Me & My Brother’s Mistress (おろかもの, Sho Suzuki & Takashi Haga, 2019)

Why does everyone always blame “the other woman” and not the cheating boyfriend? That’s a question earnest high schooler Yoko begins to ask herself in Sho Suzuki & Takashi Haga’s Me & My Brother’s Mistress (おろかもの, Orokamono) after spotting a suspicious text on her brother’s phone and then spying on him as he leaves a love hotel with another woman a month before his wedding. But what is it that she finds so troubling, realising her only remaining family member is a two-bit louse, or the fact he’s going to get married and it won’t be just the two of them anymore?

In the last year of high school, Yoko (Nanami Kasamatsu) is filled with anxiety about the future. In fact, she’s the only one who hasn’t returned her careers survey and it seems she also turned the previous one in blank. Her parents passed away nine years previously, and ever since then it’s just been her and her older brother Kenji (Satoshi Iwago), now a permanently exhausted salaryman engaged to the homely Kaho (Hachi Nekome). Yoko doesn’t get on with Kaho, for the bizarre reason that she’s just too nice, but when she figures out that Kenji is having a torrid affair mostly conducted in love hotels on Sunday afternoons, she is quite rightly outraged that her brother could be so duplicitous. Rather than confront him, she decides to have a word with the “mistress”, following her around all day but conflicted on spotting her doing such unexpectedly decent things as giving up her seat on the train for a middle-aged woman laden with shopping. Tracking her to a restaurant, she planned to give her a dressing down but Misa (Yui Murata), as she discovers her name to be, is perfectly reasonable if also unrepentant.

Misa asks a number pertinent questions including why it is Yoko thinks this is any of her business in the first place and why she’s decided to have it out with her and not Kenji all of which Yoko has to concede is fair. Unlikely as it sounds, the two women end up becoming friends of a sort, Yoko beginning to sympathise in realising this is all her brother’s fault but still not really feeling all that sorry for Kaho which is one reason why she suddenly suggests they try to stop Kenji’s wedding. 

Tellingly, she later asks Kaho if she’s not afraid that another woman will steal Kenji away, but it’s a question she should perhaps have asked herself. She is quite obviously at difficult time. Everything is about to change for her. She’ll soon be leaving school and evidently doesn’t really want to think about what happens next, while her home life is also about to change when Kaho moves in with them permanently meaning it’ll no longer be just her and Kenji. Perhaps that’s what’s really bothering her, that Kaho is displacing her in her own home and stealing her big brother away to start a new family that might not include her in quite the same way. 

Indeed, her main objection to Kaho is in her genial domesticity, the various ways she and Kenji already operate as a couple, the perfectly cooked meals she prepares and the maternal care with which she overseas the house. Kaho isn’t really worried about another woman because she knows what Kenji is looking for is exactly what she gives him – a settled home. Misa, meanwhile, laments her status as a perpetual mistress, never really valued by the usually already attached men she ends up dating who think of her as a casual fling, a short-lived distraction from their domestic responsibilities. Still too young to fully understand, Yoko feels offended on Misa’s behalf that her brother could treat her or any woman this way. Yet their plan to stop the wedding ends up proving counterproductive in that it forces her to sympathise with Kaho and perhaps realise that Kaho herself was never the problem while also regretting having encouraged Misa’s self destructive descent towards an inevitable conclusion that is only going to cause her more pain. 

Yoko’s only future goals were apparently to become a decent and honest person, an ideal she perhaps is not quite serving in her “evil” plot to ruin her brother’s wedding. Misa brands her a “boring teen” already obsessed with dull stability, while it’s perhaps Misa’s boldness and unconventionality which attracts the otherwise straight-laced young woman. In any case, Yoko begins to discover a new equilibrium or at least a new accommodation with adulthood that lends her a little of Misa’s defiance as she makes an unexpectedly bold decision of her own in figuring out what it is she really wants and walking confidently towards the future even if with no real clue as to what comes next.


Me & My Brother’s Mistress streamed as part of this year’s online Nippon Connection Film Festival.

Original trailer (English subtitles)

Beautiful, Goodbye (ビューティフル、グッバイ, Eiichi Imamura, 2019)

A man on the run hits a woman running out of time, what else could you call it but fate? Winner of the Special Jury Award at the PIA Film Festival, Eiichi Imamura’s Beautiful, Goodbye (ビューティフル、グッバイ) sees its conflicted heroes cast adrift as they flee from past trauma, bonding over their shared sense of hopeless alienation while driving towards some kind of resolution to their respective anxieties but perhaps fearing that there are no real safe spaces for those who find themselves at odds with the world in which they live. 

As the film opens, 32-year-old Daisuke (Yasuke Takebayashi) is caught in the immediate aftermath of having stabbed a man while a small child curls himself into a ball in the corner. Pausing only to comfort him, Daisuke leaves in a hurry and later steals a pickup truck still laden with the last of someone’s moving boxes. Meanwhile, another man, Shinoda (Koki Nakajima), chases after a woman, Natsu (Yobi), who is later found wounded in an alley before being wrapped in a sheet and toe tagged at the local morgue. That is not, however, the end of her story. Shinoda, having recovered her body, performs some strange ritual which brings her back to life only for her to escape and run directly into the path of Daisuke’s car. Fearing he has made his day even worse, Daisuke puts her in the passenger seat and, unlikely as it seems, the pair end up travelling together pursued both by law enforcement and by the psychopathic Shinoda. 

Daisuke, a shy man nervous about his stammer which sees him exiled from mainstream society, does not immediately seem like the type of person to stab someone but we later find out that he had a good reason (if you can say such a thing) and was acting to protect someone else from longterm abuse. He’s not sure running was best thing to do, but it has at least introduced him to Natsu who doesn’t seem to mind about his stammer and makes a point of calling him by a diminutive in an effort to avoid detection on the road by amping up the couple act. Apparently from Taiwan but with a Japanese mother, Natsu is herself on the run, besides being undead, in trying to keep one step ahead of the violent boyfriend it seems was responsible for her demise and then brought her back after trying a few rituals he found on YouTube so he could terrorise her afterlife too. 

Both outsiders at the mercy of an unforgiving society the two discover a kindred spirit one in the other, retreating from their brush with crime to return the moving boxes to their original address with an apology for having borrowed some of the contents. Regaining her memories and coming to an awareness that her zombiefied state might only be temporary, Natsu wonders why her life has turned out the way it has and if God is punishing her for being a “bad” person. She has a tattoo of a lightbulb on her leg because of a story she was once told about there being two paths in the darkness, one to heaven and one to hell, and that God would always light the way for the good while the bad were left to stumble around on their own, losing their way and ending up in hell, so she decided to make her own light fearing that she was not one of God’s good people. Daisuke just laughs, pointing out that lightbulbs don’t work out of the box, leading her to make a few adjustments which allow him to give her the power to face the darkness.

Daisuke meanwhile remains on the run, in part because he wants to help Natsu move on from her traumatic past by facing her victimisation at the hands of the psychotic Shinoda who has been using social media to try and track them down but later finds himself falling victim to his bullying. Together, the undead woman and the barely living boy give each other the strength to face their respective anxieties, his in his crime and hers in her murder as they contemplate the calm at the end of the world, or at least the road, while the gentle tones of Teresa Teng linger in the breeze behind them like a lullaby as if in echo of a more innocent time.


Beautiful, Goodbye was streamed as part of this year’s online Nippon Connection Film Festival.

Original trailer (no subtitles)

Teresa Teng’s “Toki No Nagare Ni Mi Wo Makase”