I Don't Want to Sleep Alone

(image source)

Ming-liang Tsai's I Don't Want to Sleep Alone (2006) is another addition to the director's long list of films that explore the feelings of loneliness and alienation. This time the main character, Hsiao-Kang, is in Malaysia and ends up being mugged. Afterwards he finds company in two lonely natives whose unstable emotions complicate the film quite a lot. Tsai's approach lacks humor surprisingly, but that doesn't make the film worse - in fact, I think it's better off without the slapstick comedy. The screenplay is rough and a bit weird for Tsai, but the climax is probably the best thing Tsai has ever done - apart from What Time Is It There.

Tsai's form is still full of static long takes, but there are significantly more closeups used than in his earlier films which barely had any. There's also a lot more sound this time - through music, dialogue and background noise. Although these "irregularities" Tsai doesn't stumble with the form at all because the film is magically captivating.

While I Don't Want to Sleep Alone is not exactly on par with the director's masterpiece it's nevertheless a great achievement.

Score: 9 out of 10

Linda Linda Linda

Nobuhiro Yamashita's Linda Linda Linda (2005) migh seem like your run-of-the-mill feel-good film when you read the plot description: a group of girls decide to perform as a band in the school festival, but they have to face a lot of obstacles before the gig.

The film uses a lot of cliched tropes in its storytelling, but they are used in the best possible way - which makes them rather refreshing. The great build-up and an even better climax prove the narrative's power: it has been a long time since I've been so pumped up for the ending. The characters are properly developed (even the occasional lack of it is there for a reason) and genuinely interesting. This is a film that upgrades the term "feel-good" to "feel-great".

Yamashita's form is something you would not see used with a story as simple and unassuming as in this film: it is calmly paced with long takes, slow camera drives and absolutely gorgeous compositions. The instrumental music is a nice touch on top of the film - and naturally, The Blue Hearts covers performed by the fictional band are awesome. I never believed Doona Bae could sing that well in Japanese. The entire cast is great, but Doona really surprised me this time (even though I was a fan of hers even before the film) - her performance dominates the film in a good way.

Linda Linda Linda is flawless under its own restrictions, but I have to add a little bit of realism to my review: it's not a cinematic masterpiece thoroughly. However, I do admire the film greatly.

Score: 9 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

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

Last Life in the Universe

Pen-Ek Ratanaruang's Last Life in the Universe (2003) is the complete opposite of his earlier film, Monrak Transistor (2001): it is melancholic, calm and it is more concerned about its concepts than a tight and complicated plot. The film is an accurate character study of the two main characters. One is a completely introverted Japanese man (Tadanobu Asano) who attempts suicide on various occasions, but he claims he isnt doing it out of hopelessness. Due to an unfortunate accident, he meets an extroverted Thai girl (Sinitta Boonyasak).

The character studies are simply fascinating in Last Life in the Universe. Both of the main characters are given equal focus and it really gives a wide perspective for the film. We enter their dreams and thoughts in an intriguing way. At its core, the film is about life, death, alienation and reconciliation. Death is always present in the film. The eruptions of violence are somehow so melancholic and even bittersweet. It is interesting even on the surface as it works as a romantic comedy, but I hardly even thought of it as one before writing this review.

Christopher Doyle worked as the Director of Photography for this film, and that can easily be noticed in the cinematography. Ratanaruang's form was already excellent in Monrak Transistor without Doyle, but now it reaches new, unbelieveable levels of quality. The compositions and camera movement are so essential that many reviewers easily call it the third main character of the film.

The film relies heavily on the two main actors who are astonishing. Tadanobu Asano's restrained performance as the introvert is so pitch-perfect that I would laud it as one of the best performances of the whole decade. It is the complete opposite of his performance in Ichi the Killer, and it is refreshing to see him in a role like this. Sinitta Boonyasak's performance is not to be forgotten: it is as glorious as Asano's. Their body language is essential for the interpretation of the film and they succeed in so many ways that it is hard to describe it sufficiently. 

The same thing goes for the whole film: I believe my review can hardly describe, evaluate and show respect to the film as well as possible. It is so carefully nuanced and delicately executed. It left me with this strong feeling of weightlessness and emptiness - in a good way.

Score: 10 out of 10