Tag: Ryusuke Hamaguchi

Evil Does Not Exist

Posted on by victorfraga

The familiar battle of the new versus the old takes place. Mizubiki is a rural community of just 6,000 inhabitants. These people are deeply attached to their land, despite the fact that they first moved there after WW2. Their sense of pride and possession is infrangible. They feel threatened by the plans to build a glamping site for Tokyoites seeking a city break. A septic tank is to be dug at the top of the hill, which would inevitably contaminate the crystal-clear waters which they cherish and use as their main staple. A restaurant owner confesses that she moved away from the country’s capital just because the udon tasted better with the local water. The prospect of effluence of the affluent infecting and debasing their lifestyle is a terrifying one.

The first third of the movie is almost entirely observational.The action is unhurried, bordering on slow cinema. Tracking shots with the camera facing up, forwards, backwards and sideways through the woodland emphasise the vastness of the landscape. It is winter and the ground is covered with snow. The laconic Takumi (Hitoshi Omika) carries water through the forest and cuts wood for his fireplace. He is often in the company of his only child, eight-year-old Hana (Ryo Nishikawa). A decomposing fawn reminds father and the daughter that animals too are an integral part of the habitat, and that life is just a fleeting illusion. A minimalistic score by Eiko Ishibashi adds a touch of eeriness. It is only roughly 30 minutes into the film that the action moves indoors, and the plot begins to unfold.

The second third of the film is the most tense one. Locals confront two talent agents – Takahashi (Ryuji Kosaka) and Mayuzumi (Ayaka Shibutani) – representing the company that intends to roll out the controversial glamping facilities. There is no sign of the business chief, who made the convenient decision to leave his employees to confront the disgruntled residents. Takahashi and Mayuzumi are not greedy corporate soldiers, and instead empathise with the increasingly aggressive locals. At times, our allegiance lies with the people who may have their environment seriously compromised. At other times, our allegiance lies with the two hapless people seeking a compromise on behalf of a business. Nobody is entirely good or bad. After all, evil does not exist.

Or perhaps it does. During a video call with the self-entitled and unscrupulous business owner (he does have the time to show up in person even for his own employees), Takahashi and Mayuzumi become increasingly aware that the prospect of compromise is remote. The locals are increasingly furious, while the elusive boss is counting on very unethical tactics (such as handing out alcoholic gifts, pretending to listen, and taking on board only the least crucial requests) in order to convince the locals. Mayuzumi notes “these people are not stupid”. At times, it seems she is almost prepared to give up her job in the name of dignity, and Takahashi too displays clear signs of humanity. The man on the video is less willing to budge. It is corporate interests that must prevail. There is a looming subsidy deadline that they must meet by hook and by crook. The devil cannot wait.

The final part of the movie is far more cryptic. Takahashi and Mayuzumi assume an unexpected role, while a missing person turns everyone’s plans into disarray. The ambiguous, punch-in-face type of ending provides more questions than answers. It neither confirms nor challenges the assertion proposed in the film title. Poor or rich, urban or rural, young or old, human beings are prepared to take matters into their hands and resort to very extreme solutions should the circumstances mandate it. Their motivations are often foggy and questionable. Which doesn’t necessarily mean they are evil. They are just fallible.

Evil Does Not Exist premiered at the 80th Venice International Film Festival. Also showing at the 53rd International Film Festival Rotterdam. It is in UK cinemas on Friday, April 5th.

Drive My Car

Posted on by victorfraga

Historically, films not in the English language have struggled to compete for the big awards at The Oscars. After all, the Academy Awards are the ultimate symbol of Hollywood’s fascination with itself, meaning anything outside of its bubble is ushered into the Best International Feature Film category. Times are slowly changing, however, and the success of Parasite a couple of years ago means a wider breadth of filmmaking has a shot at the hallowed Best Film award. A welcome addition to this year’s contenders is Drive My Car, a Japanese drama that more than merits the distinction.

Director Ryusuke Hamaguchi’s follow up to the fascinating Wheel of Fortune and Fantasy (2021) is the story of Yūsuke Kafuku (Hidetoshi Nishijima), a celebrated theatre actor mourning the death of his wife Oto (Reika Kirishima). Two years on from the loss, he is approached to direct a production of Uncle Vanya. He is given accommodation around an hour’s drive from the rehearsal space, in order that he practice lines from a tape recorded by Oto before her death. The company requires that he have a driver, reserved young woman Misaki Watari (Tōko Miura).

Initially sceptical, Yūsuke warms to Misaki’s driving, and the car becomes a haven for his dealings with the production, including a problematic young lead (Masaki Okada). The pair also discover a common bond through grief, and help each other face a life burdened by guilt from the past.

Where many prestige dramas require scenery chewing, Hamaguchi’s film has a gentleness that feels much more devastating. The messiness of life, and the absence of resolution in grief, are core themes within a multi-layered story that doesn’t stray too long on any one of its plotlines. While the friendship between Yūsuke and Misake is the backbone of the narrative, Yūsuke’s tempestuous collaboration with Okada’s disgraced star Kōji Takatsuki is just as compelling. A climactic scene between the two in the back of the titular Saab 900, where Kōji talks about looking completely into a person’s heart, is quietly mind-blowing. Meaning hides within meaning, with so much more said that what is on the page.

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Nishijima has a substantial task, making Yūsuke a man worn down by pain but still seeking truth through his art. Aside from a big speech in the closing moments, it’s a performance of small movements, telling the audience everything through a sigh, or blunt remark. The emotional walls around him are as fascinating to see are built as they are to watch fall down.

Misake may initially seem like a supporting player, but it’s a role that grows into the film. Stoicly waiting beside the car with a cap and cigarette, Miura portrays her as a woman who makes no bones about what she has had to do to survive. There’s a beauty in her matter-of-fact approach: in one scene, when Yūsuke asks her to take him to her favourite spot in Hiroshima, they drive to a garbage dump where she wistfully comments that the shredded waste looks like snow. Finding the same beauty in the industrial that Yūsuke does in the artistic, it’s a performance that blossoms and benefits everything around it.

At one point, Yūsuke remarks “Those who survive keep thinking about the dead in one way or another”. Drive My Car’s brilliance lies in its celebration of the dirtiness of life, and how our greatest triumphs exist in simply carrying on.

Drive My Car is on all major VoD platforms on Friday, April 1st.

The Wheel of Fortune and Fantasy

Posted on by victorfraga

Making its debut at Berlinale is Japanese drama Wheel of Fortune and Fantasy, a triptych of stories about people who meet through remarkable twists of fate. In Episode 1: Magic (or Something Less Assuring), a model named Meiko (Kotone Furukawa) deduces that her best friend’s new lover is an ex-boyfriend. In Episode 2: Door Wide Open, a bitter student blackmails his friend-with-benefits Nao (Katsuki Mori) into seducing a celebrated professor (Kiyohiko Shibukawa) as an act of revenge. Finally, Chapter 3: Once Again introduces us to Moka (Fusako Urabe), a middle-aged woman who meets a face from the past after travelling to a school reunion.

Films made up of separate stories have to potential to appear disconnected, but while these episodes may have very different contexts, the thread is there to see. Director (Happy Hour and Asako I & II) is interested in the way we address the past, keep secrets, and the way we love. He uses chance meetings and unrelated catalysts to draw out revelations from his characters, making each exchange feel like a firework display even if the narrative is made up of conversations.

We see jagged, toxic connections, such as when Meiko arrives unannounced to her ex’s workplace to throw a curveball at his new happiness; contrasted with the tender regret of Natsuko, whose chance reunion brings up pain that she never truly let go. Emotions take precedent over blame, as each character portrays the complexities of relationships. It would be easy to scorn promiscuous parent Nao as she tries to spring a ‘Honey Trap’, but as she realises there may be some connection with her target, the reasons for her behaviour spill out. It’s not pretty or clear cut, but it does feel honest.

All three segments also dissect that interesting moment in life where your choices begin to cement and the endless potential of youth seems to fade. None of the characters are necessarily old, but old enough to have stacked up the events of their life and wondered why they don’t feel more satisfied. There are also unusual contexts, such as Once Again’s set up, where a mass computer virus shuts down the internet and sees everyone living analogue lives. Everything seems designed for introspection, making each chapter an interesting crossroads in the lives of people we will only know for a short time.

It isn’t without flaws – the thoughtfulness of the storytelling will seem frustrating to those who like more zip in their dramas, while an erotic exchange in chapter two borders on the uncomfortable. However, in the small time each chapter is given, Wheel of Fortune and Fantasy’s quiet drama will leave a lasting impression.

The Wheel of Fortune and Fantasy premiered at the Berlinale. It shows in October at the BFI London Film Festival. In cinemas on Friday, February 11th (2022). On all major VoD platforms on Friday, July 1st.

Asako I & II (Nemeto Sametemo)

Posted on by victorfraga

Teenage girl falls in love. Her crush goes to the shop and doesn’t come back. She moves from small city to big city and falls in love with someone who looks exactly like the man who abandoned her. They fall in love and live happily for five years. Then the love from the past returns, and he is now rich and famous. Said girl is left in a very difficult situation. Sounds clichéd? That’s because it is. Asako I & II is also banal, futile, predictable and poorly acted. It’s probably the worst film in competition at Cannes this year.

The girl in question is Asako and she’s played by Erika Karata. The small(ish) city is Osaka and the big city is Tokyo. Asako has the habit of standing still with her mouth shut without moving a single muscle, and that’s when the actress is at her most convincing. Otherwise she feels forced and unnatural. Her acting skills are very limited, it seems. The same applies to other actors. Masahiro Higashide plays both Ryohei (the new love) and Baku (the revenant), and he comes across as infantile in both roles. At one point, Asako’s friend Maya (Rio Yamashita), who dreams of becoming a famous actress, bemoans her very own acting skills. It’s almost as if Rio was talking about her very own stiff performance!

The script is extremely conventional and most people will guess how the film ends roughly halfway through the 120-minute story. There are no surprises. The message conveyed is also very conventional, revealing how rigid and conservative Japanese society remains to this day. A friend explains to Asako: “men find it unbearable to be with a woman who has had another man’s penis inside her”. How profound! And the final resolution of the movie screams out loud: “stick to the more convenient path and stay out of trouble!!!”. The film closes with an invaluable pearl of wisdom. Asako looks at the passing river and professes: “the waters are dirty, but still beautiful”. Such originality. Words fail me. The soundtrack is bubblegum-cheesy, and not even groovy.

Not all is awful about this movie. Praise must go to Jintan the Cat. The observant feline follows the action closely and even gets involved in a crucial moment at the end. His profound eyes communicate far more than the other characters.

Asako I &II showed in competition at the 71 Cannes Film Festival, when this piece was originally written. It premiered in the UK as part of the BFI London Film Festival. On Mubi on Saturday, February 12th.