To Sleep So As To Dream

It was a rare treat to watch this obscure 80s print under the high vaulted ceiling of London's Cinema Museum as part of this year's Zipangufest. In truth, it's a slight and whimsical piece of work, but sitting there surrounded by movie memorabilia, watching a flickering 16mm projection (complete with mid-film reel change!) made it seem quite special.

The format was apposite: To Sleep So As To Dream is an homage both to the Japanese silent cinema of the 20s and also 50s Film Noir. It centres around an aging actress who hires a hard-boiled (egg-eating) detective and his eager sidekick to find her missing daughter, Bellflower. Since they have nothing better to do, Uotsuka and Kobayashi embark on a gentle mystery tour in search of the elusive Bellflower - who is apparently trapped within an old silent samurai film without ending.

I'm sure it's partly down to my lack of knowledge of Japanese silent cinema (many references no doubt missed), but it's easy to see why To Sleep So As To Dream has been consigned to the celluloid wilderness. It has a very small potential audience and given any other setting I would probably have lost patience with it myself, but Saturday afternoon at the Cinema Museum turned out to be the perfect backdrop for this sleepy nostalgia trip.

夢みるように眠りたい
Dir. Kaizo Hayashi, 1986

Summer Wars

Summer Wars is packaged with The Girl Who Leapt Through Time in a Blu Ray double feature - both are directed by Mamoru Hosoda and animated by the venerable Madhouse studio.

The end result: exquisitely animated bollocks; Ghost in the Shell Super Lite; War Games meets Karate Kid meets Pokemon.

Where The Girl Who Leapt Through Time's time travelling high jinks are just about on the right side of daft, Summer Wars plants its standard firmly in the plausibility-raping techno-nonsense camp. Plot-wise, it's got a lot in common with the old 80s flick War Games, where some kid hacks into a super network and inadvertently triggers the countdown to armageddon. In this case, our unassuming hero, Kenji, lets a rogue AI program (coincidentally written by his friend's uncle) onto the network by providing the answer to a maths problem he is texted on his mobile phone. Yup, it's about as secure as an Icelandic bank vault.

Summer Wars is obviously intended to satirize the social networking phenomenon - a doomsday scenario where it's allowed to go too far, seeping into reality to the point where virtual and real worlds become indistinguishable. Hosoda envisions a world called Oz, which is like the ultimate expansion of the Second Life paradigm, where literally everyone has an avatar capable of doing absolutely anything imaginable - controllable, unbelievably, with a mere PS2 keyboard. Everyone from high school kids to the state military have an Oz account and they use it to control every aspect of their lives in the outside world - meetings, bank transactions, nuclear missile launches. Kenji and his pals have to save the world by taking Oz back from the AI behemoth running riot inside through a combination of extreme server power and a young girl's card-playing savvy. I can't even begin to do justice the amount of technological hokum Summer Wars spews out; think The Net and multiply it by 10.

Fortunately though, the animation is spectacular. The design of Oz itself takes its cues from the work of artist Takashi Murakami, with dynamic, splintering mega-beasts and gorgeous whimsy on an eye-watering scale. Outside of Oz, the real world is rendered in a fluid, naturalistic style that's up there with Ghibli in terms of technical bravura. Now if only they could find a script-writer to match the talent of the art department...

サマーウォーズ
Dir. Mamoru Hosoda, 2009

Night & Fog in Japan

An unsteady zoom shot finds us at the centre of a wedding reception. The opening scene, and the focal point of the action throughout the film, is a peculiarly joyless union of two former student activists, Nozawa and Reiko. Instead of being a celebratory occasion, it turns into a moral inquisition as various wedding guests and associates come forward to tell their story. In so doing, they gradually poison the atmosphere with accusations of political and personal infidelity.

Oshima's contempt for the ineffectiveness, as well as the hypocritical, bourgeois tendencies of the leftist Zengakuren movement is plain to see. As the history of Nozawa's faction unfolds, revealed through a series of flashbacks, their collective will is shown to be fatally undermined by internal power struggles. The demonstration against the US-Japan AMPO Treaty, a key battleground in the Zengakuren struggle, is lost. Characters like Nakayama, the group's vainglorious and didactic leader, are more interested in feathering their own nests than putting into practice the Marxist ideology they espouse.

In some ways, this austere, serious film about the generation gap (symbolized by Reiko, Nozawa and their professor at the bridal table) and the failure of matrimony and fraternity to bridge that gap, could be viewed as a triumph for Oshima; it was daring for its time, not just politically but also in a filmic sense - the expressionistic use of shots and overt theatricality are bold choices. But they are also bad choices, to my mind. The unrelenting dryness of the subject matter, the dark lighting, spatial constraints and humourlessness of everyone involved induces a grim ennui (it took me 4 separate attempts to get through it!). Likewise, the staginess of the production doesn't lend itself naturally to film. The AMPO demonstration, for instance, is given a symbolic treatment - pitching the set into darkness and spotlighting key protagonists in static postures of insurrection, like paintings of war in a dark, silent gallery. Your imagination is supposed to fill in the blanks. It's the kind of thing that works well on stage, but transplanted to the screen, just seems lifeless and self-consciously stylized.

In truth, this is a film that has become stratified in time. Taken out of the context of its very specific historical locus, stripped of its political relevance, it serves only to document a darkly remembered undercurrent of Japanese post-war history. On a narrative and dramatic level, it simply fails to engage.

日本の夜と霧
Dir. Nagisha Oshima, 1960

Black Rose Mansion

Out of the blue, mysterious chanteuse Ryuko starts frequenting Kyohei's private club, Black Rose Mansion, serenading its members (mostly middle-aged men) with romantic ballads. The whys are wherefores are never made clear but quickly she takes on an almost mythical aspect in the club, captivating everyone who lays eyes on her - not least of all Kyohei himself. In a grand romantic gesture, Kyohei renovates the mansion for Ryuko to live in in a bid to ensnare her affections. His plans are laid to waste though by the return of his prodigal son Wataru who, predictably, also falls in love with Ryuko. She duly betrays Kyohei for his son and ultimately Wataru is forced to choose between her and his father. Throughout the film, Ryuko carries a black rose, which she says will turn red when she finds her true love. As Kyohei predicts, it finally turns red through Wataru's spilt blood.

As I'm finding to be the case quite consistently with Fukasaku, the plot is essentially hokum and the narrative chock full of clunky devices - most obviously the eponymous black rose in this case - but all is not lost. Whilst still infused with the same 60s psychedelia, it doesn't feel as painfully modish as Blackmail Is My Life. It basically boils down a rather old-fashioned cautionary tale about the dangers of acceding to impetuosity; of confusing lust with love. And at its heart is the classic femme fatale in the shape of Ryuko. Except that she's not exactly a classic: in fact, a big dollop of suspended desbelief is required to buy into the idea that she is some kind of irresistable temptress. Her looks are unconventional to say the least, and her singing voice is deeper than an Arctic borehole. So it wasn't a complete shock to learn that she was played by famous female impersonator of the day, Akihiro Miwa. A strange casting choice, but in a way it just adds to the film's already unreal air - a curious melange of Buñuel, The Mod Squad and Hammer Horror, at its hammiest.

There's some ropey dialogue to be sure, and the visual effects leave a bit to be desired - the red poster paint makes another appearance, along with a proliferation of rather heavy-handed flashbacks, shot through a lurid scarlet filter - but I can't say I had a bad old time.

黒薔薇の館
Dir. Kinji Fukasaku, 1969

Tokyo Decadence

After my previous foray into pink cinema turned out to be more rewarding than expected, I thought I'd give this one a spin, especially since Ryu Murakami wrote the novel on which Miike's Audition was based.

Now, Rotten Tomatoes, among others, would have you believe that this is a savage indictment on Japan's sex industry and the hypocrisy of society at large. I can believe that may have been Murakami's intention, but the end result is a bit of a mess. At a couple of points it threatens to take an interesting turn; the claustrophobia of low-lit hotel rooms and shadowy, sadistic salarymen inviting seedy revelation, but proceeds instead to stumble through a series of rather tame, and deeply unerotic S&M scenes. The closest we get to a coherent, if less than subtle, social agenda is in the scene at the dominatrix's apartment, where she says something like "Japan is a wealthy country, ill at ease with its wealth; this breeds anxiety and masochistic tendencies, which I exploit for money". But ironically, she herself is dominated by a crack addiction. See the bigger picture? Nudge, nudge.

Our heroine, in a constant state of trepidation and desperately in need of a personality transplant, is Ai (Japanese for 'love'), played by Miho Nikaido. Ai is very much the submissive type, and I think we're supposed to feel for her and the debasement she is forced to endure. The trouble is I don't - I just find myself thinking, you've chosen to work for this agency, you keep going to the jobs... the only one that proves too much for her is being asked to recreate the murder and rape of a woman at the foot of Mount Fuji by a necrophiliac screening an image of said mountain onto the wall of his hotel room. The movie basically implodes in the final act - a seemingly stoned Ai wanders around the suburbs looking for her ex-lover (now married) in a white smock and a pair of yellow high heels. She lets fireworks off on someone's drive way, she falls off a ladder, she is serenaded by a mad old dame in a playground and hallucinates her tormentors. Then she goes back to work.

トパーズ
Dir. Ryu Murakami, 1992

The Taste of Tea

Not exactly what I was expecting. From the title, and the fact it did the rounds at Cannes, I was expecting an Ozu rerun for modern times, but it's actually more akin to a Japanese version of Round the Twist - that gently surreal Antipodean kids show from the early 90s. The story, if it can properly be called a story, centres around an eccentric family in rural Japan; their individual lives and dreams, but also their place in the family unit.

It's not without its charms, and it probably does hit (hit is too strong, gently tap would be more apposite) on some basic truths about human nature, but ultimately Ishii's self-consciously wacky approach to direction left me feeling more irritated than heart-warmed. There's the zany grandpa with his preposterous barnet and bushy unibrow, the zany young girl, Sachiko, with her giant doppleganger (a sort of metaphorical guardian spirit perhaps), the zany boy, Hajime, and his awkward forays into romance. Maybe it's just the cynic me, but there's only so much good-natued zaniness I can take in one film.

茶の味
Dir. Katsuhito Ishii, 2004

Juon 2

Well, that explains the gaze... sort of. At the end of Juon, Koyoko catches the eye of the new owner of the Saeki house, Mrs Kitada, and being the psychic type, immediately clocks her as being in possession of a dead woman's soul. It first becomes apparent to the viewer that Mrs Kitada is not herself when she brains her husband with a frying pan for complaining about his egg yolk. Even if you put this piece of slapstick brutality down to her getting out of bed on the wrong side, you're left in no doubt when she literally transforms into Kayako in front of Tatsuya Suzuki, who has ill-advisedly gone to check up on the property. Possession is the theme of Juon 2 - various people who come into contact with the house end up being possessed by Kayako and Toshio.

I'm assuming that this isn't a sequel to Juon, so much as a second DVD containing some material that would originally have been broadcast at the same time as the stuff on the first DVD. That's the only way I can explain why the first two chapters of Juon 2 duplicate the last two chapters of Juon and why the last two chapters of Juon 2 are both about 5 minutes long and are, basically, Shimizu taking the piss. Why not have a hundred Kayakos, all creaking in unison and hunting in packs? Why not have a couple of people tasting the sake that Kyoko left in the Saeki house (despite the fact the Kitadas would surely either have consumed or binned said liquor)? The only thing this installment really serves to do is to flesh out the story of the Suzukis - Tatsuya and his sister Kyoko - but in doing that, it still provides a few choice moments of ghastliness.

呪怨 2
Dir. Takashi Shimizu, 2000

Robo-Geisha

The first film I've seen - the first of several that will feature here over the next couple of months - in The Barbican's Aspects of Japanese Cinema festival, kindly pointed out to me by Al.

It was pretty much what I was expecting: a low-budget, comic book-style knockabout starring bionic geisha girls and gallons of fake blood. Robo-Geisha made me smile (occasionally) but never entered the realm of laugh-out-loud funny that it did for some of my fellow cinema-goers in the back row (although I think they'd had so much booze you could have shown them a documentary on Hiroshima and they would have pissed themselves).

It may seem like a strange thing to say about a film featuring girls with hinged heads, rotating saw blade mouths and eyes with optical zoom, but the dialogue and slapstick humour are rather conventional; a bit Americanized even - it put me in mind of films like The Naked Gun at times and made me think that Iguchi has one eye on DVD sales overseas. Basically, Robo-Geisha is not very good, but it offers a bit of harmless fun if you're into this sort of thing.

ロボゲイシャ
Dir. Noburu Iguchi, 2009

Memories

A collection of three short films curated by Katsuhiro Otomo. To say it's a mixed bag might give the impression that it contained a gem amongst the straw but ironically, the closest thing to luster here is Stink Bomb - a somewhat amusing take on biological warfare, with a lowly research employee wreaking havoc across Japan by literally becoming a human dirty bomb. The sight of a gormless idiot on a scooter trailing a cloud of toxic fumes behind him whilst being torpedoed by an armada of jet fighters, all set to a bebop jazz soundtrack is actually pretty awesome. However, the short does end with a forehead-slap-worthy punch line straight out of 100 Greatest Biohazard Jokes.

Not too much to say about the others. Surprisingly, Otomo's is the worst of the three - deploying a primitive style of animation more reminiscent of Monty Python than Akira and again, giving range to his obsession with an antiquated future world full of cogs and pistons and steam (see Steamboy) that leaves me cold. It's probably trying to say something about the futility of war... but who isn't? Finally we have what is really the centerpiece of Memories; Magnetic Rose - a dull and vaguely pretentious ghost story needlessly set in space, which rips off variously 2001, Alien, The Matrix and any haunted house movie you care to name.

In a word then, no.

メモリーズ
Dir. Koji Morimoto / Tensai Okamura / Katsuhiro Otomo, 1995

Assemble Insert

OK, I think it's about time I reviewed the anime that gave its name to this blog. Truth is, I probably like the name more than the movie, but this parody of anime staples (idols, mecha, pop culture) is not without its charms.

The story centres around Maron Namikaze, a 13-year old girl with superhuman strength. Improbably, she is recruited by the Tokyo police department in their fight against a criminal gang called Demon Seed and in true generic anime style, holds down a day job as a super-famous pop idol, while moonlighting as a crime-fighting superhero.

It's hardly jagged-edged satire, but it does a decent job of spoofing the actual thing, and if you ask me, that needed doing. I've seen a lot of anime in my time, but I wouldn't call myself a fan. The good films are few and far between; for the most part it's inane bollocks - a waste of animating talent and viewing time.

アッセンブル・インサート
Dir. Ayumi Chibuki, 1985

Nausicaa of the Valley of the Wind

I'd read this was an early Miyazaki masterpiece - I didn't find it to be that exactly. The animation is stunning, especially when you consider the year of the film's creation; 1984. The fluidity of movement and attention to detail is light years ahead of any other anime I've seen from this period. The mood too, especially in the forest scenes, distills a quiet magic, as spores float through shafts of sunlight and strange creatures amble around. It's almost enough to make up for the cringe-worthy synth cheese that passes for score.

But then we come to the plot, and that's where Nausicaa falls down for me. In short, I couldn't make head nor tail of it! Ostensibly, it's an eco parable about man's pollution of the Earth and how the Earth fights back, threatening the existence of mankind. Now I'm not against an environmental message (although Nausicaa actually hugs a tree at one point for crissakes!), but the specifics of the plot are such that I couldn't tell you at any given moment what the hell was going on. Nausicaa herself is a kind of elemental horse whisperer (except the horses are giant insects), there's a wasteland which is encroaching on human territory, propagating through 'bad spores' or 'bad soil' or some shit, there's a petrified forest under the wasteland, there are giant, many-eyed trilobites called Ohmu, there are rival human factions, neither of whose aims are at all clear... for the first half hour or so I found myself frustrated at not being able to get my head around what was happening or why, then resigned myself to the fact nothing was going to make sense and just enjoyed the visuals. Which are very nice.

風の谷のナウシカ
Dir. Hayao Miyazaki, 1984

Bloody Territories

The story of a rogue clan's last stand following the dissolution of its parent association, incorporating the usual yakuza motifs of turf war and clan politics.

Bloody Territories was made towards the end of the era of 'ninkyo eiga', or 'chivalrous cinema', a style of yakuza movie that has more in common with the samurai films produced by studios like Toei in the 40s and 50s than with modern gangster movies. These films were made in part to appease a nostalgia for a bygone age of honour and loyalty, preferring escapism over realism. The gangsters never use guns, always knives in samurai-style bamboo sheaths, and there is a strong emphasis on rival clans' codes of honour.

It's difficult now to put the film into context. From a modern standpoint it feels curiously anachronistic and isn't helped by the soundtrack, which places it firmly in the 60s. Reminiscent of the music from the Batman series or an episode of Dragnet, it's intrusive and works against the gravity the actors bring to their parts, particularly Akira Kobayashi, who shines as the headstrong young yakuza lieutenant, Yuji.

Daft score and artifice aside, the film packs in a couple of plot twists and some nice cinematography, but it won't live long in the memory.

流血の縄張
Dir. Yasuharu Hasebe, 1969

Ponyo

From the sublime to, if not the ridiculous, the deeply mediocre. Think Spongebob Squarepants without the laughs. OK, maybe that's a bit harsh given that the intended audience for this film probably isn't embittered 30-somethings.

I don't know, but I would guess that even children would find Ponyo less than engaging. The story just isn't there - instead you get some half-baked stuff about the moon, a baddie who isn't very bad at all and a little girl (Ponyo) with more than a touch of The Innsmouth Look about her. It doesn't add up to a whole lot.

As you'd expect from a Ghibli production, the animation has its moments. The storm, and the torrential rain lashing the island is particularly well-drawn. Overall though, the style is sketchier and more naive than other Miyazaki films I've seen. The cuteness and innocence of Ponyo is rarely contrived, but does wear thin in the absence of any coherent plot or original message. As a friend remarked, it leaves you wanting to go home and watch something debauched.

崖の上のポニョ
Dir. Hayao Miyazaki, 2008

Red Lion

Samurai satire, set in 19th century Japan, during the period of transition from Shogunate rule to the inception of the Meiji Restoration.

Legendary actor Toshiro Mifune plays the well-meaning but dim-witted hero, a farmer's son who returns to his home village to prepare the way for the forces of the Imperial Restoration. He wears the red lion headdress in an attempt to deceive the villagers into thinking he is a commander with the Imperial army.

Mifune is impressive in the lead role, not playing Gonzo purely for laughs, but also hinting at the dignity of the man in the face of his tragic fate. But the film as a whole doesn't quite work either as a comedy or a drama: as a comedy it sits awkwardly with Okamoto's socialist agenda (the injustice of the peasant's lot under any regime) and it's difficult to take seriously as a drama when it's so clearly a satire of past films' treatment of the Meiji Restoration.

赤毛
Dir. Kihachi Okamoto, 1969

9 Souls

Could be called 9 Lost Souls as this is really what this film is about. The basic plot involves nine convicts escaping from jail, hitting the road, and leaving a trail of destruction in their wake. The 'escape' is dealt with in the first 5 minutes; the rest of the film is about lost dreams and the inescapability of the past, a kind of darkly comic road movie.

To base a film around nine lead characters is a hard trick to pull off, and unsurpisingly Toyoda doesn't really manage it. Despite being generally well-acted, and having some imaginative, artfully shot set pieces, the film as a whole just doesn't hang together. The narrative is disjointed and the pacing choppy.

9 Souls seems to be making the point that the convicts can escape from jail but ultimately can't escape from themselves; from their past and their paranoia. At the same time, it suggests that peoples' fates are in their own hands, as symbolized by Yamamoto's key. There is an awkward juxtaposition of symbolism and realism throughout the film, typified by the final scene: having literally painted himself into a corner with his brother's blood, Machiro figuratively unlocks his future in a flash of light.

There's a good film in there somewhere, but you'll need a map to find it.

ナイン ソウルズ
Dir. Toshiaki Toyoda, 2003

Violent Cop

"Beat" Takeshi Kitano's directorial debut, in which our hero stomps around town like a bear with a sore head, bitch-slapping everyone in sight.

Violent Cop was originally conceived as a comedy, before Kitano re-wrote it as a drama, fearing an international audience would miss the subtlety of his comedy acting. I'm not convinced it was completely re-written though - Kitano, accompanied by a theme tune that sounds like something out of Laurel and Hardy, deadpans his way through acts of casual violence, defying you to take it seriously. From head-butting a teenager in his bedroom, to repeatedly slapping a drug dealer in the toilets of a bar, to kicking the shit out of his own sidekick, the violence is unnecessary to the point of farce.

The film's plot is thin at best. Kitano plays Azuma, a poor man's Dirty Harry; a renegade cop dragged into a low-level corruption case involving a small-time dealer called Nito, whose supply line leads back to the police. The case, like Azuma's job, is incidental and he becomes embroiled in a personal vendetta with Nito's henchman, an equally sociopathic nutjob. The film plays out as a classic revenge tragedy, amassing an impressive body count along the way. The characters are little more than cut-outs; a backdrop for the exposition of Azuma's psychosis.

While it's far from Kitano's best work - probably his worst in fact - the seeds of his unique visual style are sown in Violent Cop. But the still, lingering shots, interspersed with explosive violence, which would be used to such devastating effect in later films, are largely farcical here.

その男、凶暴につき
Dir. Takeshi Kitano, 1989

Bright Future

Bright Future is the kind of film that bugs me. It's the kind of film that gets credited with distilling vague notions like 'the alienation of modern society' or 'the dangerous ennui of youth' but in reality, it's a bit of a mess. It lacks coherent narrative and structure, and tries too hard to be different.

The plot, such as it is, centres around two young men, Mamoru, an intense, reflective individual, and Nomura, a kind of wordless idiot savant. The two work at a local factory producing warm moist towels for restaurants. Apparently inspired by his pet venom jellyfish, Mamoru hatches a plan to kill his boss's family, carries it out, and is sentenced to death. Meanwhile, Nomura releases the jellyfish into Tokyo's water system to threaten the city's population (the hows and whys are absent). Cue a semiotic free for all. Read into it what you will.

Visually, it's a cut above - Kurosawa clearly knows how to film beautiful imagery. Beyond that, it's pretentious, meandering and about as exciting as a warm moist towel.

アカルイミライ
Dir. Kiyoshi Kurosawa, 2003

Street of Joy

A day in the life of a pleasure house on the eve of a law being passed to outlaw brothels in Japan.

Although it is usually classed as erotica, Street of Joy is largely character-driven, with some nice performances. It is a gently reflective, almost nostalgic film, showing the liaisons of prostitutes and clients with compassion. It holds back from judging the central characters and focuses instead on their individual drives and passions.

Kumashiro's camera work, which creates a voyeuristic feel to the film, placing the viewer in dark spaces with a keyhole view of the intimate scenes unfolding in the rooms of the brothel, gives a bit of an edge to the film, but it's ultimately quite slight.

赤線玉の井　ぬけられます
Dir. Tatsumi Kumashiro, 1974

964 Pinocchio

The confused friendship of a lobotomized cyborg sex slave and a criminally insane homeless girl on the run from The Man.

One long scream of a movie - the visuals scream, the soundtrack screams, all the characters scream. It sucks you in and spits you out, and consequently feels more like an endurance test than a film.

Not bad, as weird, low-budget cyberpunk splatterfests go but that's about as much as you can say. 2/5 for sheer adrenaline.

ピノキオ√964
Dir. Shozin Fukui, 1991