MIFFburger #8 (Final): HIMIZU

 ヒミズ Sion Sono, 2011

And so my MIFF comes to a close for 2012 with the final film on my list, Himizu. As it is a Sion Sono film, a director who has been getting a bit of attention in previous posts, I really was looking forward to this one, especially since it has been a bit of a wait. The film has been available on DVD overseas for quite a while now, and info on it has been popping up in my facebook feed from UK's Third Window Films for what feels like ages. What is also interesting is that we have another Manga adaption on our hands. And even though I have never read, nor ever even heard of the original series (not a big manga fan here) the original work seems to have been reworked quite a bit, becoming very topical in its contemporary setting and themes.

The disastrous March 11 earthquake and tsunami prompted Sono to rewrite his script and change filming location to the destroyed Tohoku region, the result of which is a bleak atmosphere, in a film which is often very overwhelming. The opening scene is beautifully powerful; a female voice recites French poet François Villon's Ballade, while Mozart's familiar Requiem accompanies restrained shots surveying the devastated landscape of Ibaraki Prefecture. What struck me first of all was Sono's use of such a well known piece of classical music. Like many other famous pieces (Debussy's Clair De Lune or Grieg's Mountain King... ugh, every film trailer ever) Requiem's place in the global popular consciousness has resulted in it acquiring so much baggage, that I would have thought of it as a bit of a no go zone. How could you possibly use such a "Greatest Hits" piece that has been included in some form or another in everything from Amadeus to The Big Lebowski?? But somehow, Sono pulls it off. His tongue may be in cheek, but it is definitely less so than when Ravel's Bolero turned up in Love Exposure. Samuel Barber's Adagio For Strings is also included later on in the film, a piece that is arguably even more loaded given its cinematic history, yet Sono creates beautiful scenes that function as cinema and documentary at the same time, using repeated musical motifs that, particularly in this first scene, approach the kind of effects Spike Lee and composer Terence Blanchard achieved with When The Levees Broke, the amazing documentary about Hurricane Katrina.

But anyway, onto the story.

After his abusive and neglecting parents abandon him, fourteen year old Sumida (Shota Sumetani) finds himself having to fend for himself in this harsh and still very real environment. Filled with emotional turmoil in an environment that seems to only repress him, he assumes the role of manager of his family's lakeside boat rental shack and ends up dropping out of school. Over time, the mentally poisonous world around him has strong affects, and Sumida employs more drastic and violent methods in order to cope. Perhaps the most interesting role Sumida plays is that of caretaker. The area around Sumida's shack serves as a camping ground for some of the local inhabitants who lost everything, literally pitching tents in the backyard and looking up to him with great admiration and thanks. This also ensures that for the most part of the film, there is a supporting cast of weird and colourful characters, acting not unlike a chorus in a stage musical. The sense of community these people embody works on more than just a cinematic level too. A very large number of regular Sono collaborators make appearances, whether large or small, creating a sort of internal star system. Seeing Mitsuru Fukikoshi and Megumi Kagurazaka living together again after Cold Fish and also Denden in a variation on his terrifying gangster style is like a great big in-joke from Sono to his audience. A same-but-different or "What If?" kind of world, which I think is straight up genius.

Despite this large cast, we are always focused on the leading teenage couple. I have mentioned Sumida above, but the film really belongs to Fumi Nikaido, who plays Keiko, a young girl from Sumida's class, who has a manic and unashamed crush on him. A self confessed stalker, Keiko follows Sumida around, hanging off his every word so she can write it on her bedroom wall later. Nikaido’s smile just glows off the screen, a perfect counter to Sumida's simmering angst. All she wants to do is look after him, even if it means having to endure his mood swings and playground style beatings. These teenagers represent the kind of confusion and angst all fourteen year-olds go through, but of course, they convey it in the often-bordering-on, at-times-full-on caricature style melodrama to be expected of Sono. They are at the mercy of almost all the adults around them, parents can't be relied on and teachers don't understand. When the Yakuza turn up, things get even more complicated. Add to this the wasteland that is Tohoku, the most important element in the film in that it grounds it in reality, Sumida and Keiko are reflected perfectly in the Villon poem they recite:

I know the rosy-cheeked and the pale
I know death who devours all
I know everything but myself

As I said, the film is based on a manga. Knowing nothing about the original story, I'm wondering where the manga ends and where Sono begins. Is the change of setting the only difference? In any case, we just have to accept the film as a work in its own right, and this tale of disconnected youth battling with reality and their sicknesses fits the tsunami aftermath in an eerily perfect way. As I am discovering is typical of Sion Sono's films, Himizu is also very long and a bit repetitive. But its length is partly justified with some great subplots which allow for changes in scenery and exploration of other characters, creating a film that has moments of colourful escapism in contrast to its grim reality. A run in with a Neo-Nazi is bizarre, scary and exhilirating all at once.

Sono doesn’t shy away from the politics of the disaster either, including footage of TV interviews and directly referencing Japan’s post tsunami rebuilding campaign slogan “Ganbare Nihon!” throughout the whole film. I found it hard to decipher just what this was saying about Sono’s feelings though… Is he angry and bitter? Depressed? Hopeful? I think the answer may be all of the above, at times simultaneously. Hope seems to win out in the end however, with the film’s emotional climax arriving in its final scene, an astonishingly powerful cinematic moment that weighed down on me long after I left the cinema.

Tohoku doesn’t make the evening news anymore; too much time has passed for it to warrant international concern. And it is partly for that reason that I think this film is something that should be seen by many. It has definitely stayed with me, and I believe that its reputation and acclaim will grow in time, until one day it be considered quite an important work.

And so ended 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.