Mono no aware

I found myself staring dumbly at a blank screen for quite some time before being able to type a single word about this film. My feelings mirrored the closing phrase of Takami’s Battle Royale, “…but of course they’re part of you now.” I followed the characters through thick and thin; I felt stunned, drained and somewhat overwhelmed. Rewatching the series in its entirety didn’t lead me to believe this instalment is flawless but I was able to view it as the final(?) component part of the greater whole.

Not many of the scenes were brightly-lit enough to give decent screencaps

I believe it’s unfair to judge the Kara no Kyoukai adaptations against the other Type Moon productions when its source material pre-dates them all, but the fact remains that in terms of storytelling, presentation and character dynamics it’s a classic in the making. I’m not using that term lightly either: I’m choosing my words carefully here, even though I’m using so bloody many.

Ah, that time of year again…as much as I’d have liked to have taken time off work for the full duration of the festival and watch as much as time allowed my finances wouldn’t stretch (especially since it’s an hour away by train). It became more of a social occasion what with the screenings of First Squad: Moment of Truth, Ponyo and Summer Wars forming the perfect excuse to meet up with friends and discuss the movies over a meal and a drink or two.

For some reason I prefer to watch episodic anime and the more headscratch-inducing stuff on my own at home but the feature-length efforts are more enjoyable when the experience is shared with friends and on the big screen. I’m certainly expecting these three to wind up licenced; assuming legal red tape doesn’t get in the way I see no reason why they won’t. I hope.

I often wonder if the problem I have with alternate retelling-type stories is shared by other people: that of my difficulty in holding onto and drawing meaning from what’s retained in case it’s indended to be taken in a different context, while at the same time trying to ‘un-learn’ what I knew in order to accept the new material. This is especially true for a complex and powerful story such as that of Eureka Seven: the attachment I had for the characters and conclusions I drew were deeply embedded in my mind. Perhaps that’s why I find the mixture of new and familiar disorientating.

What is it with Studio Bones and magical flowers?!

If I understand A Pocketful of Rainbows correctly, these events take place in a parallel universe after those of the series so it’s both a sequel and an alternative timeline. The progression of Eureka’s and Renton’s relationship still forms the core of the story but otherwise the original plot is completely reshuffled with familiar faces taking on different roles. This I think is where I fell out with the movie’s approach: a lot of what made the series special for me was lost on the cutting-room floor but what’s left for existing fans to get a handle on is barely recognisable. Even when it remembers love.

A theory of mine is that advances in digital technology and the Internet can really help independently-produced films from the smaller animation studios. Viral marketing, fansites and blogs have produced some surprising success stories in recent years; similarly the mind-boggling leaps in hardware and software mean that small groups or even individuals can further their careers on realistic budgets in ways that were inconceivable a decade ago.

Atsuya Uki’s debut feature Cencoroll fits into this trend in that he’s produced a short film based on his award-winning manga short Amon Game with minimal outside assistance. While he’s hardly the first one to take this route it has its own quirky charm that really grew on me; it’s one of those one-shot home-grown oddities whose indie roots are not necessarily detrimental to their quality, and benefit greatly from online fan exposure for their success. Granted, it’s not *quite* what I expected it to be but even aside from the ‘one bloke made this’ angle, it shows a hell of a lot of promise.

At last: a live-action anime adaptation that doesn’t suck! I picked up Cutie Honey purely for the lulz and on the grounds of being a Hideaki Anno completist, but wasn’t surprised at the hour and a half of over-the-top campness. What was surprising was how entertaining it all was; I haven’t seen any of the old adaptations or the original manga but thanks to those mind-boggling trailers that were going around I only had a vague idea of what to expect.

Good job!

I find the Anno-isms to be a bit wearing in live-action format for some reason but given the old Gainax manifesto in terms of comedy, it’s a fitting choice of director in a roundabout kind of way. The packaging lists the director as he always is (i.e. as a ‘legend’ and the maker of Evangelion) but ominously Eriko Sato is introduced proudly as ‘Japan’s top swimsuit model’ and it raises no defence whatsoever against any accusations of being superficial, mindless fluff. It’s reputed to be one of MVM’s biggest sellers over here, too. No kidding.

I was extremely interested in the Mushishi live action film right from the first rumours and announcements; not only is it one of my all-time favourite animated TV shows (I really ought to read the graphic novels sometime), the fact that Katsuhiro Otomo was in charge as director made me preorder a copy without a second thought. Unfortunately it didn’t impress me as much as I’d hoped; if anything the end result was actually quite lacklustre. Considering the quality of the source material and the collective talent on board, I have to wonder how it didn’t manage to realise its potential.

The TV show (and the graphic novel series, from what I’ve heard) was strictly episodic in structure, so any feature-length version has to splice a number of the individual stories together and smooth out the screenplay to make a coherent narrative. This is one thing that the movie does reasonably well: it features several story arcs that fans are familiar with but emphasises the background to Ginko’s childhood and its relevance to his present life in an over-arcing theme throughout the film. The cinematography is also excellent, but beyond that…I’m far from convinced.

All about Lily Chou-Chou is an odd film. I find two types of oddness that run through the Japanese live-action movies in my collection: there’s the energetic, mad type of odd that drives the likes of Survive Style 5+ and the back catalogue of Takashi Miike and there’s the gentle, whimsical oddness of, say, Tony Takitani. Lily Chou-Chou falls in the second category. It’s not frenetic and off-the-wall, but its narrative has a shuffled chronology that jumps back and forth and there are some scenes that are quite shocking; it takes on some familiar issues but the execution is both beautiful and highly unconventional.

I mentioned the film to Bateszi absolutely ages ago; I recommended it to him by reputation before I’d seen it for myself (the same approach has given me a couple of other titles, namely Tokyo Sonata and Audition that are on the ‘to watch’ shelf, and two more in the form of Funky Forest: First Contact and Taste of Tea that I’m planning on picking up). I wish I hadn’t left it so long.

I must admit that the premise of this outing didn’t fill me with as much enthusiasm as some of the earlier ones. It sounded like the story was shying away from the hard-edged grittiness that I’ve come to respect so much in the series, what with it being about something as light-hearted as Mikiya’s kid sister Azaka looking for fairies at school. Sure enough, the general tone of this movie is a lot brighter, more humorous and is mostly concerned with Azaka and her personal perpective on things rather than putting Shiki in centre stage.

What pleasantly surprised me though was that this relative levity and the shift in character focus offered so much to enjoy on their own. Azaka has always been a bit, well, overprotective of her elder brother but this is where she is given the opportunity to explain why as best she can. The mystery thriller side of things is still present, of course, but it’s more character- rather than plot-driven. With a some FIRE to spice it up a bit.

I always find the “How did you get into anime?” discussions fascinating. Way before my first proper anime experience I watched an obscure animated feature film that gave me great memories. I mentally filed it under Something I’ll Never See Again and almost fooled myself into thinking I’d forgotten about it, so it was quite something when I spotted a familiar-looking image on the front of a DVD case over a decade later and bought the thing on the spot. The DVD in question was Miyazaki’s Laputa: Castle in the Sky, which I later bought again on Japanese import because that was the edition that contained the older English language dub I remembered so held the real nostalgia value.

I wonder if the quoted value of 5cm per second for sakura petals is altitude-dependent

While I normally blog from the point of view of the cynical 27-year-old I am today the reason why my opinion of it is the way it is stems from experiencing it through a child’s eyes; it is after all a kids’ adventure story so that tack makes more sense to me. I’ve done a very simplified run-down of my favourite bits from my original viewing, with numbered annotations to include the benefits of hindsight. It’s an unusual approach for me, so I hope it works here.

[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.