Super Dimensional Fortress Macross: Do You Remember Love?

Shoji Kawamori's Super Dimensional Fortress Macross: Do You Remember Love? (1984) is one of the most stunning animated achievements of the 80's. It's not only an ambitious rewrite of the original show (Super Dimensional Fortress Macross, which started the entire franchise), but its animation quality is miraculous. The franchise is known for combining mecha action, Japanese pop music and love triangles and Do You Remember Love? is not an exception to the trademark. A gripping love triangle is created between Ichijou (a young mecha pilot), Lynn Minmay (a ridiculously popular idol/singer) and Misa (a high-ranking female officer).

The idea of combining an epic battle scene with a pop song is not necessarily inviting, but Do You Remember Love? succeeds at making it work in an awesome way (the same can be said about the entire franchise). The jaw-dropping, mouth-watering climax is the reason why everyone should see it: that scene alone is a masterpiece in editing, animation and songwriting. The narrative rushes forward, but that never lessens the film's impact even though it doesn't give enough space for a few side characters. However, the film works very well on its own and that's a great achievement for a young director like Kawamori (only 20 or 21 years old back then). The idea of a love triangle is usually off-putting for me, but this film made it work incredibly well - and I have to give it credit for that.

Kawamori's insane editing can already be found in this movie (and he will develop it even further in the following Macross shows he went on to direct). For example, there are moments I would call crosscutting at its very best. Character and art design are also wonderful so the animation is not all about ridiculous amount of detail.

Do You Remember Love? is a landmark not only for the mecha genre, but for anime in general. Even though I have to admit that I feel like holding back from a 10 (because Kawamori is not in his most refined state yet), it's a film that should be considered a masterpiece.

Score: 9 out of 10

Red Beard

Akira Kurosawa's Red Beard (1965) stumbles a bit for the first two hours: its introduction of the characters overstays its welcome and the narrative is a bit uneven. As we get to know Red Beard (a famous doctor who helps the poor), Yasumoto (a young doctor who is unwillingly forced to help Red Beard) and a wide range of side characters, there are moments of thematic brilliance (social injustice is only the most visible theme) even if the narrative is a bit messed up. Luckily the last hour (basically the part after the intermission) is very solid in all aspects because it gives the film a clear focus.

Kurosawa's form is great yet again with impeccable lighting, striking compositions and gripping editing. Reviewing the form of a Kurosawa film becomes quite meaningless because it is nearly flawless almost on every occasion. The only exception to the rule is The Idiot because it was butchered by the studio.

Even if Red Beard is a slightly flawed film, it's certainly worth watching because the last segment of the film is so masterful.

Score: 8 out of 10

Vive L'amour

Ming-liang Tsai's Vive L'amour (1994) is clearly the first notable film the director made. While Rebels of the Neon God was a good effort, it was far below his usual level of quality. Vive L'amour is probably even more ambitious - or at least more challenging - than his later films because it doesn't dive into its thematics/subject the same way. While his later films always have a comical aspect (slapstick) along with the serious side, Vive L'amour is ONLY serious. Or the humor isn't as pointed out, at the very least.

Primarily the film is about alienation and sexual frustration, just like The Wayward Cloud, but this time he approaches the themes without porn or musical scenes. The focus of the film is not only on Kang-sheng Lee's character, there are also two other characters who are connected to Lee because they use the same apartment even though they are not aware of each other at first. The screenplay is fascinating even if it's a bit tough even by Tsai's standards because there is no "comic relief".

As for the form, it's magnificent yet again. Tsai's long takes, calm pace and gorgeous photography are still there. This time he doesn't use music at all, which fits the screenplay.

Tsai's film making has become quite refined already by this point, but the film is a bit too monotonous for its own sake so I can't honestly give it a 10.

Score: 9 out of 10

The Place Promised In Our Early Days

Makoto Shinkai's The Place Promised In Our Early Days (2004) is the second film I've seen from the director (5 Centimeters per Second being the first; I loved it). The same melancholic tone and gorgeous imagery are featured this time as well, but the story is something different. The fragmented storytelling doesn't focus on a single theme - instead it goes a bit "all over the place". The film opens with a portrayal of three school kids' friendship as they prepare their own airplane to fly to the "Tower" - a mysterious building on the other side of the nation's border, something unreachable.

While the writing still packs a punch on an emotional level, Shinkai can't hold the film together at a few moments. The ramblings on multiple universes (on top of other confusing plot elements) and somewhat aimless (and weird) plot development hinder the film a bit too much. Visually the film is stunning in all aspects: editing, compositions, background art and character design are impeccable. Shinkai's editing is very similar to that of Hideaki Anno's - almost to the point of being an imitation. Luckily, it's a good imitation.

The Place Promised In Our Early Days is a solid and beautiful film and manages to deliver a great viewing experience despite its flaws.

Score: 8 out of 10

Flowers of Shanghai

Hsiao-hsien Hou's Flowers of Shanghai (1998) is set in the 1880's Shanghai where four brothels have to deal with a wide range of problems from fights between flower girls (a gentler term for prostitutes) to the struggle to gain freedom. Hou explores the subject thoroughly and he manages to create a big cast of complex and fascinating characters.

The film is a return to Hou's more static form in a sense: the camera remains at the same spot in each scene, but it still turns around to follow characters and events when it is needed. The camera is also relatively (= in comparison to his other films) close to the actors, creating more intimacy although the camera still remains as an observer. The editing pattern is mostly one "one scene, one take" and scenes are often changed with a fade to black - which works surprisingly well because it fits to the calm pacing completely. The lighting in this film phenomenal, even more notable than in many other Hou films.

Flowers of Shanghai is a great addition to Hou's filmography even though it does not reach to the level of his masterpieces.

Score: 9 out of 10

Howl's Moving Castle

Hayao Miyazaki's Howl's Moving Castle (2004) is an adaptation of Diane Wynne Jones' fantasy book of the same name. In it a young woman is cursed, which turns her into an old woman. To get rid of the curse, she teams up with a famous wizard and his colorful crew who live on a moving castle. Even though Miyazaki creates memorable characters and wonderful scenes, the film suffers from problems in its narrative and pacing (apart from the final third). 

Ghibli's background art and animation are top-notch yet again. The character and location design are marvellous as well. Miyazaki's compositions are great as expected. Joe Hisaishi's musical score is delightful - especially the ending song.

Even though it's Miyazaki's weakest film due to problems with its screenplay, it's still an entertaining and touching adventure film with more heart than other similar films.

Score: 8 out of 10

I'm Here

Spike Jonze's latest short film, I'm Here (2010), is about a robot who begins to admire creativity and falls in love after meeting another robot who is more carefree. The film turns out to be a nice character study and fairly traditional love story which is tweaked a little bit. The bizarre yet "realistic" world is surprisingly inviting and the pacing is overwhelming. The warm lighting and smooth camerawork make the film look beautiful. It's also impressive how the special effects blend so well with real footage.

I'm Here is a sweet, little film that I would recommend for everyone although I don't think it is as special as others would say.

Score: 8 out of 10

PS: You can watch the short film online legally and for free here.

Goodbye South, Goodbye

There is an easy way to describe Hsiao-hsien Hou's Goodbye South, Goodbye (1996) in a nutshell: it's the Taiwanese Mean Streets combined with Hou's (relatively) calmer form. It follows the struggles of Taiwanese gangsters as they simply try to make a living. If you dig deeper, you could say (as a reviewer on IMDB put it) the film is about "Taiwan's lost generation". The reckless and (nearly) aimless lives of the two main characters are not necessarily involving for the audience, but that doesn't mean the film fails or that it would be boring - because that's the way it was intended.

Even though Hou's form still features long takes and calm pacing, it's clearly a continuation to what he started with Good Men, Good Women. The camera is not static anymore: there's a lot of camera movement, but most of it is so smooth and calm that you don't even notice it at first. Hou captures the energy and mood of the screenplay in a clever way while still maintaining a distance to the characters - especially during the important plot moments. Hou has used music in his earlier films, but this time it's really intrusive (an aggressive rock track) - in a good way, though.

Even though Goodbye South, Goodbye works well in all aspects, it's a lesser effort from the director. It almost seems as if he played safe after using this new "more improvised" form for the first time.

Score: 8 out of 10

Summer Wars

Whoa. Just whoa. Mamoru Hosada restored my faith in the future of anime industry with his latest film, Summer Wars (2009). The plot synopsis is hard to write for this film and doesn't even do justice for the film's content, but I'll add it anyway: a pretty girl tricks a shy but mathematically gifted boy into acting as her boyfriend before her relatives. Meanwhile, an Internet-like system called OZ is under attack by a mysterious force. How do these two come together in the film? Find out yourself by watching the film as soon as you can.

First of all, this film is epic in scope. There are at least 30 notable characters who have been flawlessy and colorfully designed (Sadamoto is impeccable as a character designer) and their roles are cleverly written into the complex screenplay. This film would be a huge success even on the level of characters alone: their interaction is interesting and deep on its own, but Hosoda adds layers of social satire and science fiction into the mix and the result is fantastic.

Hosoda's form is not only thrilling (had me at the edge of the seat on many occassions) and relaxed when either "mode" is needed - there is also a lot of sophistication in the editing. The background art is on par with Studio Ghibli's and Makoto Shinkai's work - and the film is only enhanced by this beauty.

Summer Wars is a masterpiece in all aspects - a film that should be praised. Hosoda proved himself to be the best anime director right now. Where will he go from here? Whatever he'll do, it will certainly be fascinating.

Score: 10 out of 10

Airplane!

Airplane! (1980, directed by Zucker brothers and Jim Abrahams) was one of the films I used to watch over and over again as a kid. I loved it for its never-ending energy and spontaneity. After watching a bunch of serious and heavy films, I realised that I need to loosen up a bit. Even though I suspected that I wouldn't like this film a lot (since it's been long I saw it the last time and I thought it would be terrible), I decided to watch the film anyway.

The film's premise is irrelevant next to the film's random and off-the-wall humor: a flight becomes disastrous as most of its crew and passengers are going down due to food poisoning - and in middle of this mess an ex-pilot must confront his fears of flying and fix his relationship with his ex-girlfriend. Spoof comedies are meant to go "all over the place", but Airplane! manages to keep it under control only occasionally. The film becomes quite an uneven experience because of that even though its running time is only a little over 80 minutes.

The film's form manages to hold the film together quite well. The editing shows brilliance once in a while, but it isn't able to save the moments when the screenplay takes the wrong turn. The comic timing of the actors is nigh flawless throughout the film: the cast is the biggest pro of the film.

It might simply be me growing tired of the film, but Airplane! is not a completely solid effort by the famous trio.

Score: 6 out of 10

Good Men, Good Women

Hsiao-hsien Hou's Good Men, Good Women (1995) is the conclusion to his trilogy of films dealing with Taiwan's history. This time there are two parallel stories which take place in different periods of time: the first story is an account of Taiwanese people who returned to China to fight against Japan in the 1940's - and the other one is a story of the misfortuners of a single actress.

Hou once again uses a lot of ellipses in the storytelling masterfully. However, his narrative isn't without a problem this time: the first 15-20 minutes of the film are baffling because he plays around too much with the chronology so I had a hard time figuring out who's who. After the initial struggle, the film turns into a clear and stunning take of people struggling with the past. Their mental state reflects the situation of Taiwan itself - a shackled country.

Hou's form is distinctively different in portraying the two stories. The older storyline is depicted in his usual, static way while the newer one is a bit more kinetic, intimate and seemingly more improvised. Both of these styles work very well to reflect the differences (yet possible similarities) between the stories. Hou's use of music is top-notch yet again: especially the song used at the end of the film is unforgettable.

Good Men, Good Women is one of the most directly poignant films Hou has ever made. Despite its initial problems it turned out to be yet another good film from the Taiwanese director.

Score: 9 out of 10

The Sacrifice

Andrei Tarkovsky's The Sacrifice (1986) was the last film the legendary Russian film director ever made. Its focus is on a Swedish actor who spends time with his family after he has retired from acting. By the midpoint of the film, the film's tone becomes more menacing - towards a possible apocalypse.

Tarkovsky's trademark, meditative and philosophical content, is used yet again. Initially the film is about the actor's and his postman's ramblings on existence, but after the plot turn the film becomes an observation of people in despair. The characters enter a nearly surrealistic void that is hard to escape. And the results are rather unexpected. The film's thematics are a fine conclusion to Tarkovsky's filmography because it brings together a lot of his ideas in a gripping way.

With Sven Nykvist as the director of photography, Tarkovsky's camerawork is even more wonderful to look at. The imagery is stunning and thought-provoking (especially in the opening and the ending) and I can guarantee you that the soundtrack is astounding.

Even though The Sacrifice isn't exactly on par with Tarkovsky's best films (such as Stalker and Andrei Rublev), it is still magnificent on its own merits.

Score: 10 out of 10

Time Bandits

Terry Gilliam's Time Bandits (1981) doesn't seem similar to the director's output at first. But after a group of time traveling dwarves pop out of an American kid's closet (while being chased by a floating, animated head), you know you are watching a Gilliam flick. The film tells the story of the said group attempting rob the rich in different periods of time, but at some point the story takes a turn by introducing the main villain, "Evil Genius".

It seems as if Gilliam had run out of steam by the time he made this film. What begins as a peculiar social commentary turns into a series of peculiar recreations of historical events and then you are given the strangest cinematic battle ever. The film feels like a cheap Monty Python imitation with only a few good gags and no coherency of any sort. The characters are flat and not even funny - apart from Evil Genius who is a true delight in this confusing film. The screenplay only manages to become solid once the group gets into the fortress of the main villain. 

Even though the set and costume design are spot-on in their bizarreness, Gilliam's form is mostly hit-and-miss in terms of cinematography and editing. There is the same sort of uncontrolled and (horribly) alienation chaos in its form like there is in its content. 

Sadly Gilliam misses the potential of a great premise. His bizarre vision saves the film from being a failure, somehow.

Score: 5 out of 10

Play Time

Jacques Tati's Play Time (1967) is one of the funniest (if not the funniest) films I've ever seen. I was already very entertained when I saw the director's earlier film, Mr. Hulot's Holiday, but this is clearly his masterpiece. His regular character, Mr. Hulot, arrives to Paris to meet with an official, but gets lost in the labyrinth of modern life and ends up in the craziest party I've ever witnessed onscreen.

Tati's physical comedy is in the most complex and brilliant possible form in Play Time. The setpieces, multi-layered action and stunning choreography totally knocked me out already during the first 30 minutes. The film is a thrilling and breathtaking ride that feels unified all around. The camera wildly flows from one situation to another until we come to the later half of the film which provides one of the greatest cinematic climaxes I've ever witnessed. The complex restaurant sequence is probably one of the most ambitious things ever shot in the history of cinema.

Tati's form is breathtaking in its complexity yet again. The cinematography does not only use camera movement in a flawless way, the compositions are impeccable as well. The playful musical score adds the final touch on the "controlled chaos" that lasts for 2 hours straight.

Without a doubt I can say that Play Time is one of the best films I've ever had the honor to watch and it is certainly the best comedy of all time - even better than Stanley Kubrick's magnificent Dr. Strangelove.

Score: 10 out of 10

The Puppetmaster

Hsiao-hsien Hou's The Puppetmaster (1993) is the second part of his trilogy of historical films which focus on Taiwan's development. This time the period of time is between 1908 and 1945, which means the focus of the film is on the Japanese occupation of Taiwan. Taiwan's situation is reflected through the true story of a puppeteer, Li Tianlu (who has acted in Hou's other films). Hou mixes elements of fiction and documentary by recreating scenes of his life while letting his interviews with the puppeteer narrate most of the film. The director's admiration of the central character can be seen in the film - he once said that Li Tianlu is one of Taiwan's national treasures.

The easiest way for me to write a review of The Puppetmaster is to compare it with the first part of the trilogy, City of Sadness. While both of them share the social and historical layers, the intimate layer (personal, on the level of characters) is more perplexing in The Puppetmaster because characters come and go and there seems to be no central character other than the puppeteer himself - who remains a bit distant figure throughout the film. The narrative is more like a collection of short bits from here and there - and the way tension is subtly gained and then let loose is weird yet incredibly haunting.

Sadly, the way I saw The Puppetmaster only added to my confusion: the video was severely cropped so some of Hou's compositions were a bit messed up and the complex lighting lost some of its magic when the picture was too dark at times. Despite all of that, it didn't destroy Hou's formal magic that is a feast for the eyes - even though it is very minimalistic. And most importantly the music plays a significant part in The Puppetmaster - a soundtrack so poignant and fitting.

The Puppetmaster is a hard film to digest - there is no doubt about it. I will have to rewatch many times before I give my final evaluation for the film - so don't take this rating as the one that I will firmly stand by.

Score: 9 out of 10

Yi yi

Edward Yang's Yi yi (2000) is a film that moves me unlike any other: it can be said that the movie tells in a nutshell what it means to live in a contemporary society. We take a look at a Taiwanese for a short period of time that includes several major events (wedding, funeral, birth) and the time gaps between them. There are lots of important storylines which smoothly develop at the same time and somehow Yang keeps the entire situation perfectly clear to the viewer throughout the film. That's a great achievement on its own. The narrative is freakin' dense. For example, it can be seen in the character (and plot) development and the sheer number of all sorts of motifs.

Even though the film comments a lot on Taiwan's current situation, it is handled subtly. In addition, the film deals with a lot of universal problems so it can easily touch a viewer of any nationality. Yi yi manages to take on so many themes and subjects and explore them in profound ways. First of all, the generation gaps between the grandmother, the parents and the kids are explored thoroughly. Secondly, even though the film focuses on family dynamics, there is no serious problem between the family members themselves. However, even in a good family each member faces loneliness and alienation from time to time - and that's what the flick's multi-layered content focuses on.

NJ, the father of the family, is an honest and reliable guy - unlike his greedy business partners who he has to deal with. After he meets his ex-girlfriend his daily routine is thrown out of balance as the reunion makes him revisit painful memories and face nostalgia. Due to his work, he meets a wise Japanese man, Mr. Ota, who gives him the best possible advice in many ways. Ota is also a fascinating character and Issey Ogata's performance is stunning. When Yang began writing Yi yi, he wrote the character of NJ for Nien-Jen Wu, a famous Taiwanese screenwriter. His performance really captures the essence of the character and I find out more and more incredible layers in his performance after repeated views.

Min-Min, the mother of the family, faces an existential crisis after her mother falls into coma. Her character development happens mostly off-screen and relies only on a few bits of dialogue. Through a spiritual trip she realises something essential about life. Elaine Jin makes the most of her relatively short screentime and turns in a breathtaking performance - especially her rant about her life's meaning is praiseworthy.

Ting-Ting, the older child of the family, deals with guilt and first love after she befriends the new neighbour. Arguably, she experiences most emotional growth in the film and that is why she is the most fascinating character for me. Kelly Lee's restrained and natural performance is probably the greatest among the brilliant performances of the film. There is an elegance in her performance that is quite rare for someone of her age.

Yang-Yang, the younger child of the family, is hungry for knowledge as he takes photographs, faces problems at school and becomes distracted by innocent attraction. Along with Mr. Ota, Yang-Yang delivers the most philosophical and thought-provoking ideas in the film - such as the idea of us seeing only "half of the truth" because we can see what is in front of us, not what is behind us. After a long bout of minimalism, his speech at the end of the film is the best bit of sentimentalism (probably) ever used in film. Jonathan Chang's performance is one of a kind: Yang tried to make him feel as natural and free as possible in front of the camera and it shows. There is no pretension in his facial expression or posture. It is a surprisingly honest performance for a child actor.

There is also the story of Min-Min's brother, Ah-Di, who gets married at the beginning of the film and he has to deal with financial problems throughout the film. His storyline is weak in comparison to the other storylines, but it isn't bad by any means. In fact, it is brilliant, but its connection to the others isn't strong and it is unfair to compare any story to those three brilliant storylines that dominate the film.

When all of these storylines and characters come together in a single 3-hour film, the viewer is given an unforgettable experience. The content alone is so beautiful and profound that it leaves me in awe for days after I've seen the film. No matter how many times I watch the ending scene (or lots of other scenes, as well) I shed a tear - not because it is necessarily sad, but it is so beautiful and tangible.

Yang's cinematography is calm and distant. The camera moves in the least possible ways for many reasons: it gives us time to enjoy the gorgeous compositions and it gives the film a life-like pace. In addition, the film uses a lot of long takes. Some of the action happens off-screen because (for example) the view is blocked by a wall. Yang employs this technique very effectively. He often uses reflections in the compositions to create fascinating imagery. Often Taipei is reflected on the glass for many thought-provoking purposes.

The camera is often far away from the central characters so that we can observe them more objectively. Or as the director himself said: (not a direct quote, more like a sum of his thoughts on the commentary track) If the camera was close to the characters, why would they reveal their innermost secrets to a stranger (referring to the camera) who is near them. But when Yang uses close-ups of the characters, they are very, very hard-hitting.

The film is not only visually stunning and intriguing - it enthralled in auditive ways as well. The use of sound is very central: there are even important audio motifs in the film (e.g. the sound of lightning in Yang-Yang's storyline). Sometimes the sounds from different storylines overlap to another in order to create interesting parallels. The soundtrack consists of known classical compositions and Kaili Peng's (the director's wife's) instrumental music. All the music in the film fits in perfectly and creates occasionally a haunting atmosphere for the film. For example, the closing scene ends with one of Peng's compositions (that isn't sadly released ANYWHERE) which plays all the way through the credits. This composition refuses to leave my mind at peace because it's so moving in its subtlety and simplicity.

Even though this review is quite long, I feel the task of covering everything important about the film impossible. There is so much to be found on repeated views and there is so much I still have on my mind, which I can not express in this review. The film provides me with something that other films don't succeed in (at least on Yi yi's level): a perfect and thorough catharsis.

Score: 10 out of 10

The Bad Sleep Well

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Akira Kurosawa's The Bad Sleep Well (1960) is usually regarded as a lesser effort in comparison to the director's other films. I would like to say that this is a shame because The Bad Sleep Well is yet another magnificent masterpiece from the Japanese auteur - a film that deserves praise as much as his other masterpieces. Here's a plot synopsis as simply put as possible: a young man attempts to take revenge for his father's murder committed by corrupt industrialists.

The film opens with a wedding scene that is not only one of the greatest scenes Kurosawa has made, but also one of the greatest openings for a film I've ever seen. The introduction of characters (and there are a LOT of them) and the plot exposition are so wonderfully handled in such a short time that I was totally flabbergasted. While the narrative isn't as dense during the rest of the film, The Bad Sleep Well is still a masterpiece of storytelling.  The characters are deep and intriguing throughout the film: the layers of Mifune's Nishi are gradually revealed throughout the film in a stunning way, and Mori's Iwabuchi is one of the greatest villains Kurosawa has ever created.

Kurosawa's form is very intense through powerful imagery (e.g. Nishi's and Yoshiko's meeting in the hideout), masterful camera movement and precise editing. The musical score succeeds in being very haunting and dramatic at the same time. Every member of the cast gives a wonderful performance, especially Toshiro Mifune and Masayuki Mori.

Kurosawa's The Bad Sleep Well is another example of Kurosawa's great contemporary dramas which should be seen by everyone.

Score: 10 out of 10

The Seventh Seal

Ingmar Bergman's The Seventh Seal (1957) is about a knight who wonders about life, death and the existence of God after he starts a chess match with the Death in order to save himself. Christianity is under attack when the man faces a crisis of faith, but it sadly leaves me disappointed. Maybe it's because I'm a theist, but in my opinion the film never digs deep enough into its subject. It remains on the surface level: a mere complaint about God not being there for us. However, that on its own is sufficiently explored.

Bergman's expressionistic take on the story is a bit peculiar. Sometimes the over-the-top symbolism is too comic for its own sake: Bergman can't handle the so-called "comedy" in this film. Luckily that is not the case for the entire film. There are moments when the expressionism works very well and left me a few images to remember.

The cinematography of the film is phenomenal, but otherwise the form is not as good as everyone seems to think. The editing works well, but it's not even great in its simplicity. The music gives a weird vibe for the film, but there are moments when it utterly fails because it's too dramatic.

Even though I'm a fan of the director and even though this was the second time I watched the film, I can't appreciate it. There are a few moments of brilliance, but they are hindered by the flaws.

Score: 7 out of 10

Mr. Hulot's Holiday

Jacques Tati's Mr. Hulot's Holiday (1953) is a slapstick comedy film which reminds me of Charlie Chaplin's output. In this film Tati introduced Mr. Hulot, a hilarious pipe-smoking character who has his own peculiar posture and clothing. After he arrives at a holiday resort, he begins to wreak havoc by accident even though he tries to do good for the people around him.

Even though the film was made with sound, the form is very similar to that of the silent masters'. Dialogue is sparse and mostly the film relies on its visuals (naturally, it's a physical comedy after all). When sound is used, it is used effectively - especially when it comes to sound effects.

The film's gags might be "only silly", but the way they are constructed, performed and put together is very complex - and that's why I appreciate the film. Despite that, I felt the film lacked something a little - maybe I was expecting a deeper layer from the content, but maybe that is just me. However, the huge cast of great characters is a praiseworthy achievement.

Tati nearly always frames the shot in a way that there are multiple levels of action - and on top of that, most of the compositions are wonderful to look at. The film's structure seems to be quite simple at first: Mr. Hulot running from one situation to another. In the end, it is proven that the whole film was clearly leading to a great climax.

Jacques Tati's Mr. Hulot's Holiday is a film that anyone can enjoy - and huge bursts of genuine laughter are guaranteed.

Score: 9 out of 10

Late Spring

Yasujiro Ozu's Late Spring (1949) is the first part of an unofficial "Noriko trilogy" (3 Ozu films which have a character called Noriko performed by wonderful Setsuko Hara) of which I have seen only the last part before (Tokyo Story, one of my favorite films of all time). It tells about a woman and his relationship to his old father as he tries to get her married before it's too late.

Ozu's observations on family and changing values are still hard-hitting - even 60 years after the film was released. As differing values clash (regarding remarriage, arranged marriages and independence), something so utterly sad yet profound emerges.

Ozu employs his minimalism in a very successful way yet again. The restrained emotion of the story (up until a certain point, as usual) and the lovable characters make the film an unforgettable experience. Ozu's regulars, Setsuko Hara and Chishu Ryu, perform wonderfully yet again.

Even though Ozu is known for his minimal form and static camerawork, Late Spring features a few scenes in which the camera moves quite a lot. It proves that Ozu knows exactly how to use the camera in different scenes. His precise framing and impeccable editing make me jealous (in a good way, though).

Yasujiro Ozu delivers yet another masterpiece with Late Spring - a film which won't leave my mind at peace during the following weeks.

Score: 10 out of 10

Tokyo-Ga

Wim Wenders' Tokyo-Ga (1985) is a documentary about his journey to Tokyo to find out whether the Japan (and Tokyo) portrayed in Yasujiro Ozu's films can still be found. The documentary consists of beautiful imagery Wenders himself shot while going around looking for the interesting bits of Japanese culture in the capital city. There are also interviews with Chishu Ryu (an actor who often worked with Ozu) and Yuuharu Atsuta (a cinematographer who worked with Ozu for 15 years).

The beautiful (and well paced) footage is sometimes narrated by the director himself who provides fascinating insight for anyone interested in the director (or the country itself). The documentary evokes nostalgia similar to Ozu's films - this time it's a bit different because Japan's social and cultural development has gone so much further (in both good and bad ways).

In short: Tokyo-Ga is the best documentary I've ever seen.

Score: 10 out of 10

Samaritan Girl

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If you had asked me a year ago whether I'm a Kim Ki-duk fan or not, I would have replied 'yes'. Even films like The Isle fascinated me. However, I have gradually begun to lose my interest and appreciation for his films. I then decided that Samaritan Girl (2004) will be the last of his films I will watch (apart from the possible rewatches of 3-Iron (2004) and Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter ... and Spring (2003)) if it doesn't turn out to be as good as I remembered.

Samaritan Girl is a film about two teenaged girls who resort to prostitution in order to earn some money (apparently they want to go to Europe). The film's first "act" is a solid and rich piece of writing that fascinated me a lot. The characters seemed promising (and well developed) and it felt like Kim really had something to say this time instead of vague and shocking content.

However, a dramatic twist in the plot ruined the rest of the film. The characters became irritatingly static, the focus of the film turned into something so ridiculously redundant and out of place. It seems to be almost a trademark for Kim to throw in a lot of prop motives which only hint at something undefined and end up being rather useless and empty. This can be found in Samaritan Girl as well.

Kim's form is refined though. His clean yet "chaotic" visuals rarely fail to deliver. Pleasant (and occasionally intriguing) compositions, good (and calm) pacing and smooth camera drives make the film enjoyable. This time he also mastered the use of music throughout the film: the bittersweet instrumental soundtrack hits hard. However, there is one peculiar exception to the quality: his use of Erik Satie's Gymnopedie is somewhat unconvincing. The weird thing about it is that I find it hard to see how someone could fail using that masterful composition. As a side note, it is also weird how there are so many Asian films that feature the song - even to the point of obsession.

Samaritan Girl's problems seem to be same as with other films by the same director: while his form is more or less brilliant, his writing stumbles.

Score: 6 out of 10

Yojimbo

Akira Kurosawa's Yojimbo (1961) has been an influential in many ways. It has not only spawned a few remakes (including Sergio Leone's A Fistful of Dollars), but it also created a new sub-genre of chanbara (which attempts to make swordplay more realistic) and it made the simple storyline more popular (a badass stranger comes into a town to beat bandits).

The film's narrative is gripping and surprisingly dense. It is nearly exhaustive (in a good way) with a lot of properly developed characters and fast plot development. Yojimbo is written perfectly within the genre's restrictions. It is flawless as it is.

Kurosawa's form is a delight yet again. Especially the opening sequence of the film is constructed in a stunning way: you'll need to see this film even if it is only to see the scene in which the protagonist enters the town. Kurosawa makes us familiar with the set so effortlessly.

Yojimbo yet again proves how versatile Kurosawa was as a director - and how awesome (and badass) Toshiro Mifune is.

Score: 10 out of 10

Hana and Alice

I became interested in Shunji Iwai when I saw his performance in Hideaki Anno's Shiki-jitsu (2000) and I became a fan of his when I saw his masterpiece, All About Lily Chou-Chou (2001). I have seen a few of his films by now and mostly he has made good films, but eventually I was expecting an exception to appear. And that exception is Hana and Alice (2004): a story of two high school girls who fight over a boy with whom both of them have fallen in love.

The premise of the film is simple, but with Iwai at the helm one would expect a refreshing take on the worn-out story. He does try something new with the idea, but the problem lies with its execution. Iwai's unconventional narrative confuses the viewer's emotions too much and the film comes off as too quirky for its own sake. You don't care for any of the characters who seem way too flat and peculiar. This would be OK if it was the film's intention, but when it is not what the film aims at, it makes the film incredibly uneven. The problem becomes worse and worse as the film goes on. Especially the film's big "emotional climax" is very dry and stretched because it had no impact on me. What is even worse that the climax seems to come out of the blue and doesn't really fit into the rest of the film.

Iwai's form is as fresh as it is usually. Beautiful imagery and comfy pacing make the film worthwhile although there are moments when the form is almost as unfocused as the content itself. Some of the performances also rubbed me the wrong way. I don't know if that was only because the characters were so awful or if the tone was simply ruined, but even two of the main trio left me unsatisfied. The only one of the three who convinced was Yu Aoi (unsurprisingly, she was great in All About Lily Chou-Chou as well).

Even though Hana and Alice manages to deliver a barely decent entirety in the end, it is by far the worst film Shunji Iwai has made so far. I hope he does not stumble similarly in future.

Score: 5 out of 10

Kagemusha

Akira Kurosawa's Kagemusha (1980) reminded me of why I am such a huge fan of the director (in fact, I would name him the greatest director of all time): he has made so many films that are simply too brilliant. Even though Kurosawa himself referred to Kagemusha as the "dress rehearsal" for Ran (1985), the film is not a minor masterpiece. In fact, it is nearly as great as the epic Shakespearean film even though its tone and scope are vastly different.

The film recounts the tale of a thief who is forced to impersonate a famous warlord after his death. The impersonator's role is quite poetic, seeing how he is metaphorically between life and death throughout the film. His problems with identity and something resembling an existential crisis are thought-provoking. The powerplay between the warlords might not be as violent and aggressive as in Ran, but it surely is intriguing.

Kagemusha is incredibly poetic in its expression: long takes, precise compositions, graceful camera movement, meditative pacing and fascinating imagery create a distinctive mood for the film.

Kagemusha instantly became one of my favorite Kurosawa films. It creates a fantastic pair with Ran - it would be fascinating to take a deeper look into these two films and compare them.

Score: 10 out of 10

Do the Right Thing

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Everyone is a fucking motherfucker in this shitty ass film. All they fucking do is fucking whine all day about fucking racial FUCKING problems. Do you fucking see how fucking annoying this kind of language is for fuck's sake? That's the essence of the film's dialogue. Which film am I talking about? Spike Lee's Do the Right Thing (1989) - a film which caused a lot of heated political discussion because the film deals with racism in the worst possible way: by provoking people in unreasonable ways.

You can notice while watching the movie that Lee seriously tries to dig deep into its subject (and so he has said in interviews), but the problem is that he doesn't get to his point. The film is way too provocative for anyone to be watched objectively. The worst thing is that every ethnicity's flaws are exaggerated and no one is a good person in this film. The film is full of bad-mouthing every character and ethnical group. Everything Lee "wants to say" is stuck into ridiculous monologues or quotes (at the end of the film) which only vaguely get to the point.

His visuals aren't good either. The kinetic form becomes a little too comic for its own sake (too many useless Dutch angles, for example), but I've got to give Lee credits for at least trying hard. The color palette is very bright and a bit too "trendy" - and thus, it's quite distracting. The musical score is quite horrible as well - it's off-putting in its ridiculous sentimentality.

The film's name, Do the Right Thing, is supposed to be ironic in the film's own context. However, for me the name is ironic because the film makers didn't do the right thing themselves.

Score: 3 out of 10

In the Realm of the Senses

Nagisa Oshima's In the Realm of the Senses (1976) is by far the most sexually perverse film I've ever seen. It portrays sex in a very graphic way and occasionally blurs the line between cinema and porn - although the action is never even nearly as sexually arousing as porn (which is hard to do yet Oshima succeeds very well). The film focuses on an obsessive relationship which gradually becomes very extreme as the man and the woman search for the "height of passion".

Sex becomes more ordinary as it is shown most of the time throughout the film and becomes a new tool of storytelling. A lot of character development is portrayed through it instead of dialogue or other action. Their sexual obsession separates them from the surrounding society - only occasionally reminded by the presence of a geisha. There is also a subtle political subtext in the film (takes places in pre-WW2 Japan).

Oshima's form is breathtaking in its beautiful cinematography. Its excessive use of close distance shots is effective - and the few long distance shots are even more powerful and they add a lot of nuances to the film. Even though Oshima depicts the controversial sex scenes from a close distance, he observes them rather coldly with a calm pacing and unerotic compositions.

In the Realm of the Senses was (and still is) a very controversial film and I would recommend avoiding it if you can't watch a film half of which depicts sexual activities.

Score: 9 out of 10

Battle Royale

Kinji Fukasaku's Battle Royale (2000) is a controversial film based on a controversial novel. The Japanese are afraid of their youth and bypass an act called "Battle Royale" which allows a class of ninth graders (per year) to take a brutal challenge: kill each other off until one stands or they all will be killed. The soldiers and teachers equip them with various weapons, control them with lethal necklaces and leave them alone on a huge island for 3 days.

Its premise sounds more fitting for a silly exploitation film - which it is not. Instead it is a clever social commentary on education and generational gap. It explores its premise thorougly and becomes a psychologically great examination as well - and even though most of the characters' screentime is around 2 or 3 minutes, all of them are fully developed and none of them are disposable. When this is done on an epic scale like in Battle Royale, it enables the film to explore the repressed emotions and beliefs of the youth.

Each death brings up a new perspective (or even an entirely new theme) to the film's vast content. That's how the film keeps the viewer's attention constantly occupied and the film's emotional impact is truly sad instead of being only shocking. There are a few darkly comic moments in the film, but mostly the tone is very dramatic and grim.

Trust, friendships and love are tested as friends kill each other and lovers commit suicide. The fragility of the separate groups is heartbreaking - especially in the brilliant lighthouse sequence which I consider one of the best scenes of the decade. The narrative is so meticulously constructed that it swept me in right away and almost made me completely forget about the form (which is good as well).

Fukasaku engages the rich and controversial screenplay with needed intensity and drama. He mixes classical compositions with instrumental music created for the movie to create a very dramatic musical score. It could easily lead to maudlin sentimentality, but Fukasaku employs them in the correct way to make the drama tangible. Occasional use of handheld camerawork and intensive yet precise editing patterns add to the film's strong impact on the viewer.

Kinji Fukasaku's Battle Royale is a hard-hitting and complex film which deals with themes I hold in high regard. It makes me even more interested in the director's earlier filmography which is quite hard to obtain from anywhere.

Score: 10 out of 10

Neo Tokyo

Neo Tokyo (1987) is an experimental film consisting of three separate sections directed by Rintaro, Yoshiaki Kawajiri and Katsuhiro Otomo (the author and director of Akira).

Even though every segment is quite bizarre, Rintaro's Labyrinth-Labyrinthos is by far the oddest of the bunch. In it, a girl and her cat travel through very surreal landscape only to see a weird circus performance. In my opinion, it explores the psyche of modern children - one sequence reminded me of a video game, and that's how I came up with this interpretation. Kawajiri's The Running Man focuses on a motor racing champion who is driving in a race that becomes his last. Basically it's a psychological story of a man simply "losing it". The final segment, Otomo's The Order to Cease Construction, is the most intriguing one for me. It's a clever yet a bit obvious satire of Japan.

Animation is stunning in each segment - and the art design is fascinating even though it naturally varies in each one because different teams worked on them. I loved the character design in Otomo's segment.

In overall, Neo Tokyo is an interesting collection of experimental anime. It's worth a look for anyone although you shouldn't go in expecting anything traditional.

Score: 9 out of 10

A Man with a Movie Camera

Dziga Vertov's A Man with a Movie Camera (1929) is an experimental silent film, the next logical step after Eisenstein's Battleship Potemkin (1925) in silent Soviet cinema. The film begins by telling the audience that the entire film consists of real life footage and nothing was staged. We get to see two cameramen spontaneously film Russia in the 20's. The most obvious comparison must be made to Reggio's Koyaanisqatsi (1982) because the two are so similar in narrative and tone. Even though I'm not a big fan of Koyaanisqatsi, I utterly adored A Man with a Movie Camera.

The film uses pretty much every possible formal technique discovered by the time the film was made - and it was innovative by creating something new as well. Slow motion, fast motion, split screen, fast cutting, long takes, cross-cutting, kinetic compositions and unbelieveable camera movement - this film has them all. What is even better is that the film employs all these techniques flawlessly and smoothly.

Vertov explores the wide subject in a surprisingly precise and colorful way. At the same time it coldly observes, adores and criticizes the trends of its time.

Score: 10 out of 10

Andrei Rublev

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Andrei Tarkovsky's Andrei Rublev (1966) is a film that blew my mind - and I find it nearly impossible to write a proper review of it. It is something that has to be seen. The questions it raises about art, religion, society and power are profound and intriguing. Tarkovsky's meditative and brilliant form kept me glued to the screen throughout the film. Just go and watch it.

Score: 10 out of 10