A Feature and a Short Film: Tokyo Sonata and Le Maison en Petits Cubes

Somewhere in my ridiculously busy schedule this month, I’ve been trying to keep up on special film events. The Northwest Film Center’s Portland International Film Festival is happening right now (through February 22nd), and the Hollywood Theatre is showing Academy Award-nominated short films.

(Mild Spoilers)
Tokyo Sonata is about a family whose patriarch gets laid off, exposing problems in the family dynamics, and eventually causes things to spiral out of control. Something I think is interesting about this film is that this is a Japanese film by Japanese director Kiyoshi Kurosawa, but has an Australian co-writer (Max Mannix). I was reading this interview with Mannix, and he seems slightly defensive about how the director thought that his original script was “somewhat stereotypical.” In a way, it still is, but not in a way that is detrimental. It may be that Max Mannix has unique insight into contemporary Japanese life, precisely as an “outsider” who spent many years in Japan. Tokyo Sonata struck me as simple yet truthful. (Isn’t that what movies often do, simplifying into a story the chaos of life?) This film reminded me a bit of American Beauty, not in style or tone (I hope I don’t scare away people who aren’t fans of American Beauty), but in the way it looks at how your “nice, average family” breaks down if you “look closer,” or when something changes that upsets the delicate balance of the family.

To me, the most interesting character was the mother. At first, we only see her as the dutiful housewife (although we do see her looking out at the rain in the opening credits, which gives us a glimpse of the person we later see): always home to greet the father and sons with their meals, generally devoting herself to the well-being of the family, and speaking in that measured, soft tone of a stereotypical mother. When we begin to see her as a real person, it’s jarring.

I haven’t seen any of Kiyoshi Kurosawa’s other films, but he’s known for his horror films, and I saw some of that element used effectively in Tokyo Sonata. Japanese horror relies less on jump-out-of-your-seat surprise and more on unsettling tone, and there’s plenty of anxiety in Tokyo Sonata as every member of the family holds secrets, unwilling to communicate with each other until they all hit rock bottom.

In some reviews I’ve read, people are turned off of the rather bizarre turn the film takes as all the characters simultaneously reach the point of complete unraveling, and then rather inexplicably, things get better and there is a happy ending. I think you just need to trust this film and “go with it,” and accept it as a modern fable of sorts. Also, it’s rather refreshing that everything gets better not because of a stroke of luck (actually, the element of good luck is literally thrown away) or of some force coming to save the day, but because each character decides to just deal with the way things are. In this sense, there’s a lot of realism.

The film ends with the youngest son at a music school audition, playing Debussy’s Clair de Lune. This could be overly sentimental, perhaps, but the scene said a lot with no words, and it was a rather beautiful end to the film.

(On a completely random personal note, by complete coincidence, I had a ticket for 2 days later to the play Frankie and Johnny in the Claire de Lune at the local CoHo Theater, in which the music is used in the play and figures into the story. Not only that, I also happened to have run into the Operations Manager of this said theater on the bus on my way to see…Tokyo Sonata.)

Le Maison en Petits Cubes is a film from Japan with an Oscar nomination this year in the Animated Short Film category. It is by far the best of the nominees, and I would say that it would be a shoo-in win if it wasn’t for the fact that a Pixar film is also nominated.
True to the title, this film has a European flavor to its hand-drawn animation style (The Triplets of Belleville is coming to mind). It is about an old man who, in a world where the water level is constantly rising (and I appreciate the possible subtle environmental theme here, something the film thankfully does not dwell on), continually builds on to the top of his house as a matter of fact. One day, he drops his pipe into the water, and he literally dives through his memories through the forgotten floors of his house. It’s a sweet, sad, meditation on life and the passage of time.
I found a short clip of it on YouTube here.

Thank you, pioneers

I was going to post more pictures from my San Francisco trip back in November, but I somehow never got around to it.

But right now, I feel inspired. Today, between going to my taiko class, almost being done reading Stubborn Twig, and conversing at length about being a Japanese-American, I thought of these photos I took in San Francisco…

In Golden Gate Park, just outside of the Japanese Tea Garden, was this:

It’d be a huge understatement to say that life was tough for these pioneering immigrants. Thank you, thank you, and thank you for “leading the way.”

I’m a little late to the party but…

…with our new President Barack Obama becoming recently inaugurated, I just wanted to share more stories from my last trip to Japan.

My shiny new passport in hand, wherever I went, I proudly announced to friends and family that as of last summer, I am now an American citizen. And, invariably, one of the first things everyone said was:

“You got to vote for Obama?!”

It seems Obama Mania had caught hold in Japan as well. My new American citizenship might have further legitimized the Cool Relative From America status I frequently enjoy (and yes, I’m a fittingly arrogant American), but people seemed really, really excited that I was able to vote for Obama. Of course I was excited too, and I am excited that this is my first real President, but not being much in touch with the pulse of Japan these days, I was a bit surprised at the extent of the hoopla around him.

I’d heard about the city of Obama, Japan being into Barack Obama, but it seemed to be common knowledge in Japan that they sell Obama manjuu there. I love the pun on the bottom of that packaging, too — they combined “Obama” and “manjuu” to create…”おばまん” or “Obaman.” Haha! My dad and I wanted some of these novelty items, but apparently they only sell them in Obama.

One day in Japan, I was watching TV and I even heard about this book of Obama’s speeches printed in English as well as Japanese, with a CD included so readers can follow along. I just did a quick Google search and it looks like NPR has recently picked up on this. It’s a pretty cool idea.

On another side of things, maybe I just forget how much the U.S. is scrutinized by other countries. I talked a bit with some of my dad’s cousins, and one of them asked me if I ever engaged in protests in college (I’ve never been to a protest of any kind), and commented that student protests don’t seem to occur much anymore. Curious, I asked what she was protesting, and she answered, “the Vietnam War.” This prompted me to ask a rather dumb question: “With America?” I guess it never occurred to me that there were young people overseas protesting the Vietnam War. She laughingly exchanged stories with her sister about their eyes burning from tear gas and how nobody was probably paying attention, all the way in Japan. It was an enlightening conversation for me.