Up

Up is a great movie in every way. It manages to be mature and genuinely touching while not skimping on silly fun, and is of course delivered in beautiful Pixar animation. I’m still not sure anything can quite live up to the perfection that is The Incredibles, but it beats WALL-E by far.

And…one of the main protagonists is Asian. Even better, he just happens to be Asian; no stereotypes, no accents, or even any mention of cultural background. Russell is just an overweight, bit annoying all-American kid, a “Wilderness Explorer” preoccupied with earning his last merit badge. He’s even voiced by Japanese-American Jordan Nagai. I love it.

Interestingly enough, the trailer for The Princess and the Frog came before this film, which seemed to be of dubious racial sensitivity…

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.

Film: Sukiyaki Western Django

Director: Takashi Miike
Runtime: 121 min./98 min.

This is the kind of post-modern, genre-mashing film I would have loved to write a paper about back in film school. I came out of the movie wondering if this is supposed to be a parody or an homage. Or maybe both?

It’s a Japanese Western with a Japanese cast speaking various levels of bad English, samurai swords and cowboy guns, and a cameo by Quentin Tarantino. I’m sure it’s a role he was thrilled to do, as there’s definitely something Tarantino-esque about this movie. I think it’s mainly in the grotesque humor derived from the sometimes-graphic-yet-cartoonish violence: in one scene, an arrow shoots through a man’s (so-fresh-he’s-still-standing!) bullet-hole wound, killing the guy standing directly behind him.

Most of it doesn’t make any sense, partially because the English is so terrible (I can understand English or Japanese, but not this), and partially because the movie is just too damn crazy. It has something to do with treasure and warring clans (the film heavily references the War of the Roses), and makes sure to include just about every kind of stereotypical image/shot/dialogue that would be in a western while knocking you off-balance with the Japanese actors, Japanese writing, Japanese-style buildings, and other such bits of Japanese culture. Sure there’s been the Italian spaghetti westerns, but this goes beyond spaghetti — it’s…sukiyaki?

Maybe this isn’t a great movie, and it’s a bit awkward, particularly when there’s times when you can’t tell if something is supposed to be funny or not. But I’d recommend it if you’re in the mood for something different and completely bizarre.

Currently playing in Portland at the Clinton Street Theater.
Available on DVD.

Racism (or not?) in The Manchurian Candidate

I recently re-visited the 1962 version of the film The Manchurian Candidate, which I hadn’t seen in a while.

Just to be clear, it’s a great film — eerie and suspenseful, well-written, and has some wonderful performances. The disturbing “dream” sequence described nicely here (scroll down a bit) is quite possibly the greatest example of inspired film editing ever.

That said, AsianWeek agreed with me in that the film’s big flaw is the use of “yellow face” in Chunjin, a Korean character played by an actor who doesn’t even look remotely Asian. I was actually confused when he first appeared on the screen, as it took me a moment to realize that he’s supposed to be Korean. And…he does martial arts! Of course!

I don’t find much to object to in the politics of the film, however. I could see what people are getting at — the title of the film admittedly has “Yellow Peril” written on it — but I see the film as an accurate representation of the fear and paranoia surrounding the Cold War. There’s an interesting discussion in a college course message board regarding the film and (presumably) the book What Have They Built You to Do?: The Manchurian Candidate and Cold War America. I haven’t read the book (I’m not sure about a 288 page analysis on one movie), but if anything, I think The Manchurian Candidate is even a bit subversive how it turns out that the real sneaky villain that’s infiltrated American politics is a white woman, in a “you-didn’t-see-that-coming-didja?” plot twist. (Hopefully nobody’s mad at me for spoilers on a popular 40+ year old movie.)

So I cringe through the scenes with Chunjin and enjoy the film.

Film: 人間の條件 (The Human Condition), Part 1

Director: Masaki Kobayashi
First Released: 1959
Runtime: 208 min.

I went to see this film at the Northwest Film Center on Friday night.

Set during World War II, Tatsuya Nakadai plays Kaji, a “bleeding heart” who, ironically, accepts a job as the supervisor for a large group of Chinese prisoners forced into hard labor at a Manchurian mine. As he works to better the conditions of the laborers and actually treats them as human beings, he faces both distrust from the very Chinese people he’s trying to help (“Japanese devil!” they shout), and harsh repercussions from his superiors at the mining company and from the ever-menacing kempeitai (the military police at the time).

Audiences who may not be accustomed to “foreign” films need not worry much. Despite the heavy themes and historical/geographical context, the film is quite accessible and will seem familiar to anyone that watches old Hollywood films (the sweeping, dramatic music particularly reminded me of classic Hollywood epics). I was watching the movie thinking the main character could be Jimmy Stewart, and the New York Times did me one better by comparing him to Gregory Peck.

Either way, Kaji is a somewhat unwitting yet tireless hero, fighting from within the system against a war-driven, ethnocentric Japan. The things he fights for feel timelessly relevant: that the ends do not necessarily justify the means, that we should not dehumanize even our war enemies, and thus we must not lose our humanity.

Kaji is most flawed when it comes to his relationship with his wife, Michiko (Michiyo Aratama). Believing that she would not understand and wanting to shield her from the horrors of his work, Kaji through most of the film stays stubbornly distant. They reconcile their differences at the end of the film, but now Kaji is to be drafted into war (under suspicious circumstances).

Part 2 screens at the Northwest Film Center on September 27th and 28th, and Part 3 screens on the 27th and 29th.

Unfortunately, I won’t be able to make it to Part 2 (1959, 181 min.) and probably won’t make it to Part 3 (1961, 190 min.) (depending on whether I decide I can sacrifice sleep on a Monday night).

Go to the Janus Films website to check for screenings in other parts of the country.

August 6, 1945…

A-bomb dome. Photo by my friend Catharine, with whom I went to Japan with summer '04.

It is the anniversary of the first atomic bomb attack.

I’ve been to Hiroshima twice.

The first time was in 1995 with my mom and a family friend from Japan, and it was coincidentally the day after the 50th anniversary of the bombing. Every monument at Peace Memorial Park was covered in strings of paper cranes. The second time was in 2004 with a Korean-American friend, and we sought out the memorial for Korean victims. It had previously never occurred to me to think about the Korean victims that were there under Japanese imperialism.

Both times, I visited the Peace Memorial Museum. It’s a large, extensive, and well-designed museum, where you can really see and hear the horrors of what a nuclear weapon can do. Particularly affecting are the everyday items left behind from the attack — a tricycle, a lunchbox, clothing — charred black and ripped apart, accompanied by descriptions of what happened to their respective owners. Every world leader should be required to visit this place.

You should visit, too. But if you can’t, a few film recommendations:

White Light/Black Rain: A documentary by Japanese-American filmmaker Steven Okazaki, this film about the atomic bomb attacks at Hiroshima and Nagasaki is surprisingly even-handed and includes interviews with a wide variety of survivors…as well as Americans who were involved in the bombings.

火垂るの墓 (Grave of the Fireflies): This isn’t about atomic bombs (it’s about a firebombing in Kobe), but a related must-see nevertheless if you haven’t seen it already. They showed this to us at my Saturday Japanese school in about 3rd grade, and it would be an understatement to say I came out of it shaken.

うしろの正面だあれ (Ushiro no Shomen Daare?): I honestly don’t know if you can find this in the U.S. based on the fact that it’s difficult to even find any information about it, but this is another animated film set in WWII Japan that I saw when I was young.