Like Someone in Love

likesomoene

もったいない (mottanai) in Japanese basically means “what a waste!” and that’s how I felt once I was 70% through Like Somone in Love. I’d seen the film on the shelf at the library and was intrigued. When I watched the trailer on YouTube I was duped. I thought the film would be interesting. ちがいます(chigaimasu). Translation: wrong.

Directed by the Iranian director who made Certified Copy, which I did enjoy, though I have to say that film has an unusual and at times mystifying or weird narrative, Like Someone in Love deliberately leaves the audience in the dark about what’s going on or who the characters actually are. The director likes to string people along or make them wonder. We first hear, but don’t see Akiko, a young prostitute, lie to her fiancée. Then her fatherly boss advises her to drop the boyfriend before he insists she go to a new client’s apartment. Akiko is pouty and stupid and that never changes.

Her new client Prof. Watanabe is old enough to be her grandpa and is very kind. It seems he just wants a companion rather than a sex partner. At first Akiko is withdrawn, but soon flips the switch and is talkative and bubbly. She knows how to do her job, how to create interest and warmth, which seems to have se rved her well. She chatters on about her youth and how various people have praised her looks. I thought she was very sly in adopting this “little girl” persona. It’s common in Japan for women to adopt a baby-ish voice to flirt.

Before we know it Akiko pulls poor Watanabe into her violent relationship with a mechanic. At one point, after seeing the mechanic man-handle Akiko, the retired professor tries to advise the fiancé on marriage, but this kid’s a know-it-all.

The best thing about the film is the actor who played Watanabe. Evidently, Tanashi Okuno has been an extra for 30+ years and this is the first film in which he speaks.

I feared that Akiko and the mechanic were total liars and would beat up the old man at the end, but that’s not exactly what happens. In fact, the end is left to viewers’ imagination, which I felt was cheating.

This slice of life film wasn’t worth the time. It’s the mirror opposite of a Doris Day film like Lucky Me. The director aims to avoid Hollywood clichés and as far as that goes, he succeeds. If you want to see a film set in Japan, try Kurosawa, Naruse or Ozu. Skip Like Someone in Love.

Advertisements

A Touch of Sin

a-touch-of-sin

A Touch of Sin , directed by Jian Zhangke, blew me away.

I think I was expecting a movie about love affairs or something with a touch, i.e. a little corruption.

The film could be called A Massive Dose of Sin as it dramatizes four true events in modern China. True events, my mind still swirls.

The film features four stories that overlap a tad. First we see a villager who’s fed up with the corrupt village chief who promised that proceeds from the sale of a mine would be shared with the villagers. While the chief travels by private jet and owns a luxury sedan, the villagers have netted zero. When trying to speak to the chief gets him no where, the villager turns to violence — in a big way.

A Touch of Sin - Stills - Lian Rong (Li Meng) 02 Copyright Xstream Pictures (Beijing)

Later we meet a professional thief who returns to his village for his mother’s 70th birthday, a mistress who gives her lover an ultimatum and a factory worker who heads to a bigger city, with brighter lights and more action. None of these characters fare well. They get caught in the wheels of the greed of modern China. There’s plenty of violence and blood in each story, which I still am stunned that they’re all true. The cinematography is outstanding and the dialog spare. Jia shows us these tales and leaves us with little commentary or preaching on what to think about the brutality. The scenes all feel so real, so real that it’s scary.

A Touch of Sin won for best screenplay at Cannes in 2013.

I’m glad I saw it, but watching a second time would be too much for me.

Osaka Elegy

osakaelegy3900x506

Directed by Kenji Mizoguch, Osaka Elegy (1936) opens with Mr. Asai, a middle-aged grouch, insulting his servants and wife. According to Asai-san, everyone in his house is stupid and incompetent. He and his wife argue and he threatens to get a mistress. The wife replies “go ahead.” There’s not even a spark of love or kindness in this man or his wife.

At work Mr. Asai is more temperate. He even smiles and laughs. Ayako,  a young office girl, who answers the phones, catches his eye.  Though she wears a kimono at work, while the men all wear Western suits (it’s always telling when a culture has women in traditional dress and men in the more modern) Ayoko embraces modern mores. She smokes, outside of work she wears the new styles.

Uninterested in middle-aged men, Ayoko  has eyes for Susumu, a dashing young salary man, who likes her but isn’t ready to move beyond friendship. Ayako’s bigger problem is her father, who’s embezzled 300 yen from his company. They’re ready to set the police after him. Ayako has to deal with he father’s colleagues who come to the house to hound the family for money. Her cowardly father eavesdrops outside while they intimidate his daughters.

Ayako tries to get a loan from Susumu Nishimura. She’s run out of people to ask. In the end her only hope is an agreement with Mr. Asai, who’s pestered her with offers of money and apartments for some time. She winds up agreeing to Mr. Asai’s terms since Susumu hasn’t committed to her and can’t lend her the money.

She gives her father, who shows little appreciation or concern for Ayako, the money and disappears. She quits her job and goes off to her new gilded cage. Later she meets Susumu in a department store. He proposes and she thinks her life can change for the better. Yet more demands from her ungrateful family lead her away from the marriage she hoped for.

The Criterion Collection offers two insightful essays on Osaka Elegy. In one it points out that the director was haunted by his parents selling his sister into prostitution so they could pay for his education:

A detail of Kenji Mizoguchi’s life that is seldom left out of any biographical note is the fact that his older sister was sold into prostitution when he was a child. The practice was not uncommon among poverty-stricken Asian families, and while horrifying enough, the boy’s future was linked to her bondage. After the death of their parents she supported him, and her eventual marriage to a wealthy patron made his education possible. According to the tenets of Japan’s institutionalized sexism, the sacrifice of the less-valued girl child for the well-being of a son would have been taken for granted. But the themes and meaning of the director’s entire body of work attest that for him at least, it never was. Over his long career, through more than eighty films, Mizoguchi would constantly champion women wronged and discarded: Osaka Elegy, Sisters of the Gion, A Woman of Osaka, A Geisha, and Street of Shame. His portrayal, with merciless depth, of the workings of a society that nurtured male privilege and sanctioned second-class citizenship for women, suggests a sensibility on the cutting edge of giri.

I was struck by how Ayako’s desire for a progressive, modern life, was strangled. While she could smoke and work, neither of these actions kept her secure or gave her power. Also the movie, while not explicit, was open about sexuality and exploitation. It doesn’t dress up the sacrifice and cost Ayoko must pay. There’s a bold realism in the film that captivates.