JFF16 - Love Strikes!

モテキ Hitoshi Ōne, 2011

First film up, chosen purely for the reason that I wasn’t rostered on to do any volunteering this night. Love Strikes! is an adaptation of a Manga and TV drama series (surprise, surprise) about thirty year old Yukiyo Fujimoto. A typical slacker/loser/man-child who has zero skills with the ladies. The film follows the commencement of his “Moteki” a Japanese slang word that refers to a time in one’s life in which you receive a surge of interest from the opposite sex. The awkward and self loathing Fujimoto finds himself suddenly surrounded by women and does his best to navigate his way through this terrifying new chapter of his life.

Fujimoto’s pop-philosophical voice over tirade gets the film off to a strong start. His musings on famous quotes about love, as well as himself and his failings are fast, funny and intelligent, and are a welcome element through the film. It is his bouncing between rapid-fire antics and depressed moping that drives this film, and actor Mirai Moriyama has really got his pathetic self-deprecation down pat. Fujimoto is at his most interesting when he is thrown into awkward situations, whether it be with his vast array of work-mates (a great supporting cast) or awkwardly cracking onto a girl, it was great fun to see whether he would sink or swim. Scratch that, it was great fun to see him sink. Often.

Sex comedy tropes including drunken nights out, misunderstood text messages, sleazy bosses and awkward sexual encounters give this film some genuinely funny Judd Apatow style moments, while also remaining grounded in a very contemporary setting. Social media, particularly Twitter is the communication method of choice and source of many a joke (“You have 34,000 tweets but only 3 followers??”), and characters frequent music festivals and work jobs writing for blogs and websites while managing their online identities. This representation of hip young things with minimal responsibility was something I haven’t seen a lot of in Japanese movies (J-Dramas aren’t my thing) and gave this film a certain freshness for me.

Given its youthful characters and modern setting, music also plays a big role in the film, just as it does in many American rom-com equivalent films like Reality Bites or even 500 Days of Summer (Yuck). Fujimoto’s favourite tracks are waiting on his iPhone to comfort him, the character of Rumiko frequents Karaoke alone, and I was pleasantly surprised at the inclusion of a full song and dance number by Perfume, the one J-Pop band that DOESN’T make me want to go Reservoir Dogs on my own ears. In fact, idol groups are critiqued in a hilarious scene where the rejected Fujimoto regains his confidence after listening to J-Pop girl bands on YouTube. Another character derides him for his ignorance, explaining that the sugary lyrics are written for the sole purpose to fool idiots like him into confessing their love. Little moments like this strengthen the script and really deliver on the laughs, but the most successful comedic device is the use of karaoke style lyrics superimposed onto the screen. An ordinary scene is transformed into one of those terrible slow motion video clips that accompany karaoke. This is an ingenious gag that is used to great effect on more than one occasion.

Unfortunately, all the things that make this film so funny and enjoyable are almost completely absent from the second half of the film. You can almost pinpoint the exact moment when well written comedy is replaced for clichéd melodrama and laughs are replaced with tears. It was like watching a completely different film! Characters I had been enjoying became repulsive, and a film I had been regularly laughing out loud in became a dreadful chore. By the end, I really didn’t care who ended up with who or how they got there. Some might argue that it was just logical character development, but for me it was more like character regression. The karaoke gag doesn’t make a comeback, fun pop culture references are discarded, and the film meanders around in circles until it finally reaches its very unsatisfying and predictable conclusion. I was quite dumbfounded actually. Where did the tongue-in-cheek song and dance scenes go? Was the first half the funny half; the second half the serious?

It’s a shame that a film that could be so fun could so quickly become so painful. Director Hitoshi Ōne surely faced challenges cramming an extended manga/drama story into a shortened form, but by cramming all the good stuff in the first half, he just dropped the ball. I ended up having trouble sitting through it, wishing the overly long two hour run time would hurry up and wrap already. There is lots of stuff to like here, but it’s unevenness makes this quite a mixed bag, unfortunately.

MIFFburger #4: I Wish

奇跡 Hirokazu Koreeda, 2011

I was a bit concerned to be writing about another Hirokazu Koreeda film so soon after discovering his work on DVD, mostly because his style is reasonably similar across each one of the movies I have so far seen. I didn’t want to rehash talking about his trademark style, which I probably already did a bit of in the previous two posts about him. But luckily, Koreeda’s MIFF 2012 entry I Wish is a bit of a departure, in that I have yet to see anything of his with this much humour.

Koichi and Ryunosuke are brothers who have recently started living apart after their parents’ separation. Ryunosuke lives in Fukuoka with his slacker musician father, while Koichi lives in Tokyo with his mother and grandparents (Kirin Kiki returns, slipping effortlessly into the grandmother role yet again, see Still Walking). In this case, the large ensemble of adults act as the film’s supporting cast, either in parent or teacher roles, with the film focusing primarily on the distance between the brothers and how it affects their relationship.

The completion of a new bullet train railway line brings with it schoolyard rumours of trains passing each other at such speeds that the excess energy is enough to create miracles, granting wishes to whoever should happen to witness the exact moment the trains meet. With this promise of wishes granted, the brothers decide to meet in Kumamoto, the town where the trains should pass.

In addition to the two brothers, played by real life brothers Koki and Oshiro Maeda, Koreeda augments his child cast with a number of newcomers, and what a perfect bunch they are. Koreeda once again achieves performances that transcend notions of acting with their realism. Ryunosuke is overflowing with energy and bounces through the film with a non-stop exuberance bordering on ADHD, while Koichi is more reserved and serious. However, it is Ryunosuke’s two girl friends that absolutely stole the show for me. The standout scene sees each of the young children discussing their wishes or what they want to be in the future. The children face the camera in a talking heads interview style shot, and quietly pour their hearts out. It would not surprise me at all if this scene was completely unscripted, as it really seemed to cut through the limitations of the screen and convey a youthful innocence in an almost New Wave style. We can see a young generation, not yet influenced by the realities of modern life that so burden their parents, as they dream of being actresses, artists, baseball stars or even cartoon superheroes.

The children and their dialogue supply most of the comedy, conveying their youthful invincibility remarkably, and often drawing them as much more mature than their elders through their astute observations on life in a sort of “stuff kids say” way. It falls upon the adults to provide the film’s few moments of truly moving drama, and once again, Koreeda knows exactly how much is enough, never over-explaining or lingering unnecessarily upon strong emotions, always cutting to the next scene before it becomes to much, with his less is more approach fine tuned down to the second.

Unfortunately, the soundtrack contained a few missteps. Some of the country/western inspired pieces really grated on me, but luckily there aren’t enough of these inclusions to really damage the film. The cinematography is beautiful as usual, with Koreeda’s now familiar close ups of hands, scenes of food preparation and static shots of tiny details, which have been referred to by critics as “pillow shots” which Koreeda uses as a cinematic grammar; poetic full stops or closing cadences to scenes, which help to convey the world as seen from a child’s perspective.

All the classic childhood tropes are here, teacher crushes, faking illness to get out of class and parents with forgotten dreams struggling to cope with reality just as much as their children. Japanese popular culture references abound, and may be a bit confusing to viewers who don’t understand who Ichiro is, or other references to pop stars and comedians, but these are mostly only passing references. The film’s early scenes also proved to be a bit confusing, as it was unclear as to which city the action was taking place in as it jumps back and forth between Koichi and Ryunosuke. While titles are shown to identify Tokyo and Fukuoka, these were not translated into English subtitles, and I really only knew what was happening because I could read the Kanji. And even then, it was hard to keep track.

This film is a charming paean to youth and innocence, a brilliant variation on the traditional coming of age tale. Both magical and honest, favouring comedy over drama, a nice change of step for Koreeda, who continues to set new standards for unpretentious drama and whose child actors continue to set high benchmarks in acting. I don’t believe there is a director working today who can coax better performances out of children. This is the kind of film most people will have a hard time disliking. My mum loved it too.

MIFFburger #1: ACE ATTORNEY

逆転裁判 Takashi Miike, 2012

 

We all have distinct memories of movie watching from our childhood. For me, going down to the Morwell Video Ezy and renting the Super Mario Brothers movie with my brother, seeing the CGI created Final Fantasy movie at the cinema and renting the Resident Evil movie in the early days of DVD are but a few of which there are probably enough to write a nostalgic book full of in-jokes that would never find an audience. But what do these aforementioned films all have in common and why am I mentioning them? If you answered, "They're all films adapted from video games" you'd be right. But if you answered "They're all SHIT films adapted from video games" you'd be double right. (except maybe the Mario Bros. movie which does have a certain "it's so bad it's good" element to it. DENNIS HOPPER AS BOWSER??)

Since the early 90s, film makers have tried, failed and failed again at the seemingly impossible task: Adapting a video game for the screen. It's almost like a curse. Video games just have a completely different, dare I say deeper? ability to immerse. While the film-goer simply watches a film, the gamer must participate, explore and interact. Sure, you can watch someone else play, but we all know how boring that is.

Takashi Miike is often described as a "prolific" director, which I guess stems from the fact that he has proven he can actually do anything. From Samurai period dramas to musicals, to some of the most sadistically violent stuff I've ever seen on a screen. So really it makes perfect sense that he would direct the film version of Capcom's Pheonix Wright: Ace Attorney, a court room video game series for Nintendo DS, of which there are now five games. Court room drama. That's been done right? You can hardly turn on the TV without seeing SVU or NCIS or CSI or some other stupid abbreviation full of people clutching their mochas and calling each other by their last names. Sure, it's been done to death, never like this though.

The premise is simple enough. Two lawyers go head to head in a fast-tracked trial system in which a verdict is reached in three days. Rookie attorney Phoenix Wright ends up having to defend his childhood friend/rival Miles Edgeworth who becomes involved in a murder case. It soon becomes clear that it goes much deeper than this, as an old case is re-opened and a conspiracy dating back fifteen years is uncovered.

Ace Attorney could easily have been done as an animated film, but that would have been the easy way out. Miike has managed to create a live action world that is completely cartoon at the same time. Remaining completely faithful to the source material was clearly the best approach to take, and in many ways, the video game has simply been transposed from pixels to film. The film more or less follows the case exactly as it unfolds in the game, elements of the original soundtrack have been given the orchestral treatment, and the costumes and art direction is an absolute triumph. It's like Warren Beatty's Dick Tracy crossed with Tim Burton put through an anime machine and then reversed back into real life. The art department would have had a field day working on this film. Outrageous hairstyles including but not limited to gravity defying quiffs, mohawks and afros, garish and opulent costumes that evoke both Victorian era excess AND Austin Powers. The cast seems to be divided between hip young models turned actors with impossibly perfect skin and older character actors, all of whom inhabit these cartoon characters with fine skill. From washed up rockstar to pet cockatoo, as these lawyers continue to call witnesses, it becomes quite exciting to see who the next outrageous character will be. The sets are also something to behold. You can really tell the film was given quite a budget, as everything has a certain sheen to it, whether it be the courtroom, prison cells or candy coloured lakeside, with the camerawork gliding elegantly throughout these hyperstylised locations and around its characters.

However this kind of restrained, classical cinematography is often interrupted with fast and furious editing techniques and visual effects that would give Edgar Wright a run for his money. The literal translation of the film's Japanese title Gyakuten Saiban is something along the lines of quick turnaround trial, this title more accurately reflects the absurd speed at which every aspect of the film is turned on its head. Edits and camera angles jump back and forth, characters fall off their chairs in disbelief, and crucial evidence is magically discovered just when its needed, and then proceeded to be thrown in each other's faces (via holographic screens of course). On top of all this, the film is absolutely hilarious. Between the slapstick comedy and absurdist Japanese humour there were moments when the sold out crowd were laughing so much the actors' lines couldn't even be heard.
 
Ace Attorney was the first Japanese film I saw at MIFF 2012, and already I can't imagine anything topping it. We are off to a roaring start, but time will tell of course. This was the most fun I've had at the movies in a long time. People will complain that it's too long, but I loved every minute of it. Even if you have never played the video games before (I hadn’t) it won’t matter. The film manages to transcend the label of video game adaptation and ends up being just a damn entertaining film. Takashi Miike just may have broken the curse of the video game adaptation film.­

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.