Day: July 10, 2015

By Joe Bendel. Think of it as something like Bernard Christensen’s Häxan, but in color and with even more sex. While the notorious Danish silent was based on the Fifteenth Century Malleus Maleficarum, the third of Osamu Tezuka’s animated features for adults was inspired by Jules Michelet’s Nineteenth Century study Satanism and Witchcraft. The practice of the dark arts is largely a product of class and gender exploitation in the brand new 4K restoration of Eiichi Yamamoto’s 1973 cult classic Belladonna of Sadness, which screens as part of the 2015 Japan Cuts Festival of New Japanese Film.

French peasants Jean and Jeanne love each other deeply and truly, but unfortunately their marriage requires a sacrifice to their lord. Tragically, he claims his feudal deflowering right of jus primae noctis, at which point he turns the ravaged Jeanne over to his lecherous court. Initially, Jean tries to comfort her, but henceforth they can never truly be happy together. Sensing her pain and anger, the imp-like Satan approaches Jeanne tempting her with power and exciting her lust. She slowly yields to him, inch by metaphysical inch, amassing influence in the village to become a serious rival to the lord, especially while he is away fighting a fruitless war. Naturally, this does not sit well with her ladyship or the parish priest.

Even though it is animated, Belladonna is absolutely, positively not for children—not even the particularly mature and precocious. Yamamoto’s film is rife with images of sex and violence that often bleed into each other. However, the animation is extraordinarily striking, often looking like a cross between Alphonse Mucha and Gahan Wilson. For long stretches, the pictures do not even move, per se. Rather, the camera pans over the baroquely detailed paintings.

Frankly, it is rather baffling that Belladonna never caught on more widely in its day. The trippy visuals and open invitation to identify with and even support Jeanne’s self-damnation seem pitch perfect for the indulgent 1970s. As a bonus, legendary Kurosawa and Kobayashi regular Tatsuya Nakadai memorably gives voice to the puckish Satan.

In many ways, Belladonna is a startling accomplishment in animation. It really feels like it taps directly into the ancient grievances of women who were driven to witchcraft for the sake of solidarity and resistance, which is rather unsettling. There is an eerie subconscious familiarity to Belladonna, even though it is a wholly original work. Highly recommended for mature animation connoisseurs, the newly restored Belladonna of Sadness screens this Friday (7/10) at the Japan Society, as a classic rediscovery of this year’s Japan Cuts.

LFM GRADE: A

Posted on July 10th, 2015 at 4:48pm.

By Joe Bendel. In early September of 1945, most of Japan thought WWII was over, but not the residents of Karafuto (now Sakhalin) Island. They were still being razed and rounded-up by the marauding Soviets. That grim historical episode played a pivotal role in the history of the Suzuki family, in ways that are only now coming to light as they gather to mourn their patriarch in Nobuhiko Ôbayashi’s Seven Weeks, which screens during Japan Cuts 2015, the Festival of New Japanese Film in New York.

At ninety-two, Mitsuo Suzuki had quite a run, but it was not always a bed of roses. Due to random post-war tragedies, the doctor-turned-local-cultural-curator survived all of his sons and daughters-in-law. He had already lost his great love during the war, through circumstances that will be revealed over time. Still, he was never lonely, having personally raised his granddaughter Kanna and third grandson Akito, with the help of his nurse, Nobuko Shimizu, whose position in the household is ambiguous but significant.

Following his death, Kanna plans the traditional seven seventh day mourning rituals, along with Suzuki’s grandsons, his sister, and his great-granddaughter Kasane, but most of the work falls on her, until Shimizu mysteriously reappears. As they pay their respects, Suzuki’s spirit offers his own running commentary, seeming to inspire flashback reveries for most of his family.

Eventually, we learn exactly how the Suzuki family reached this point in time. Yet, Seven Weeks is more than just a family saga. Ôbayashi essentially turns the Japanese national psyche inside out, making connections between the Suzukis and the Soviet occupation of Karafuto (still going on, by the way), the fall of Imperial militarism, the bust and boom of the Japanese coal industry, and the Fukushima nuclear crisis.

If you only know Ôbayashi as the mad man responsible for the utterly insane cult classic House (Hausu), you don’t know the half of him, at least not anymore. Seven Weeks is an achingly sensitive work, yet there is a symbol stylistic boldness—a willingness to go for broke—shared by the two films. Ôbayashi restlessly segues between point-of-views, throwing realism to the wind with frequent fourth wall breaches, some stunning super-imposed visuals, a Greek chorus of strolling troubadours, and a substantial element of magical realism hiding in plain sight. Yet, he maintains a visceral connection to the Suzuki family’s raw and formerly repressed emotions. If you cried during Departures, Ôbayashi will probably get you misty-eyed too, even though he breaks every possible rule of tear-jerking melodrama, several times over. To that end, he gets a critical assist from Kôsuke Yamashita’s unclassifiably mournful theme.

Seven Weeks is generous with its large ensemble, giving just about every character of standing an opportunity for a grand, telling moment. However, the film is anchored by the trio of Toru Shinagawa, Saki Terashima, and Takako Tokiwa, as Old Man Suzuki, Kanna, and Shimizu, respectively. You will be hard-pressed to find three performances of such mature reserve and expressive power in another film. However, Hirona Yamazaki might just provide the film’s X-factor as young Kasane, who is shallow and self-centered, but also so much fun she energizes and elevates all her scenes.

Frankly, it is exhilarating to see a film that is so big in its conception and so intimate in its execution. Somehow, Ôbayashi reconciles the micro with the macro, offering a very personal and idiosyncratic perspective on some profoundly turbulent national history. When it is all said and done, you really feel like you understand this family and share its grief. Very highly recommended, Seven Weeks is the absolutely-can’t-miss film at this year’s Japan Cuts. It screens this Saturday (7/11) at the Japan Society.

LFM GRADE: A+

Posted on July 10th, 2015 at 4:48pm.

By Joe Bendel. This underdog 1930s team is sort of like the New York Cubans and other early African American baseball teams. Everyone loves them now, but they faced constant struggles in their day. However, the titular community team organized by the sons of Japanese immigrants actually played against white Canadian clubs in an otherwise all-white league. Life will be a challenge for them on and off the diamond in Yuya Ishii’s The Vancouver Asahi, which screens as part of the 2015 Japan Cuts Festival of New Japanese Film.

Reggie/Reiji Kasahara works tirelessly at the lumberyard, but he dreams big when it comes to baseball. Unfortunately, the Asahi have never won a game. They are simply over matched by the big, beefy maple syrup-swilling Canadians’ power hitting and fastballs. Nonetheless, Kasahara must take some responsibility for strategy when he unexpectedly ascends to the team captainship. On the second game of the season, he experiments with bunt-and-run small ball, shocking everyone by scoring a run.

Soon, the Asahi are regularly winning games with what the local papers call their “Brain Ball” approach. After years of futility, the team finally becomes a source of pride in the Japanese immigrant community. They will need something positive to cheer, considering how the swirling clouds of war will further complicate their lives of economic marginalization.

Yes, Asahi follows a very predictable story line, but it is refreshing to see Canada take its lumps for a change after all their tongue-clucking at the U.S.  Yes, there is plenty of discrimination documented in the film, but it is richer and more challenging when it explores the assimilation experience, for which there can be no better example than their passion for the game of baseball.

The sad and nostalgic tone is somewhat reminiscent of Ishii’s previous film, The Great Passage, but its characters are not quite as distinctly drawn as those in Ishii’s reference publishing drama. Reggie and his pals basically work hard and play hard, enduring all that comes their way. However, his younger sister Emmy is a deeper, more complicated figure, who truly strives to integrate into the Canadian society that never truly accepts her.

Ishii and screenwriter Satoko Okudera are not exactly subtle when making their points. Still, it is a painstakingly detailed period production. It also captures a sense of just how significant baseball was in the 1930s. It is almost inspiring to watch the Asahi’s scrappy style of play win over the white Anglo Canadians, even though we know it will all be undone by the WWII internment.

All the Asahi players look like they are young and hungry, starting with the wiry Satoshi Tsumabuki as Reggie Kasahara. Yet, it is Mitsuki Takahata and Koichi Sato who really elevate the film as his studious sister and rough-hewn father, respectively. Ultimately, it is an earnest and endearing film that wears its tragic fate with dignity. Recommended for fans of old fashioned baseball dramas, The Vancouver Asahi screens this Saturday (7/11) at the Japan Society, as part of this year’s Japan Cuts.

LFM GRADE: B

Posted on July 10th, 2015 at 4:47pm.

By Joe Bendel. The Odakyu Electric Railway’s “Romancecar” is not exactly a Love Boat on rails, but it is known for its attentive service. Nobody upholds its standards better than Hachiko Hojo. After her chaotic childhood, she appreciates its rigid schedules and routines. As a result, she is more surprised than anyone when a flaky older passenger convinces her to take a sudden day trip in director-screenwriter Yuki Tanada’s Round Trip Heart, which screens during Japan Cuts 2015, the Festival of New Japanese Film in New York.

Hojo is a paragon of customer service, whereas Michiyo Kubo frequently crushes bento boxes with her cart. Unfortunately, Kubo will have to take one run solo thanks to Yoichi Sakuraba. Hojo caught the producer of knock-off b-movies shoplifting snacks, but when she chased him through the Hakone station, the Romancecar pulled out without her. It is an inauspicious start to a relationship, but he makes it worse when he reads the private letter Hojo tried to discard.

Despite her anger, the fast-talking Sakuraba half-convinces Hojo the note from her long-estranged mother just might be a veiled suicide threat. It seems she too has traveled to Hakone, the scene of their one happy family vacation, with the intention of ending it all—or so Sakuraba argues. So maybe he quarter-convinces Hojo her mother has sent her a cry for help. Although she remains skeptical, she sets out with the middle-aged under-achiever, to revisit the sites of the fondly remembered family vacation, in hopes of preventing her mother from doing anything drastic.

Through flashbacks, we see how episodes from Hojo’s childhood trip to Hakone echo in the present day. Shrewdly though, Tanada does not force them into rigid parallels. She slowly opens up Hojo’s psyche, letting us discover over time just why she is so emotionally repressed. It is a simple story of ships passing, but the execution is remarkably sensitive and assured.

Lead actress Yuko Oshima was formerly a member of the teen idol pop group AKB48 before aging out, a la Menudo, which is not exactly a confidence-inspiring resume, but she is shockingly good as Hojo, giving the film its heart and soul. It is a quiet performance, but she expresses volumes with a look or a sigh.

Heart also represents a breakout for rubber-faced supporting player Koji Ookura, tapped as her co-lead. At first, he looks like he just bring more shtick, but he conveys all the insecurity and angst beneath Sakuraba’s bluster.

There is just an awful lot of emotional honesty to Oshima and Ookura’s work. Tanada almost takes things too far in the third act, but manages to pull the plane out of its tailspin at the last minute. Overall, the film has a vibe of peaceful sadness that is rather exquisite. You might think you have seen many films like it before—and probably have—yet it lowers the boom on viewers just the same. Highly recommended for Oshima’ star-making turn, Round Trip Heart screens this Friday (7/10) at the Japan Society, as part of this year’s Japan Cuts.

LFM GRADE: B+

Posted on July 10th, 2015 at 4:47pm.