though!

MIFF Countdown

The Melbourne International Film Festival kicks off next week and there are a grand total of nine Japanese films (although some of which are co-productions). I will be endeavouring to see every single one, so stay tuned. Among the nine films showing are not one, not two, but THREE Takashi Miike films (seriously, that man is a one man film making factory) including his adaptation of the popular Nintendo DS game Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney which looks like a lot of fun.

The film I’ve been hearing about for months now, largely due to the fact that it is already available on DVD in the UK, Sion Sono’s Himizu will also be coming to town, which will no doubt continue his string of dark and disturbing films, while Hirokazu Koreeda can be relied upon to provide the kind of heartfelt drama he is famous for with I Wish. Unfortunately, anime fans will have to make do with a lone animated entry A Letter to Momo, but there is always the ReelAnime Festival to look forward to later in the year. 

Good old fashioned swords and Samurai dramas will be supplied both by Miike’s remake of Hara-Kiri (In 3D, no less!) and veteran director Koji Wakamatsu’s 11/25: The Day Mishima Chose His Own Fate, coming direct from Cannes.

 

Check out the MIFF website for info and tickets (or get the incredibly handy app) and keep checking Japachickyburgers for new posts as I bring you the Japanese side of MIFF 2012.

Pom Poko

平成狸合戦ぽんぽこ Isao Takahata, 1994

As I have touched on previously, the famous works of Hayao Miyazaki and Studio Ghibli seem to go hand in hand, to the point where they are almost synonymous. However, the lesser known director Isao Takahata is something of a best kept secret of Ghibli, quietly creating films that are often released without the kind of fanfare Miyazaki’s films recieve. Takahata’s most well known and acclaimed work, the harrowing war story Grave Of The Fireflies has drawn much praise from critics including Roger Ebert, however it is the film Pom Poko, which even know remains something of an oddity in the Ghibli catalogue, especially outside of Japan, which I think is his best work and perhaps even my favourite Ghibli film.

The Tanuki is a type of raccoon native to Japan, which according to Japanese folklore, are playful creatures that have the power to shape-shift. The film focuses on a forest of Tanuki who have long since abandoned their shape-shifting ways, as they never really had any use for them. But the bubble economy of the early 90s changes all that, and soon they find their woods being destroyed by human developers to create a Tokyo housing area of unprecedented scale, New Tama Town. And so begins the Tanukis’ re-learning of shape-shifting, as taught by their forest’s elders; Preparation for the imminent showdown between man and beast. The film’s simple storyline is established within about the first ten minutes of the film, Takahata wastes no time, employing a narrator and a host of colourful Tanuki personalities to propel the film along at a swift, at times dizzying pace. Some Tanuki want to attack the humans directly, while others want to hone their skills from legendary elders of other regions of Japan. Either way, we are soon presented with hilarious scenes of shape-shifting training, and an explanation of what will soon become a running gag throughout the film, the importance and many uses of the Tanuki’s testicles. 

Takahata uses this folkloric element to its absolute fullest potential, drawing on Japanese tradition and superstition to create a work that is very Japanese. Takahata is able to play by his own rules as he crafts this meeting of mythology and contemporary society, explaining away minor details such as the Tanukis’ use of energy drinks to keep up their human shape-shifting act. The Tanuki’s attacks on the humans are also a display of mind boggling creativity. In one scene, the Tanuki stand on each others shoulders and shape-shift into a tree that falls on the road, causing a truck to veer off a cliff. Over time, they begin to exploit the Japanese superstitions and catalogue of folkloric ghosts, which eventually culminates in their final attempt, “Operation Goblin” an otherworldly tour de force of apparitions, dragons and ghouls (Keep an eye out for the Totoro cameo) parading through the centre of town. Most people I know that have seen this film respond with a “That movie is so weird” or “I just didn’t get it”, most likely due to this huge amount of content that non-Japanese simply won’t understand. I can’t really comment objectively, as I never saw this film completely unaware of Japanese culture, and while I understood a lot of the references in the film, most of them are either explained or made obvious through characters responses in the film. Having some knowledge of Japanese culture may make it slightly more enjoyable or funny, but I really don’t think it’s necessary in order to enjoy this outrageous adventure. Think of it as The Animals of Farthing Wood, just with a smaller variety of animals, more shape-shifting and completely crazy humour.

Some of the more militant Tanuki bashing cops with their balls

Aside from the story, the film is a veritable free for all in terms of visual techniques. What quickly becomes apparent is Takahata’s visualisation of the Tanuki themselves, as he draws them in three distinct styles: A realistic on all fours style, an anthropomorphic cartoon style, and a super stylised comic strip style. Each visual is used in different situations to highlight different feelings, perceptions and interactions between characters. When the Tanuki borrow an old TV out of the trash, the cooking show they are watching appears briefly as live action, a short and jarring, but nonetheless brilliant inclusion. Takahata creates a perfect balance of realism and nature; the forest, the development site and the town, and the surreal; Buddha watching over the forest, construction diggers eating a leaf like insects and even a short 8-bit style section. Music also plays a major role in the film, with its opening moments greeting us with what I’m guessing is a traditional children’s song about Tanuki. Throughout the rest of the film, the Tanuki also sing a range of cute songs. Sometimes for rousing morale or in celebration, sometimes just to pass the time while bouncing a ball with a friend.

While the film is largely a comedy, Takahata’s environmental concerns really come to the fore towards the end. As the Tanuki realise they are no match for the humans, they make a reluctant appeal on a television program. This is one of the films most beaufitul scenes, as fireflies light up the night sky and the Tanuki’s sadness in the face of defeat is strangely human. Takahata succeeds with flying colours in making us side with the animals and seeing the humans as the antagonists. Of course, Miyazaki shares this same environmental yearning, but has yet to convey it in such a comical, off the wall way as Takahata does here. The film is just under two hours long, but it flies by perfectly paced, with its combination of humour and seriousness resulting in there never being a dull moment. This is the wild card of Studio Ghibli, the curveball, a uniquely Japanese breath of fresh air for animation and storytelling in general, and the perfect film to counter some of Ghibli’s more mature or heavy handed works.

The Castle of Cagliostro

ルパン三世 カリオストロの城 Hayao Miyazaki, (1979) 

The films of Studio Ghibli, particularly those of director Hayao Miyazaki are renowned throughout the world, and have a strong following in Australia. More recent Miyazaki films such as Spirited Away and Ponyo have many fans and it is quite rare to find someone who hasn’t at least heard of these modern masterpieces of animation. In my opinion, Miyazaki is the greatest living storyteller in the world today. For me, his films are a never-ending fountain of creativity and inspiration. For this entry, I decided to look at one of my favourite Miyazaki works (it seems all my favourites are linked by one major element: Castles) Lupin the Third: The Castle of Cagliostro, which also happens to be one of his earliest works and due to its being made prior to the founding of Studio Ghibli in 1985, is much lesser known in Australia, with more popular Ghibli films eclipsing it.

Miyazaki has proved himself as a master of not only creating his own filmic worlds, but also at adapting the stories of others, often of non-Japanese origin. The Castle of Calgiostro’s hero, Lupin, is based on a character originally created by French author Maurice LeBlanc as a sort of French Sherlock Holmes in 1905. In the late 60s, a descendant of Lupin (the 3^rd to be exact) was created by Kazuhiko Kato (pen name; Monkey Punch) as a Manga series, which was then followed by anime, video games and films. So, after all this convoluted history, we arrive with Miyazaki taking the helm of the Lupin the 3^rd franchise for its second filmic interpretation in 1979.

The film begins with Lupin and his long-time partner in crime Jigen making their getaway from a casino they have just robbed. From the get go, Miyazaki sets the tone of his film as a freewheeling adventure, with the film’s animated nature essential to its spectacle and escapism. Lupin and Jigen leap with superhuman ease across obstacles, cars are sliced in half and a sea of money cascades from their getaway car as they drive away. As they realise that the stolen money is counterfeit, Lupin decides to set out to crack the international conspiracy of this “Goat Money”. They travel to the independent nation of Cagliostro, where they discover a plot involving an Evil Count, a damsel in distress and a search for lost treasure. This simple adventure story is balanced with action and its tongue in cheek, slapstick humour perfectly, never taking itself too seriously. The characters, Lupin in particular, seem to know they are in an animation devised purely for entertainment, and have no problems defying gravity by driving cars up the side of cliffs or clearing impossible distances across castle turrets in a single jump. Even everyday actions like eating spaghetti or swimming are brilliantly stylised, with the colourful cast of characters an absolute treat to watch. Lone samurai Goemon and fellow burgular Fujiko make appearances, who along with Lupin’s long-time pursuer (and long suffering) Inspector Zenigata, complete the classic Lupin gang.

The film is not all rollicking action and fantasy plot though. Despite it being Miyazaki’s directorial debut, there are many instances in the film in which bear his own distinctive visual and thematic stamp. Frantic action sequences are countered with lingering shots of the beautiful surrounding landscape, and sequences in which the characters explore or more simply, are present within these spaces. The nation of Cagliostro itself is a beautiful, fictional place, drawing on Miyazaki’s European influences. We see small villages, farming lifestyles, moss covered ruins and of course the titular castle, complete with dungeons and aqueduct. This kind of European romanticism would return in later works such as Kiki’s Delivery Service, Porco Rosso and Howl’s Moving Caslte.

I love this film because it fully embraces its cartoon-ness. For me, it’s a bit of a cross between Inspector Gadget and Indiana Jones. Classic cartoon tropes abound, with hokey disguises being used on not one but three separate occasions and also the kind of self awareness that make cartoons so much fun. After a stealthy midnight attempt on their lives by a band of the Count’s armoured minions, Jigen observes what the audience is thinking; “Things are getting interesting!!” Miyazaki is in full adventure mode, and this film rates amongst his best work, even when compared with more successful Studio Ghibli works. The story is brilliantly simple, and even though they are not his own, the characters just exude cool, like a band of jazz musicians each playing their own unique part as they roll through this wonderfully entertaining riff of a film.

Akira

アキラ Katsuhiro Otomo, (1988)

In Japan, anime is a multi billion dollar industry. The amount of films and TV series being produced, and those already in existence is so overwhelming it’s hard to know where to start, let alone sort the good from the bad. In Australia we receive a reasonable sized portion of this huge industry, with more and more anime films being screened and released locally, but it seems the majority remains in Japan for their domestic audiences. But every now and then, an anime film comes along that becomes an event. That takes the world by storm. That forces the world to take another look at Japanese animation and in some cases, shifts the world’s conceptions of the possibilities of animation in general.

Katsuhiro Otomo’s Akira is one such film. Based on his epic manga series, Akira is an incredible vision of the future, whose place among similarly themed live-action Sci-fi works such as Blade Runner, Star Wars and The Matrix is well and truly assured. I realised this last night, when after a gap of who knows how many years, I revisited Akira at a special screening at the Astor Theatre. The story concerns a biker gang of delinquent youths who, after a run in with the government discover a secret operation researching the nurturing of psychic powers in humans through scientific experimentation, and a mysterious, messianic power named Akira

Up until now, I had only experienced Akira by way of DVD. Seeing it on the big screen for the first time was nothing short of a revelation. It was like seeing it for the first time all over again; in fact, it was better. I enjoyed it more than I ever had before. Although, I still feel I appreciate the film’s cultural importance and subsequent influence more than the film itself, as I know that there are many more die-hard fans all over the world that helped Akira receive its title of ‘cult film’. It’s the kind of movie I can watch only every now and then, purely because it’s so damn intense. From the minute the movie starts, right up until the closing credits, we are hardly given a minute to breathe and take stock, as we are thrust into the sprawling metropolis of Neo-Tokyo. A bleak city seemingly plagued by perpetual night.

The film is overflowing with visceral energy. We are subject to a near constant barrage of violence, explosions, and screaming. In addition to this, many nightmarish scenes of hallucination and mutation, in particular, the film’s now famous climax, take the film into more unsettling psychological areas, enabled and conveyed visually through the boundary pushing animation and strong unwavering direction of Otomo. Even the motorbike chases are framed and conveyed in such a dynamic style and are imbued with such a sense of weight, that they become truly exhilarating. The film’s soundtrack, performed by Geinoh Yamashirogumi, perfectly incorporates primal, driving rhythms and even traditional Japanese instruments, while twisting them into an aural feast of a futuristic soundtrack, perfectly complementing Otomo’s stunning aesthetic.

I seem to have just barely touched on the plot of the film, focusing instead on its style and direction. I think the plot is the one place this film falls a bit short, as it progresses so quickly and frantically, I personally would have preferred a bit less screaming and a bit more story background. Then again, most of the context is conveyed visually or through interesting inclusions such as the “Old town” section of Tokyo or the upcoming Olympic Games. And considering it was adapted from a 2000+ page manga, it is quite an achievement. This film is an absolute must for anyone with an interest in animation, as it remains a touchstone of the medium and Japanese cinema in general, the influence of which is still felt today both in Japan and beyond. After seeing it on the big screen I have become convinced that this is the ultimate way to experience it in all its overwhelming glory, so if you are able, seeing it at a cinema is definitely worth it.