Welcome to the annual blog update. Another year is nearing its end and… I have to say that, in terms of personal stuff, 2021 has been even worse to me than 2020. There has been a lot of personal drama going on, a lot of stress and worries, and the pandemic situation in my country to top it all off, but in the midst of it all, I somehow managed not to give up blogging and I even maintained publishing pace from the previous year.
With regard to maintenance misadventures, regular readers already know this, but I was forced to change the email delivery service. I wrote about this in greater detail here. I have also started adding reviews to IMDb. What is more, I have updated the email subscription widget which can be found at the bottom of the main site. Also, I had to switch off the option enabling anonymous users to comment under blog posts. This was caused by recent spam postings, so I am hoping that this measure is going to be only temporary.
Additionally, I think that this blog update is a good opportunity to share some statistics with you all. That is to say, the most read post of 2021 was Tezuka’s Barbara review (519 views). I had no idea that the fandom of Osamu Tezuka is so strong out there! Close second was Tengoku to Jigoku: Psychona no Futari review (490 views). The least popular review of 2021 was that of Citizen Kitano documentary (mere 31 views), but I know it’s a bit unfair towards that text because it was published a couple of weeks ago rather than months. As for the most all-time read post, the grand prize goes to… The Negotiator The Movie review (1026 views)! I guess Ryoko Yonekura would definitely feel proud that her first theatrical movie (albeit mediocre) is so popular amongst readers of Watching Asia blog xD
I am still thinking about whether or not to make YouTube videos. Instead of putting my time and effort into doing video editorials (which basically gain less views than my traditional blog pieces), I would like to turn my channel into a freewheeling type of thing, where I could discuss a variety of topics and even show off my physical media collection. In my previous blog update, I mentioned my intention to discuss North Korean movies, and I will most certainly do that, not as separate blog reviews, but as a series of special editorials.
That’s it from me at the moment. As always, Thank You for being here. Running this blog for the past few years has been a humbling experience which allowed me to stay sane in the midst of real-life insanity. I send you warmest wishes. Please keep on appreciating the grandeur of East Asian Cinema. As Senbon Nokko used to say, “Tomorrow is another day!”
This is the second batch of 2021 editorials which I posted on my blog as well as other sites devoted to Asian cinema and dramas. As I have explained in my original post, I do not want to have subscribers of my blog (especially those from the mailing list) missing out on the content that is posted elsewhere. Therefore, I am providing a concise update about my publications in a post form. This batch includes articles and special reviews published between May and December 2021. I hope that you will enjoy these and please feel free to share your thoughts either via email or in the comments. In addition, if you have missed important news about me changing blog subscription options, then please head over to this post. I have moved the email subscription widget at the bottom of the blog's main page.
Asakusa Kid; or, Make’em Laugh Listen, Take. Don’t suck up to your audience. You tell them what’s funny. I have been waiting patiently for over a year and finally the movie is out! I refer to Netflix’s latest production Asakusa Kid, which is based on an autobiographical novel by none other than Takeshi Kitano himself.
Language: JapaneseOriginal Title: 浅草キッド Runtime: 123 min
Synopsis In 1965, young Takeshi (Yuya Yagira) dropped out of college. He searches for work in the popular Asakusa district. He eventually becomes an elevator boy at France-Za, a club owned by Senzaburo Fukami (Yo Oizumi) who is a revered comedian in the vicinity. Takeshi begs Fukami to teach him the art of comedy, and the owner reluctantly agrees. Gradually, Fukami discovers Kitano’s talent for on-stage performances.
In Pursuit of Dreams Asakusa Kid is not so much about the whole career of Takeshi Kitano, but rather it focuses on the legend’s humble beginnings. It is a touching story centering on a relationship between a mentor and his student. We see how “Take” learns tap dancing, performance wit, and comedic timing. Eventually, he becomes “Beat” Takeshi we all know and love, but this kind of transformation comes with a price.
If I were to make a cheesy cinematic comparison, I would say that Asakusa Kid is a heartbreaking callback to Rocky V (1990), but the difference is that the movie we discuss is based on real events. Consequently, we are given an insight not only into Takeshi Kitano’s trials and tribulations as a young comedian, but also into the world of Japanese stage comedy of the 1970s. From erotic cabarets to manzai skits, the realm of entertainment outside of Television (which was a groundbreaking novelty at that time) feels stale and outdated. This stark contrast marks a conflict between Master Fukami who clings to the traditional stage and Take who desires to make a name for himself.
I really have to give a shout out to top notch production design. Just as with The Naked Director drama, the viewers are transported back in time to Japan of pre-Bubble era. Interestingly, apart from a closing song by Keisuke Kuwata, we can also hear Takeshi Kitano himself singing the Asakusa Kid song. The music from the master himself really enhances the film’s finale.
With regard to performances, Yo Oizumi really steals the movie with his wonderful portrayal of Senzaburo Fukami. You can’t help but feel the character’s pain, especially in the second half of the story. Additionally, Yuya Yagira is amazing as young (and old) Takeshi Kitano. He got all the tics and mannerisms right. Additional praise goes to supporting actresses, in particular, Mugi Kadowaki as Chiharu and Honami Suzuki as Mari.
Recommendations All things considered, Asakusa Kid is not about gore, violence, and exploitation, which were so popular in the 1970s. It is a delicate coming-of-age tale about a student who feels indebted to his wonderful teacher. By knowing Kitano’s beginnings, you become more appreciative of his cinematic endeavours. This movie is definitely worth a try.
Overall score: 9/10
«Enjoyed this post? Never miss out on future posts by following us»
House of Flying Daggers; or, Triangle Love Affair I want the wind to stop and think. House of Flying Daggers is one of the few Yimou Zhang’s movies which I own on physical media. Still, it has taken me a couple of years to get myself round to watching it. Is it a decent wuxia feature? Let’s explore the film together.
Release Info
Directed by: Yimou ZhangStarring: Zhang Ziyi, Takeshi Kaneshiro, Andy Lau
Language: MandarinOriginal Title: 十面埋伏 Runtime: 119 min
Synopsis China, the second half of the 9th century marks the decline of the Tang Dynasty. The changing political climate leads to the emergence of a rebel group opposing the Emperor known as the House of Flying Daggers. The imperial police relentlessly hunts down the deadly group. Two captains, Leo (Andy Lau) and Jin (Takeshi Kaneshiro), suspect that a blind dancer Mei (Zhang Ziyi), at their local Peony Pavilion, may be a member of Flying Daggers. They arrest the girl, but Leo wants to up the game and expose the whole group. He encourages Jin to stage Mei’s rescue from the prison. Jin does not realise that he will fall for the charms of the beautiful girl…
Into the Woods Director Yimou Zhang started working on House of Flying Daggers right after wrapping the post-production of Hero (2002). It comes as no surprise that both wuxia spectacles function as companion pieces in terms of stunning visuals, the usage of colour, and stunning cinematography.
Interestingly, the late actress Anita Mui was supposed to play a big part in the film, but the plans fell through because of her untimely death in 2003. This led Zhang to slightly alter the script, which unlike Hero (2002) or Curse of the Golden Flower (2006), focuses more on the love story aspect rather than martial arts.
From the first confrontation in the Peony Pavilion to Jin and Mei’s arduous journey through the woods, House of Flying Daggers becomes a compelling, Shakespearean tragedy about the pitfalls of passion and lust. The storyline in itself is pretty straightforward but the masterful execution made me feel as if I am reading an ancient Chinese tale.
This is not to say that the movie is absolutely flawless. It came out at the height of Matrix films’ popularity, which undoubtedly influenced the CGI sequences. Although these did not age badly, they unfortunately give off an uncanny feeling upon modern viewing. Still, the camera work and the brilliant usage of white, yellow, and green are outstanding to date.
With regard to performances, Zhang Ziyi is undeniably at her prime here. I am convinced she would have been a perfect choice to play Mulan had there been a Chinese adaptation in the mid 2000s. Andy Lau repeats ambiguous vibes from the Infernal Affairs trilogy because we see him as a character operating from the shadows. Takeshi Kaneshiro is brilliant as Jin, who undergoes a change from a sleazy drunkard to a loving warrior.
Recommendations If you are not into action-packed wuxia tales directed by Yimou Zhang, then give House of Flying Daggers a try. It is a beautiful love story perfect for a peaceful Sunday afternoon. My DVD edition from Fox also contains an audio commentary by Yimou and Ziyi with English subtitles. The end credits contain an in memoriam dedication to Anita Mui.
Overall score: 7/10
«Enjoyed this post? Never miss out on future posts by following us»
We really fear another war might break out at any time. I have lived a life full of mistakes. I regret my mistakes, but I want to move forward in a better direction. We must not allow another war. I can’t die until I’ve delivered that message. ~ Nobuhiko Obayashi
In my personal opinion, there are not many film directors nowadays who truly deserve the title of an auteur filmmaker. Overzealous critics and fans rush to praise a particular director just because of the sole fact that his/her movies have great box office returns. Nevertheless, being an auteur primarily requires having a distinct cinematic style. With the usage of avant-garde cinematography, surreal visuals, postmodernist narrative as well as blending of animation, CGI and live action, the late Nobuhiko Obayashi can without a doubt be called an auteur artist with a strong lust for life. This is my retrospective article about the director’s famous anti-war trilogy made between 2012 and 2017.
In order to fully understand the messages conveyed in Casting Blossoms to the Sky (2012), Seven Weeks (2014), and Hanagatami (2017), we should take a closer look at Obayashi’s personal life. Nobuhiko was born in 1938 and, from an early age, he and his peers were indoctrinated to support the war efforts of the militarist government. When Japan carried out a successful attack on Pearl Harbor, Nobuhiko even made a drawing presenting bombs being dropped on Winston Churchill and Franklin Delano Roosevelt. However, the war frenzy reached an end in 1945 when the United States dropped “Little Boy” and “Fat Man” on Hiroshima and Nagasaki. It is at that time when Nobuhiko realised the true meaning of war. The citizens of Japan were so brainwashed by their leaders that they were convinced the Allied Forces will lead to a complete and total annihilation of their country. Obayashi was afraid that for this reason only his mother might kill him and herself, just to avoid being executed by the Americans. In a touching NHK documentary from 2019 Nobuhiko Obayashi: His Promise, the director recalls these wartime memories and shows a photograph of his mother.
After the war, when Japan entered the stage of rebuilding itself under the watchful eye (and cultural influence) of America, young Obayashi started learning the filmmaking craft, initially making experimental short films and TV commercials. It was not until 1977 when he made the breakthrough into the mainstream with his debut feature film House; arguably, the first and only Obayashi’s movie that is recognised and enjoyed by horror fans in the West because of its off-the-wall aesthetics and unconventional storyline.
From this point forward, Obayashi was churning out coming-of-age movies with popular idols in leading roles, such as I Are You, You Am Me (1982), The Girl Who Leapt Through Time (1983), Lonely Heart (1985), His Motorbike, Her Island (1986), etc. It was in the year 1990 when on set of Dreams he met his mentor Akira Kurosawa who encouraged him to pursue anti-war themes in his pictures. As Obayashi explains, Kurosawa had an unwavering belief that movies about the painful past can change the course of the future.
Casting Blossoms to the Sky from 2012 feels like a time capsule of testimonies made by people who experienced the atrocities of war in Nagaoka in 1945. We follow journalist Reiko Endo (Yasuko Matsuyuki) as she explores the city and collects memories of its residents. Some lost loved ones in the course of air raids, whereas others were badly injured. We learn that mock-ups of the atomic bombs were dropped on Nagaoka because the Americans were already practising before obliterating Hiroshima and Nagasaki. However, are Americans the only ones to be blamed? Obayashi condemns the futility of war, and especially of Japanese pride of partaking in this madness, in a series of striking visuals which constitute a stage play prepared by the people of Nagaoka. The movie concludes with a real Nagaoka Fireworks Display in memory of victims of Pearl Harbor attacks and of the US air raids. Both sides should reconcile and learn from their past mistakes.
Interestingly, Seven Weeks (2014) takes the theme of reconciliation and nostalgia to another level. The main protagonist of the film is Doctor Mitsuo Suzuki (Toru Shinagawa) who passes away at the age of 92 in the town of Ashibetsu. His sister (Tokie Hidari), grandchildren (Saki Terashima, Takehiro Murata, Yutaka Matsushige), great-granddaughter (Hirona Yamazaki), and former employee (Takako Tokiwa) gather together to perform mourning ceremonies. However, not everything goes according to plan. What exactly were the circumstances of Suzuki's death? It is up to the relatives to discover the traumatic past of young Suzuki who was fighting the Russians in Sakhalin, back when it was still under Japanese jurisdiction. Although the war ended in August, 1945, the surrender order did not reach Sakhalin until September 5. For Mitsuo, other soldiers, nurses, and residents of Sakhalin, this is the real date when the war ended. In Seven Weeks, Obayashi takes great advantage of flashbacks, sifting narratives, and visuals reminiscing magical realism. In consequence, this is not just a story about atoning for past sins, but also about the possibility of reincarnation. Where do we come from and where are we going? Obayashi answers these questions by stating that behind each death there is a new birth. Something has to end so something new could begin. Life is a journey that has to be cherished rather than wasted on unnecessary suffering. The story of Sakhalin nurses commiting a group suicide to avoid the Russian invasion is especially chiling.
Last but not least, Hanagatami (2017) can be regarded as Obayashi’s anti-war magnum opus. Inspired by Kazuo Dan’s novel, the director was developing the project for 40 years, and when he finally got the budget to make it, he was diagnosed with lung cancer. Although he was projected to have three months to live, this did not stop him from shooting the film and even working on a new project, Labyrinth of Cinema (2020), which turned out to be his final picture. In His Promise documentary, we can see frail Obayashi, supported by his wife Kyoko, relentlessly giving instructions to the cast of Hanagatami via walkie-talkie. He even had the strength to go to a festival in Paris and promote the film! The movie itself can be best described as a performance art caught on camera. Nobuhiko explains that he did not do any rehearsal with the actors and actresses in order to capture their genuine reactions and expressions. What is more, the way Hanagatami was shot is also interesting. To compensate for his small budget, Obayashi breaks nearly every filmmaking convention and, as a result, we get CGI landscapes, artificial camera pans, rapid zoom-ins, and mirrored angles of certain shots.
Hanagatami is not a motion picture but rather a visual poem that pulls you in with its rawness and wickedness. This is Obayashi’s harsh statement against the foolishness of youth. In the film, we follow Toshihiko Sakakiyama (Shunsuke Kubozuka) who attends a school in Karatsu and frequently encounters his colleagues (Shinnosuke Mitsushima, Keishi Nagatsuka, Tokio Emoto) as well as his aunt Keiko (Takako Tokiwa) and ailing cousin Mina (Honoka Yahagi). On the day when Pearl Harbor is attacked, Toshihiko can’t help but celebrate. However, this is also the day that marks the death of Mina. Together with her death, all of the other characters lose their innocence in face of the upcoming war with America. “I’ll survive in the red, setting sun of Manjuria,” repeats Keiko the words of her dying husband as if foolishly believing in the success of the Japanese East Asian Order. During an English class, Toshihiko asks his nihilistic friend Kira: “What will happen if Japan goes to war with the country of Edgar Allan Poe? We won’t be able to read Black Cat anymore.” Obayashi answers to viewers that only death awaits all the young men who go to war. Toshihiko has the luck of being one of the few soldiers who survived the traumatic period, but at what cost? As an elderly man, does he fear death? Does Nobuhiko Obayashi himself fear death? In the final scene of the film, the actor playing Toshihiko appears actually as Nobuhiko and ponders on this troubling issue…
All things considered, exploring Nobuhiko Obayahi’s anti-war trilogy was quite an experience for me. After these three films, each running well over two and a half hours, you will find yourself questioning your very existence. That’s Nobuhiko Obayashi for you. In His Promise documentary, we can see him walking the streets of Paris and exclaiming: "The sky is always blue!" Only this man could have made such a trilogy in modern-day era (because Masaki Kobayashi did it first with The Human Condition) which questions and evaluates the Japanese wartime past as well as serves as a warning for future generations. My thanks go to Third Window Films for sharing the movies with me. Without their support, I would not have been able to write this article. On the 13th of December, they are going to release the trilogy in a limited Blu-Ray set which will also include making-of featurettes and interviews with Obayashi. In the meantime, I leave you with the words from the master himself. Thank you for reading:
I was diagnosed with stage 4 cancer and given three months to live. I am not supposed to be here, but I am still alive. The legendary Akira Kurosawa left a message for me and for the world’s future film directors. I stand before you today risking my life to pass that message on to all of you: The beauty and power of film can save the world from war and lead it toward peace. If you can’t do it, your children can. If not, your grandchildren can continue, little by little. Then, one day, 400 years from now, someone will make my movie and the power of film will erase all wars from the world. ~ Nobuhiko Obayashi (June, 2017)
«Enjoyed this post? Never miss out on future posts by following us»
