Jasper Sharp : 2009 : October

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Hikari Mitsushima in Shion Sono's Love Exposure

Hikari Mitsushima in Sion Sono's Love Exposure

It’s done great guns on the festival circuit and now, courtesy of Third Window Films, Love Exposure is just about to get its official UK release with a month-long run at the ICA in London this November, with a screening on November 14th at Leeds International Film Festival and no doubt other dates in the UK to follow. It’s surely a bold move on the behalf of both Third Window Films and the ICA, but (and I’m getting almost tired of saying this), DO NOT BE PUT OFF BY THE 4-HOUR RUNNING TIME! This is the strongest film from Japan I’ve seen in a long-time. Read any review you can find online about it, ask anyone who has seen it. They’ll all tell you the same thing – it’s an absolutely fantastic experience, so intense you’ll be still struggling to assimilate it all for days, nay weeks, after you’ve seen it. The film whips along at such a cracking pace that you’re barely registering the time, and when the interval occurs, it seems like a major inconvenience.

Takahiro Nishijima, the star of Love Exposure

Takahiro Nishijima, the star of Love Exposure

I’ve experienced the film twice already, firstly on DVD while looking for suitable titles for this year’s Raindance, and secondly at Raindance itself. The first time I thought it would take a couple of sittings to get through, but it didn’t take too long for me to realise I was in for the long haul. The second time, at the festival itself, was my first chance seeing it on a big screen, and I was so immersed in it that even then I knew I simply had to see it again, so I’ll most certainly be trotting off to the ICA at some juncture. And this seems to be the typical response. Several at the Japanese guests at Raindance had already seen the film several times. One chalked up their sixth viewing at the festival – that’s a full day in total of Sion Sono’s masterpiece! Another reported their experience of seeing the film in Tokyo, in which during the interval the other viewers could be seen wandering around with ecstatic expressions on their faces, and I couldn’t but help notice a similar phenomenon at Raindance. Ooh, I’m getting goose-pimples just thinking about it. My only regret is that the film was originally meant to be six hours, and Sono had to cut it down by a quarter at the insistence of his producer. I can only pray that at some point we’ll ever get a chance to see the full cut.

Sakura Ando and friends

Sakura Ando and friends

Not sure what else I can say to anyone but to implore you to go see it. If you’ve seen it once, then see it again, tell your friends what a masterpiece it is. And if you have no idea of what I am talking about, then here’s a quick taster in the form of the trailer.

Dolphin slaughter at Taiji, as recorded in The Cove

Dolphin slaughter at Taiji, as recorded in The Cove

I hardly need to say it, but I like Japan and I like the Japanese. The country and its people have been very good to me, and I’ve had some of the happiest times of my life there. But if there’s this one niggling side to the place that does bother me, it’s this apparent lack of awareness of how people in other countries feel about certain issues. If the whole world were a big party, I sometimes feel Japan would be off having a cigarette in the garden, alone by itself, rather than chatting with everyone else in the living room. I can’t really think of a better example than its adherence to whaling.

Of course, merely criticising Japan for its past or present actions isn’t very constructive, but what is frustrating is, on a national level, its refusal to even join the debate with other countries, and also just how plain ignorant many people are about certain things. I know I got into hot water once myself by raising this thorny issue while teaching in Japan, after a thirty-something Office Lady asked me if we ate whales in Britain, necessitating my explaining that Japan was one of the few countries in the world that ignored the global moratorium on commercial whaling. I was then asked by another student why Britain and America always thought they had the right to criticise Japan about everything. I hardly was in a position myself to take the moral high-ground at this point. After all, the whole reason the topic was raised was that I had actually sampled my first bit of whale meat in an izakaya the night before, as I duly explained to the student. There’s debates to be had about the pros and cons of whaling, but what most amazed me was that this particular individual was completely unaware of Japan’s unique position (well, along with Iceland and Norway) of going against the tide of global opinion. You’d have thought the country would be better off just going with the flow to save them the bother. After all, as I can safely vouch, whale meat really isn’t that great.

TheCove

The Cove

As one interviewee puts it in The Cove, a startling new documentary directed by Louie Psihoyos, as a major economic power that once harboured imperial ambitions of its own, Japan really doesn’t like being told what to do by the bullying global powers of America and Britain. The Cove has a lot of other interesting things to say too, the most evident being that Japan’s opt out of the global moratorium – insisting it only catches whales for purposes of “scientific research” – also permits the slaughter of 23,000 dolphins a year. The average Japanese does not know this. I didn’t  either, and I thank the film for telling me. I am not sure what sort of distribution Psihoyos’ film will get in Japan, but I think a lot of people might be happy to hear about this. Naturally this is a sensitive subject, and the film courts some accusations of Japan-bashing. I see a number of one-line synopses proliferating across the media that describe it as a “documentary exposing the Japanese dolphin trade”. Well, this isn’t entirely accurate. At an early stage the film makes clear the complicity of the rest of the world in this live dolphin industry. Those performing dolphins you see in sea-life centres across the globe have to come from somewhere, and the fishermen of the town of Taiji, the town whose secret cove acts as the venue for this mass slaughter, get a hefty enough sum for each live specimen for them not to want to relinquish this cash cow. I guess the vast majority of the other dolphins that get butchered in the process might be considered collateral damage.

They might be considered the lucky ones, as it’s fairly obvious the dolphins don’t really take to a life in captivity. Ric O’Barry, the documentary’s central character, knows this better than most: he’s the man who trained TV’s first dolphin star, Flipper (real name, Kathy), and also the man who cradled the famous female bottlenose in his arms as she died, apparently by holding her breath underwater to commit suicide. Dolphins are intelligent creatures that migrate over huge distances, so life in a swimming pool balancing beach balls on their noses is clearly a pretty depressing existence for them. It’s this awareness that led to O’Barry’s campaign to free all captive dolphins through the Dolphin Project, founded in 1970.

The Cove

The Cove

The Cove, which follows O’Barry and his crew’s attempts to document one of the regular dolphin slaughters that take place in Taiji, is both gripping (reviews have checklisted Ocean’s Eleven, and the documentary Man on Wire) and incredibly disturbing – I wept as the cove’s waters churned with the blood of the thrashing dolphins aware of their impending doom. What is perhaps most depressing is how needless the carnage is. While dolphin meat is made available for sale in Japan, it’s seldom labelled as being what it is, and the consumer demand is low enough for it to be a non-profitable industry. Apparently, the justification of the cull is not economic or scientific, nor even connected with abstract notions of “tradition”, but because dolphins are considered “pests”, held responsible for the declining fish stocks around Japan. Moreover, the film highlights that the meat of all sea creatures higher up the food chain, not just whales and dolphins but tuna and sea bass too, contains dangerously high levels of mercury, and those familiar with Japanese documentary history will no doubt be aware of Noriaki Tsuchimoto’s documentaries in the 1960s exposing what is now known as Minamata Disease, named after the town whose inhabitants fell prey to mercury poisoning due to industrial polution. If you don’t, you might want to take a look at this.

The Cove opened in the UK this weekend, and it is certainly among the most impressive documentaries I’ve seen this year. The ending, in which O’Barry alerts the various members of the International Whaling Commission to what is truly going on in Taiji, is as exhilarating as the scene at the end of Tokachi Tsuchiya’s A Normal Life Please, in which the members of the truck haulage union project their images of foul play on a large sheet outside the cement company’s headquarters. If nothing, these films show that documentaries do have the potential to change things (and in fact, The Cove is also reminiscent of another recent film about mankind’s abuse of the oceans, The End of the Line, which led to several UK sandwich chains rightly removing tuna from their menus). As O’Barry says at the end of the film, he could either be an activist or an in-activist, and we should be thankful that there are people like him who have chosen the former camp. Or to quote from the song Psyche by the mighty Killing Joke, ‘Dodge the bullet or carry the gun. The choice is yours.’

To find out what you can do to alleviate the burden on the planet’s fragile ocean ecosystems, check out the website here.

Ballad of Narayama

Ballad of Narayama

Back at home after a week dashing round the country for various reasons, not least of which was the Imamura retrospective at the Arnolfini which I had a hand in. After the punishing routine of Raindance, I was rather grateful to be afforded the opportunity just to sit in a cinema over a long weekend and binge on the six wonderful films in the programme in relative peace and quiet. Imamura was the one director who really stood out when I first started exploring Japanese cinema. There was something about his sense of humour and his general world view that struck a chord with me, the notion (some might call it cynical) that humans are essentially animals whose primary motivations are the satiation of basic needs such as food and sex, and their every other action is merely an attempt to rationalise these drives.

But it’s been almost ten years ago since I looked at the director in any depth, and I’d not revisited many of these films since. It was funny, because I thought the basic concept of the season, to reassess Imamura’s legacy, was slightly odd, being as his status as one of the key figures in Japanese cinema, and of the 1960s in particular, hardly needed emphasizing. But it became clear talking to several of the members of the audience that while Imamura’s name might be well known in Japanese film fan circles, the general public in the UK really haven’t had a chance to see many of his films, and by and large they loved them. It occurred to me how little of his work is available on DVD in comparison with other directors such as, say, Seijun Suzuki. It just goes to show how much a director’s currency can change over time. The last retrospectives on Imamura in the UK, I believe, were just after his Palme d’Or win for The Eel, and that was well over ten years ago. Clearly people do need to be reminded of this director after all.

Pigs and Battleships

Pigs and Battleships

Watching the films back to back it struck me, while there are certain uniform themes and ideas explored in his films, individually they are all very different in style and tone. I’d never actually seen Pigs and Battleships before, for example, which was one of the standouts of the programme, a more obvious commercial piece which bore some similarities with Sun Tribe films such as Crazed Fruit and Cruel Story of Youth, yet also signalled the direction that Imamura would pursue, with its bawdy humour, really vibrant style, and that wonderfully surreal ending as the pigs stampede through the streets of Yokosuka. Ballad of Narayama I’d not seen for years, but it has a special place in my heart as one of my first encounters with Japanese cinema in a screening at the Scala in the late 1980s (with Wakamatsu’s Violated Angels). Watching it again really spelled out for me what an amazing achievement it is, perhaps the quintessential Imamura film. The film isn’t well-known at all in Britain with modern audiences, but there is a US DVD. But one of the main treats of this program was finally getting to see Profound Desire of the Gods on a big screen, and what a bizarre film it is. If Ballad of Narayama is Imamura’s masterpiece, then this title is his folly, inviting comparisons with Herzog at his most ambitious, or Jodorowsky’s The Holy Mountain. It has its more digressive moments, it must be said, but the sheer scale and energy behind it really signals this out as an essential piece of cinematic history which will never be repeated. It is simply bewildering that this film is not out there on DVD anywhere, and I can’t work out why, because it’s handled by Nikkatsu, so obtaining the rights shouldn’t be too problematic. Someone rectify this situation, please!

Profound Desire of the Gods

Profound Desire of the Gods

Anyway, the main Arnolfini session is over, though there’s still a double bill of Vengeance is Mine and The Eel on Sunday 8th November. Those in the UK who couldn’t make it to Bristol will be heartened to here that the films are now up in London and screening at the ICA this very weekend, before moving to the Glasgow Film Theatre next week. Go watch them all. Who knows when you’ll get a chance to see them on the big screen in the UK again.