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Crap. One of the most overrated films in the history of anime. Sorry. No, this is of course one of the finest pieces of animation you're ever likely to see. There's almost certainly nothing I can say about Spirited Away that hasn't been said already, but it hasn't been regurgitated on here yet, so...For me, this film represents the pinnacle of the genre; a timeless, mystical, subtle, naive, profound piece of animated magic. The incredibly detailed hand-drawn animation is vibrant and fluid, the soundtrack dovetails perfectly with the mood of the film, as the Zen-like story, at once epic and infinitesimal in scope, gradually unfolds.
Whilst not groundbreaking in the same way Disney's Fantasia was, Spirited Away set a new benchmark for traditional animation that has yet to be surpassed.
千と千尋の神隠しDir. Hayao Miyazaki, 2001
If Hitchcock had done animation... it might have been something like this. It's unusual to find anime as intelligent and multi-layered as Perfect Blue, even if its ambition sometimes outstrips its execution. It charts the descent of a pop idol-turned-actress into madness. Mima's life spirals out of control, as she is plunged into a nightmare world of murder, exploitation and paranoid delusion.
This is the debut picture from writer-director Satoshi Kon, and it's a decent first effort. It has a lot of the motifs you find in his excellent OAV, Paranoia Agent; the effortless intertwining of fantasy and reality, touches of surrealism and a Lynch-like resistance to easy interpretation, crediting the viewer with the intelligence to solve its puzzles for themselves. Kon also got in early with the phenomenon of cyber-stalking: although it's less extreme and its themes are manifestly different, Cham brings to mind Dessart, and Mima's Room the spooky fan site in Suicide Club.
On the downside, the animation isn't going to blow any minds - it's solid enough, but done without a great deal of panache. The ending (and we're talking literally the last few moments here) is butt-clenchingly cheesy and strangely at odds with the dark mood of the film.
パーフェクトブルーDir. Satoshi Kon, 1998
Or Interstella 5555: The 5tory of the 5ecret 5tar 5ystem to give it its full title. There's a fine line between cheesiness and magic, and depending on your view of Daft Punk's Discovery, you'll probably have a view one way or the other on this movie too.
Personally I love Discovery, and this film, featuring animation overseen by legendary Japanese animator Leiji Matsumoto, really brought the album alive for me (no pun intended). The plot is obviously very simple - blue aliens are abducted by humans, brought to earth (nice twist on the old alien abduction), de-alienized, and turned into mass market pop star automatons. Aliens are rescued, evil corporation mogul is vanquished, aliens are returned to their home planet, everyone lives happily ever after in a universe of perfect human-alien bilateral harmony inside the mind of a sleeping child.
But then again, simplicity of plot is what you want from a good music video. Yes, there's a big fat moral here, but it's served up with such a light touch that you hardly notice. Daft Punk just want to teach the world to sing and you can't fault them for that, can you?
Dir. Kazuhisa Takenochi, 2003
The fourth outing as director for Takeshi Kitano marks a growing maturity and a further evolution of his visual style. Sonatine is a relentlessly nihilistic film, about how a man can lose his humanity, even his will to live, through constant exposure to violence and killing.
Kitano is Murakawa, a successful Yakuza boss who is persuaded to leave his patch in Tokyo to go to the aid of a gang in Okinawa engaged in a turf war with a rival clan, only to find he's been duped. After a shoot-out in a bar, Murakawa and his crew hole up in a beach hide out, which comprises the second third of the film. The pace slows to a crawl, and what started out as a gangster film becomes an obliquely humorous exercise in killing time.
It's unusual for sure, and more thoughtful than your average Yakuza flick, but at the same time, impenetrably cold. Murakawa has a certain jaded charisma, but on more than one occasion, when the camera lingers on his emotionless face and the faces of other yakuza, you realize you're watching a film about gruesome banality; hollow men, past the point of no return. And if that's the intention, then you would have to say Sonatine is a success.
ソナチネ
Dir. Takeshi Kitano, 1993
Sabu AKA Hiroyuki Tanaka gives us a true slice of Japanese cinema with Unlucky Monkey; the good and the bad. The good: dark humour, outrageous genre crossover, weirdness in spades (and reanimating corpses). The bad: messy, disjointed, unevenly paced.
The film veers from B-movie yakuza action to existential psycho-drama and back again. Then back again. It's got 3 endings, each one a variation on the same theme: the futility and randomness of life - eliciting a howl of rage, a dejected trudge or a blithe shrug of the shoulders. Sabu gives us them all. You gotta love this guy's sense of humour - there are some deliciously absurd moments of blackness here.
アンラッキー モンキー
Dir. Sabu, 1998
There's a lot to be said for a simple story told well. In the Realm of Passion is a classic ghost story from a master of the genre, Nagisa Oshima.
It doesn't rank among Oshima's best works, but it's enjoyable nonetheless. For a Japanese film made in the late Seventies, it's surprisingly Film Noir. The characterization - the femme fatale and jealous lover plotting to kill the unsuspecting husband - the cinematography - the wonderfully dark, bleak world Seki and Toyoji inhabit - In the Realm of Passion comes from the pages of hard boiled pulp fiction, relocated to Nineteenth century Japan.
But it's also in the tradition of Japanese ghost stories - hence the familiar archetypes of the vengeful spirit and the well; a symbol of repressed fear. The way the action is framed by narration gives a slightly unreal, allegorical feel to the film; a welcome respite from the relentless realism of modern cinema.
愛の亡霊
Dir. Nagisa Oshima, 1978
A much feted anime and in many respects it's not hard to see why. At the time of its release, in 1995, it was groundbreaking on a visual level, using cutting-edge technology to deliver animation of unparalleled depth, with a truly filmic quality. The fact that it still has the ability to impress today is testament to the painstaking work of a talented animation team. Everything from the realism of reflective surfaces and the naturalism of movement, down to the details like the different physical effect of bullets striking different materials is stunning to behold.
Kenji Kawai's score is equally effective, capturing the mood of the film perfectly - its haunting, traditional sound works better than a futuristic electronic score would have done. It has a timelessness - the main theme is bordering on legendary.
The story is perhaps less impressive: exploring the implications of AI is not new in sci-fi, but it's easy to overlook the prescience of Oshii's vision of the net. Self-mutating digital viral strains travelling an invisible global network, the association of computer programs with DNA - these ideas are very familiar today, but the world wide web was barely in its infancy when this film was made. Despite owing a lot to Blade Runner, visually and thematically, Ghost in the Shell will rightly go down as a landmark anime.
攻殻機動隊
Dir. Mamoru Oshii, 1995
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
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
Well... where do you start? Not just with this film, but Takashi Miike generally. This is our starting point on the blog for Miike and it's a hell of a weird one to kick off with. But in a way, it's perfectly representative of the work of one of Japan's most prolific and imaginative directors.
"How am I supposed to feel?!" yells the father of the household, wild-eyed, filming fireworks crashing through the windows of his house on a handheld. It's the question you're asking yourself while watching Visitor Q and the question Miike refuses to answer - you watch the film by turns revulsved, amused, shocked, touched. There are no easy answers with Miike films - he wants to make you think.
On one level, that's what Visitor Q is: a reaction to the disingenuous and emotionally manipulative doctrine of so-called "reality" TV. From the first scene, which you later learn is incest between father and daughter, the artifice of the film is laid bare: a film crew filming actors filming each other. Somewhere, the reality of what's being filmed gets lost. And if reality and fantasy can be so easily blurred, what's the point of morality? Where do you draw the line?On another level it's the simple heartwarming story of how a benificent stranger helps a dysfunctional family to bond through murder, necrophilia and lactation. You get the feeling that Miike, like Lynch or Bunuel, or any true artist, revels in breaking taboos and challenging expectations. I'm not going to say any more, just watch it. More than once.ビジタ Q
Dir. Takashi Miike, 2001
Crap. One of the most overrated films in the history of anime. Sorry. No, this is of course one of the finest pieces of animation you're ever likely to see. There's almost certainly nothing I can say about Spirited Away that hasn't been said already, but it hasn't been regurgitated on here yet, so...
