Mono no aware

[Reposted, with edits, from my old side-blog. Much of the other content on there has now been moved to my revamped front page]

This post is partly inspired by Bateszi’s observation of how little those of us in the English-speaking world hear of drama- and realistic fiction-style Japanese cinema, and partly because a review for the movie adaptation of Haruki Murakami’s short story Tony Takitani is long overdue. The original story, by the way, is currently available in the Blind Willow, Sleeping Woman compilation of his short stories; another book on my ‘To Review’ pile.

The man of the film’s title is a graphical artist with a solitary life and an unconventional childhood. His mother died when he was born and his often-absent father is a travelling jazz musician; a man “as unsuited to being a father as Tony was to being a son,”. Tony Takitani is skilled and successful professionally but despite an agreeable personality and lucrative career he is something of an introvert. This life of solitude changes when he marries a woman with a passion for clothes and understands the true meaning of loneliness.

Murakami’s writings, both full novels and shorts, are more often than not quite surreal pieces but this particular story is a very realistic tale free from supernatural goings-on and metaphysics, which makes its transition from print to screen almost effortless. With a passive observer-style narration, the cinematography makes the camera view glide from scene to scene like the pages of a book turning; it almost feels as if the chapters of Tony’s life are being read out aloud as we drift in and out and through moments of his life.

The quirkiness of Murakami’s prose, a large part of his appeal that is so difficult to pin down, is effectively captured here. There are occasional moments of dry humour but it has a restful, introspective and melancholic atmosphere; the pace is unhurried, allowing the viewer’s attention to linger on the small details and the nuances of the characters’ reactions and expressions. The way in which they occasionally finish the narrator’s lines out loud gently knocks on the fourth wall and prevents the viewer becoming detached from the events on-screen.

Interestingly, the continuity of solitude passed down from father to son is maintained by deliberately casting stage actor Issei Ogata in the roles of both the adult Tony and his father Shozaburo; similarly his wife and the woman who he meets later on are both played by Rie Miyazawa, linking the tragedy of their married life and his search for solace that follows. In a understated film such as this, the cast have room to shine: Ogata’s experience in theatre is perfectly suited to the minimalistic style of the film and Miyazawa lends that air of elegance and poise that left me so impressed by her turn in The Twilight Samurai.

All this conveys some of the most profound and meaningful themes that are prevalent in Murakami’s work: namely feelings of isolation in today’s crowded world, the emotional price of a materialistic society, and the ironic distance that exists between us and those we’re closest to. In a way, both Tony and his father lived solitary lives but the way in which that isolation is handed down is truly affecting. Similarly Tony wished his wife happiness but her inexplicable compulsion to buy clothes and shoes proved to be her undoing – once again it’s an odd topic and one that rarely appears in cinema, but is no less believable.

The central theme of the story is of course that Tony never feels lonely until he experiences true love and companionship, followed by the pain that results when he returns to a life on his own. This is undeniably a downbeat film but rather than melodramatics or clumsy tearjerking, Tony Takitani presents the story’s themes in a matter-of-fact and mature way which makes its impact all the more considerable. Ryuichi Sakamoto’s subtle piano melodies are used sparingly yet wisely too, providing the icing on a cake that deserves to be sampled by a far wider audience. As someone who is both curious in regards to world cinema and an avid Murakami fan into the bargain, I found this to be a hidden gem.

I’ve always wondered how (if at all) Murakami’s writing could make it to the screen, especially when the screenplay is so faithful to the source material, but with this film in mind I wish it happened more often. The casting, the cinematography, the atmosphere are all picture-perfect: I find it hard to find fault in it at all. If this is to set the course of Ichikawa’s career, he is a film maker who deserves worldwide recognition.

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