Category: Narrative

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.

By Joe Bendel. Texarkana is hard to figure. Is it Texas or Arkansas? One town or two? Either way, you would think it was far too heavily armed to have a serial killer problem. Nevertheless, the “Phantom Killer” really did terrorize Texarkana for several months in 1946. There must have been a post-war shortage of ammunition. Eventually, the murders stopped, but strictly speaking, the case was never solved. In 1976, the so-called “Moonlight Murders” were rather controversially dramatized in Charles B. Pierce’s cult favorite slasher movie. The fascination and the killings continue in Alfonso Gomez-Rejon’s meta-homage pseudo-sequel (don’t call it a reboot) The Town that Dreaded Sundown, a Blumhouse production, which releases today on regular DVD.

So maybe the killer is still walking the streets of Texarkana. If so, what would he make of the burg’s annual Halloween drive-in screening of Pierce’s original Town that Dreaded Sunrise? Apparently, he rather resents it, judging from comments made to Jami Lerner and Corey Holland when he viciously attacks them during a moment of parked privacy. Holland quickly exits the picture, but the Phantom lets Lerner live in order to torment her like a cat with a mouse.

The killer quickly starts working his way through the murders in the 1976 film. However, Lerner is convinced she also must look to the archival case files from 1946 to discover the identity of the current murder. Of course, the local cops on both the Texas and Arkansas sides are clueless, but at least Texas Ranger Lone Wolf Morales inspires some confidence, just like Ben Johnson’s J.D. Morales, who was molded after the historical M.T. “Lone Wolf” Gonzaullas.

There are times when the 2014 Town is surprisingly clever in the ways it engages with both the previous film and the real life Moonlight Murders. Unfortunately, a lot of good set-up is essentially wasted on a third act revelation that feels like no big deal. We are primed for something uber-meta, but get watered-down Scream elements instead.

Still, there is a vivid sense of place (much of the film was shot in Louisiana, but that’s close enough). Gomez-Rejon is often quite visually inventive in his approach to the material and cinematographer Michael Goi gives is all a dark glow that is eerie and somewhat Carpenter-esque. There is also plenty of fan service for Pierce partisans, including a trombone murder. Indeed, the film is often quite brutal, matching the tone set by its predecessor, so sensitive viewers should be warned.

Perhaps due to producer Ryan “American Horror Story” Murphy’s involvement, the new Town features an unusually accomplished cast for a slasher flick. Frankly, it is a pity Anthony Anderson does not have more screen time, because he is a drolly entertaining as the flamboyant Morales. In one of his final screen appearances, the late great Ed Lauter is also frustratingly under-employed as Sheriff Underwood. Addison Timlin is perfectly fine as Lerner, but it is not exactly a deep, empowering role. However, Denis O’Hare undeniably steals his scenes as the meta Charles Pierce, Jr.

It is easy to see why Pierce’s film freaked people out in 1976. It came out when many residents still recalled the Moonlight Murders and it predated the masked Jason in the Friday the 13th franchise by over three years. Pierce’s hooded Phantom might have also had further historical resonance for viewers, especially in Texas and Arkansas. Gomez-Rejon’s take starts out quite creepily, but it deflates late in the third act. (Still, it is a good deal more uplifting than his latest film: Me, Earl, and the Dying Girl. Oh, the horror. Oh, the humanity.) Recommended for hardcore slasher fans and Pierce loyalists, The Town that Dreaded Sundown releases this week on DVD.

LFM GRADE: C+

Posted on July 10th, 2015 at 3:57pm.

By Joe Bendel. Lee Hwan will confirm all your suspicions about closers who choke in the ninth inning. He really was taking payoffs from gamblers. Once the scandal broke, the only work he can find is with the loan-sharking gangsters whom his accomplice owed big time. It turns out the kid can throw a punch as well as he can hurl a baseball (he never really had any control problems, mind you). However, when the outfit known as Emperor Capital expands into waterfront real estate, the double-crosses start coming like Mariano fastball-cutters in Park Sang-jun’s For the Emperor, which releases this week on Blu-ray, DVD, and digital platforms from Well Go USA.

Lee Hwan happened to be picking up his take from his latest blown save in a seedy gambling den right when the cops raided it. Although he was let off with a wrist-slapping, he reputation is shot. He also forfeited a large bag of illicit cash. To pay off a debt he inherited from his front-man, Lee Hwan collects from a hard-headed has-been gangster for Jung Sang-ha, Emperor Capital’s CEO. As we know from the fantastically violent prologue, Lee Hwan has a knack for this kind of work.

A one-off quickly turns into a full time gig for Lee Hwan, with his tenacious street-fighting chops and knowledge of sports betting propelling him up the ladder. Soon, he secretly takes up with Madame Cha, the hostess of the Emperor’s private club, who is up to her eye-lashes in debt to the group. Jung is not exactly thrilled with their relationship and his lieutenants are even less enthusiastic about all the slack he cuts Lee Hwan. However, the former jock is in over his head trying to navigate the schemes Jung and Han-deuk, the sinister chairman are hatching between them.

There is also a whole lot of knife fighting. We are talking mega-gritty, super-bloody street brawling and some of the best tenement hallway melees since the original The Raid. For action fans, these extended sequences are like watching ballet, but for the squeamish, they could cause blackouts and short-term memory loss.

Lee Min-ki (who finished work on Emperor six months before commencing his mandatory military service) brings an erratic, slightly unstable sensibility to Lee Hwan that works well in context. He also generates some heat with the otherwise ice cold Lee Tae-im in sex scenes that are unusually steamy for mainstream Korean cinema. However, character actor Park Sung-woong (Tabloid Truth, Man on High Heels, etc.) just towers over the film as the smooth but ruthless Jung.

Granted, For the Emperor does not have the sweep of Nameless Gangster or New World, but it has hundreds of thugs getting hacked and slashed. The character of Jung also offers a few interesting wrinkles to distinguish him from the pack. Regardless, the action is most definitely the reason to see Emperor. Recommended for genre fans with all due meathead approval, For the Emperor is now available for home viewing from Well Go USA.

LFM GRADE: B

Posted on July 10th, 2015 at 3:57pm.