Over the Town (街の上で, Rikiya Imaizumi, 2019)

Frustrated youngsters chase an unrealisable dream of idealised romance in Rikiya Imaizumi’s ode to Shimokitazawa, Over the Town (街の上で, Machi no Uede). For the moment at least known as the bohemian, avant-garde artists quarter of the contemporary capital beloved for its slightly retro quality replete as it is with narrow lanes and period buildings, Shimokitazawa is also a place of constant change but as the hero later points out even if “parts change and disappear that doesn’t mean they never existed”. Nevertheless, he seems to be marked by a particular anxiety, as do many of his age struggling to make meaningful connections in an ever shifting world. 

Ao’s (Ryuya Wakaba) world begins to crumble when he’s unexpectedly dumped by his beloved girlfriend, Yuki (Moeka Hoshi), on her birthday. Unceremoniously telling him that she’s met someone else, Yuki rationalises that breaking up is the only option but Ao tries to resist only for her to tell him that he can go on deluding himself that he still has a girlfriend but from now on she’ll be hanging out with someone new. From then on, Ao seems to be surrounded by frustrated couples and worryingly outdated ideas of romantic politics such as those of the students who drop into the vintage clothing shop where he works. Ao assumes they’re a couple, but a row slowly brews as the girl, Asako, declares herself bored with helping the guy, Shigeru, try on clothes that turn out to be for the purpose of impressing a different girl altogether despite knowing that Asako fancies him. Eventually Shigeru makes a highly inappropriate suggestion, almost akin to a bet, that if the woman he has a crush on rejects him he’ll deign to dating her even though Asako is “a distant second” in his heart. The shocking thing is that Asako agrees, a slightly mournful look in her eyes as she finally reaffirms that she really hopes it works out with the other girl. 

Throughout the exchange during which Ao looks on as an awkward bystander, it becomes increasingly difficult to see what’s so great about Shigeru. Meanwhile, not even Ao comes off particularly well, struggling to deal with his breakup and refusing to accept Yuki has moved on. So hung up on her is he that she eventually ends up contacting the barman at his favourite haunt to ask him to have a word, explaining that it’s inappropriate to go on texting your ex even if she doesn’t reply. Meanwhile, he finds himself at the centre of romantic missed connection, captivated by a sad woman at a concert who gives him a menthol cigarette he keeps in his ashtray as a kind of talisman for the rest of the picture. Infinitely awkward, he talks himself out a potential date with the cute girl at his favourite used bookstore (Kotone Furukawa) by asking an inappropriate question, later doing something similar to a woman (Seina Nakata) with whom he makes a more platonic connection as they each reflect that for some strange reason it’s much easier to open up to someone you have no romantic interest in. 

Perhaps that’s why a melancholy policeman keeps stopping random people in the street to ask their advice on his peculiar romantic dilemma in having inconveniently fallen in love with his “niece” (by marriage and the same age as he is, so maybe it’s “OK”, he’d like to think). Shimokitazawa, which Ao rarely leaves, is indeed a small world, the various strands of his romantic entanglements strangely connected from a young woman’s unrequited longing for her sumo wrestler childhood sweetheart to a TV actor’s (Ryo Narita) troubled love life and a young film director’s (Minori Hagiwara) attempt to deflect her own sense of romantic disaffection. Just as Yuki used another man as an excuse to break up with Ao, Ao finds himself recruited as a fake boyfriend to help a young woman shake off a controlling ex whose refusal to accept the relationship is over in the absence of another man skews even darker than his own signalling perhaps like that first vintage shop exchange the dangerously outdated sexual politics which continue to underpin modern dating. Perhaps boring love is the real kind of fun, comfortable and balanced marked by true connection and mutual vulnerability rather than a giddy anxiety. A stubborn holdout where everything’s secondhand in a continual circulatory process of exchange and return, Shimokitazawa is the kind of place where love finds you even if it takes a while to wander on its way. A charming ode to this timeless yet ever-changing district, Imaizumi’s quirky dramedy keeps the neurosis of young love on the horizon but suggests that romance, like a well baked cake, keeps much better than you’d think when cooled.


Over the Town screened as part of the 2021 Osaka Asian Film Festival.

Original trailer (no subtitles)

The Day of Destruction (破壊の日, Toshiaki Toyoda, 2020)

“I want to create a movie that exorcises Tokyo of its possession by the spectre of capitalism.” so goes the introduction* given by director Toshiaki Toyoda to the crowdfunding project for his latest mid-length movie, The Day of Destruction (破壊の日, Hakai no Hi). Set to open on July 24, the day which should have marked the opening of the 2020 Olympic Games had it not been for their postponement, The Day of Destruction returns Toyoda to the disillusioned rage of his early career in a painful wail of protest against an infinitely self-interested society in which there is “a price tag on our lives fluttering in the wind”. 

Toyoda opens in black and white with snow falling like ash across the gate of a shuttered mine. City slicker Shinno (Ryuhei Matsuda) has come to see the monster, and he’s brought an envelope of cash for just that purpose, handing it to former miner Teppei (Kiyohiko Shibukawa) now unemployed thanks to the “rumours” of what might be lurking in the darkness. Shinno presses on alone and discovers a pulsating, gelatinous mass at the end of his path but merely laughs, muttering “one hell of a monstrosity has been born, huh?” as he turns around and walks away seemingly unimpressed.  

Shifting into colour and the present day, Toyoda pans past the Diamond Princess cruise ship, controversially quarantined for two weeks in Yokohama Harbour, before taking us straight into the city of Tokyo and the Olympic stadium which he then implodes with the “Genriki” spiritual power later explained onscreen, ending on the face of a mummified monk. Back in the country, at the Mt. Resurrection-Wolf shrine mountain ascetic Kenichi (Mahi To The People) is attempting to mummify himself as a sacrificial offering to stop the “plague” which has been spreading since the monster’s discovery but his efforts are disrupted by an earthquake which sends him into existential torment from inside his coffin while collapsing the mine in which the monster had taken root. 

On his way to rescue Kenichi, Teppei, apparently a former monk himself now working as a mechanic, encounters a crazed salary man ranting that the monster has infected us all. He’s not the only troubled soul Teppei encounters, later passing a woman in the middle of her shopping screaming that we’re all in hell and it’s the monster’s fault, but as head monk and herbalist Jiro (Issei Ogata) points out, nothing can destroy the evil spirit haunting the town because you cannot kill what is intangible. You can’t end the plague by killing the monster, only by curing it because the monster is a part of nature too. Humans possessed by demons are cured by humans who might also in fact be demons themselves. There is only imperfection and co-existence. All you can do is show the way. 

The irony is that Kenichi, eaten up by rage and resentment over the death of his younger sister Natsuko (Itsuki Nagasawa) from the epidemic, thought he could change the world through prayer fiercely believing in the prophesied return of the Maitreya but if there is a Maitreya here it is Natsuko who appears to each of our heroes and eventually reveals the only real cure to her brother in instructing him to heal himself. Only by changing himself can he change the world. With the power of his Genriki, he knocked the demon of apathy out of Teppei but now he must point the finger within towards his own darkness, the rage and impotence that has in its own way made him selfish and left him blind to the true nature of sickness blighting his society. 

That sickness is embodied in the stadium that looms in the background of the hospital rooftop where Kenichi meets his sister, explaining that he sees no point in competition and that the Olympics are nothing more than a “greed-filled field day”. The crazed salaryman bangs on the palace doors begging to be let in, berating the “politicians, landowners, bankers, and monks” for locking themselves away in safety, refusing their responsibility to those like him. Kenichi says he’s going to change the world through prayer, but Natsuko, child of summer, tells him nothing will change, not her or her illness. You can’t change the world by withdrawing from it, mummifying yourself is not the answer in fact it’s the essence of the problem and somewhat symptomatic of Kenichi’s egotistical saviour complex. You have to start with yourself, but in the end we save each other or nothing ever changes. 

As topical as it’s possible to be, The Day of Destruction was shot in only eight days from June 22 to 30 with editing and postproduction on the incredibly rich sonic experience lasting until July 20 with the DCP arriving at cinemas the day before the release date of July 24 which is of course the “Day of Destruction” that should have marked the opening of the 2020 Olympic Games. It makes direct reference to the official wording of the government advice urging “self restraint” in light of the pandemic and situates itself in the “broken days of summer” of a lost year. Yet for all the fatalism and despair it also reminds us that “Everyone on Earth is a central player, we’re all in the same boat called Generation”, calling out for change but pointing an accusatory finger directly at the camera to remind us where the responsibility lies.


The Day of Destruction streamed for one day only as as part of this year’s Japan Cuts.

Original trailer (English subtitles)

*translation by Ben Dimagmaliw of Indievisual

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My translation of director Toyoda Toshiaki's introductory comment for the crowdfunding campaign of his latest. . . . “The Tokyo Olympics will begin on July 24th, 2020. Starting this year, that date will become a national holiday known as Sports Day. This has elicited a large divide between those in favor of it, and those against it. The rift spreads. A collision will occur. I have a feeling something will be destroyed. I'm not saying it will be a violent destruction. It will be a collision of differences–in ways of life; in ways of thinking. It is the era of division and intolerance. I thought, 'it's effectively the Day of Destruction.’ . I've heard movie theater owners say customers won't go to movie theaters during the Tokyo Olympics. Fictional entertainment and such can't beat real-life emotional excitement. There is nothing that can surpass the passion of athletes from around the world being sent out to televisions in homes. A movie that could get them to come watch it at the theater doesn't exist, right? So they say. If that's the case, give this period of time to me. I plead with them that I'd like to try my hand at what can be done in a movie. That would be the very time to really test what movies should show us. I want to create a movie that exorcises Tokyo of its possession by the specter of capitalism. Only those rescued by movies will save movies. That's what I believe. . I have decided to seek crowdfunding for the production costs of 'Day of Destruction' to be released on July 24th. If this were done through the "production committee" system of which big corporations are a part, there would be many opinions regarding casting or the story. I think everyone already knows this absolutely will not be good for the movie. Foregoing that system this time, I have placed my hopes on completing this production through our and your funds.” . . . He sounds like he means to intentionally cause a ruckus. Stay tuned to Indievisual for updates. #破壊の日 #toyodatoshiaki #豊田利晃 #2020tokyoolympics #dayofdestruction #movies #japanesecinema #independentfilm #j_indies #japanesedirector #japanesefilmmaker #filmdirector #crowdfunding #クラウドファンディング #motiongallery

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