Albino (アルビノ, Toru Kamei, 2016)

Two women struggle to free themselves from the abuses of a patriarchal and conservative society in Toru Kamei’s tragic lesbian romance, Albino (アルビノ). Though perhaps somewhat out of touch in its tacit implication that same sex love is inherently destructive, Kamei’s sensitive drama finds its marginalised heroines seeking mutual rescue but finding only temporary respite in the bubble of their love fraught as it is with danger and confusion as they each in their own way struggle to escape their respective prisons literal and self imposed. 

Butch plumber Yashima (Fujiko) has always felt somewhat ill at ease, that her inside doesn’t match her out, and the disconnect has made her reluctant to associate with others. On a job one day she encounters a strange young woman, Kyu (Satsuki Maue), wearing a high school uniform who can’t seem to stop gazing at her. Yashima fixes the problem with her sink which was clogged with paper tissue, but is surprised when Kyu calls back and says it happened again. On her return visit, while Kyu’s stepfather is out, Kyu asks Yashima to have a look at the bathroom where she gingerly seduces her, both women perhaps surprised by the depth of their desire. Problematic age gap aside, the two women embark on a passionate sexual affair but struggle to free themselves from the forces which constrain them outside of their intense physical connection. 

Hinting at a kind of gender dysphoria, Yashima lives as a man but feels pressured into conforming to conventional femininity. She’s the only woman at her job as a plumber, perhaps still stereotypically regarded as a male occupation, and simultaneously regarded as one of the boys made complicit in the misogynistic banter of her boss and colleague. Resented for her unwomanliness, she’s eventually assaulted by her skeevy vanmate who refuses to believe her when she says she has no interest in men. She implies that prior to her relationship with Kyu, she hadn’t considered other women but had perhaps thought of herself as male, and is immediately overwhelmed by her newfound desire. Meanwhile, she’s also dealing with familial trauma in her difficult relationship with her alcoholic mother who frequently turns up only to ask for money to spend on drink. 

Kyu, meanwhile, is more directly oppressed, trapped in an abusive environment with violent stepfather who repeatedly rapes her, his tissues the ones which eventually clog the sink after she tries to wash them away. She claims that the uniform is a fashion statement, though the implication seems to be that her stepfather does not allow her out of the house even to go to school if indeed she is still a student despite her claims to the contrary. That might also explain why she continues to clog the sink and call the plumber, potentially alerting Yashima’s boss not to mention the colleague who seems to have realised there’s something going on, rather than simply ring her directly even after she’s really only coming for sex. Kyu makes a habit of giving Yashima hard candies after each of their meetings, Yashima eventually realising that they spell out the word “help”, but she remains too traumatised to escape convinced that her stepfather would find her wherever they went. 

Somewhat awkwardly, the implication is that Yashima’s relationship with Kyu is the force which motivates her to accept her femininity, the younger woman transgressively kissing her after staining her lips with menstrual blood as if to ram the point home. Kyu meanwhile agrees that she too hates being a woman, though her resentment is perhaps more towards her constant victimisation, her utter powerlessness at the hands of the hands of the stepfather who abuses her and whom she cannot escape. Yashima too finds herself victimised as a woman, assaulted by her colleague who leaves by coldly telling her it was her own fault for refusing him, or perhaps simply for her “failure” to conform to conventional social norms, a crime for which he has punished her as means of correction. Yet they each struggle to free themselves, Kyu too traumatised to embrace her freedom despite her literal cry for help, while Yashima is continually punished for her atypical gender presentation. Only in sex do they find release. Shot with a detached realism which extends to the naturalistic though passionate, erotic love scenes Kamei’s melancholy drama offers little in the way of hope for either woman, subtly suggesting that their romance is a forlorn hope because there is no escape from the forces which oppress them in such a rigid and conformist society. 


Trailer (no subtitles)

Eleven Samurai (十一人の侍, Eiichi Kudo, 1967)

“If no one denounces the absurdity of this world, then our descendants will keep suffering,” a soon-to-be ronin insists in Eiichi Kudo’s revengers tragedy, Eleven Samurai (十一人の侍, Juichinin no Samurai). It seems clear from the outset that their actions will have little effect no matter whether they succeed or fail because the enemy is feudalism which may be approaching the end of its life but is definitely not dead yet. They can at least attempt to avenge their clan even if they can’t save it while refusing to let an entitled, selfish lord get away doing whatever he likes just because he happens to be the son of the former shogun and brother of the current one.

The opening scenes see Nariatsu (Kantaro Suga) chasing a deer having declared himself a “real hunter”. He ignores the cries of his men to watch where he’s going and sails over the border into the territory of Oshi which amounts to an invasion seeing as he is armed and has no permission to be there. The deer gets away, but Nariatsu shoots an old woodcutter whom he felt to be in his way with his bow and arrow. The Lord of the Abe clan that rules Oshi immediately takes him to task and tells Noriatsu that his behaviour is unbecoming for the son of the former shogun. He’s committed a murder in their territory, but they’re prepared to let it go as long as he leaves as soon as possible. But Nariatsu doesn’t like being told what to do and simply shoots the lord in the eye, potentially sparking a diplomatic incident. 

The Abe clan try to lodge a complaint in Edo, but are shut down by courtier Mizuno (Kei Sato) who fears that to acknowledge an event such as this would damage the moral authority of the Tokugawa regime. He decides to cover the whole thing up by claiming it was the Abe clan who insulted Noriatsu. The Abe clan will then be dissolved, and Oshi essentially gets nationalised. All of which suits Nariatsu just fine because he wants to take control of Oshi and expand his territory anyway. Part of his petulance seems to stem from the fact that he feels hard done by with such a small inheritance when his brother became the Shogun and received multiple fiefdoms. The previous Shogun, Tokugawa Ieyoshi, had produced an unusual number of children which became quite a problem in that he had to find lands for them all and eventually hastened the demise of the shogunate because of the additional strain. 

But Nariatsu is also an overgrown child who has no idea how to do anything for himself and no concern for the feelings or fortunes of others. When instructed to do something he doesn’t want to, Nariatsu petulantly stamps his feet and complains, and when his actions are challenged he simply replies that he’ll be telling his father. In fact, he is so infuriating that it’s likely most of his men secretly want him dead too, including his chief adviser Gyobu (Ryutaro Otomo) who was once the General Inspector but is now expected to babysit this absolute buffoon. Even though Nariatsu knows the Abe clan will be trying to kill him, he still sneaks out to the red light district and gets blind drunk with geisha which in itself is conduct unbecoming for a high ranking samurai such as himself. 

As such, he represents almost everything that’s wrong with the feudal order while Mizuno represents the rest. It’s Mizuno that secretly plots against the plotters, manipulating them into giving up their assassination mission by claiming to have switched sides only to backtrack and reveal he’s actually still working for Nariatsu fearing a reputational loss for the Tokugawa. Chief revenger Hayato (Isao Natsuyagi) is also banking on this fear of reputational damage, certain that the Shogunate won’t be able to bear the humiliation of Nariastsu being killed by a ronin so will instead claim that he died from an illness. Vowing to avenge the clan, Hayato righteously gives up his position to become one so that the Abes won’t be linked to the crime and is joined by 10 more similarly annoyed samurai. Six of them are already “dead” having been asked to commit seppuku for recklessly attacking Nariatsu on their own and blowing the whole operation. 

Hayato at least believes this to be a suicide mission. He leaves his loving wife and home and allows people to think he’s run off with Nui (Eiko Okawa), the younger sister of one of their number who died before he could join them. They do this because they think it must be done, and also because if no one stands up to samurai oppression it will never end. Wandering peasant Daijuro (Ko Nishimura) agrees with them. He wants revenge on the samurai for raping his sister after which his father and brother took their own lives. Nariatsu is as good as anyone else and he does very much need to die. 

But despite Daijuro’s homemade cannons, nothing quite goes to plan. Kudo sets his final battle in an atmospheric, misty valley that is an obvious stand in for the underworld. Hayato may succeed in killing Nariatsu but it’s a pyrrhic victory. Though he vowed “to put an end to this ridiculous world,” a samurai cannot really win this battle. It’s Daijuro who eventually walks off with Nariatsu’s head, symbolically decapitating the shogunate which the closing titles confirm was mortally wounded by this incident. With his striking black and white cinematography, Kudo does indeed paint this samurai world as a hellish place ruled over by an infinitely corrupt and self-interested authority. The nihilistic futility of it all is emphasised by the figure of a grown man sitting like a small child and splashing his sword in a puddle while surrounded by dead bodies. There might be a way out of this, but not for the samurai, only for those who will come after and perhaps finally be free of this world’s absurdity.


Blue Ribbon Awards Announces Winners for 67th Edition

The Blue Ribbon Awards, presented by film critics and writers in Tokyo, has announced the winners for the 67th edition which honours films released in 2024. Unexpected indie hit A Samurai in Time picked up both Best Film and Best Actor while Yu Irie’s A Girl Named Ann took Director and Actress.

Best Film 

Best Director

Best Actor

  • Tsuyoshi Kusanagi (Bushido)
  • Taiga Nakano (11 Rebels)
  • Makiya Yamaguchi (A Samurai in Time)
  • Kento Yamazaki (Kingdom 4: Return of the Great General, Golden Kamuy, The Yin Yang Master Zero)
  • Ryusei Yokohama (Faceless, MIRRORLIAR FILMS Season5)

Best Actress

  • Satomi Ishihara (Missing)
  • Yuumi Kawai (A Girl Named Ann, Desert of Namibia)
  • Hana Sugisaki (52-Hertz Whales, Sakura)
  • Masami Nagasawa (All About Suomi)
  • Hikari Mitsushima (Last Mile)

Best Supporting Actor

  • Sosuke Ikematsu (My Sunshine, Baby Assassins: Nice Days)
  • Takao Osawa (Kingdom 4: Return of the Great General)
  • Eiji Okuda (Stay Mum)
  • Jiro Sato (A Girl Named Ann, Arata Natsume’s Marriage, Saint☆Oniisan THE MOVIE ~Holy Men VS Akuma Gundan)
  • Ken Yasuda (Sakura, The War of Announcers)

Best Supporting Actress

  • Akiko Oshidari (Living in Two Worlds)
  • Maki Carrousel (Voice)
  • Kyoko Koizumi (Silence of the Sea, Bushido, i ai, Belonging, Muroi Shinji: Ikitsuzukeru Mono)
  • Yuri Nakamura (Amalock, Samurai Detective Onihei: Blood For Blood)
  • Ayaka Miyoshi (Sensei’s Pious Lie, The Real You)
  • Anna Yamada (Golden Kamuy, Faceless)
  • Riho Yoshioka (Faceless, Maru, At the Bench)

Best Newcomer

  • Keitatsu Koshiyama (My Sunshine, Arata Natsume’s Marriage)
  • Jun Saito (Let’s Go Karaoke!, Confetti, Teasing Master Takagi-san Movie, Muroi Shinji: Yaburezaru Mono, Muroi Shinji: Ikitsuzukeru Mono)
  • Akira Nakanishi (My Sunshine)
  • Jinsei Hamura (Golden Boy)
  • Ikoi Hayase (Worlds Apart, Sana: Let Me Hear)

Best Foreign Film

  • Poor Things
  • Inside Out 2
  • Oppenheimer
  • The Colour Purple
  • The Zone of Interest
  • Civil War
  • Dune: Part Two
  • Beau Is Afraid
  • YOLO
  • Mufasa: The Lion King
  • Anatomy of a Fall

Source: Sponichi

Japan Academy Film Prize Announces Nominees for 48th Edition

The Japan Academy Film Prize, Japan’s equivalent of the Oscars awarded by the Nippon Academy-Sho Association of industry professionals, has announced the candidate list for its 48th edition which honours films released Jan. 1 – Dec. 31, 2024 that played in a Tokyo cinema at least three times a day for more than two weeks. This year’s frontrunner is Michihito’s Fujii’s Netflix movie Faceless which is nominated for 13 awards in 12 categories while the fourth instalment in the Kingdom franchise and Ayuko Tsukahara’s Last Mile follow closely behind with nominations in 10 categories. The awards ceremony will take place at Grand Prince Hotel Shin Takanawa on 14th March.

Picture of the Year

Animation of the Year

Director of the Year

Screenplay of the Year

  • Yu Irie (A Girl Named Ann)
  • Satomi Oshima (90 Years Old – So What?)
  • Kazuhisa Kodera & Michihito Fujii (Faceless)
  • Akiko Nogi (Let’s Go Karaoke!)
  • Akiko Nogi (Last Mile)
  • Junichi Yasuda (A Samurai in Time)

Outstanding Performance by an Actor in a Leading Role

Outstanding Performance by an Actress in a Leading Role

  • Satomi Ishihara (Missing)
  • Mone Kamishiraishi (All the Long Nights)
  • Yuumi Kawai (A Girl Named Ann)
  • Mitsuko Kusabue (90 Years Old – So What?)
  • Hikari Mitsushima (Last Mile)

Outstanding Performance by an Actor in a Supporting Role

  • Seiyo Uchino (Hakkenden)
  • Takao Osawa (Kingdom 4: Return of the Great General)
  • Masaki Okada (Last Mile)
  • Jiro Sato (A Girl Named Ann)
  • Takayuki Yamada (Faceless)

Outstanding Performance by an Actress in a Supporting Role

  • Mana Ashida (Cells at Work!)
  • Kaya Kiyohara (Bushido)
  • Tao Tsuchiya (Hakkenden)
  • Anna Yamada (Faceless)
  • Riho Yoshioka (Faceless)

Outstanding Achievement in Cinematography

  • Tomoyuki Kawakami (Faceless)
  • Akira Sako (Kingdom 4: Return of the Great General)
  • Takeshi Seki (Last Mile)
  • Daisuke Soma (Golden Kamuy)
  • Junichi Yasuda (A Samurai in Time)

Outstanding Achievement in Lighting Direction

  • Koshiro Ueno (Faceless)
  • Hiroyuki Kase (Kingdom 4: Return of the Great General)
  • Kazuyuki Kawasato (Last Mile)
  • Kota Sato (Golden Kamuy)
  • Kinya Doi, Hiroshi Hano, Junichi Yasuda (A Samurai in Time)

Outstanding Achievement in Music

  • Takashi Ohmama (Faceless)
  • Hiroko Sebu (Let’s Go Karaoke!)
  • Masahiro Tokuda (Last Mile)
  • Yutaka Yamada (Kingdom 4: Return of the Great General)
  • Face 2 fAKE (Cells at Work!)

Outstanding Achievement in Art Direction

  • Toshihiro Isomi & Emiko Tsuyuki (Golden Kamuy)
  • Masazumi Okihara (11 Rebels)
  • Hidetaka Ozawa (Kingdom 4: Return of the Great General)
  • Shintaro Matsumoto (Faceless)
  • Masumi Miura (Cells at Work!)

Outstanding Achievement in Sound Recording

  • Tomohara Urata (11 Rebels)
  • Takashi Kanasugi (Cells at Work)
  • Hiroyuki Saijo (Last Mile)
  • Kazushiko Yokono (Kingdom 4: Return of the Great General)
  • Toru Yonezawa (recording) / Yosuke Hamada (post-production) (Faceless)

Outstanding Achievement in Film Editing

  • Hiroaki Itabe (Last Mile)
  • Tsuyoshi Imai (Kingdom 4: Return of the Great General)
  • Tatsuma Furukawa (Faceless)
  • Hiroshi Matsuo (Cells at Work)
  • Junichi Yasuda (A Samurai in Time)

Outstanding Foreign Language Film

  • Poor Things
  • Oppenheimer
  • The Zone of Interest
  • Civil War
  • Laapataa Ladies

Newcomer of the Year 

  • Asuka Saito (Oshi No Ko – The Final Act)
  • Nagisa Shibuya (Sana: Let Me Hear)
  • Anna Yamada (Golden Kamuy, Faceless)
  • Eiji Akaso (6 Lying University Students, What If Shogun Ieyasu Tokugawa Was to Become the Prime Minister)
  • Rihito Itagaki (Hakkenden, Cells at Work!, The Ying Yang Master 0)
  • Keitatsu Koshiyama (My Sunshine)
  • Jun Saito (Let’s Go Karaoke!)
  • Shintaro Morimoto (Faceless)

Special Award from the Association

  • Hiroshi Ichimaru (set decoration & props)
  • Tsutomu Kawahigashi (Dolby Sound consultant)
  • Tatsuo Momose (painting & ageing)
  • Kensei Mori (line producer)

Award for Distinguished Service from the Chairman

  • So Kuramoto (screenwriter)
  • Daisaku Kimura (director & cinematographer)
  • Kotaro Satomi (actor)
  • Misako Watanabe (actress)

Special Award from the Chairman

  • Noriko Ohara (voice actress)
  • Nobuyo Oyama (voice actress)

Special Award of Honour from the Association

  • Toshiyuki Nishida

Sources: Japan Academy Film Prize official websiteEiga Natalie

Alone No More (得寵先生, Daniel Ho & Thomas Lee Chi-wai, 2024)

A little dog literally and more figuratively saves the life of a grumpy old man in Daniel Ho & Thomas Lee Chi-wai’s warmhearted drama Alone No More (得寵先生). Touching on themes of old age loneliness, familial estrangement, animal cruelty, and life’s stray dogs, the film makes the case that all lives are important, both human and canine, and that we should try to forgive each other in the same way that dogs seem to continually forgive us.

In any case, it’s difficult to see why stray dog Roast Piggy chooses the grumpy Kai (Lawrence Cheng Tan-shui) to be her owner despite his animosity towards her. Kai is hostile to pretty much everyone and appears to have a strained relationship with his remaining family members from the resentful brother who became his boss at work to the daughter Zoie (Fish Liew) who rarely returns his calls. Having recently retired, it seems that Kai has not much else left to live for which might be why he makes the decision to end his life and leave his retirement fund for Zoie and her daughter. Luckily, Roast Piggy arrives just in time to save Kai and alert Una (Amy Lo) who runs a dog sanctuary and had been trying to catch her.

Though Kai tries to chase Roast Piggy away, she always comes back to him and he eventually comes to accept her but only after getting a lesson in what the consequences of calling animal control can actually be. The film doesn’t go into why Hong Kong seems to have such a large problem with stray dogs but the man at the pound says they euthanise thousands a year many of which are microchipped but have owners who either can’t be contacted or simply refuse to take the dog back. It turns out the Roast Piggy was abandoned by her former owner because a fortune teller told him she was bad luck and it does seem like other of the dogs were similarly released into the wild either because their owners no longer wanted them or because they could not afford to pay for their medical treatment. Una had wanted to adopt Roast Piggy herself if Kai wouldn’t take her, but is cautioned by her boyfriend Chan (Jay Fung Wan-him) that it could get expensive if the problem turns out to be that Roast Piggy had heart worms. Though Roast Piggy seems friendly and used to people, it is clear some of the other stray dogs have unfortunately been mistreated and require further rehabilitation before they can be put up for adoption with a regular family. 

The same might be said of Kai who does begin to mellow after taking in Roast Piggy and getting a new lease of life helping out at the dog sanctuary. Nevertheless, his relationship with his daughter who is married to a Canadian man having moved there with her mother as a child is a little harder to repair. Though Una encourages him to make amends, she also has a strained relationship with her mother she is otherwise unwilling to work on though there is no real reason why she should. This sense of disconnection feeds back into her relationship with boyfriend Chan who, conversely, is under his father’s thumb and as always does exactly as he’s told. It’s Chan’s money that’s bankrolled the sanctuary which adds an additional layer of complication, though he is perhaps being slightly unreasonable when he’s hurt that Una doesn’t agree to suddenly drop everything and move to Edinburgh with him because she wants to stay in Hong Kong to save stray dogs. 

In a way, Kai and Una are the ones left behind, he by his age and loneliness and she by her regret and isolation. It’s clear that Una has replaced relationships with people with those with dogs whom she finds it easier to talk to. A subplot about a horrible person who’s been putting down poisoned meat because they don’t like the dogs being around hints at the callousness and cruelty that led to them becoming strays in the first place but also to the prejudices that see those like Kai and Una excluded from mainstream society even if Kai was indeed a very difficult person to be around before meeting Roast Piggy. Nevertheless they too find sanctuary at the Warm Heart dogs home along with purpose and compassion in caring for these kindhearted animals who have so much love and forgiveness even towards those that tried to cast them out.


UK trailer (English subtitles)

Labyrinth Romanesque (花園の迷宮, Shunya Ito, 1988)

“Poor things, born in the wrong time,” a woman laments of two girls perhaps not that much younger than herself yet as trapped by the age of militarism as anyone else. Adapted from a short story by Edogawa Rampo, Shunya Ito’s gothic mystery Labyrinth Romanesque (花園の迷宮, Hanazono no Meikyu) effectively skewers militarism’s hypocrisies and lays bare the dehumanising effects its nihilistic philosophy has wrought on the nation as a whole. When killing is almost an imperative, life has little value and brutality seemingly the only acceptable response to mass violence.

Ito conjures a sense of haunting by adding a modern day framing sequence in which the abandoned hotel is an eerie space of cobweb-ridden collapse. A wrecking ball arcs back and fore, threatening to unearth a truth long buried and this is after all a mystery, at least in part. With extraordinary finesse, the camera travels from the ruins into the hotel of old as a woman enters the frame. We are now in 1942. This is Yokohama, a harbour town, and so the “hotel” is filled with military personnel though transgressively it also seems trapped in a kind of before time. The sailors dance to American standards such as Georgia on my Mind and Goodnight Sweetheart though otherwise at war with America. All eyes are on sex worker Yuri (Hitomi Kuroki) and her dashing Zero Fighter pilot boyfriend, Takemiya (Tatsuo Nadaka).

But later we learn that Takemiya hated planes and was scared of heights to the point that it kept him up at night. Apparently from a military family, he felt unable to avoid going on with this militaristic charade and saw no future for himself other than glorious death. Everyone at the Fukuju Hotel is in their way already dead and chief among them the madam, Tae (Yoko Shimada), who becomes the prime suspect when her unpleasant husband Ichitaro (Akira Nakao) is murdered during the night. Her nemesis is however. Ichitaro’s sister, Kiku (Kyoko Enami), who has just been deported from the US where she had been living after selling herself into sexual slavery in order to financially support Ichitaro after their parents died. 

Kiku had been Tae’s madam, bringing her over from Japan at 17 and as she will do again, actively sitting on her face when she screamed and fought after being assigned her first customer. This brutalisation seems have driven Tae towards a desire for escape, but that was only available to her by marrying Ichiro who then betrayed his own sister to open another brothel that he ran with Tae before leaving the US and setting up in Yokohama in light of the declining relationship between America and Japan. Though she herself was brutalised, Tae can only earn her freedom by exploiting other women. At the beginning of the film two young girls, Mitsu (Mami Nomura), 18, and Fumi (Yuki Kudo), 17, arrive from the country excited for their new lives but without fully understanding what they’ve signed up to. Like Tae, Omitsu fights back when chosen by a sleazy, nouveau riche factory owner who made his money making planes for the navy, and while Tae tries to talk her down Kiku simply sits on her face and tells the man to do his business. Afterwards, Mitsu tries to kill herself and her friendship with Fumi is strained by her internalised sense of shame. Determined to save enough money to redeem Fumi’s contract before the same thing happens to her, she throws herself into sex work and begins to lose Fumi’s respect. 

It’s the two girls who see this place as haunted most clearly, firstly in catching sight of Tae wandering the corridors in her nighty on the night of her husband’s murder, and then by Fumi’s belief she has seen the pale ghost of a geisha only to realise it was just a wig on a shelf. Mitsu says it belonged to a woman who contracted syphilis, went mad, and then died, a fate she now fears may also befall her. Like many of the other women, the girls have been sold into sexual slavery by their parents most likely because their families are poor and they can’t feed their other children. This kind of rural poverty is of course exacerbated by the financial demands of imperial expansion while the dehumanising elements of militarism, the belief that everything must be devoted to the war effort, allow this heinous relic of the feudal past to continue. Sons after all belong to the emperor and will become brave soldiers fighting for their nation, while daughters have no intrinsic value other than as wives or sex workers to be advantageously traded or sold on.

It’s this that Fumi comes to realise and resent. She insists that she will never return to her home or parents because at the end of the day, they sold her. Yet she feels little sympathy on learning that one of the other women is a notorious criminal who murdered her foster parents because they too took girls in to sell them on. The hotel somehow becomes the nexus of all this pain and violence, a place the women can never escape. Ito does his best to make clear that this is hell by travelling through the air ducts, on towards the eerie glow of the furnace and the dank passages running under the hotel and out into the sea. The boiler room connects all other areas of the hotel and exposes all their secrets in the sound that travels through the ducts. But some secrets are designed to remain forever hidden until the wrecking balls of the contemporary era force them into the light and confront us with this buried history. Until then, the hotel exists in a ghostly state, Ito flooding it with hazy images and visitations that read as eternal apparitions of this place’s inescapable despair trapping all within its labyrinth of unresolved longing.


Trailer (no subtitles)

The Greatest Challenge of All (喜劇 一発勝負, Yoji Yamada, 1967)

A prodigal son rocks the social order in Yoji Yamada’s anarchic nonsense comedy, The Greatest Challenge of All (喜劇 一発勝負, Kigeki: Ippatsu Shobu). The greatest challenge may be trying to manage Kokichi (Hajime Hana), a roguish Del Boy-like figure with an impossible dream of striking it rich. While in some senses he anticipates the equally  anarchic yet basically goodhearted Tora-san, he also represents a modernising and aspirant Japan determined to leave behind dusty old tradition for a new “deluxe” future.

Having taken to the road after being disowned by his conservative father (Daisuke Kato), Kokichi returns 15 years  later a middle-aged man with seemingly nothing to show for his many years of wandering. He has no idea that he has a daughter, Mariko, by a local woman that his parents took in and raised as if she were theirs which was not an especially uncommon solution to the problem of illegitimate birth in the post-war era. Nor did he know his mother had passed away before walking in on her annual memorial service. This sense of parental disconnection one level reflects a lack of filiality that marks him out as a “modern” man uninterested in these familial obligations or a sense of duty towards his family, but it’s also true that it’s to family that he’s returned having mellowed in middle-aged and in a way looking to settle down.

In any case, his life seems to have been a series of crazy episodes from briefly becoming a sumo wrestler to meeting a mysterious woman on a bridge who gets him a job as a snake charmer. When two yakuza types kick up a fuss about not being able to have their usual room at the inn during his mother’s memorial service, Kokichi manages to frighten them off just with bluster, hinting at the way he may have lived for the last 15 years. He also has two friends who turn up to see him, one of whom is a former yakuza who refers to Kokichi as if were his boss and they were a little trio of crime-adjacent buddies.

But it does appear that Kokichi has come with a business plan in mind, convinced that he can find the source of a hot spring in the town and build a resort hotel on top of it. To do this, he tries to convince his father to sell him his land and the inn the family run so he can knock it down and build a “deluxe” modern, Western-style hotel in its place. Kokichi’s father obviously isn’t keen. This inn has been in the family for generations, he really wouldn’t want to ruin that and especially not for one of Kokichi’s harebrained schemes. Yet again this brings us back to the battle between the conservatism of Koikichi’s father, and Kokichi’s own consumerist modernism that is more individualistic and no longer sees beauty in the past, only backwardness and stagnation. When he finally does find his hot spring, he builds a vast modernist complex with a botanical water park housed in a giant Hawaiian-themed conservatory complete with dancing hula girls. 

His corrupting presence is most discernible in the changing role of Fumi (Tanie Kitabayashi), the family’s housekeeper who generally dressed in kimono but on moving to Kokichi’s mansion she begins wearing Western dress. Fumi had at one time left the family because Kokichi had unwittingly forced her to betray it in helping him get his hands on a precious family heirloom to pawn as capital for his new business venture. Having done so brings her to a confrontation with the contradictions of her role within the family, both a surrogate mother to Kokichi and also a servant who is expected to abide by a certain code with not stealing from your employers a key tenet. She feels she can no longer look Kokichi’s father in the eye and must now return to her home in the country even though she has likely not seen it since she was a young woman. Having undergone this change, she can no longer return to the inn but is brought back to Kokichi’s modernist home once he strikes it rich. 

But Kokichi too is later confronted by hypocrisies of his own position as a free-spirited man and finally a father on learning the truth about Mariko. Hanging out at the hot spring, the 16-year-old Mariko has attracted the attentions of a couple of fashionable young men and wants to leave with them to visit Tokyo. Despite the intrusion of the modern in the hot springs resort, Mariko doesn’t want to stay in this “deadbeat” town and longs for the bright lights of the big city. Kokichi’s father understandably says no, but Kokichi is originally all for it, perhaps seeing his own desire to be free of his father’s oppressive authority. However, he soon changes his tune on assuming his paternity. He too tells Mariko she can’t go and strikes her for talking back. But just as he had, she leaves anyway. His modernity is no longer modern enough, and the young will always walk towards the future.

One exception might be Kokichi’s painter sister Nobuko (Chieko Baisho) who appears to be happy enough living at the inn and with seemingly no intention of marrying which might be her own kind of rebellion against traditional mores. While other similarly themed films may have emphasised the importance of hard work and the reality of the salaryman dream, this one suggests that it really is possible to bumble along and then strike it lucky but also that you never really travel as far from home as you might think. The desire for patriarchal control rises in Kokichi, but is now ineffectual. Though he didn’t raise her, Mariko is a child of the world he’s created and simply chooses to leave with a final sock in the eye to traditional filiality. 


Trailer (no subtitles)

Nang Nak (นางนาก, Nonzee Nimibutr, 1999)

Mae Nak Phra Khanong is one of Thailand’s best known and most enduring ghost stories, though Nonzee Nimibutr’s 1999 adaptation Nang Nak (นางนาก) scales back a little on the inherent terror of the folktale, preferring to focus on the romantic tragedy of a loving couple separated by death. You could then read it as a tale of grief, that the husband returning from war cannot accept his wife is dead, rather than the reverse that the wife’s love and devotion is so strong that it overcomes death itself and becomes something that is in that way terrifying.

It does seem, however, that in this instance the ghost is real and it is vengeful. The wronged wife Nak (Inthira Charoenpura) takes revenge on those who betrayed her from the midwife who stole her wedding ring to a local man who tried to tell her husband, Mak (Winai Kraibutr), that his wife was actually dead. Though the framing of the tale may seem in its way uncomfortably sexist despite its romantic overtones, it’s clear that Nak suffered largely because of the male failure around her. Her husband was conscripted for a war which was really nothing to do with him leaving her, pregnant, to manage their farm alone. The implied cause of the miscarriage which leads to her death in childbirth is overwork and she appears to have received no help from the other villagers with many men apparently remaining in the village. When questioned by Mak, she tells him that the other villagers shunned her and called her an adulteress, disputing the parentage of her child with her husband already away at the war. 

But the film does not particularly blame war for Nak’s fate, seemingly accepting it as a necessary duty Mak had to further the cause of his nation which is placed above that he owes to his wife and unborn child. In fact, the ghost issue is later solved only by the intervention of a powerful Buddhist monk, Somdet, which implies that this supranational structure is necessary for maintaining order and that the village is otherwise unable to govern itself. Likewise, it paints Buddhism as a modern religion and essential means of national unity that is inherently superior to the backward superstitions of the villagers who decide to call in a shaman against the advice of the local monk. The shaman turns out to be next to useless and in fact makes things worse until Somdet can arrive and is able to talk peacefully to Nak and convince her that she needs to accept her death and move on to the next cycle of life.

It’s also Somdet who heals Mak of his otherwise fatal war wound and the intercutting of his fight for life with Nak’s during the violence of childbirth suggests that her life is somehow sacrificed for his further emphasising the depth and devotion of her love for him. When his health is recovered, Somdet recommends that Mak become a monk in order to clear out his bad karma but Mak declines explaining that he has a duty to his wife and child in his village and so must return to them. In this way, they become a kind of barrier to his spiritual destiny and emblematic of the attachments he should learn to cast off in order to avoid suffering. Like Nak, Mak’s own devotion extends beyond the grave for he does indeed become a monk and never remarries, keeping the promise to be reincarnated as Nak’s husband in a subsequent life.

The local priest had told Nak that scaring monks is a sin, which is odd in a way that it’s somehow worse to scare these spiritually powerful beings than the ordinary villagers. Nevertheless Nonzee Nimibutr gives her the somewhat familiar attributes of a Thai ghost, allowing her to hang from the ceiling with her hair flowing down while she stares at the monks with bloodshot eyes and a pale face. She is able to enchant Mak so that he does not notice the dilapidation of their home or that all their food is rotten even if he later becomes suspicious of the large number of rats around. Primarily she seems to use natural creatures to enact her revenge with the midwife’s corpse torn apart by lizards, though Mak too has terrifying nightmares of his friend dying in his arms and then melting away with quite sickening effects. Even so, it seems Nonzee Nimibutr is keener to emphasise the romantic tragedy and primacy of Buddhist thought rather than ghostly horror while making it clear that death, along with grief and loss, is something that must be accepted so the spiritual order may be maintained and with it order in the mortal realm.


Trailer (no dialogue)

Four Hours of Terror (高度7000米 恐怖の四時間, Tsuneo Kobayashi, 1959)

It seems quite strange now to think of a time when air travel was both new and exciting and as easy as catching a bus. It’s this juxtaposition that Tsuneo Kobayashi’s hijacking thriller Four Hours of Terror (高度7000米 恐怖の四時間, Kodo Nanasen Metoru: Kyofu no Yojikan) plays with as an armed fugitive takes a passenger plane hostage in an attempt to escape after committing a murder while those on board struggle to accommodate themselves to this new form of transportation. 

This sense of exoticisation is obvious from the opening voiceover which sings the praises of Haneda airport as the gateway to a newly internationalised Japan though in actuality the flight in question is a domestic service travelling from Tokyo to Sapporo. The voiceover also introduces us to each of the passengers which come from differing strata of society and even includes a middle-aged American couple. There are in fact three generations of couples on board who seem to represent different stages of life from the newly wed students so wrapped up marital bliss that they barely notice anything else, to a long-married reporter and his wife on their first holiday together since their honeymoon, and an elderly couple returning from a trip to the capital who are mystified by this new age of mass media and air travel. The newlyweds apparently won this free trip on an aeroplane after agreeing to have their wedding broadcast on television in an early example of reality TV, reinforcing the sense of irony that they weren’t necessarily supposed to be on this doomed flight after all. 

Neither was car saleswoman Kazuko (Hitomi Nakahara) who has apparently been pulled away to Sapporo by a short notice business opportunity. She gets a standby ticket, as does her boyfriend/rival Fujio (Tatsuo Umemiya) who is also on track to the same opportunity. Weirdly, Kazuko is not overly sympathetic having randomly kicked a basket containing a little dog about to be smuggled on the plane by its doting owner, but does perhaps represent something of a more independent post-war womanhood even as she effortlessly deflects unwanted attentions from a client she may also have been exploiting in order to obtain his business. Having boarded the plane, she ends up sitting next to another man who requested a standby ticket and was using a surname that was the same as hers but evidently turns out to have been assumed. So lax is the security, you don’t necessarily have to travel under your legal name. In any case, she briefly flirts with him as an overture to a business relationship and also to annoy Fujio before overhearing a news report about the escaped fugitive on her portable radio.

Kida (Fumitake Omura), the fugitive, is dressed like a stereotypical yakuza which makes it odd that no one treats him with suspicion until they spot he’s carrying a gun which he had no trouble at all bringing on board. Though hijackings are not exactly unheard of, they aren’t particularly common either so no one would really suppose anyone had any reason to take a domestic flight to the provinces hostage, and really that was never Kida’s intention merely a last resort after being discovered. Later he gives a partial justification for his life of crime in that his mother beat him and then threw him off a cliff which is why he has a false leg. In any case, there’s a small moment of potential redemption towards the end when the kindly old lady tells him he can’t undo what he’s done, but could still resolve to change assuming they all survive this difficult situation with the plane which now has mechanical problems thanks to the gun going off. 

Even so, it’s the passengers who tie Kida up after the pilot ,Yamamoto (Ken Takakura), manages to disarm him by weaponising the plane. By flying to a high altitude, they knock him out with the air pressure, but are then faced with the mechanical failure of the landing gear which seems to be linked to with Yamamoto’s wartime trauma. A secondary drama revolves around his stoical character with one of the stewardesses apparently in love with him while simultaneously wary of his iciness given that he apparently showed no emotion after receiving the news his wife had passed away but simply flew the plane home as normal. Some see this as his devotion to the aircraft which is in a way a commitment to his duty over his human feelings, the factor that perhaps allows him to save the plane and get the passengers home safely. He is however saved by his love for his late wife with the cigarette case that contains her photo saving him from the worst effects of a bullet. 

The same may go for the co-pilot Hara (Kenji Imai) who is dragging his feet over his marriage to Yamamoto’s sister because he wants to achieve 3000 flight hours before getting married so he can call himself a real pilot. Though the film plants the seeds of these random plot threads and the social commentary that goes with them, it does not particularly engage while the hijacking itself remains fairly low key given that Kida is not a particularly “bad” bad guy. He just wants to go to a random place where the police won’t be waiting for him, but otherwise refrains from harassing the passengers save threatening a little boy travelling on his own to return to his parents after visiting his grandfather in Tokyo. In essence, there’s a kind of innocence and naivety in play which speaks to something of post-war hopefulness and a wonder in the frantic pace of progress in which the day is saved by keeping calm and carrying on even in the face of severe adversity.


Trailer (no subtitles)

The Colors Within (きみの色, Naoko Yamada, 2024)

“If I could see my own colour, what kind of colour would it be?” the heroine of Naoko Yamada’s The Colors Within (きみの色, Kimi no Iro) asks herself. Yet there’s a curious pun in the film’s Japanese title in that the word “kimi” simply means “you” but it’s also the name of another girl by whom Totsuko (Sayu Suzukawa) is captivated though she doesn’t quite have the ability to articulate her feelings beyond the fact she feels “all sparkly inside”. 

In any case, Totsuko has the ability to see people as colours but largely keeps it to herself in fear that people will think she’s “weird”. Totsuko does indeed appear to be slightly otherworldly, though no one really seems to reject her for her ethereality save perhaps one classmate who describes her as that girl who sits in the chapel on her own all the time. What she’s mostly doing in there is reciting the serenity prayer to find “peace of mind,” and talking to the cool nun at her Catholic boarding school, Sister Hiyoko (Yui Aragaki), who tries probe gently into whatever it is that’s bothering Totsuko but equally avoiding pressuring her reveal anything before she’s ready. Then again, Totsuko may not quite know what it is that’s making her feel uneasy even if she remains upbeat and cheerful with a childlike sense of fun and innocence.

This quality of joyfulness is directly contrasted with the intense melancholy of Kimi (Akari Takaishi) with whom Totsuko becomes fascinated after catching sight of her “beautiful” and “clear” colours. When Kimi disappears from the school it’s rumoured she talked back to a teacher or that they found out she had a boyfriend, but it seems a Catholic education just isn’t a good fit for Kimi so she decided to drop out. Like Totsuko, Kimi has a secret but hers is that she can’t bring herself to tell her grandmother, who attended the same school and is over the moon about her going there, that it isn’t working out for her. What with it being a Catholic school, there’s also the implication that Kimi and also Totsuko may be struggling to define themselves within a repressive environment and reconcile their differences in the intense fear of not only being rejected by their community but damned to hell. 

After Totsuko checks every bookshop in town because someone said they saw Kimi working in one, she accidentally starts a band with her and a boy who just happened to wander in, Rui (Taisei Kido). Rui also has a secret which is his love of music which he fears conflicts with his responsibility of taking over the family medical practice. He isn’t exactly sure he wants this future that’s been forced on him and prevents him from following his dreams. In fact, none of the teens really wants the kind of life their parents wanted for them but they aren’t yet certain of the kinds of lives they do want or really who they are which is why Totsuko is still unable to see her own colour despite clearly discerning everyone else’s.

Through making music together, they discover new ways of expressing themselves and with it growing self-acceptance that allows them to be honest with themselves and others about who they are and what they want. Music in itself becomes an act of holy communion with the universe, a pure communication of one soul to another much like Totsuko’s synaesthetic ability to see people as colours. Even Sister Hiyoko insists that any song that is about goodness, beauty, truth or indeed suffering is itself a hymn and in the end Totsuko’s song is about all those things. Her joy, Kimi’s sadness, and Rui’s confusion coming together in a harmonised symphony as a consequence of “sharing secrets and feelings of love”. This sense of delicacy extends to the animation itself which has a watery, ethereal quality. Produced by Science Saru, this is the first of Yamada’s films not based on existing material and is underpinned by a tremendous empathy for its anxious adolescents as well as their uncertain adults along with a true sense of wonder for a world of colour and light hidden from most but visible to the ever cheerful Totsuko content to dance through life for the pure joy of it even if as she says she wasn’t very good.


The Colors Within screened as part of this year’s BFI London Film Festival and is released in UK cinemas on 31st January courtesy of All the Anime.

Trailer (Japanese with English subtitles)

Images: © 2024 “THE COLORS WITHIN” FILM PARTNERS