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