Double Review: "A Story of Floating Weeds" & "Floating Weeds"

I watched Yasujiro Ozu's A Story of Floating Weeds (1934) and Floating Weeds (1959) back-to-back. A Story of Floating Weeds is one of Ozu's final silent films. Basically the film is a family drama involving a lot of characters: the leader of an acting troupe, his lover, one of his actresses, his ex-lover and her son. Floating Weeds is Ozu's own remake of A Story of Floating Weeds in sound and color. The story is the same, but it has been subtly altered and (arguably) it is more complex.

Both of the films offer Ozu's yet another take on family dynamics. His observations are interesting - as always. What is the most interesting thing about these two films is to compare them. A Story of Floating Weeds was made before the World War II and Floating Weeds was made after it. Ozu emphasizes a few (more or less) subtle changes. For example, public behaviour is a lot more open and straightforward in Floating Weeds, which is one of the indirect results of Japan's loss in World War II.

It is also interesting to take a look at the form because Ozu changes his approach to a few scenes drastically in the remake. While Ozu's form is already fine in the silent film, the remake fares even better. Ozu's trademark to revisit same compositions (or at least similar) is visible in both films, but it is executed better and more precisely in Floating Weeds. Also, the film has even a bigger impact with sound because it gives the performances more resonance. In general, acting was a bit more intriguing in the remake although it's possibly only because the characters were not as stiff as in the original.

In overall, both of these films are very good. I prefer the remake, but that might partly be due to the fact that I watched it right after the original - the compositions and the story were more powerful that way.

Scores:

A Story of Floating Weeds (1934): 8 out of 10
Floating Weeds (1959): 9 out of 10

Rebels of the Neon God

(image source)

Tsai Ming-liang's Rebels of the Neon God (1992) is nothing like the director's other films. There are only two trademarks that can be noticed in his second first film: casting Lee Kang-sheng (and his family) and the metaphoric use of water. The movie portrays Hsiao-Kang's days as a teenager while he faces feelings of alienation and frustration. Tsai also focuses on a rather separate storyline which involes two hoodlums chasing a beautiful girl. While Hsiao-Kang often observes these characters, there is hardly any interaction between the two storylines.

I've read that the film is the perfect depiction of Taiwan at the end of the 80's and the beginning of 90's so I guess that counts as a pro. It examines somewhat decently the dislocation the adolescents feel in the harsh environment. I have to admit it was a bit problematic for me to watch the film because I expected yet another story focused completely on Hsiao-Kang, but the other storyline was even more central than HK's storyline. It was confusing for a while, but it was fitting when I started to think about its relevance for the themes.

Tsai's form is almost completely the opposite when compared to his later films. There are almost no long takes so his editing patterns are largely different. The camera is moving most of the time which gives the film more energy - which is fitting when you realise the film is about the reckless youth. I'm not sure if it was a conscious decision or if Tsai hadn't simply figured out his own unique style yet. Tsai also used music quite a lot - and none of it was old Mandarin pop. The compositions weren't so precise either - there were a few exceptions though.

In overall, Rebels of the Neon God is a bit uneven although it is not a bad effort at all. In fact, Tsai shows hints of his brilliance already at this point, but he doesn't succeed in creating a masterpiece: his form is lacking and the content doesn't feel focused enough.

Score: 7 out of 10

Top 50 Films of the 2000's

# Name of the film (Director, the year of release)

50. I'm Not There (Haynes, 2007)
49. The Man Without a Past (Kaurismäki, 2002)
48. I'm a Cyborg But That's OK (Park, 2006)
47. Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (Kaufman, 2004)
46. Ghost in the Shell 2: Innocence (Oshii, 2004)
45. Howl's Moving Castle (Miyazaki, 2004)
44. Hero (Yimou, 2002)
43. Amélie (Jeunet, 2001)
42. Pan's Labyrinth (del Toro, 2006)
41. Monrak Transistor (Ratanaruang, 2001)

40. Antichrist (von Trier, 2009)
39. Amores perros (Inarritu, 2000)
38. 2046 (Wong, 2004)
37. Adaptation. (Kaufman, 2002)
36. The Girl Who Leapt Through Time (Hosoda, 2006)
35. The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers (Jackson, 2002)
34. Downfall (Hirschbiegel, 2004)
33. The Taste of Tea (Ishii, 2004)
32. Lost in Translation (Coppola, 2003)
31. Mulholland Drive (Lynch, 2001)

30. Ichi the Killer (Miike, 2001)
29. American Psycho (Harron, 2000)
28. Suicide Club (Sono, 2001)
27. The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring (Jackson, 2001)
26. Thirst (Park, 2009)
25. Children of Men (Cuaron, 2006)
24. The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford (Dominik, 2007)
23. The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King (Jackson, 2003)
22. Persepolis (Paronnaud & Satrapi, 2007)
21. Syndromes and a Century (Weerasethakul, 2006)

20. Nobody Knows (Koreeda, 2004)
19. 3-Iron (Kim, 2004)
18. Visitor Q (Miike, 2001)
17. 5 Centimeters per Second (Shinkai, 2007)
16. There Will Be Blood (Anderson, 2007)
15. The Wayward Cloud (Tsai, 2005)
14. Oldboy (Park, 2003)
13. In the Mood for Love (Wong, 2000)
12. Sympathy for Mr. Vengeance (Park, 2002)
11. Spirited Away (Miyazaki, 2001)

10. Lady Vengeance (Park, 2005)
9. Synecdoche, New York (Kaufman, 2008)
8. Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter ... and Spring (Kim, 2003)
7. Goodbye, Dragon Inn (Tsai, 2003)
6. All About Lily Chou-Chou (Iwai, 2001)
5. Last Life in the Universe (Ratanaruang, 2003)
4. What Time Is It There? (Tsai, 2001)
3. Shiki-Jitsu (Anno, 2000)
2. Love Exposure (Sono, 2009)
1. Yi yi (Yang, 1999) (the DVD release makes it eligible for the list)

Take Care of My Cat

(image source)

Jae-eun Jeong's Take Care of My Cat (2001) tells the story of five women struggling to make a living and staying together after they leave school. The film's feminism is obvious and a bit heavy-handed although (luckily) the film never becomes too preachy. The film's real problem is the flatness of characters despite the film's heavy reliance on them. While they resemble clear ideas which enhance the message, the film eventually stumbles because the characters aren't good enough to carry the entire film. The narrative is a bit hard to get used to because it explodes into so many directions without even properly introducing the characters (apart from the very first scene).

The form works well, but it isn't great either. In the end, it is quite easily forgettable. The best thing about the entire film is the acting. The whole cast performs really well and I would especially like to laud Bae Doo-na for her subtle and powerful performance.

While my review might seem a little harsh, Take Care of My Cat is a decent movie in the end. It has a few major flaws and suffers slightly from unevenness, but it has a few saving qualities.

Score: 6 out of 10

The Taste of Tea

Katsushito Ishii's film The Taste of Tea (2004) has often been called very Ozu-like. The comparison isn't completely appropriate even though the focus of the film is on a family - and the film reminds me of Ozu's slice-of-life films. Surely there are patterns that can be found in Ozu's films, but Ishii breaks these patterns completely once in a while for the sake of the story. The result is what would happen if Ozu made a film in the noughties - after taking some LSD. Personally, I would also like to compare Ishii to Akira Kurosawa because he seems to be able to create wonderful characters effortlessly.

The Taste of Tea is a story of a contemporary Japanese family. The father of the family (Tomokazu Miura) is a hypnotherapist who works far away from the home; the mother (Satomi Tezuka) is an animator making a comeback to the business; the eldest child, Hajime (Takahiro Sato), is socially a bit withdrawn and throughout the film he struggles with expressing love; the younger child, Sachiko (Maya Banno), has a problem with a gigantic version of herself who keeps haunting her all the time; the peculiar grandpa (Tatsuya Gashuin) spends his days by drawing and coming up with the "coolest" battle poses; the uncle (Tadanobu Asano) - who works as a sound mixer - also lives with the rest of the family. Each of the characters has a clear storyline, but Ishii's (slightly) fragmented narrative makes the film seem more like a slice-of-life portrayal of a family.

Ishii succeeds at creating a vivid picture of a family's everyday life which is full of tiny details. Then there are moments when he switches the tone to be extremely surreal (like in this song sequence) which break the film's harmony. Sometimes the effect is good (like the uncle's story of his first "outdoor shit"); sometimes these moments make the film fall apart (a sequence involving a HUUUUUGE flower). In general, it does bring more delightful details into the everyday life of the family members. While the film focuses vaguely on family life in general, there is a significant amount of content featuring anime's effect on Japanese people. Ishii masterfully observes both the animators and the otakus as if he was an outsider and an insider AT THE SAME TIME. I'm not sure how he pulled that off, but it works well.

The film's form is more obviously Ozu-like: long takes, nice framing and the habit of revisiting earlier compositions. But when the film's content becomes surreal, the form goes crazy as well - as it should. Ishii's use of music is fascinating as well because there is such huge diversity in the soundtrack.

While The Taste of Tea is a slightly flawed and confusing film, it is immensely entertaining and insightful. The way Ishii combines minimalism and absurdism is interesting and promising.

Score: 8 out of 10

Maborosi

(the snapshot is not mine, it's from dvdbeaver.com)

Hirokazu Koreeda's Maborosi (1995) is a tale of grief. Yumiko (Makiko Esumi) is happily married to Ikuo (the always-fabulous Tadanobu Asano) and they have a baby. Then Ikuo abruptly commits suicide without any apparent reason. Yumiko's life falls apart as she faces terrible grief when she comes to terms with what has happened, but eventually she marries a single father (Takashi Naitô) who lives on a remote island. The heavy burden caused by her grief hasn't left her alone yet and she wanders in a labyrinth of sorrow throughout the film.

Koreeda's masterful minimalism is already evident in his first major feature. His compositions are precise and captivating; the cinematography is restrained yet beautiful; the film's deliberately calm pacing makes the entire film feel meditative - and that's exactly what the screenplay requires.

In overall, the film is an aching and magnificent study of grief and resurrection. At first I thought it had not affected me as much as I would have liked, but after a while it had lingered long enough in my mind to guarantee itself a place among my favorites.

Score: 10 out of 10

Nobody Knows

At first I have to mention that Nobody Knows (2004) is the first film I've seen from the Japanese director Hirokazu Koreeda. The film's screenplay was written during a period of 15 years and it was inspired by a real life story. The film tells the story of 4 children who are left alone by their single mom who runs away with a new boyfriend.

Essentially the film is about lost childhood and the importance of family. It is tragic to see the family fall apart although the end is not completely somber. The children try hard to escape their anxieties - they don't even realise their horrible situation at first. What Koreeda has to say is somewhat relevant, it never feels like he has a precise idea on what he wants to say - or his ideas are a little too narrow for the film to become "perfect". Luckily, its complex narrative is rewarding (and involving) even though it is challenging as well.

Koreeda handles the subject with strict minimalism: a lot of plot development happens offscreen, the performances are very naturalistic (the film has one of the greatest casts that consist of only children) and the camerawork isn't elaborate. The slow pace of the film might not be easy for everyone, but it fits the film's content perfectly. It allows us to see the development in more detail so that the impact is bigger while still retaining its subtlety. And even with this calm pace, the film is incredibly dense in its storytelling. If you are going to watch this film, pay attention to the last hour - it's even more amazing when you take this into consideration. Even the use of music (and the music itself) is very subtle - with the exception of an awesome song sequence near the end of the film.

Koreeda's cinematography is rich: the compositions are not only beautiful but also meaningful. There are lots of subtle ways through which Koreeda sets the mood for each scene. For example, there is a scene in which the oldest boy of the family, Akira, meets a schoolgirl for the umpteenth time. Koreeda opens the scene with a shot of their legs: while the schoolgirl has proper shoes for the school outfit, Akira only wears terrible slippers. Even though the scene itself is sweeter, Koreeda tries to emphasize the difference between the two characters.

Ultimately, Hirokazu Koreeda's Nobody Knows is a film presented in the best possible way even though its content is a bit disappointing in the end: the ambition which is visible in other aspects made me think the film would go even further. But don't get me wrong: I nearly loved the film because it did affect me although its impact was hardly on the level of City of Sadness or Love Exposure.

Score: 9 out of 10

Dodesukaden

Akira Kurosawa's first color film Dodesukaden (1970) offers a rich portrayal of poverty-stricken people in Tokyo. Among the massive ensemble, there are two drunkards who swap wives, a boy who drives and maintains an imaginary tram while living alone with his mother and a homeless man who spends his days designing his dream house with his son.

Kurosawa's skill to create unforgettable characters is obvious in Dodesukaden because each one of them is rich even though there isn't a lot of screentime for anyone in particular. When you take into consideration the ridiculous amount of characters, the running time (140 minutes) isn't very long - yet the film manages to delve into all of their lives in enormous detail. The narrative seems to switch between the stories aimlessly, but due to Kurosawa's magical storytelling it never becomes hard to follow the story.

Even though it does not give a favorable image of Tokyo, it never seems critical about the city (or the country, for that matter). The absurd conditions help the film from falling into simple social criticism. The eccentric sets make the film seem independent of the real world - and that's only good because the attention should be on the characters. Kurosawa handles the characters in a genuinely caring and compelling way even though there are strong elements of tragedy. His powerful passion for the characters is directly passed along to the viewers. And that's what makes Dodesukaden great.

Kurosawa's form is fine as well although it is a bit more confusing than in his earlier films. Most of the time, everything works really well in terms of telling the story poignantly. The compositions and pacing are especially good. His use of long takes pays off excellently. His overemphasis of colors is distracting at times which makes the film feel a bit uneven for a moment.

I came to the conclusion that while Dodesukaden is underrated (or at least it isn't given enough attention), it is one of Kurosawa's "lesser" masterpieces. The genuinely interesting characters make the film worthwhile.

Score: 9 out of 10

ANNOUNCEMENT: Updated colors & future content

After I realised that I could add a photo under the name of the blog, I decided to change the entire color design of the blog. In my opinion, it looks a lot better now.

As you might have noticed, I haven't reviewed a lot of films from the 2000's recently even though I wrote I was going to take a "short break". I realised I don't need to watch more films from the decade because I can form a proper list already. From now on, I will simply write about all the films I see - no matter when or where they were made. Although, I'm more prone to watch Asian films nowadays.

Ugetsu

Kenji Mizoguchi's Ugetsu (1953) is the story of two greedy peasants and their wives in the 16th century Japan. While the greed of peasants was hilarious in Kurosawa's The Hidden Fortress, it is tragic and haunting in Ugetsu. One of the men wants blindly to become a samurai so that he will be rich - the other wants money although he isn't as dumb as the first one.

Mizoguchi is known as the director who observed the oppressed position of women in Japan. He continues his tradition of revealing the difficulties and pain of Japanese women in Ugetsu. The two wives are the victims of their husbands' greed even though there is no reason for them to be punished. There is also a ghost of a young woman who never found love during her life. The storyline of each character is more or less tragic (and ironic), but the ending gives us a little hope. 

Mizoguchi's way to pan the camera is poignant: a great example of this is the shot in which Genjuro runs around the house near the end of the film. I can't understand how they shot the scene in the first place and its impact on me on a purely emotional level was huge.

All in all, Ugetsu is a great film and makes me want to see more films by Mizoguchi.

Score: 10 out of 10

Harakiri

The story of Masaki Kobayashi's Harakiri (1962) is set into motion when a young and poor man (Akira Ishihama) is forced to do what the title suggest: a suicide by disembowelment. Why did it happen? The movie is set in Japan during the year 1630 which is 11 years after a peace was negotiated among the warring clans. This led to the dissolution of the Geishu clan that had at least 12 000 retainers under its control. All these former retainers were forced to live in poverty. As a result, some of the ex-warriors resorted to threatening the remaining clans by performing harakiri in front of the clan's estate. To avoid this, the clan would have to pay a great amount of gold. As you have probably figured out by now, the harakiri at the beginning of the film was the result of things going horribly wrong. A few months later, an older man (Tatsuya Nakadai) comes to the same clan in order to perform harakiri. As the disembowelment approaches, he begins to tell a story that is essential in order to understand the story and thematics.

The film is almost like a deconstruction of the entire Samurai code. Kobayashi observes the (implied) emptiness of the code in cruel detail. The problems are pointed out in an unflinching way. While the film mostly runs at a relatively calm pace, there are outbursts of arrhythmic violence which work perfectly in order to deliver the message even to the most dim-witted viewers - yet surprisingly the film never seems to be heavy-handed. The narrative is quite straightforward: a linear story with a few flashbacks that are smoothly handled.

I found an interesting point of view in another review (specifically, the Finnish review on Elitisti) which pointed out how the young man is "unknowingly the representative of the past" because back then harakiri was a more personal and flexible act. Now it's just another way for higher-ups to control people.

Kobayashi's form in Harakiri reminds me of Yasujiro Ozu and Hsiao-hsien Hou. His camera is set almost on the ground most of the time like in Ozu's films. Kobayashi also likes to revisit a few compositions in order to establish a connection between two scenes - either for an emotional response or for juxtaposition. This is extremely notable during the first 30 minutes when the two ex-warriors enter the estate at different times. A few key compositions are used for both of these entrances. It's also interesting how a few compositions and patterns of camera movement are used again and again during the rest of the film.

Apart from a few awkward camera zooms and pans, the cinematography is brilliant. The precise and beautiful framing rivals even Ozu, which should say a lot. Kobayashi's use of Dutch angles is extremely masterful: I would even dare to say that Harakiri should be used as an example on how you should use them. The film is very silent most of the time - only the dialogue breaks the silence throughout the film. There are a few instances when music is used - and that makes the film even more haunting.

The second view confirmed my assumption: Masaki Kobayashi's Harakiri is one of the greatest cinematic masterpieces without a doubt. Sadly, it has remained quite unknown to this day.

Score: 10 out of 10

Frost/Nixon

Ron Howard's Frost/Nixon (2008) is an interesting political thriller. It is based on a true story of how a British talk show host, David Frost, forced a confession out of Richard Nixon regarding the Watergate scandal.

The screenwriter Peter Morgan's approach to the subject is careful and good, but nothing revolutionary or involving. The structure of the story is good, but the build-up phase isn't necessarily good. Luckily, the film generates more tension once the interview begins - and explodes in a great way. At the very end, the film's emotional core becomes a little mixed up, but fortunately it's not too distracting. The film is a nice study of two significant historical figures and it is honest especially about Nixon. The best thing about the film is that it never becomes preachy or one-sided - it's comfortably smart that way.

The form is nothing new under the Sun (the Sun being Hollywood in this case), but it is very good during the interview. The lack of music adds a nice touch to the film and makes the film more like a documentarian take on the subject. There are also these pseudo-documentarian interviews that are used as a narrative device once in a while. It actually works quite well even though I'm very skeptical towards using this in films - it doesn't seem to work usually.

The most important (and successful) aspect of Frost/Nixon is the acting. Frank Langella makes one of the best performances of the entire decade as Richard Nixon. His intimate take on the disliked president is unforgettable. Michael Sheen's portrayal of David Frost is amazing as well, but the character is far from being as great as Nixon in this film. The rest of the cast do quite well in general - especially Kevin Bacon is pitch-perfect in his supporting role.

In general, Frost/Nixon is a very good accomplishment in Hollywood: it remains strictly inside the safe boundaries, but it does the best it can within these "restrictions".

Score: 8 out of 10

The Boondock Saints

Troy Duffy, Troy Duffy what have you done? I've just witnessed one of the worst examples of American trash cinema with a huge cult following. Troy Duffy's The Boondock Saints (1999) is a lousy film which insults the viewer's intelligence. I'll simply call it BS because - strictly speaking - that's the most honest description of it: it's BULLSHIT. FADE INTO BLACK.

Essentially, BS is about two Catholic brothers whose mission is to kill everyone who is 'evil' in the world. FADE INTO BLACK. The world is completely black and white and it never even attempts to question what is evil - instead all drug dealers and criminals must be rotten. All the characters are thinner than paper and mostly they are extreme stereotypes. FADE INTO BLACK. It's as if Troy Duffy believes that "the white people" should uphold justice and kill all "fuckers". FADE INTO BLACK. That reminds of one another god awful aspect in BS: the dialogue. It's completely riddled with the "F" words without any natural use of them. The dialogue is either 1) forced quips which even action movies wouldn't use or 2) utterly pretentious mumblings about religious stuff. FADE INTO BLACK. It even tries to be silly by going all metafictional to justify its use of awful tropes, but it only makes BS worse.

FADE INTO BLACK.

The BS's attempt to glorify the violence is simply stupid. Camera moves in ridiculously showy ways and slow motion is used in every possible place. Add to that the freaking stupid cutting which makes no sense. FADE INTO BLACK. To be serious and cool, it uses both opera music and "cool" music in every possible scene, which makes BS all the more terrible. FADE INTO BLACK.

If you think BS is ridiculous, just wait for the ending which makes the whole film even SILLIER. The pseudo-documentarian clip at the very end is horrible. FADE INTO BLACK. You can think of it as a way to make the film a satire, but what's the use when you have done everything possible to make the audience think otherwise? The director has already had fun with the action scenes and the pretentious religious and racistic bullshit, then he supposedly becomes serious and show that the Americans' sense of justice is terrible. That's only one assumption. FADE INTO BLACK. You can also take it as a continuation for the whole tirade about getting rid of "evil" people. It seems as if the writer wanted to justify the film's message with pseudo-real statements.

Troy Duffy seemed to be eager to replicate Tarantino to portray his idea of justice and people in an "entertaining" way. Yet both his form and content are simply terrible even when compared to Tarantino. In the end, BS is a poor man's Tarantino film. The only good thing about it is Willem Dafoe's magnificent performance as the wild detective.

Score: 2 out of 10

PS: FADE INTO BLACK.

Love Exposure

At first, I'm going to warn you about this review: it's not probably going to be coherent because it's more like a recollection of my viewing experience than a good review. I apologise in advance for the possible inconvenience caused by the review.

Sion Sono's Love Exposure (2008) is a long film. Its length is around 4 hours. Describing the film is nigh-impossible because it touches on so many things and one could say it has "too much of everything". Yet, it works flawlessly. Love. Religion. Family. School. Society. Delusion. Obsession. Perversion. Crossdressing. Sexuality.

During the first 10 minutes, the film provides us with 3 major characters (not the only major characters though) in a dense introduction. After that, all hell breaks loose already. Try to imagine the most wonderful and funniest farce you've ever seen. For me, that was Visitor Q's last 15 minutes. Love Exposure is even funnier than that - for the first hour and a half. It is so tongue-in-cheek about everything. The plot becomes quite complicated - although completely comprehensible all the time - and I have to admit I have never ever laughed as much as I did during the farcical period.

After laughing very, very hard I did not expect what was coming. I was trolled really hard as the film became serious yet it still retained its cartoonish tone at the same time. For a moment, I was utterly lost and felt disappointed, but then I realised how Sono had trolled me completely. Before I got used to the change of tone, I was completely mindfucked by the film. The flick was so intense that it grabbed me from my balls and just kept throwing me around for ages. That was the point when I realised how the film had me think and attacked my world view in a way only Neon Genesis Evangelion had done to me.

After the initial reaction to the mindfuck, things became a bit smoother for a while - until the film made me weep. The utter sadness was only interrupted by one laugh-out-loud moment, but the ending really tied it all together somehow. While the film was very depressive most of the time - or at least seemed so under its playful mood - the ending was extremely uplifting. The cathartic impact is undeniable for the film is life-affirming beyond comprehension.

While it is possible to doubt its content by looking at its narrative which seems unnecessarily complex, it would be simply dumb to criticize the film for that. It never failed to impress me despite its possible weaknesses and the power of its complicated structure is harrowing. Sono's editing is quite frantic most of the time, but it is never distracting. It builds up more and more tension as the film goes on - and releases in a few glorious moments. And when it does calm down for a moment, it is even more intensive. In those moments Sono leaves the film on the shoulders of the actors - and it is even more powerful that way.

Speaking of acting, the performances are pitch-perfect in the film. How is it possible to have 3 perfect tour de force performances in one film? Especially Hikari Mitsushima's performance as Yoko is haunting and magnificent.

The soundtrack for the film is baffling. It ranges from classical Western music to J-Pop. Sono's use of Ravel's Bolero is heart-rending and unforgettable.

How is it even possible to craft such a solid and perfect entirety out of such bizarre and diverse elements? Love Exposure has proved me cinema can go further than I believe. Now I'm afraid I might not like it as much when I rewatch it, but I'll leave that for later.

Score: 10 out of 10

Ran

Even though Akira Kurosawa continued making films in the 90's, Ran (1985) is commonly considered his final masterpiece. It is also one of his biggest productions ever - even though he used "only" 1400 extras, it feels like there are a lot more of them (Kurosawa directed the massive sequences in a clever way). The film is the story of an old lord who lets his three sons take his position, assuming that they will work together as he suggested. Shortly thereafter, the two corrupt sons betray their father and the youngest brother.

The film's screenplay was inspired by Japanese history (the daimyo Mori Motonari) and Shakespeare (King Lear). On top of that, it deals with Kurosawa's own views about loyalty. Kurosawa approaches loyalty as a theme in all of the film's storylines (there are a lot of them even though the plot description doesn't show it). He mixes elements of greed, lust, power and guilt with the main theme and thus, it becomes a deep exploration of the ugly sides of humanity. Especially his take on guilt is fascinating: once the old lord has lost everything, he goes insane due to his guilt and even tries to dig himself a grave. Kurosawa's take is ambitious in its complexity - and what's the best thing about it is that he succeeds perfectly.

Surprisingly, there are bursts of cruel violence and blood in Ran. It is something Kurosawa has never emphasized in his films before. Especially for a Kurosawa fan this film hits hard because it seems him go to an extremely poignant level in delivering his message. Kurosawa uses music sparsely in the film, but it even further punctuates the moments he uses it in. The most unforgettable scene is the assault of the third castle during which the old lord becomes mad: the sound effects disappear and there is only music during the disturbing sequence of violence. The silence of sound effects ends to the sound of a gunshot - and its effect is astonishing.

Kurosawa spent a LOT of time (around 10 years) storyboarding the film - by PAINTING each shot beforehand. The result is breathtaking because each shot is so carefully composed. The lines and the colors are in perfect harmony. The editing is also remarkable in how it flawlessly brings the story together and gives it the magnificent pace.

The tragedy in Ran is heartbreaking. The characters are corrupted more as the film goes on - and everything is slowly crushed and taken away. Especially the ending left me a little teary-eyed. It is a simply stunning experience to watch the film.

Score: 10 out of 10

The Hidden Fortress

The Hidden Fortress (1958) is one of Akira Kurosawa's "lighter" films. While the film has its share of serious content, it is mostly comical and adventurous. The film follows two hilariously greedy peasants who end up in silly places and situations while escorting a princess and her general.

The most important and funniest aspect of the whole story is the interaction between the two peasants. When they're down on their luck they try to get along, but once they receive a chance to get rich they bicker and fight each other until they ruin their great opportunity. It is this tragic yet funny cycle that is repeated so many times during the film - and that never loses its appeal. In fact, The Hidden Fortress actually made me laugh more than any other film I've seen in a month. Sadly the other characters arent quite as good as the two peasants because they are so blank that you can easily forget them.

The film's narrative is a bit weird: while you watch the film its structure remains mysterious because you dont have any idea where it will go next and when it will end - unless you are looking at how much time has passed. Somehow Kurosawa makes the narrative work even though it seems quite chaotic in hindsight.

Kurosawa yet again proves how he can effortlessly punctuate the whole film with brilliant camera movement and editing. For example, after the peasants have worked hard there is a shot when they are walking towards the camera (and the camera is pulled at a similar speed) while talking about the general. Once they begin to suspect his disappearance and come to their own funny conclusion, the camera stops right away (the actors stop as well) in order to enforce the impact of the "conclusion".

Oh melodrama, melodrama. The Hidden Fortress suffers from occassionally terrible melodrama. While the exaggerated performances of the peasants is justified (and essential), there are other performances which are too stiff and melodramatic. Mifune doesnt fall for that as can be expected from him, but Misa Uehara's performance as the princess is a notable example of this problem.

In the end, The Hidden Fortress is a nice and entertaining adventure film. It was supposed to be one though: it was Kurosawa's way to thank the producers for financing riskier films like Rashômon (1950). The film is often compared to the original Star Wars film because it was one of the films that influenced Lucas. There are a lot of similarities and the funny thing is that Star Wars actually does everything even better than The Hidden Fortress. Although, I might actually prefer the peasants to the droid duo of C3P0 and R2D2. I know, I'm a heretic for saying that, but I simply find the two a lot more interesting and funnier.

Score: 7 out of 10

Seven Samurai

Akira Kurosawa's epic masterpiece, Seven Samurai (1954), is constantly brilliant throughout its monstrous running time (three and half hours). In the film, a poor village hires seven samurais to protect them from bandits. The first third of the film shows how they acquire these samurais; the second third involves the planning and construction before the battle; the final third is the long battle itself. The idea might seem simple, but the film's screenplay is stunningly complex.

First of all, Kurosawa's skill to craft 12 essential and unforgettable characters in the film is staggering. There are not many (if any) other films which feature such a flawless and colorful ensemble. The samurai are often mentioned to be the most memorable characters in the film, but I thought the five important villagers were as awesome as the samurai. Even though Toshiro Mifune's Kikuchiyo is the craziest one, the villager Yohei is the endless source of comic relief.

Secondly, despite its length the film is very dense in its narrative. It runs at a fast pace and only the essential is shown onscreen. It is incredible how well Kurosawa brings all the multiple storylines together without a single problem. Also, the film's most remarkable narrative achievement is that you never feel like you are watching a long film.

Thirdly, the content is so rich that there is no way I can comment on everything in a simple review: I would have to make a long essay to cover everything which is awesome in the film's content.

As expected, Kurosawa's form is brilliant in Seven Samurai. The music is not distracting this time - instead it is very effective. His compositions are great yet again. The pacing is brilliant because you dont even realise you have spent 3 hours watching the film until you are at the end. To be completely honest, the film was so involving and story-driven that there were moments when I realised I hadnt paid any attention to the form. I guess that's a testatment to its power.

The whole cast in the film is magnificent. Kurosawa's regulars Mifune and Shimura are the shining stars of the film, but the rest of the cast nearly rival them so there is no imbalance between the performances. I can rarely say it, but the acting in Seven Samurai is FLAWLESS - even though it is melodramatic.

Akira Kurosawa's Seven Samurai is one of the most praised masterpieces ever - and it is rightfully so. Its influence on other films is enormous and there isnt any other film that could even be honestly compared with it.

Score: 10 out of 10

Stray Dog

I'm taking a break from the "Hou marathon" I've been on for a few days. But I'm not making this break easy for me at all for I have decided to rewatch a few films by none other than Akira Kurosawa. The first choice for me was Stray Dog (1949) because when I saw it for the first time years ago I thought it was boring. Oh, how wrong I was back then.

Essentially, Stray Dog is the story of a young cop whose gun is stolen and he tries to get it back by all means necessary. While the film explores the feeling of guilt and paranoia that the cop experiences, it goes far beyond that.

The title, "stray dog", refers to the man who commits crimes with the stolen pistol. As Takashi Shimura's character (who becomes a mentor to the young cop) says, a murderer is like a stray dog: he only sees the road in front of him. Kurosawa's main point seems to be in showing how the World War II has affected the Japanese - especially its influence on upbringing. In the end, the cop and the murderer are almost the same - only different by occupation and one single choice.

There is also an interesting polarisation Kurosawa uses between the young cop and his "mentor". While the young cop strictly believes that evil is the result of negative surroundings, the older cop dismisses that belief outright. "Evilness is purely evil", he says. It is also very interesting to see how the film almost literally explodes into ferociousness in its final act. Kurosawa certainly knows how to build the tension up towards the climax.

Akira Kurosawa's form is also fascinating. His way to place the characters onscreen is powerful. When compared to Yasujiro Ozu, Kurosawa's editing is aggressive. That can especially be noticed when he uses montages which are used quite well actually. Kurosawa wouldn't be Kurosawa without melodrama, and the music is a bit dramatic most of the time, but luckily it is never too distracting. The same thing can be said about acting in his films, but in Stray Dog the melodrama never bothered me. In fact, Toshiro Mifune's melodramatic performance was so great that he even rivalled Takashi Shimura's more restrained performance.

I would strongly recommend Stray Dog to anyone: it's a powerful (even if old-fashioned) thriller that has a lot to say.

Score: 9 out of 10

City of Sadness

As I have been watching Hou Hsiao-hsien's films recently, I've been eagerly waiting for City of Sadness' turn: I had seen it once before and I had a feeling it would become one of my all-time favourites this time. And yes, it had a huge impact on me.

Hou's City of Sadness (1989) is an account of what one Taiwanese family had to cope with before, during and after the infamous 228 incident during which tens of thousands of Taiwanese were killed or they vanished. It was the epitome of the conflict between the Chinese and the Taiwanese in the country - after the Japanese occupation of Taiwan ended in 1947 due to Japan's loss in the World War II. 

It is amazing how Hou makes the film work so seamlessly on personal, social and historical layers. Although you can't separate the three very well because they are so tightly combined together - especially the latter two. It is so heartbreaking to see the family slowly crumble and fall apart - only because of the political reasons. The family had resorted to "crime" during the Japanese occupation to help the district - yet the wanted change only makes things even worse. The characters are helpless under the cruel force of history and politics. 

Even though making Wen-ching (Tony Leung) a deaf character was initially a practical thing (Leung couldnt speak Mandarin or Taiwanese convincingly), his character became a metaphor for Taiwan's situation. It is even more interesting to take a look at the story in that light.

Hou's form is at its best in City of Sadness: that says a damn lot. His use of ellipses works perfectly this time and causes no real confusion either. The most famous example might be the gangster fight of which we only see the outcome: before we even see it begin, the next cut takes us to the final blow. And because of this, the outcome is even more powerful in its brilliant subtlety.

His compositions and framing are simply wonderful to look at. Just take a look at the snapshots placed below the text. His habit of revisiting the same compositions packs a terribly huge punch in City of Sadness. The best example (by far) is the hospital shot (the 4th snapshot) which is repeated at least 6 times during the film.

All of his formal techniques cause this cleverly powerful influence on the viewer. It gets only better the more you watch the film. And it's not only the form: the content is so bittersweet and tragic that it is certainly an unforgettable experience to watch the film. I was deeply touched by its subtle sentimentality and the profound content.

Sadly, I had terrible difficulties in writing this review. I have utterly fallen in love with the film and I'm struggling to share my passion. City of Sadness is one of the greatest films I've EVER seen.

Score: 10 out of 10

The Fourth List of Scores

The 2000's films (46 films in total)

What Time Is It There? (2001) 10/10
Last Life in the Universe (2003) 10/10
All About Lily Chou-Chou (2001) 10/10
Goodbye, Dragon Inn (2003) 10/10
Spirited Away (2001) 10/10
In the Mood for Love (2000) 10/10
The Wayward Cloud (2005) 10/10
Visitor Q (2001) 9/10
3-Iron (2004) 9/10
Syndromes and a Century (2006) 9/10
Persepolis (2007) 9/10
Thirst (2009) 9/10
Children of Men (2006) 9/10
Suicide Club (2001) 8/10
Ichi the Killer (2001) 8/10
2046 (2004) 8/10
Downfall (2004) 8/10
Amores perros (2000) 8/10
American Psycho (2000) 8/10
Monrak Transistor (2001) 8/10
Cowboy Bebop: Knockin' on the Heaven's Door (2001) 8/10
Ghost in the Shell 2: Innocence (2004) 8/10
Hero (2002) 8/10
Antichrist (2009) 8/10
Half Nelson (2006) 8/10
The Man Without a Past (2002) 8/10
Tokyo! (2008) 7/10
Babel (2007) 7/10
Little Miss Sunshine (2006) 7/10
Cutie Honey (2004) 7/10
The Cat Piano (2009) 7/10
The Sea Inside (2004) 7/10
Tropical Malady (2004) 6/10
The Skywalk Is Gone (2002) 6/10
My Winnipeg (2007) 6/10
American Beauty (2000) 6/10
The New World (2005) 6/10
House of Flying Daggers (2004) 6/10
Little Children (2006) 6/10
Sukiyaki Western Django (2007) 5/10
Une catastrophe (2008) 5/10
Tales from Earthsea (2006) 5/10
Dogville (2003) 4/10
Requiem for a Dream (2000) 4/10
21 Grams (2003) 3/10
A Conversation with God (2001) 2/10

Other films (10 films in total)

Tokyo Story (1953) 10/10
Ikiru (1952) 10/10
A Time to Live and a Time to Die (1985) 9/10
The Godfather (1972) 9/10
The Godfather Part II (1974) 9/10
Dust in the Wind (1986) 8/10
A Summer at Grandpa's (1984) 8/10
The Godfather Part III (1990) 7/10
The Boys from Fengkuei (1983) 6/10
Perfect Blue (1998) 6/10

Dust in the Wind

Dust in the Wind (1986) continues Hou Hsiao-hsien's tradition of using someone's memories of growing up as the inspiration for the story. This time it is Wu Nien-Jen's turn. He is the other screenwriter who has frequently worked with Hou. I would also like to mention that Wu Nien-Jen had one of the main roles in Edward Yang's Yi yi which belongs to my all-time favourite films. The film focuses on two young friends who move from their poor hometown to Taipei in search of a job to earn money for their families.

Hou delivers some social criticism this time, regarding the harsh conditions of surviving in an urban Taiwan - and it also raises negative points about military. The two main characters are observed in an interesting way and I grew to really like them during the film. Despite of that, the film never reaches an impact as huge as Hou's other films through subtlety.

Hou's form is solid yet again, but his trademarks dont show up as obviously as in his other films. Yet again, I have to mention his habit of using same compositions more than once during a film. In Dust in the Wind, his compositions of the train station are used in a brilliant way. Especially the last use of the long distance composition is haunting.

In the end, Dust in the Wind is a very good film, but not necessarily great. It works well enough on all aspects, but that's it.

Score: 8 out of 10

A Time to Live and a Time to Die

While A Summer at Grandpa's was inspired by the screenwriter Chu Tien-wen's childhood, A Time to Live and a Time to Die (1985) was influenced by the director Hou Hsiao-hsien's own childhood memories. It is by far his most personal film - and it is also his first movie that uses ellipses in a ridiculously confident way. While ellipses were used already in his earlier films, this film takes their use to a whole new level. 

A Time to Live and a Time to Die concentrates on a Chinese family which moves to Taiwan in 1948. As time goes by, the gap between two generations in the family becomes visible because the older family members are confused due to being cut off from their cultural heritage. As the narrator says at the beginning of the film, the film consists mostly of the director's impressions of his father and memories of growing up in Taiwan. We witness the family's story through the eyes of Ah-Hsiao (Hou's "onscreen alter ego") during a period of several years.

The film's impact slowly burns into your mind and leaves you feeling empty - in a positive way. At first it seems as if it has no way to affect you, but especially after you're done watching the film, it goes deeper and deeper into your mind. The film lingers there for a long while. It is surprising how universal the film's content seems to be even though it's very personal and autobiographical.

Hou inserts small political, cultural and technological details that subtly create the film a world of its own. These details emphasize the distance that grows between the generations. The film isnt completely minimalistic though - for example, its statement on the social position of women is quite vocally expressed through dialogue. It is almost scary to see just how confident Hou is in handling the content of the film.

It is apparent that Hou's skill - to use the same compositions on more than one occasion to have an effect on the viewer - is becoming finer by each film. In this film he makes a lot out of it even though he doesnt use it excessively. His framing is even more precise and admirable this time around. His use of long takes also seems to emerge in this film.

A Time to Live and a Time to Die is a difficult film to watch due to its elliptical and subtle nature. I bet it's a film that only gets better by rewatches and its impact isnt at its best during the first view.

Score: 9 out of 10

A Summer at Grandpa's

Hou Hsiao-hsien's film A Summer at Grandpa's (1984) was inspired by the childhood memories of the screenwriter Chu Tien-wen who has collaborated with Hou on almost every film he has made so far. The coming-of-age story is set into motion when a 11-year-old boy and her 4-year-old sister leave for their grandparents' house while their seriously ill mother stays at a hospital in Taipei. The film is the boy's recollection of harsh, funny and unforgettable events which took place during the visit.

It is fascinating to follow the development of the children throughout the film. They have to face hard situations they cannot comprehend yet a certain degree of maturity becomes visible in their behavior. While the flick is essentially a coming-of-age story, it doesnt avoid harder subjects which the children have to face: thematically it is surprisingly wide and satisfying. The film's narrative is a little elliptical so it might be a bit weird to watch it at first, but it is not something that is hard to get used to.

Hou's minimalistic form flourishes here more than in The Boys from Fengkuei. The revisited compositions are used well to subtly affect the viewer. He observes the small yet important moments with both honesty and passion.

In overall, A Summer at Grandpa's is a film that works well on all departments, but that doesnt mean it's a masterpiece. My fascination with Hou is becoming stronger all the time. The film is also very nostalgic for me at least: it reminds me of my own childhood vividly. Thus, I can say it is a successful film.

Score: 8 out of 10

The Boys from Fengkuei

I've been interested in Hou Hsiao-hsien, the Taiwanese auteur, for quite a while. I saw his City of Sadness (1989) a few months ago and fell in love with it - I'm going to rewatch it soon. In any case, I wanted to get more familiar with his filmography and started with The Boys from Fengkuei (1983). Initially, the film is about a group of reckless youngsters who spend their days by drinking and fighting in a small town called Fengkuei. After a while, three of these guys decide to go to a bigger city to look for work. Gradually the film becomes the story of Ah-ching (one of the three) who has to face the problems the cruel reality brings up.

The film is a nice take on nostalgia and coming to terms with life. While it's not vastly insightful in its content, it is satisfying enough on its own. The film's beginning and ending are amazing and should be appreciated - the development of the characters becomes extremely obvious when the two are compared.

The form isnt very "Houesque" yet, but there are a few of his trademarks visible already. For one, he likes to revisit older compositions on a few occasions although it doesnt have an impact as big as, say, the hospital composition in his City of Sadness. The takes arent nearly as long as in his other films, and the framing is a bit rough. The erratic camera movement is a bit distracting at times, but luckily it isnt too bad in general. The weirdest aspect in the form was the musical score: Hou uses well-known Western classical music which either works somehow or not at all. For example, his use of Vivaldi's Winter was rather random and that piece of music always reminds of Oldboy, which didnt help at all.

In overall, The Boys from Fengkuei is a decent, likable film which suffers from notable flaws. It is a must-see for Hou fans.

Score: 6 out of 10

Suicide Club

(the picture is not mine, took it from lovehkfilm.com*)

Sion (or Shion, depending on how you romanize his first name) Sono's Suicide Club (2001) is known for causing two disliked things: confusion and controversy. The film opens with a scene involving a mass suicide of 54 schoolgirls, and concludes with a music video starring 12-year-old girls. What happens in between is bizarre and surprising - including a detective story, lots of satiric gore, a creepier version of Alex de Large and a "mass suicide fad".

Sono's social commentary is harsh, provocative but brilliant. Before he made the film, the suicide rates in Japan had risen drastically. Although it is not obvious at first, Sono tries to point out the problems causing the high suicide rate. The flick's social criticism works on a grand scale - it doesnt examine only a small detail or two. The scariest (and probably the most important) aspect of the content is how mass suicides become a trend among the Japanese.

Sono's approach to the subject is peculiar and fascinating. He performs a trick similar to the one Takashi Miike used in Ichi the Killer: making audience think by approaching controversial topics in a blunt and shocking way. The exaggerated, satiric use of blood gives the film a playful tone (if you arent too squeamish).

In the end, the film is Sono's uplifting message to the Japanese: even though it's "scary and hard" (as the last song suggests), you should keep on living and stay true to yourself. The film's surreal plot might be a bit cryptic at first - especially during the last half hour. What makes the film even weirder is that the preteen children of the film deliver the most important and wise statements about self-discovery and perseverance.

Sadly, the film's content is not perfect. Its narrative is clunky and unfocused. The film is frantic in switching between characters and storylines. Because its running time is short (99 mins), this explosive narrative leaves everything a bit underdeveloped - even though it manages to get its message clearly across.

Sono's form is brilliant as well. He proves he can handle camera panning and editing quite well. He doesnt go too wild with the form - I guess this is good because then you can focus on the content.Suicide Club would be a masterpiece if its narrative wasnt so badly structured. Although you should realise that Suicide Club is by no means an easy film to watch or understand because it is far from a straightforward film: you have to be willing to go beyond its superficial level to enjoy it.

Score: 8 out of 10

* = the link to image source: http://www.lovehkfilm.com/panasia/suicide_club.htm

The Godfather Part III

Francis Ford Coppola didnt intend to make the Godfather films into a trilogy - instead there were supposed to be two parts and an epilogue. He wanted to name the epilogue The Death of Michael Corleone, but the producers didnt want that. The final result? The Godfather Part III (1990). It didnt meet the high expectations set by the first two Godfather films, which led it to become a target of angry and negative criticism. The most confusing difference to its predecessors is its more obvious focus on Michael instead of the entire family. The biggest offender for most of the fans was casting Sofia Coppola, the director's daughter, as Mary: her performance is rather terrible.

The film's content is fine as it is: it is a great character study of Michael. As an "epilogue", it doesn't need to be anything else. The ending, however, is a mess: after the great build-up, the ending is awfully forced and disappointing. And not to forget the very last scene which just ruins the rhythm of the entire film.

The film's form is nice although sometimes it is rather plain when compared to the first two films. However, the whole opera sequence at the end of the film was a masterpiece of editing and photography. It's a stunning achievement - not least as a sequence which builds enormous amounts of tension.

While Sofia Coppola's performance was god awful, the other "newcomers" were more or less awesome. Andy Garcia seemed irritating at first, but after a while I realised how brilliant his performance was. Joe Mantegna was also great as the smug Joey Zaza.

In overall, the film is a little unbalanced, but it has a few pros worth mentioning.

Score: 7 out of 10

The Godfather Part II

Even though I had considered The Godfather (1972) overrated back when I watched it, I always thought its sequel, The Godfather Part II (1974), deserved all the praise it received. I'll put my answer as briefly as possible: While the sequel is as cinematically sophisticated as the original, its subtlety wears it down a bit and makes it feel a bit unbalanced on an emotional level.

Score: 9 out of 10

PS: I know this review is awfully short and disappointing, but I struggled with writing the review for over 2 days so I figured I should do it as briefly as possible.

The Godfather

The Godfather. The film that has received more praise than any other film ever made. It has been over 2 years since I watched the entire trilogy for the first time - and now I'm going to do it again. Back then, I admitted that it was a great film, but I considered it a bit overrated. Do I still consider it overrated? Keep on reading to find out.

The Godfather (1972) is the epic tale of an Italian American organized crime dynasty in the 40's. The film's major conflict is a violent power struggle between the "Five Families" of New York and New Jersey. Coppola captures the attention of the viewers by offering us a world of great characters in rich detail. We are there to witness several brilliant storylines: Michael's painful development from a respectful and caring man to a cold and calculating Don, Don Vito's desperate fight to keep his family safe and the troubled marriage between Connie and Carlo, among a few others. The running time of 3 hours is certainly worth it even if only for the perfect montage used at the end of the film.

Coppola's form is amazing as well. The beautiful lighting, great camerawork (gracious and used only when needed), magnificent compositions, fascinating editing and on top of it all, an unforgettable musical score.

While acting in general was very good in the film, there were a few performances which stood out as too melodramatic and distracting. For example, Talia Shire's performance as Michael's sister always distracted me and made me cringe. Luckily, there were a few brilliant performances as well, such as Marlon Brando's and Al Pacino's performances.

My conclusion? While I admire it greatly for most of its aspects, I still consider it slightly overrated.

Score: 9 out of 10