Tokyo Sonata

Kiyoshi Kurosawa's Tokyo Sonata (2008) is dysfunctional family drama at its best. The film tells what happens to an ordinary Japanese family when the head of the family loses his job and the values of different generations clash.

There's a lot of things in the film's screenplay that made me angry - and they were supposed to be infuriating so that the central themes could arise. The father's shallow pride drives the family's daily routine into chaos which explodes in an unexpected and surreal way. The social commentary is luckily not heavy-handed and actually works quite well. The film ends in an open, ambiguous way which is probably the best way for a film like this - at least on an emotional level.

Kurosawa's form is not spectacular, but it works very well: intriguing compositions and relatively static/calm camerawork create the needed atmosphere for the harsh drama. The film's emotional impact relies on the acting - luckily the entire cast is phenomenal.

Tokyo Sonata is a film that confused me by betraying all expectations I had for the last 50 minutes of the film. My opinion of it might change when I watch it again some day, but right now I consider it a bewildering yet great film.

Score: 9 out of 10

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

Tokyo Story

Yasujiro Ozu's Tokyo Story (1953) is almost inevitably on every film critic's list of favourite films. It is one of the most praised Asian films all over the world. Now that I rewatched it, I can guarantee that its impact is even bigger the more you watch it. Tokyo Story is the tragic story of an elderly couple who go to Tokyo to visit their children and grandchildren. The longer they stay the more apparent it becomes that the children dont have time for them and treat them rather coldly.

As usually, Ozu creates a fantastic story about a family in Tokyo Story. He observes the Japanese honestly without any exaggeration and the difference he reveals between generations is astounding. Upon meeting their grandparents for the first time, one boy runs away in terror and the other whines about his desk having been moved to make space for the grandparents. The adults only seem to care about their own business and eventually leave the elderly couple on their own. Ozu doesnt make it melodramatic - instead he approaches the sad subject as minimalistically as it is possible. This subtle richness gives it a heartbreaking mood and that way the actual dramatic moments have a lot stronger impact on the viewer.

Ozu's brilliant form is something I will never stop admiring. His camera is always set just a little above the ground and it almost never moves - and when it does move, it's really effective (there is only one moving shot in Tokyo Story). His framing is so brilliant and he likes to come back to the same compositions a few times during the film and it gives the film more poignancy although it does not reach the levels of Hou's City of Sadness in Ozu's Tokyo Story. He breaks a few rules used in Hollywood - like having actors speak their lines directly at the camera (not for comical purposes) and he also broke the so-called 180degree rule once in a while. His films also feature transition shots ("pillow shots") that signal the change of location by using a few shots of scenery. His cinematic language full of these lovely little details that make the films a lot more fascinating to watch.

Tokyo Story is a brilliant, poignant film that deserves all of its praise. Although it might be hard to watch for some people, I would recommend it to anyone. It is one of the greatest films ever made.

Score: 10 out of 10

The Iñárritu trilogy: "Amores perros", "21 Grams" & "Babel"

(the snapshots are only of Amores perros and Babel, I watched 21 Grams on TV)

Alejandro Gonzalez Iñárritu's films of his unofficial trilogy are among the favourites of most critics around the world. The trilogy is often called the "Death trilogy", but I find that nickname confusing because death is only a major theme/factor in 21 Grams. For the other two films death is as essential as, say, dwarves are for Lord of the Rings films. By this logic, we should call the Lord of the Rings "the Dwarves trilogy". That sounds perfectly reasonable ... right?

Here are the plot introductions as briefly as I can put them. Amores perros focuses on several storylines which in turn concentrate on one relationship. There is dangerious rivalry between siblings over a girl, a divorced man who takes care of a famous and beautiful woman (and her dog) and lastly, there is a story of an old man trying to re-establish his relationship with his daughter. 21 Grams tells the story of a grieving mother, a terminally ill man and a born-again ex-con who are brought together by a terrible accident. Babel's multiple storylines are kicked off when a boy accidentally shoots an American tourist. All of these storylines have some sort of a connection to this event, but they are mainly separated examinations of how communication fails between people.

First of all, each title of this trilogy has a more-or-less complex meaning to it. Amores perros can be translated (and interpret) in at least 10 different ways. Roughly examined, it includes the most essential story elements of each storyline: love and dogs. These words have more meanings in Spanish, and so the title can be translated figuratively as "that which is good and desirable in life and that which is miserable." Also, perros can be interpret to mean an unworthy person, a hired killer, and an unfaithful husband/boyfriend, all of which appear as characters in the film.

The meaning of 21 Grams is revealed in the film's pretentious ending monologue: it is believed that everyone loses exactly 21 grams at the moment of their death. The monologue asks questions like "is that how much life weighs?", which is ridiculous. It is a yet another offender (more on that later) in the film. So the title has a thematic significance which is OK.

Babel, on the other hand, is a biblical reference. Because the film focuses on our difficulties to communicate, it is named after the Tower of Babel. The film doesnt handle this matter only the level of "I cant speak this or that language", although it is one of the main points of the film. The most literal part, of course, is that in the Japanese storyline the main character is a deaf-mute, but is fascinatingly explored nevertheless. It is also explored on a completely emotional level.

It seems that Iñárritu's trademark is to play with the chronology more or less. Amores perros jumps back and forth in the chronology quite a lot, and thankfully it isnt used too excessively because it fits to the atmosphere completely. The film's content is quite chaotic in other aspects too, so I think it is spot-on. 21 Grams, on the other hand, plays it with even more, to the point of complete confusion during the first 30 minutes. What is even worse that the unstable and shattered structure serves no purpose at all. It is only extremely disorienting, childish and pretentious. I guess it is intended to be a puzzle, but if it is so, then what is the use if you can figure out the puzzle before you've watched a complete third of the film? And it significantly weakens the film's dramatic impact. Basically, Babel does use this a lot, but you wont notice because the storylines are separate enough so that it doesnt become confusing. Inside these storylines, there is not a single jump in chronology.

I once read a review which said that in Amores perros Iñárritu shows a "deep understanding of people", or something along the lines of that. So I guess when you show people as complete bitches and bastards you are told you understand the humans completely. In Amores perros everyone are either obvious bastards or hide their bitchiness under a shallow expression of happiness and kindness. In the long run, that becomes very irritating and one-sided - and forced in a way too. Yet it fits in a way to Amores perros. 21 Grams suffers of the same problem even to a more irritating degree: everyone blames others for their problems, show no real care to others and become completely shitholes when the critical moments comes - or when Iñárritu needs it. Babel is a pleasant surprise in this way: there are actually some people who are genuinely caring although it also shows a few characters who are extreme culminations of selfish bastards.

Amores perros takes interesting perspectives on love in the different stories. It never feels monotonous because the different storylines are engaging enough on the points they are supposed to deliver.

21 Grams is an example how you should NOT handle melodrama and tragedy. The performances (and the screenplay, too) is so ridiculously melodramatic that I simply lost my connection to the characters because they were constantly under extreme emotions, even to the point of no variety. 21 Grams also features one of the dumbest portrayals of a blind Christian. And not only was that, but the characters were so one-sided and forced that you couldnt really examine them without feeling disappointed. In the end, it is a take on revenge, loss and guilt handled decently at best.

Even though Babel has a fascinating theme and a reasonable structure, the film's content is lacking. The quality of the storylines range from awful to brilliant. The Japanese storyline is so fascinating and brilliantly executed that it could be made into its own stand-alone film. It featured the characters I would have loved to see more of because it seemed like a story that could have gone even further with the themes although it is great as it is already. At first the Japanese section seemed a little irrelevant to the rest of the film, but thematically it the most important part. Then there is, for example, the Mexican storyline that is doomed from the get-go because it only works as an idiot plot to show "illegal immigration is bad" and other rather contrived and dumb messages which are handled in a childish way. Luckily there is a clear thematic significance in each story and they are rather coherent when put together.

You can easily recognise Iñárritu's form because it mostly uses an energetic way to shoot and cut. Amores perros is a good result of this trademark. It never goes over the boundaries of what works, and it fits to the wild content of the film. It features great examples of crosscutting, those moments were certainly fascinating. The Tarantinoesque use of music was also somewhat fitting although a little bit overwrought sometimes. Then you can find the worst example of this energetic form in 21 Grams. Everything is shaky and nauseating, to the point of making everything seem rough, cruel, sad and melodramatic. The form is also very monotonous, and it is an example of how a director can take the exact wrong way to execute a story. Even the use of sound becomes so awfully banal. With Babel Iñárritu proves he has the form under control. He pauses to catch his breath once in a while, and those moments are rewarding. It also emphasizes the moments when the film rushes onwards like an angry bull. Iñárritu's form becomes perfect in one great scene: the club scene in the Japan story arc.

Anyone interested in cinema wouldnt do worse than watch Iñárritu's trilogy, but now you have been warned about 21 Grams. The best thing about this trilogy is that it is barely a trilogy, there is no relevant connection between these films. I could watch Babel again and again, even if only to watch the Japanese storyline and Rinko Kikuchi's MAGNIFICENT performance that dominates the whole film.

Scores:

Amores perros (2000) 8 out of 10
21 Grams (2003) 3 out of 10
Babel (2006) 7 out of 10

American Beauty

Sam Mendes' American Beauty (2000) doesnt seem to know what it is supposed to be. The first third is strictly sit-com, the second a good satire and the final third takes a turn for serious and grim drama. It is an attempt to poke fun at dysfunctional family drama and yet be a serious take on it at the same time. The film is even further broken apart by a few pretentious monologues on the "beauty of life" - or something like that. Although I have to somewhat laud it for making the characters rich enough and constructing a rather good storyline, the film stumbles a lot more than is forgivable. The form is sufficient, but far from spectacular. Especially the music is nicely quiet, but unimpressive and forgettable. The acting in American Beauty is good at best. Annette Bening is a bit too hyperactive and over-the-top; Kevin Spacey's bland face conveys nothing at all although he is a lot better than usually; Wes Bentley is stiff as he should be; Thora Birch is forgettable; Mena Suvari makes a fine yet unsurprising performance.

Score: 6 out of 10

Little Children

Todd Field's Little Children (2006) focuses on the lives of two families, a registered sex offender and an ex-cop. Their lives are tied to each other throughout the film in the "true" mosaic fashion a la Magnolia and Short Cuts. And because it's set in the American suburbs, there has to be dysfunctional families - of course. This film had all the potential to be a lot, but it becomes completely nuts at some point. One scene made me think of it as a parody, but that seems simply weird in other scenes. The narration is so off-beat, obnoxious and distracting that I really had to detach myself from the film to get through it. This detachment doesnt really fit to the film because it tries hard to be heavy drama, or so I assume. There is nothing certainly pointing at satire/parody other than the narration which - on the other hand - seems out of place. The drama had a few interesting things that could have made the film awesome, but especially the last 30 minutes just fall apart. The ending itself is weird because it doesnt feel like a closure point at all. Its form is fine though: cinematography is calm and beautiful and editing is OK. What I really have to mention, though, is Jackie Earle Haley's performance as the pedophile. He seriously nailed that role like no one else would have. What a fascinating performance!

Score: 6 out of 10