| Rotterdam 2006 : part three (including Miike Takashi's 'The Great Yokai War') |
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 The Gaze; Glue; The Great Yokai War; Green Mind, Metal Bats; Heart, Beating in the Dark [2005] THE GAZE [4/10] Failure of vision afflicts director and protagonist alike in The Gaze, a pretentiously-titled, snoozesomely drab, forbiddingly introverted Iranian drama treading familiar "You can't go home again" turf in uninvolving style. Esfand (Hami-Reza Danechvar) has been exiled in France for 20 years when he's informed that his aged father is at death's door back in Tehran. Fortyish Esfand has also just learned that his worsening sight problems may well be a sign of terminal illness. He arrives 'home' in time for one conversation with dad before the latter expires - but mourning is complicated by the unfinished business (romantic/familial/personal) awaiting him in the moribund city he no longer calls his own. "It's nobody's city anymore," he's gloomily informed. The only individual who emerges from The Gaze with credit is the location scout: Esfand's wanderings bring him to numerous intriguingly picturesque and/or barren locales, several of them forming a striking backdrop for his long, downbeat conversations with his former partner (Fariba Kossari) - who, following Esfand's emigration, became the wife of his father. The exact nature of these relationships isn't always clear, however, as the audience must piece together a tragic, convoluted backstory from scraps of gnomic dialogue and brief, flashbacks. In contrast to the early-eighties fireworks, the modern-day, portentously string-scored sections are underpowered and slowburning to the point of tedium: as flat as the yeastless bread which Esfand munches, and the laid-down gravestones among which he broods. Farsi sets up one 'action' sequence, in which a vengeful, pistol-packing Esfand pursues a certain individual across rooftops - only for our hero to lose focus and faint at the crucial moment. This risibly bathetic scene is one of several instances where Farsi and cinematographer Jamshid Alvandi play (clumsy) visual tricks with the image in order that we might share and sympathise with Esfand's ailment and general plight. But if Farsi as writer/director was doing her job properly, we wouldn't have to actually 'see' through Esfand's eyes in order to see through Esfand's eyes. GLUE [7/10] aka Glue - historia adolescente en medio de la nada An engaging, rough-edged tale of teenage kicks in small-town Patagonia, Glue announces another promising young Argentinian talent in the form of 31-year-old Dos Santos. The economic problems often foregrounded in current Argentina cinema are refreshingly underplayed here: though far from rich, these kids can afford to spend their free time rehearsing their new-wave rock band. Singer/songwriter - and front-and-centre focus of the film - is skinny, androgynous, bequiffed 16-year-old Lucas (Nahuel Perez Biscayart). His best friend is the drummer Nacho (Nahuel Viale): quieter, better looking, more jock-like. The pair are very close - perhaps even on verge of becoming physically intimate. But the mercurial sexual dynamic between them is further complicated by gawky, bespectacled Andrea (Ines Efron). For each, adolescence is a time of flux and exploration: no boundaries except inexperience, hormones and imagination. And while Glue is energetic and raw, often powerfully sensual, it isn't by any means sunny, unfolding against a national (and international) backdrop of soaring teenage suicide-rates. Dos Santos goes beyond the headlines: he wants to get us into these kids' heads, and favours jangly, hand-held, red-heavy digital-video as a way to show us the world through Lucas's eyes (and ears - with his ever-present headphones, he's like a southern-hemisphere cousin of Morvern Callar). While most of Dos Santos' techniques come off, his interpolation of brief 8mm 'home-movie' footage arguably crosses the line dividing stylistic improvisation from self-indulgent affectation - and these sequences also contribute to the film feeling every second of its two-hour running-time. But there's so much to appreciate here that viewers will happily endure the occasional longueur: performances are strong, with Efron in particular making the most of her (relatively) limited screentime. The relationships between Lucas, Nacho and Andrea feel organic, non-exploitative and believable, Dos Santos's use of music, meanwhile, is a consistent delight - and the Violent Femmes, whose track 'Blister in the Sun' forms the film's raucous/jaunty/nervy anthem, can expect a major boost in back-catalogue sales wherever and whenever Glue unspools. THE GREAT YOKAI WAR [7/10] {UK release title : The Goblin Wars} With his track-record of demented horror-films and gory yazuka-chronicles - often featuring sequences of adults-only sexual weirdness - Miike perhaps wasn't an obvious choice to take charge of a big-budget children's epic. But - while the results aren't perhaps suitable for all junior audiences - the radical change of pace turns out to have re-energised this most entertaining and unpredictable of current directors, yanking him out of what had seemed (after Izo and the Three Extremes episode Box) like a rare and worrying creative slump. Apparently the first time (after a mere fifty-odd titles) that Miike has obtained a screenwriting credit (shared with Aramata Hiroshi), The Great Yokai War updates Kuroda Yoshiyuki's 1968 original of identical title - gleefully stirring in elements from (among many other sources) Peter Jackson's Lord of the Rings the Ghibli extravaganzas of Miyazaki Hayao (most recently Howl's Moving Castle). But Miike's post-modern variation on the genre has a charming, rickety irreverence and utter lack of pomp - not to mention some genuinely trippy and nightmarish interludes - which give it an engaging and witty character of its own. Much of the dialogue is typically left-field: "It's shaking the burdock right out of the fish cake!" someone remarks when a colossal spaceship lands on the middle of Tokyo; "It's only Gamera," shrugs another citizen, the latter clearly familiar with the golden age of Japanese monster-movie. The story is the usual episodic fantasy-quest: 12-year-old Tadashi (Ryuunosuke Kamiki) is named his small-town's protective 'Kirin Rider' at an annual festivity. But rather than being a quaint ceremonial title, the mystical job becomes of crucial importance when an evil entity unleashes his scheme for world domination. This involves turning Japan's 'yokai' (bizarre goblin/spirit thingies) into an army of evil killer robots - who, with their clanking exoskeletons and demonic glowing-red eyes, might perhaps be called 'Transform-inators' in the west. Against daunting odds, Tadashi leads the beleaguered forces of good to reforge a shattered magical sword and save his planet from destruction. Though convoluted, this is fundamentally a classic good-vs-evil story - with representatives of each drawn in unusually convincing style: poor little Ryuunosuke gets put right through the emotional wringer as the valiant Tadashi, while Kill Bill star Kuriyama Chaiki contributes another uber-villainess to her roster as the white-beehived ex-yokai Agi. And there's plenty of underlying 'message' for parents desiring moral instruction from their cinema outings: "Those who discard the past have no future," goes the eco-friendly moral. Miike perhaps isn't taking the job enormously seriously (he has particularly wicked fun with Tadashi's hapless, gerbil-like pet yokai), he socks over the apocalyptic thrills and spills with a straight-faced conviction that's hard to resist ("Isn't this a bit much?" someone unwisely ponders at after one particularly off-the-charts flight of fancy.) And in which other "children's film" would you find a gore-soaked mutant cow/horse critter warning of impending doom; a fantasy-creature pausing between set-pieces for a refreshing cigarette; or such a gloriously in-your-face product-placement for a certain best-selling brand of Japanese beer? GREEN MIND, METAL BATS [4/10] Uninspired direction, a mis-focussed script and an unappealing central couple add up to 'three strikes and out' for Green Mind, Metal Bats, in which a 27-year-old would-be pro-baseballer embarks on a rocky romance with a violently abusive, alcoholic neighbour. The opening sequence promises much: we see unassuming Nanba (played by the actor rejoicing in the name 'Takehara Pistol') practising his swing with an aluminium bat as twilight falls in a suburban park. A waywardly-pitched ball knocks off his helmet - the image freezes - infectious punky rock explodes on the soundtrack. But this dusk-set sequence proves a false dawn: afterwards, the (kinetic, cinema-friendly) baseball action is relegated largely to the background as Nanba hooks up with a woman (Sakai Maki) described by one onlooker as "that drunk, stacked chick." This unhealthy relationship does neither party many favours: the sad-sack, lovelorn Nanba obtains sex, but loses his self-respect as he's goaded into violent crime as a means of funding his partner's drinking binges. Their (incompetent) activities soon come to the attention of the local police - represented by Nanba's former baseball teammate Ishioka (Ando Masanubo), whose partner is possessed of such hilarious, callous je-m'en-foutisme (his standard response to news of crime being "So?", "Who cares?" or "Ignore 'em") that you wish that this duo were the protagonists of the picture. As it is, Ishioka only really comes into his own at the very end, when his pitching proves crucial in the climactic face-off with Nanba - a climax in which scriptwriter Ujita Takashi seems to go out of his way to let his Nanba and girlfriend off the hook. Their escapades are, however, so tawdry and morally repellent that it's very hard to feel even a shred of sympathy for them - much less share their dream that they escape "happily" into the sunset. It also doesn't help that the film seems bogged down by their inertia - the flaccid jazzy score by 'Akainu' proving one particularly enervating element among many. HEART, BEATING IN THE DARK [4/10] (2005 version) In 1982, writer-director Nagasaki Shunichi achieved a measure of international attention with his Super-8 feature Heart, Beating in the Dark. More than two decades later, he has now made another film with the same title. The new feature audaciously attempts to be simultaneously a commentary on, a remake/deconstruction of, and a sequel/hommage to the 1982 original. And it fails. This is, essentially, a story about unsympathetic people who have committed a truly repellent act, told in a smart-alec style deploying novelty and affectation as a substitute for genuine ideas, emotions and intelligence. Though (visibly) straining desperately for originality throughout, Nagaski doesn't really break any new ground here: dotted with cliches, his picture is a kind of variation on Jacques Demy's ruefully bittersweet, inter-generational fable Lola (1960), unhelpfully refracted through a post-modern, film-within-a-film lens (see Michael Winterbottom's A Cock and Bull Story for a nimbler, more skilfull-executed version of this idea). Both 1982 and 2005 versions of Heart are about a young working-class couple, on the run after killing their baby. Whereas the 1982 'kids' were on their own, here they (Honda Shoichi, Eguchi Noriko) eventually cross paths with their previous 'selves' (Muroi Shigeru, Naito Takashi) - now middle-aged and still guilt-stricken about their crime. If this wasn't disorienting enough, Nagasaki occasionally pulls back his camera to show the 2005 version apparently being 'filmed' - defusing whatever emotional 'charge' he's managed to build up. Overlong, muddily shot (by Inomoto Masami) and featuring an intrusively repetitive score (by Otomo Yoshihide), this Heart never seems to achieve a proper 'beat' of its own. There's a fatal, fundamental mismatch between Nagasaki's flippant larkishness (i.e., a tired running gag about the older actor wanting to punch the younger) and the harrowing seriousness of his subject-matter. Once we hear the horrific details of the child's murder, it's impossible to feel anything for the killer(s) other than dismay and contempt: to use this event as the basis for such an ungainly post-modern stunt is distasteful at best. Neil Young 11th February, 2005 ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ THE GAZE [4/10] : Negah aka Le regard : Iran (Iran/Fr) 2006 (copyright-dated 2005) : Sepadeh FARSI (1965) : 83m (timed) feature (35mm) seen at De Doelen, 31.1.06 (press show; section Tiger Awards Competition; world premiere) GLUE [7/10] : Glue - historia adolescente en medio de la nada : Argentina 2006 : Alexis DOS SANTOS (1974) : 116m (timed) feature (35mm) seen at Cinerama, 1.2.06 (press show; section Tiger Awards Competition; world premiere; winner of MovieZone award given by the IFFR 'youth jury') THE GREAT YOKAI WAR [7/10] : Yokai daisenso aka Big Spook War. UK release title The Goblin Wars : Japan 2005 : MIIKE Takashi (1960) : 124m (timed) feature (35mm) seen at Pathe, 31.1.05 (press show; section Kings & Aces) GREEN MIND, METAL BATS [4/10] : Seisyun kinzuko batto : Japan 2006 : KUMAKIRI Kazuyoshi (1974) : 96m (timed) feature (35mm) seen at Venster, 2.2.06 (press show; section Sturm und Drang; world premiere) HEART, BEATING IN THE DARK [4/10] : Yamiutsu shinzo : Japan 2005 : NAGASAKI Shunichi (1956) : 102m (timed) feature (35mm) seen at Luxor, 4.2.06 (public show; section Film Maker in Focus - Nagasaki Shunichi) More details on these titles - and all others shown at the 2006 Rotterdam Film Festival - can be found at the IFFR official site -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- A full alphabetical index of all films seen at IFFR 2006 can be found HERE  |
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