JFF16 - Tenchi: The Samurai Astronomer

天地明察 Yojiro Takita, 2012 

When I first looked over this year’s film festival program, one film jumped out at me before any of the others. Tenchi: The Samurai Astronomer. The reason being that it is Yojiro Takita’s latest film. Takita directed the hugely popular and successful 2008 film Departures, which ended up winning the Academy award for best Foreign Film. It’s a brilliant movie, and one that has become something of a fail-safe recommendation for me. Everyone I know who has seen it enjoyed it, thanks in part to its combination of universal themes as well as its insight into less-seen aspects of traditional Japanese culture. After such a runaway hit, I was very interested to see how Takita’s next film would fare.

The film is set in 17^th century Japan, during the country’s period of self imposed isolation from the world. This relatively peaceful time means that our hero Yasui Santetsu (The titular “Tenchi”, a name by which he is never referred…confusing) is a samurai in name only. Santetsu prefers to spend his time solving puzzles; studying mathematics and playing Go (think Japanese Chess). His mathematical prowess sees him selected by local Shoguns/retainers/other political types (I’m clearly not an expert on Japanese feudal hierarchies) to help reform the calendar, which despite being in use for over eight hundred years, has gradually revealed discrepancies in its predictions of lunar cycles.

Santetsu is not without his detractors however; as smug political bigwigs in Kyoto make it their business to stifle Santetsu’s efforts, because challenging the emperor and his decisions is just not on. As far as I can tell, the film is based on a true story, and it’s quite interesting seeing a more scientific and political side of feudal Japan. However the peaceful era results in a film that is just a little bit too cute. Smiling and sighing is an annoying mainstay throughout, and the vast majority of the characters are polite, hardworking noblemen. Very few swords are drawn here. I realised not long after the film started that I had seen main actor Junichi Okada playing a very similar not-quite-samurai role in Hana Yori Mo Naho, an almost unbearably boring film by the otherwise proficient Hirokazu Koreeda. Okada has a bit more to do here, but I fear his typecasting may have already begun.

Highlights of a large supporting cast were prolific, veteran actors Takashi Sasano and Ittoku Kishibe. Their roles as mentors to Santetsu on his first expedition to chart the stars were for me, the most memorable of the entire film, capturing a real camaraderie of old mates out on a camping trip, bantering along while ensuring their job gets done. This section of the film is shot on some of the most amazing locations I’ve ever seen in a film; an untouched, rural Japan that will take your breath away. The “boys on a mission” style of the film is maintained quite well, with developments and discoveries concerning the mysteries of the calendar often quite exciting. Takita’s use of montage for these scenes is also brilliant. Simple, classic Hollywood style montage- the kind you don’t see very often anymore, is suddenly new and exciting again when applied to an obscure chapter of history and accompanied by Joe Hisaishi’s score, which is nice, and as usual, effective, but just sounds exactly like Joe Hisaishi (someone buy this guy a synth or something).

In between these effective “business” moments, there is unfortunately quite a bit of dead time. My aforementioned favourite characters didn’t make a further appearance in the film’s two and a half our run-time, and quite a few of the supporting actors felt unnecessary. Aoi Miyazaki is fine as the token female in what certainly is a Man’s world, giving a good performance as Santetsu’s devoted partner and love interest. But I think many small subplots could have been removed in order to tighten this picture up. The political oppression from Kyoto never really feels like a threat (thanks in part to their outlandish yet historically accurate makeup), and the resolution of the film’s final scene can be seen coming a mile off. Santetsu is just too nice a character in a representation of the past just that bit too rose-coloured, for us to believe that anything truly bad will happen to him. I was glad however, that even though the film was quite long, it at least ended where it should have, rather than churning out epilogue after epilogue as is so common in historical films.

It’s an interesting story, and a Takita remains a strong director, but unlike Departures, this is the kind of movie you’ll only need to watch once. Some melodramatic moments will make you wince, and while glimpses of beautiful humanness are achieved, Tenchi: the Samurai Astronomer doesn’t reach the emotional heights or life affirming beauty of Departures. Which is fine really, as it’s a completely different style of movie, but I daresay Tenchi won’t receive a general release here due to his more limited appeal.

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!