Café Lumière

While Hou Hsiao-hsien's Café Lumière (2003) is clearly a tribute to the Japanese director Yasujiro Ozu, it is still distinctively Hou's film. The film's slice of life narrative follows a wandering Japanese woman who comes to terms with life and independence.

It is interesting to compare this film to Ozu's films because Café Lumière is the closest thing to a modern Ozu film. Japan has hugely changed in the past decades and the result is somewhat puzzling. Family and unity have become irrelevant to the individual - this point can be seen in the film's main character, Yoko. The biggest pro of the film is certainly its calm and observant attitude towards its main characters and life in general. Yoko is fascinating and Yo Hitoto's performance is prominent - she can even rival Tadanobu Asano's performance in the film, which should be worth something.

The form is clearly Hou-like: static shots, long takes and the habit of revisiting the same compositions can all be found in the film. There is a lot of great train (and train station) imagery in the film and it certainly satisfied my strong obsession towards trains (and train stations). As well as being beautifully shot, the pacing is nigh perfect.

In the end, Café Lumière is "only" a good film: it works well in every department, but it never plunges deep enough into its subject and its form is not that fascinating when compared to Hou's other films.

Score: 8 out of 10

REWATCH: Last Life in the Universe

This is the first time I have watched a film that I have already reviewed on this blog again. I already reviewed Pen-ek Ratanaruang's Last Life in the Universe (2003) back in November so you better read it first in case you haven't already.

Ratanaruang's surrealistic and melancholic meditation on death, loss and isolation still packs a punch for me - although this time the film was not as surprising. The occasional black humor is brilliant and reminded me a bit of the korean director Chan-wook Park. However, the humor doesn't have a presense as strong as it has in Park's films. Doyle's cinematography is still fascinating and the musical score (and sound design in general) is haunting.

The thing I love the most about this film is the main character Kenji - and Asano's portrayal of him. Even though the character is an exaggerated stereotype, it never becomes a problem for me.  He is well developed and Asano's performance is simply stunning. I can not emphasize his importance to the film's success enough in this review.

Score: 10 out of 10

Only Yesterday

Isao Takahata is the lesser known director of the two masters at Studio Ghibli - the other being Hayao Miyazaki. His anti-war film, Grave of the Fireflies (1988), is considered his masterpiece, but I beg to differ. Only Yesterday (1991) - a film depicting Japan in the 60's and the 80's - is the one I consider his true masterpiece. Although Grave of the Fireflies and Only Yesterday are approximately on the same level when it comes to quality, I prefer the latter's complexity because it is drawn from simple yet subtle moments which linger in my mind long after the ending.

Essentially the film is about a 27-year-old office worker who takes a vacation to work in the fields - while reflecting upon the time when she came of age. The dense narrative manages to create tangible portrayals of Japan during the 60's and the 80's. The film goes to tiny details in order to show how things have changed and how each period has an effect on the characters.  But most of all this film is about nostalgia - and it is a superb take on the phenomenon.

The form is even more superb. The art direction is wonderfully striking and distinctive - especially the way nostalgia is portrayed is magnificent. The compositions are beautiful and colors are used in a fascinating way. The use of music varies from subtle (background music) to intrusive (song sequences) - both of which work very well. The character design is quite flawless throughout the film.

Ultimately, Only Yesterday might be my favourite Studio Ghibli film because for me it's the most poignant one - and that should say quite a lot.

Score: 10 out of 10

Twenty-four Eyes

Since last Christmas, I've been eager to see Keisuke Kinoshita's films. Why? I found out that he served as the "sensei" for Akira Kurosawa and Masaki Kobayashi - two of my favourite directors - so I guess his films should be at least interesting. Recently I bought Eureka's release of his Twenty-four Eyes (1954) - a film (based on Sakae Tsuboi's novel of the same name) about a young teacher as she begins to teach 12 six-year-olds. The film spans over the period of nearly two decades to tell the story in its entirety.

Initially the film seems to be quite lighthearted, but the further the film goes the more tragic it becomes. Yes, it is very sentimental, but like with Kurosawa's films, I enjoyed the extreme sentimentality. Kinoshita pulls it off perfectly even though the film is full of strong emotions for an hour straight. He expresses the individuality of each child and creates colorful characters. It is heart-wrenching to see how the society oppresses the women and then the war takes away the men. The film is not only about the characters, it's also about Japan in a period which forced the nation to change a lot.

The most notable aspect of the entire film is the cinematography. Kinoshita creates compositions that will never leave my mind. They are so hauntingly beautiful and striking - and it gets even better because there are certain compositions that are used many times during the film. For example, the interiors of the teacher's home is only shot through two compositions even though a lot of screentime is spent there. The film's pace is calm yet dense - the plot unfolds like life usually does.

Twenty-four Eyes moved me to tears. It's a powerful film, but sadly too unknown. It actually beat Kurosawa's Seven Samurai for Kinema Junpo's Best Film of the Year award in 1954. Even though I would not agree with the choice it still says a lot about the undeniable power of the film.

Score: 10 out of 10

Woman in the Dunes

Watching Hiroshi Teshigahara's Woman in the Dunes (1964) was a stunning experience. In the movie, an etymologist is searching for insects in the desert only to be eventually trapped in a sandpit with a widow. He is forced to live down there and shovel sand. Even though the premise sounds simple, the film is utterly complex, engaging and, most of all, haunting. It is one of the most famous films of the Japanese New Wave - a cinematic movement I'm extremely interested in.

What I love the most about the film is its rich content. The story can be seen an allegory of a lot of things, but even the allegorical subtleties are a bit meaningless in the end because the film is a stunning portrayal of isolation and existential crisis. Sand's role changes in the film a few times, but its metaphorical power never fades away - it is also probably the finest cinematic depiction of sand in general. The characters are also extremely fascinating: intially they seem rather blank, but the hidden complexity is revealed bit by bit.

The film's claustrophobic and intimate form is haunting and unforgettable. Initially, the shots of the beautiful scenery left me in awe, but as the plot thickens the form becomes very close to the characters - even to the point of extreme close-ups of sand on their skin. The cinematography is simply perfect in its movement and framing. The use of sound is brilliant: after I had watched the film, I left the DVD menu on because I wanted to hear the wind blowing - the effect I had listened to for 140 minutes. The sound design has such a hypnotizing and gripping feeling to it. Toru Takemitsu's awesome musical score blends in with the sound effects brilliantly.

Hiroshi Teshigahara's Woman in the Dunes is one of the finest films I've ever seen and I believe it is even more rewarding on multiple views.

Score: 10 out of 10

A Letter to Uncle Boonmee

First of all, I have to thank The Auteurs for hosting the online premiere of Apichatpong Weerasethakul's latest short film, A Letter to Uncle Boonmee (2009), for FREE. I recommend everyone to check it out (see the link in the earlier sentence - you only need to sign up to the site and it is free as well). The short film is extremely lyrical and it's hard to grasp what it is exactly about. The letter mentioned in the title is focused upon at first, but then the film ventures elsewhere. Most of the film consists of beautiful panning shots of houses and jungle. The form is extremely hypnotic in its sound design as well - it reminds me of the director's earlier film, Tropical Malady. In short, the short film is an interesting production although the content is quite baffling.

Score: 6 out of 10

Shinjuku Triad Society

Before I watched Takashi Miike's Shinjuku Triad Society (1995), I thought the film was supposed to be subtle. It might be that when compared to the rest of his filmography, but it's a description that simply doesn't fit. The film's chaotic narrative follows struggles among the yakuza and police, focusing mostly on two brothers who are on opposite sides.

The film's story is bewildering because the narrative wanders around so much that you don't realise what the film is about until you are in the final third. Violence and sex dominate the film - even to the point of ridiculousity as filmcritic.com's Christopher Null wrote: "You got oral sex, you got straight sex, you got anal sex. You got men, you got women. You got violent sex. You got prostitute sex. You got yourself a ton of sex here." Sometimes sex (and violence as well) is used well as a narrative device, but Miike simply includes too much of it. The story is a thematical mess as well - because it's too unfocused.

Miike still handles the form rather masterfully. It is a lot rawer when compared to his later film - I would even dare to say it is Miike at his "purest". The opening sequence is a great example of his great editing and cinematography skills. He makes the controversial and harsh content flow smoothly and effortlessly. The violence is striking in the best way possible.

Shinjuku Triad Society is an uneven film, but Miike is able to redeem it to some point - luckily he has improved a lot after making this film.

Score: 5 out of 10