An experimental film, expanded from a short film by an artist who mostly works in that form, is this fascinating piece of cut-up collage combined with stop-motion animation by American auteur Jodie Mack. To my everlasting shame, sometimes when watching movies at home, I have a tendency to drift into checking my phone (perhaps Twitter, perhaps emails, perhaps looking up the film’s Wikipedia entry), because it’s 2020 and that’s the kind of thing many of us do these days. (No, no, I’m sure you don’t, I believe you. I can only speak for myself here.) Anyway, I didn’t do that during this hour-long experimental film, and that’s not of course the best thing I can say for it, but my point is: it certainly never bored me, as non-narrative as it is.
This is unquestionably a colourful work, whose title plays on the idea of a bazaar, cutting up (not literally but also sometimes literally) images of fabrics and juxtaposing them in various settings — on shelves in shops, at home, in luggage, on travels, on conveyor belts at airports, all kinds of settings. Alongside these fabrics — not to mention in them — we see the world in a way, glimpses of landscapes, places, roads, people, cuttings from a book of languages, the various texts and shapes of the words at play alongside the warp and weft of the weaving, colourful in so many ways. And then there’s the soundtrack, which pulses with its own energy. It’s a rather delightful film that conjures ideas and feelings in the kind of way that cinema can do best, and must have been quite some effort to make.
Director/Cinematographer Jodie Mack; Length 61 minutes.
Seen at home (Mubi streaming), London, Monday 4 May 2020.
As my Japan-themed week goes on, I need to be careful not to just review films nobody’s seen and can’t easily watch, so I’m turning to one of the major Studio Ghibli films, albeit one directed by its less-famous partner, Isao Takahata, who nevertheless is responsible for many of its great works like The Tale of the Princess Kaguya and My Neighbours the Yamadas. It’s a World War II-set film, and given it’s Japanese, you can imagine it’s hardly triumphal; in fact, it’s one of the more heart-wrenching animated films you can watch.
I put this on at home, more or less without thinking, after returning from a screening of A Hidden Life (2019) and it strikes me that they make a sort of thematic double-bill, both being stories from World War II that find empathy amongst the defeated peoples in that conflict. Nobody really wins in war, to a certain extent, but it’s very clear from this story of Seita and his sister Setsuko that it’s particularly difficult trying to survive near the end of the war, when resources and empathy are scarce. Of course, the elegiac, mournful aspect is set up right from the very outset, as this is a film narrated by a dead body, but even so it wrings out enormous amounts of pathos from its story, in which the fireflies of the title become a beautiful visual metaphor for a certain sort of transcendence that perhaps the two find which eluded them in life. It’s grim, of course, but suffused with light and joy and hope — and a keen graphic stylishness — even in its darkest moments.
Director/Writer Isao Takahata 高畑勲 (based on the short story by Akiyuki Nosaka 野坂昭如); Starring Tsutomu Tatsumi 辰巳努, Ayano Shiraishi 白石綾乃; Length 89 minutes.
Seen at home (DVD), London, Friday 17 January 2020.
I thought I’d throw in an extra film this week on the Saturday because it’s another date-appropriate release, which is to say it’s a film that deals with the story of Passover and we are now in the middle of that Jewish holiday. It’s a classic animated film, of sorts, depending on who you are; it’s my first time coming to this film so I apologise if my analysis is a little shallow.
I don’t know if I’m really in a position to critique this, but it’s a telling of the story that informs the Jewish holiday of Passover, and it cleaves to a lot of the Biblical narrative fairly closely really, but with songs. It does feel, though, like it’s trying to grapple with the big question in terms of the extent to which God’s punishments of Pharaoh (Ralph Fiennes) impact on his people, which is to say how much is Moses responsible for the death, and that bit doesn’t quite resolve. Killing the firstborn is after all pretty bad whoever does the act. But this is a story of revolutionary anger leading to political change, and the niceties can sometimes be lost. In a sense it’s applicable even now: revolution requires action, which means that difficult choices sometimes need to be made. The original story, and this film too, is fairly clear that you can’t effect change by being a pacifist, and some level of fundamental disruption is going to occur. Perhaps that’s a message people need to hear, but it’s always going to be a hard one to pull off, especially in an animated family film.
Directors Brenda Chapman, Steve Hickner and Simon Wells; Writer Philip LaZebnik (based on the religious text שְׁמוֹת Shemot “Book of Exodus”); Starring Val Kilmer, Ralph Fiennes, Michelle Pfeiffer, Sandra Bullock, Jeff Goldblum, Danny Glover; Length 99 minutes.
Seen at home (Amazon streaming), London, Friday 10 April 2020.
Not all films about relationships work out — in fact, I’d guess that most don’t — but given its surfing theme, there’s an appropriately turbulent movement to this film’s romantic drama, which takes in hallucinatory supernatural cuteness, and is voiced by a number of J-pop singers.
This is on the whole a rather sweet film, perhaps rather overly cute, as our lead heroine’s boyfriend becomes reincarnated (after a fashion, perhaps hallucinated; it’s never quite made clear) in water upon repetition of a song the two of them enjoyed together. Gazing at her boyfriend’s reflection in the water could I suppose be seen to put a very-literally-gender-fluid spin on the Narcissus myth, but this film is really about a woman trying to cope with her grief and find a way to continue living. However, even writing that makes it sound rather dour when in fact it has a hyper-kinetic energy and forward momentum that embraces all kinds of magical and fantasy elements — not to mention rather too many burning tower block buildings — alongside the down-to-earth frankness of characters like the boyfriend’s sister (who works in a coffee shop and couldn’t really be less interested in our heroine). Whether you connect with it is probably down to your tolerance for this kind of strange blend of schmaltz and morbidity that seems characteristic of certain Japanese films.
Director Masaaki Yuasa 湯浅政明; Writer Reiko Yoshida 吉田玲子; Starring Rina Kawaei 川栄李奈, Ryota Katayose 片寄涼太; Length 96 minutes.
Seen at ICA, London, Sunday 16 February 2019.
I’ve reviewed a few of Studio Ghibli co-founder Isao Takahata’s films on my blog (such as My Neighbours the Yamadas earlier today, and The Tale of the Princess Kaguya), but I’ve not yet touched on the most famous figure from that studio, Hayao Miyazaki. I’ve now seen a number of his films, though, and for all my sneering at the idea of them when I was younger, they are in fact all remarkably good. My favourite remains Spirited Away which perhaps one day I shall write about here, but in the meantime here’s the one with the catchiest theme song…
I’m not honestly sure how one reviews Miyazaki-san’s films. I resisted them for so long when I was younger, assuming them to be twee nonsense, but they have a genuine sense of wonder that is difficult to express in a critical discourse — something about the rush of colours, the transformative and magical that lurks in the everyday, and the blending of quotidian reality with supernatural undersea elements. The set-up is that Sosuke is a five-year-old boy living at home with his mum (who works at the local retirement community) while dad is out for long stretches on the high seas. This land-based reality is mirrored by an alternate underwater family structure: his absent father becomes Fujimoto, a grumpy sorcerer who hates humans and is trying to repopulate the oceans, the mother is now a mystical deity, and the magical fish-human of the title is like a reflected sister/partner for Sosuke. The themes of the environmental devastation (which Fujimoto is working to counter), and the way that this is reflected in the dangerous volitility of the ocean, are all expressed very gently, but even in the joy of the animation you get a sense of this threat underlying it all.
Director/Writer Hayao Miyazaki 宮崎駿; Starring Yuria Nara ならゆりあ, Hiroki Doi 土井洋輝; Length 101 minutes.
Seen at home (DVD), London, Saturday 30 November 2019.
Looking back at my favourite films I saw for the first time in the past year (ones that I haven’t already written up), it always feels somehow seasonally appropriate to talk about Studio Ghibli’s animations — not because they’re about Christmas, but they’re often about the idea of family and finding some kind of strength and shared communality with your family, which may not always be a lesson people take from Christmas, but it seems like it should be. My Neighbours the Yamadas may not be the most famous of Ghibli’s output, but it deserves to be better known, given it gently pokes fun at ways that families come together and fall apart, while also showing what can be good about them.
I feel like I’m still just starting my journey into Studio Ghibli’s animation, having not seen any until Isao Takahata’s The Tale of the Princess Kaguya about four years ago, and since having watched a number of the Miyazaki films (almost all extraordinary). In a sense, My Neighbours the Yamadas is less easily categorisable, given it has the sense of a serialised comic strip (which it is, after all, based upon), just these little self-contained stories, introduced by titles and often book-ended by a haiku. The animation focuses on the details that matter, so this isn’t the kind of richly-detailed visual worlds that you get in Miyazaki or, say, Your Name. (2016). Instead, there’s a caricaturists’ sense at work in capturing the personalities of these six characters (grandma, mum and dad, son and daughter, and pet dog), which, while setting it aside from some of these other titles, also gives it an immediacy and vibrancy that is somehow even stronger. In telling these little stories, it’s elucidating something of the mystery (to us as Western viewers, but perhaps even to them) of Japanese life and customs, while also showing the evident care that works within the family. The humour is all very gentle, and this is ultimately a likeable, sweet film about family life.
Director/Writer Isao Takahata 高畑勲 (based on the manga series ののちゃん Nono-chan by Hisaichi Ishii 石井壽一); Starring Toru Masuoka 益岡徹, Yukiji Asaoka 朝丘雪路; Length 104 minutes.
Seen at home (DVD), London, Saturday 30 November 2019.
My final day of the London Film Festival sends me to three films from Asia (two directed by women), and all of which deal with families in their various guises, though Bombay Rose has more of a romantic flavour than the other two. All three represent reasons why I continue to love contemporary cinema, and value the films that the LFF presents.
Continue reading “LFF 2019 Day Twelve: So Long, My Son and Bombay Rose (both 2019) and House of Hummingbird (2018)”
It’s an odd manga this, a wellspring of melodramatic feelings, though it does throw a lot of ideas out along the way, particularly notable in the way it often frames people by their hands, feet or other extreme close-ups. It’s a story about a no-good school bully Shoya Ishida (voiced as an adult by Miyu Irino) who goes a step too far with a deaf girl and is shunned. Years later he comes to realise what an awful person he was and seeks to make amends. That said it’s one of those films where two awkward and socially inept people try to heal their broken hearts… but will it be with one another? The motif of having people’s faces covered by a big X when he has fallen from grace with them is perhaps a little heavy-handed, and the reflective tone can be saccharine, but ultimately this is a very sweet film about trying to be a better person.
NEW RELEASE FILM REVIEW
Director Naoko Yamada 山田尚子; Writer Reiko Yoshida 吉田玲子 (based on the manga by Yoshitoki Oima 大今良時); Cinematographer Kazuya Takao 髙尾一也; Starring Miyu Irino 入野自由; Length 129 minutes.
Seen at Odeon Panton Street, London, Monday 27 March 2017.
Watching this on a plane means I was probably more predisposed to tears than usual, but I did find the central character’s story to be rather affecting. It follows Rosie, a part-Chinese part-Iranian young woman, learning about her father and his life in Iran, and one can only assume that the director’s own mixed ancestry contributes to her feeling for the way Rosie is torn between two disparate cultures (or three indeed, given she lives in Canada). The animation is eye-catching and takes in multiple styles on various poetic digressions (formally integrated into the narrative, as Rosie is literally a poet). I also love diaspora/immigrant stories, though I did find the rendering of Rosie’s eyes distracting (in the sense of not feeling like I was getting the same range of emotions from them as from the animated non-Chinese characters). Still, it’s a lovely little work, which you might not get much of a chance to see if you don’t happen to fly via Canada.
Director/Writer Ann Marie Fleming; Starring Sandra Oh; Length 89 minutes.
Seen on a flight from London to Vancouver, Wednesday 5 April 2017.
I feel like I’ve seen live action versions of this mystical, supernatural, body-swapping elegiac romance but animating it somehow makes the sentimentality more palatable. Also, let’s be fair, it makes it gorgeous to look at. There’s a lot going on here under its slightly twee premise — an attempt perhaps to grapple with a troubled 20th century — and the storytelling is quite dense (a lot of play on language means subtitles at the top and bottom of the screen at times), but it creates a wonderful atmosphere.
(PS Also, yes, the full stop is part of the film’s title.)
Director/Writer Makoto Shinkai 新海誠 (based on his novel); Starring Ryunosuke Kamiki 神木隆之介, Mone Kamishiraishi 上白石萌音; Length 107 minutes.
Seen at Odeon Panton Street, London, Monday 2 January 2017.