My goal: to see
100 movies in 2010
The results for past year
movie challenges: 2009 (88 films); 2008 (85); 2007 (90); 2006 (95); 2005 (97); 2004 (115); and 2003 (86).
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Sayonara Nippon” homepage
17). Densha Otoko 「電車男」（Train man; 2005; dir. Murakami Shosuke). The other
members of the family hadn’t seen this yet, so I watched it again with them. Ala Hara Setsuko in the film just below, what
struck me this time was the way the plot and emotional logic were driven forward
by shots of the hero’s body being subjected to physical humiliation. The sequence in the imaginary train station
when he grovels on the floor, bowing in apology to his Internet friends across
the tracks from him, is straight out of the confession scene in Shimazaki Tōson’s Broken Commandment. Here, though, such scenes are not strong
together as montages, but rather via scrolling lines of text: these characters literally live in a world of
digital textuality.
(3/20/10 on DVD).
16).
Waga Seishun ni Kuinashi 「わが青春に悔なし」（No
regrets for our youth; 1946; dir. Kurosawa Akira). I watched this one again for a class I’m
teaching on early postwar discourses of culture and politics in Japan. What struck me this time was the way Hara
Setsuko’s body is tortured to produce a dramatic sense of time passing: both in the physical degradations she is
forced to endure (muddy farm work, being slapped by a policeman, etc.) and also
at the hands of the editing in the multiple montage sequences that cut up her
physical gestures into sequences of discontinuous shots that convey both
emotional overload and the jerky passage of time. #2 on the Kinema Junpô Best Ten list for 1946. (3/17/10 on DVD).
15).
Natsukashii Furaibô 「なつかしい風来坊」(Lovable drifter; 1966; dir. Yamada Yôji). Above-average entry from the 1960s salaryman
comedy genre. Here Yamada lays
down the template for what in a few years will develop into the Tora-san series. In
fact, the love interest is played by none other than Baishô
Chieko, who would go on to serve as Tora-san’s
long-suffering sister. A repressed salaryman (Arishima Ichirô) finds his life entangled with that of an
unpredictable scamp (Hana Hajime), with chaotic
results. The film features mickey-mouseing and other kinds of wacky sound effects
throughout. (2/26/10
on DVD).
14).
Anvil! The Story of Anvil (2008; dir. Sacha Gervasi). Almost too good to be true, the most
remarkable thing about this documentary is how much you begin to really like
and care for the hapless heavy metal heroes who are at its focus. Human obsessions never lose their
fascination, after all. (2/20/10 on DVD).
13).
Y tu mamá también (2001; dir.
Alfonso Cuarón).
I watched this again in preparation for teaching in a class on travel
literature from around the world. I was
struck this time by the extensive use of water imagery throughout (lots of
underwater shots); the extensive use of handheld cameras giving the whole thing
a jerky, energetic feel; and once again by the remarkable performances by the
actors in the three leading roles. I was
also reminded of how remarkably refreshing it is to see historical, economic,
and political factors explicitly raised in a film. (2/13/10 on DVD).
12).
(500) Days of Summer (2009; dir. Marc Webb). Charming and quirky deconstruction of
boy-meets-girl romantic comedy genre, and some of the most intelligent use of
pop music I’ve seen in recent film. Art here mirrors real life, in that the
film’s narrative parallels my own relationship with Zooey
Deschanel: I’m
in love with her and she doesn’t know I exist.
Sigh. (2/12/10
on DVD).
11). I Love You,
Alice B. Toklas! (1968, dir. Hy
Averback).
Not as painfully boxy as most 1960s Hollywood versions of hippie
counterculture, though still pretty stiff-necked, this one features a
transcendent performance by Peter Sellers as a repressed lawyer who tries to
become “hip.” His speech patterns, his
body language, his facial expressions are nothing short of brilliant: he manages at one point to turn a simple walk
along the beach into a comic tour de force. The Elmer Bernstein soundtrack, however,
is awfully square, man, even with the sitars.
Leigh Taylor-Young, on the other hand, charms the audience in her role
as the flower child for whom Sellers throws away everything. (2/5/10 on Netflix On-Line
Streaming).
10). Salaryman Yaji Kita Dôchû 「サラリーマン弥次喜多道中」(Salaryman Yaji
and Kita on the road; 1961; dir. Aoyagi Nobuo).
Fluffy comedy in the Salaryman genre, this one
grounds itself in Ikku Jippensha’s
early 19th century comic novel Shanks
Mare on the Tôkaidô. The bumbling Yaji and Kita are updated to salarymen
employed by an agricultural implements firm, sent out on a sales trip along the
Tôkaidô road. Along the way they encounter booze,
women, and all sorts of misadventures.
Lots of nifty location shots of driving down roads in 1961 Tokyo and
other parts of Japan. The soundtrack is
also something of a road trip, in that it is all over the place in terms of
styles and eras. (2/4/10
on DVD).
9).
Petition (2009; dir. Zhao Liang). Brutal and compelling documentary that
follows the travails of petitioners who flock to the official appeal offices of
the Chinese government despite the utterly hopeless nature of the process and
despite the legal and patently illegal measures used to discourage them. Zhao’s camera obsessively follows several of
the petitioners and their obsessions over a period of ten years, and as he
depicts the violence they face he also at times makes us uncomfortably aware of
the violent intrusiveness of his camera into their lives. He captures some amazing footage and edits it
together into a remarkably effective form, and he pulls no punches in depicting
his subjects’ disgust with the corruption of the Chinese state. (1/31/10 at University of
Chicago Film and Media Studies Center).
8).
Cityscape (2004; dir. Zhao Liang). Absorbing short-film documentary, 18 minutes
of footage from urban settings in China that capture
the strange feel of city life, where inexplicable acts of violence and desire
flare up around you. The voyeuristic thrills of anonymous urban space becomes both the theme and
the form of the work. (1/31/10
at University of Chicago Film and Media Studies Center).
7). Passing
Strange: The Movie (2009; dir. Spike
Lee). As a longtime fan of the musician
Stew, I was prepared to like this film, which records the final Broadway
performance of his Tony Award winning musical. But I wasn’t fully prepared for
how powerful the experience was. It had me in tears more than once–that is,
when I wasn’t laughing or tapping my foot in time to the music. It’s a
Portrait-of-the-Artist-as-a-Young-Man narrative combined with an electrifying
rock show: Stew, his longtime collaborator Heidi Rodewald,
and band are on stage the whole time, frequently interacting with the actors.
The cast is astonishingly good. Many of the players take up multiple roles
during the course of the evening, and it is sheer pleasure to watch them
inhabit the bodies of radically different sorts of characters. Through it all,
Stew serves as the avuncular narrator, stepping up to centerstage
whenever the need arises for a rock-and-roll explosion. Spike Lee’s direction
is lean but creative: he even gets a cast member to carry a video camera on
stage to film one sequence (watch the Special Features section on the DVD for
more about this). I hate to set you up with excessive expectations that no
movie could ever satisfy; undoubtedly, the best way to encounter this would be
to stumble across it unexpectedly and be blown away. But I’d hate for anyone to
miss this one: do yourself a favor and watch the thing. It’s a work of art, and
to paraphrase Stew, life is full of mistakes, but art is where we go to correct
them. (1/28/10 on DVD).
6). O Brother,
Where Art Thou? (2000; dir. Joel Coen). Watched this one again
after a number of years in preparation for teaching it. It remains a terrific comedy full of quirks
and tics, like all of the Coen brothers’ films. Has George Clooney ever topped his
performance here? He’s really a movie
star in the Cary Grant, Jimmy Stewart vein in this. I’ve seen Sullivan’s
Travels since the first time I watched this, so my eyes were opened to a
whole new layer of allusions. (1/23/10 on DVD).
5).
Thank You for Smoking (2005; dir. Jason Reitman). Brilliant
cast in a sharp comedy, one in which we learn to love the enemy (evil tobacco lobbyist)
but also to recognize his tricks. Given
the Supreme Court’s decision on the day I watched this basically abolishing all
limits on corporate political contributions, we could
use a lot more films like this one. In
that sense, the film has more than a little relation to Frank Capra (which it
is only too happy to announce with its Jimmy Steward allusions). Nice use of old honkytonk
music, too. (1/21/10
on DVD).
4).
Meet Me in St. Louis (1944, dir. Vincente Minnelli).
The classic musical, which I’d somehow missed
seeing up until now. Judy Garland is
resplendent, of course, and because of her subsequent connection to Misora Hibari I was particularly
interested in seeing Margaret O’Brien’s scene-stealing performance. A lovely balance between sentiment and
comedy; there’s a lovely sequence when, after a quarrel, the family reassembles
one-by-one to eat cake: it hits exactly
the right tone. It’s all based on a
series of short stories by Sally Benson that were
published in the New Yorker in early 1942;
I think I’ll dig those out for a look.
(1/16/10 taped from TCM network)
3).
Bell, Book and Candle (1958, dir. Richard Quine). Basically a slightly more sophisticated version of the television
series Bewitched, romantic comedy
between witches and ordinary mortals in uber-urbane
Manhattan. The Jimmy Stewart-Kim
Novak duo from Vertigo is reprised,
and they are joined by an impossibly young Jack Lemmon (who plays the bongo
drums to fit Hollywood’s image of New York beatnik culture) and Ernie Kovacs in
a nice, understated turn as an alcoholic author. Philippe Clay gets to perform a fairly
interesting musical number. (1/14/10
taped from TCM network).
2).
Kuro no tesuto kaa 『黒の試走車』(Black test car; 1962; dir. Masumura
Yasuzô).
Hardboiled tale of industrial espionage with a strong dose of social
critique: every aspect of contemporary
Japanese society—the family, romantic relations, the press, business, and
friendship—are portrayed as corrupt. At several key moments, we see the taint
of wartime imperialism and militarism staining the present. Dark soundtrack music and bleak settings help
build up the portrait, as do repeated shots of assembly line machinery in
action, reminding us that the characters we are watching have been reduced to
the status of being cogs in an ugly, brutal machine. The first title in the Daiei studio’s “Kuro no…” series. (1/10/10 on DVD).
1).
Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers (2002, dir. Peter
Jackson). OK, so maybe there is some
sort of postcolonial subtext going on.
Is Gollum a Hegelian or not? And
which of the lousy rulers represents GW Bush?
(1/1/10 on DVD).
The
results for past year movie challenges: 2009 (88 films); 2008 (85); 2007 (90); 2006 (95); 2005 (97); 2004 (115); and 2003 (86).
Return to “Sayonara Amerika,
Sayonara Nippon” homepage