Privilege Entails Responsibility

Nikita Sbt. Russian-born Orientalist living in Sai Gon, Viet Nam. Sophistication seeker, introverted and quixotic; keeping myself aloof from modern culture trifles. The beguiling radiant smiles grant me belief, while the sharp mind always colours me amazed. I'm always loosing my train of thought, yet staring at the wall. Both brilliant and frustrated, I'm groping for the answers. But the life is ruled by blind chance

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“They say women are made of water.  So are some men.  Most people fall in love for the first time as teenagers.  I guess I’m a late bloomer.  Maybe I’m too picky.  On May 30, 1995, I finally fell in love for the first time.  It was raining that night.  When I looked at her I suddenly felt like I was a store.  And she was me.  Without any warning, she suddenly enters the store.  I don’t know how long she’ll stay.  The longer the better, of course.”

Fallen Angels | Wong Kar-Wai | 1995

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Sinn Sisamouth ( ស៊ីន សាមុត ) and Ros Serey Sothea ( រស់ សិរីសុទ្ធា ), two legendary Cambodian singers.

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The Munekata Sisters (宗方姉妹, Munekata Kyōdai, 1950) by Yasujirō Ozu

Another family melodrama of Yasujirō Ozu fascinates with a fantastic cast featuring Hideko Takamine and Kinuyo Tanaka, two famous leading ladies of Japanese classic cinema, along with the director’s frequent collaborators Chishu Ryu and So Yamamura. It is another solid addition to the collection of Ozu’s films about family relations, yet surprisingly the main conflicts seem to be obvious while depiction of several important characters is quite sketchy.

Set in the late 1940s, this films concerns the relationship between two sisters who represent pre-war and post-war Japan, old traditions and modern shift to the new social conduct. The plot also mentions the fatal illness of Munekata sisters’ father, yet his character rarely appears on the screen and these scenes are not so meaningful. Another important theme is the love triangle the sisters are involved into, as well as the troubled relations of Setsuko (Kinuyo Tanaka) and her husband Mimuro (So Yamamuro) who had developed a bad drinking habit and has no job. The character of Mimuro also seems to be very sketchy, his true feelings are poorly explained, perhaps based on Ozu’s idea of missing some important parts of the plot intentionally. Another sketchy character is Yoriko who is either a close friend or mistress of Hiroshi, a man both Setsuko and Mariko (Hideko Takamine) fall in love with. The character of Yoriko is perhaps instrumental in showing extreme and immature jealousy of Mariko. Yet I observed no other points depicting her on the screen.

The drama is certainly not boring, and it isn’t a bad film. The duo of Tanaka and Takamine is enchanting, and they both really steal the show with their vivid and touching performance. Ozu shots the film from his favorite low angles, with tatami shots, and it is another traditionally slowly-paced piece of art that is very engaging. It’s always a pleasure to observe development of Ozu’s stories, his shots and actors’ work. However, the main conflicts are quite obvious, while some characters are a bit sketchy to understand them properly. The Munekata Sisters is worth watching, but it doesn’t stand any close to the finest films of the acclaimed Japanese master Yasujirō Ozu.

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Pastoral: To Die in the Country (田園に死す, Den-en ni shisu, 1974) by Shūji Terayama

A grotesque avant-garde cinema masterpiece Pastoral: To Die in the Country drifts somewhere beneath the wide sky of Shūji Terayama’s imagination and vision, offering a peculiar experimental amalgamation of psychoanalytic motifs corresponding with poetry and artwork applied on the cinema. An acclaimed poet, Terayama uses a gradually increasing number of figures of speech and various forms of art wrapping it into a dialogue with himself and approaching a curious viewer willing to tag along with the author on the path to the complex deconstruction of the memory and the past. Through the past, the poet takes us to the crippled present drawing consistently straight lines between the first and the second, questioning what the sum and substance of the artistic creation is. This is not a self-indulgent exercise of the poet however, but the film which is very demanding and not quite easy to comprehend without a viewer’s wish to fully immerse himself or herself into the dimension of the fantasies, allegories and abundant symbols.

A relatively short life Shūji Terayama (born in 1935 and died in 1983, aged 47) has seen an enormous number of his experiments related to photography, cinema, poetry, and even work on the radio and TV. He was raised in Aomori and Tokyo in the 1950s, a period when an ultra-conservative Japanese society has been going through major changes in terms of social conduct, general life approach and customs. The shift was quite rapid, and it has created a high impact on Japanese art eventually producing a powerful and prolific new-wave avant-garde movement tracing back to the 1950-1960s. Terayama started his career as a provocative new-wave poet and playwright and ended up being a symbol of surreal art, a mentor and influencer to many future Japanese artists and as one of the most prolific Japanese creative artists. His work in the cinema spans over two decades until his death when he produced a legacy of 20 short and feature-length films. These films are diverse in their style and artistic approach. Whether it is a sophisticatedly metaphorical Throw Away Your Books, Rally in the Streets or chaotic and reckless Emperor Tomato Ketchup, Terayama always remains coherent in pursuit of creating his own cinematic language based on his surreal experiments.

The starting minutes of Pastoral: To Die in a Country offer us a truly wild and thrilling ride into the heart of visually striking imagery, rich of unnatural colors and sounds, created by Shūji Terayama. Being unfamiliar with the work of creative artist and surrealism in general, the viewers might find it hard to make any sense of a kaleidoscopic trip into the world of exaggerated figures, surreal images, props and symbols. Many avant-garde authors offer no or little explanation to their art efforts or suggest it can be interpreted in many different ways based on what the viewers want to see. At the point when I thought Pastoral will be just like this (such as, for instance, Seijun Suzuki’s Taishō Trilogy), the film takes a twist. The author explains clearly that Pastoral is highly autobiographical and concerns a dialogue between Terayama himself in the present and his doppelganger from the past, a child raised in the village by his overprotective mother. The symbols of the first minutes such as circus and what child sees there, a cancelled performance, various exaggerated pictures suddenly start shining and become even more colorful. For the time being, it becomes simple and brilliant.

Shūji Terayama appears in front of us as a creative artist in crisis. A poet doesn’t ask any questions directly, yet we may figure out he is trying to comprehend the most important thing ever – the very nature of the artistic creation. In his dialogue with himself from the past, he is off to a fascinating journey into his subconscious. His exploration is meant to help him comprehend his own art motifs, his momentum and the obstacles his creativity is facing in the present days. It goes even further as the authors simply questions himself what had traumatized him in the past and how it reflected on his present and the artwork he produces. The third part of the film returns us to Teroyama’s childhood where he discovers pivotal things about his relationship with the mother, other people in the villages, delves very deep into fossilized fears and problems tracing back to childhood. Without this deconstruction, he is deprived of the clear vision of the present not allowing him to create pure artwork. The number of symbols and allegories surges, as the author approaches the finale where he is supposed to come up with conclusions. How does it end? Perhaps, those collapsing walls and cup of tea the poet shares with his mother suggest he accepts the present in a way it is? Different viewers would likely draw different implications of Terayama’s effort. The point is a journey itself, and it is certainly splendid.

Pastoral is impressively logical and coherent for a piece of avant-garde work. The point of the author’s research and creative struggles is very understandable, yet it is certainly not something primitive. Unlike many other surrealists who try to bury the ideas in bizarre forms of their art, which is almost impossible to comprehend, Teroyama offers a very sincere and straightforward dialogue with himself. The questions he asks however may concern any artist and any person trying to understand the nature of the artwork. Simple but not obvious, this engaging dive into the subconscious is very thought-provoking and eye-opening in terms of how it reminds us that what we see is just tip of the iceberg. The real foundation of everything in our life lies in the past and might be a total mystery unless we deconstruct our childhood and very basic things it used to be connected with. The way Teroyama applies it to the creativity of the artist is amazing, and this experiment offers something extremely curious and tantalizing. Photography, theatre, poetry, art and cinema go hand-by-hand together in Pastoral: To Die in the Country, and everything is of the greatest importance. Whether we snatch on what Teroyama truly meant, there is a great opportunity to take a look back at our own past, trying to comprehend it along with the author and find out what makes us produce, create, depict or say the things we rarely think about as it seems to be natural. Yet the deconstruction shows there is almost nothing natural – it is all explained by the past, and the delicate imagery deployed by a talented Japanese creative artist Shūji Terayama serves us as a ferryman carrying us across the river of oblivion.

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Ruang Talok 69 (6ixtynin9, เรื่องตลก 69 - 1999) by Pen-ek Ratanaruang

Pen-Ek Ratanaruang, an acclaimed New Wave Thai filmmaker, is widely known in the West for his slow-paced arthouse efforts Last Life in the Universe (เรื่องรัก น้อยนิด มหาศาล, 2003) and Invisible Waves (คำพิพากษาของมหาสมุทร, 2006), as well as creative collaboration with cinematographer Christopher Doyle who was in charge of Wong Kar-Wai’s films’ camera. His joint work with the Japanese actor Tadanobu Asano is also worth credit since Asano stars in both Ratanaruang/Doyle films. He appears to be a perfect type to play a bizarre foreigner in Thailand who gets along with the strangest people on Earth, yet is not apt to neither getting rid of his Japanese habits getting him in troubles nor dealing with his own distorted fantasies.

A crime/comedy low-budget film Ruang Talok 69 was a director’s first real breakthrough that came 4 years prior to work with Doyle. The plot with several amusing twists concerns a recently fired Bangkok office employee Tum (portrayed by a lakorn actress Lalita Panyopas) who finds a box stuffed with 500 baht banknotes under her door. While she keeps thinking what she should do with the money, she hears someone knocking the door. Unable to discover that the gangsters mistook her room 6 for 9 as the number on her door hung upside down and left the box near the wrong apartment, she spontaneously kills both of them in self-defence. Yet this is just the beginning of all troubles she would go through this day.

Unlike Last Life in the Universe and Invisible Waves which are very enigmatic, oblique and slow, in order to show how unimportant plot development for Pen-Ek Ratanaruang is, Ruang Talok 69 tends to be pretty straightforward and goal-oriented feature. There is quite a bit of moving action in it, lots of killings, and it could be certainly labelled as a “movie”, not a “film”. Due to an apparent lack of funds, most of the action takes place in a very same room with a few props and several actors who are not really well-known. The outdoor shots give a nice glimpse into Bangkok of the late 1990-s. This view is something we all had almost forgotten as the city has been developing fast in the last 20 years. Above all, Ruang Talok 69 is a comedy and it centres lots of simple jokes mostly concerning violence and themes such as traditional Thai revenge for male adultery when the man’s penis is being chopped off to be sent to the mixer subsequently. Beware!

What is fascinating about Ruang Talok 69 is an abundance of its visual similarities with the finest Ratanaruang’s features Last Life in the Universe and Invisible Waves. One may enjoy seeing where exactly the director has started and what he would have developed later. The themes are also quite similar, in terms of those crimes and dead bodies motives that are present in all three films. Ruang Talok 69 is not an outstanding film. However, it is quite easy and fun to watch and it might be certainly great for all those who appreciate the work of New Wave Thai filmmakers such as Wisit Sasanatieng, Apichatpong Weerasethakul and Pen-ek Ratanaruang himself.

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Takeshi Kaneshiro and Charlie Yeung at the set of Wong Kar-wai’s Fallen Angles, 1995.

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The list of my 20 favorite movies, vol.2 (2019-2020)

Back in 2018, I decided to start this experiment choosing my 20 favorite films, as it is at this particular moment. Used to sound a little silly to me first, yet I realized later this experiment has a merit if you do it once in a year. It’s just like a diary documenting your thoughts, ideas and sources of inspiration at some point. These things may change fast and they strongly affect person’s predilections, whether we talk about films, books or songs. It is simply fascinating to observe your personal development or changes based on the conclusions you can draw from your own favorite films. This year I was supposed to make this list 6 months ago but I just didn’t really feel like to. Now it’s time to get back to this fascinating experiment so here is its implication! 20.  Spring in a Small Town (小城之春)– 1948, Fei Mu. China

Released one year before Communists’ takeover of China, Spring in a Small Town remains the most well-known film unveiling China in the period we all know very little about. The plot concerns a story of a married couple and their bitter days they live as the symbolic representation of the wreckage left by the World War. The story is delicate, psychological, poetic and beautiful. It is narrated in a very intelligent manner highlighting the exceptional talents of both Fei Mu and actors, especially Wei Wei who is still alive, aged 97 as of the end of 2019. Spring in a Small Town has been called The Greatest Chinese Movie ever made by Hong Kong Film Awards Association.

19. Masculin, Feminin – 1966, Jean-Luc Godard. France

I’ve seen quite a few films of Godard and I find most of them outstanding. However, his most politically and socially charged work Masculin, Feminin retains a special place in my films knowledge base. I’m still impressed with this combination of those monologues delivered by young Parisians and bizarre scenes from the rebellious lives of youngsters. The film features wonderful tunes turning into a great addition to the illustration of the political and social tension in France in the 1960s. Masculin, Feminin reminds that France is the most rebellious nation in the world, in terms of fighting for liberal values and equality. Moreover, the feature of Godard gives a great glimpse into several matters of gender situation and problems of France in the 1960s.

18. The Rules of Game (La Règle du Jeu) – 1939. Jean Renoir. France

One of the greatest examples of satirical films ever produced, The Rules of Game by Renoir strikes with the glorious cast, quality humour and excellent depiction of the French wealthy class decay before the devastating events of the war. An outstanding example of sophisticated director’s work and brilliant story, this film is also perfectly crafted and lensed, cinematography wise. The feature was considered controversy 80 years back upon release and almost felt into obscurity despite being the most expensive French film till that date, in order to re-gain attention and acclaim later becoming a symbol of French cinema greatness.

17. Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter… and Spring (봄 여름 가을 겨울 그리고 봄) – 2003. Kim Ki-duk. South Korea

The only Korean film I’m going to list in my 20 favorite is the most well-known feature of Kim Ki-duk I’ve been admiring or years. A very simple work based on the number of the basic Buddhist symbols and references, it is obviously made to be accessible for the Western viewers. The pace of the film is gentle and calm while the environment strikes with beauty and evocative power. I’m quite a fan of Korean movies, especially when it comes to Lee Chang-dong, though I’m yet to explore most acclaimed Korean directors and their films. Eventually, I’d keep Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter… and Spring as my favorite Korean film this year again. 16. The Straight Story – 1999. David Lynch. USA

It’s been a long time David Lynch remains my favorite director. I absolutely love Blue Velvet, Mulholland Drive, Lost Highway as well as in fact all of his works. The Straight Story however always stood out. Somehow, it feels like David Lynch wanted to show with this feature that he is capable of many different genres, styles and he’s got a strong grasp or traditionally narrated stories. The Straight Story is a bitter, wise and sublime story of an old man looking back at all his life while knowing there is nothing left to expect from the future. The life was long viewed as a vibrant matter, a treasure, an excitement. In his last travel across America, he reminisces about his life in these beautiful shots, having long Hemingway-like dialogues with the curious people he encounters. The scenery is marvelous and the music of Angelo Badalamenti is something you can never forget. No doubt, my favorite film of David Lynch.

15. Stalker (Сталкер) – 1979. Andrei Tarkovsky. USSR

Most of Tarkovsky’s films are so rich in what can be hardly seen or comprehended that I’ve been always asking myself whether I’m ready for such an art experience or not. Stalker, perhaps one of the most complicated films of him (behind Mirror, though), offers numerous layers, means, ideas and features the viewers can delve into. The film is truly intellectual and also extremely beautiful and enchanting. It is also one of the finest examples of vivacious actors’ work. Moreover, the special credit must be given to Tarkovsky’s cinematographers Rerberg and Knyazhinsky. Those iconic long takes with slow camera movement are magnificent. 14. Syndromes and a Century (แสงศตวรรษ) – 2006. Apichatpong Weerasethakul. Thailand

It is said there are some feature-length films, of which the viewers cannot get much unless they watch together with the other films of the same director, as these loosely connected works can be comprehended together. From my point of view, Apichatpong Weerasethakul and his art is the case. I could name several films of him I admire, yet I can’t say I really liked any of them when I watched them first. It takes quite some time to familiarize yourself with his work, in order to understand how you can comprehend it. The yield might be highly awarding for many of those who’s got passion and absolutely fruitless for others. Syndromes and a Century remains my favorite film of the Thai director due to it’s emotionally charged shots and scenes depicting the beauty of humanity, transformations of people and their feelings. Apichatpong Weerasethakul is playing with the subtle material eventually giving space to draw numerous interpretations of his work. It’s tantalizing and entertaining! 13. Paris, Texas – 1984. Wim Wenders. West Germany / USA

The finest combination of road movie with psychological drama resulted in a masterpiece created by the German director Wim Wenders who had shot this film in the United States. The story is very emotional and very intelligent at the same time. Also, it is one of the best works of Harry Dean Stanton who has been famous during his 60-years career as an actor of supporting roles. Being given a lead role here, he really made his character special. 12. Only Lovers Left Alive – 2013. Jim Jarmusch. USA

I’ve already written and said many things about this film as Jim Jarmusch is certainly among my beloved directors, with his enigmatic style. Only Lovers Left Alive is a film basing on a number of references and themes Jarmusch has been fascinated by for years. To understand many hidden things, it is important to see all films of him and try to think in a way he does. Unfortunately, Jarmusch doesn’t make many references quite available to those who don’t know his works well. On the other hand, even those who don’t qualify can still watch this visually striking story and enjoy the beauty of music instruments, locations, shots and aloof characters. 11. Tokyo Story (東京物語) – 1953. Yasujiro Ozu. Japan

According to many of the most acclaimed film critics and directors, Tokyo Story is the greatest Japanese film ever made and maybe of the finest masterpieces ever. The Golden Age of Japanese cinema with the works of Ozu, Mizoguchi, Naruse and other directors was truly marvelous, and Tokyo Story is widely considered to be its acme. The famous tatami shots, slow plot development, simple but very deep story, fantastic play – all these well-known Ozu’s features are present here in abundance. This is a film of an exceptional emotional degree ensuring the full immersion into it. The pace might be slow for many viewers and requires some exposure into Japanese classical cinema. Yet this experience is certainly worth acquiring, as the harmony with Japanese classic films is rewarding and memorable. Nevertheless, this is still not my favorite Ozu’s films, as of 2019/2020.

10. Apocalypse Now – 1979. Francis Coppola. USA

Apocalypse Now is among the greatest American films in my eyes for a personal reason. A few years back, the film had taught me to admire the cinema and provoked my keen interest in it. This epic war-related drama goes far beyond the topics of war depicting a humankind’s journey down the hell. The funnel of dehumanization as I called while writing about this film a couple of years back. Absolutely masterpiece, Apocalypse Now. 9. An Autumn Afternoon (秋刀魚の味) – 1962. Yasujiro Ozu. Japan

An Autumn Afternoon became a final film of Ozu. Along with his penultimate feature The End of Summer, it turned to be one of the recent treasures I discovered. The plot reminds of Late Spring, the film I named my favorite as of the end 2019. Yet the mood, key motifs and main themes are quite different. These several parallel stories within the same film depict the changing society and strong family bonds between generations. The traditional culture meets changing world showing there is always a room for wisdom, and people’s feelings don’t change in the same way as times and cultural environment do. One of the best casts Ozu ever assembled is another thing contributing to this outstanding film. Chishu Ryu, Shima Iwashita and Mariko Okada are the greatest actors of the Japanese cinema Golden Age making good replacement of Setsuko Hara who was not present here. There is so much to say about this film explaining why I love it better than Tokyo Story for example, yet I expressed it better in my older review.

8. Lost in Translation – 2003. Sofia Coppola. USA

Starting with An Autumn Afternoon, my list of favorite films enters the dimension of emotions. My choice of previous movies was quite understandable in a way of common sense and proper explanations, but the rest would be nothing, but emotions. I’m quite impressed with this myself and this is just why I started considering valuable this experiment of writing a list of favorite films every year. Where would it take me? Saying Lost in Translation is my favorite American film would probably sound crazy! But here we are. How would I get it explained? Emotions. This emotional sublime charge of it is just one of a kind. A perfect style created by Sofia Coppola, a subtle story, breathtaking path and wonderful collision of fun and deep feelings… This is Lost in Translation. And there is always more and more you get and understand while watching it. This choice is romantic, but I’m getting along with that.

7. Days of Being Wild (阿飛正傳)– 1990. Wong Kar-wai. Hong Kong

Time for the first film of Wong Kar-wai to appear in my list! Back in 2019 when I made this list last I was not a big fan of Days of Being Wild. However, I’ve seen it at least 5 times later slowly getting into this world of the wonderful romance, lovesick young people, strange lights and wonderful props and shots. The first collaboration of Wong Kar-wai with Christopher Doyle establishing this duo that would be crafting visual delights in a few other features. A wonderful cast with Leslie Cheung, Karina Lau, Maggie Cheung and Andy Lau in addition to wonderful music… It is slowly getting me, more and more. Yet again, this choice is nothing but my sense of romance in the cinema.

6. The Scent of Green Papaya (Mùi đu đủ xanh) - 1993. Tran Anh Hung. Vietnam / France

This film is shot in Vietnamese and the drama is entirely Vietnamese. However, the director Tran Anh Hung has been living and working in France for most of his life so the movie should be considered French. Nevertheless, I personally take it as the greatest Vietnamese feature film as it had opened Vietnam for me from a new angle. It is an extremely beautiful film the shots of which seem to be inspired by the work of Fellini’s or Tarkovsky’s cinematographers and are also enhanced with vibrant, vivid colors, the striking shine of nature around the characters and warmth of their emotions. A gorgeous story, a glimpse into the world that perhaps never existed, the supreme sophistication of The Scent of Green Papaya had become the last reasons for me to relocate to Vietnam, even though I always the reality of Tran Anh Hung’s film only exists on the screen. Inspiring and breathtaking, a lovely and adorable film!

5. The Assassin (刺客聶隱娘) – 2015. Hou Hsiao-Hsien. Taiwan

One of the prominent directors of the Taiwanese New Wave Hou Hsiao-hsien is a living god of art-house cinema. He had created multiple beautiful slowly paced features of which I’ve seen about 10. Relatively unknown in Asia, he has been highly respected in Europe, especially in the eyes of orientalists. His last film The Assassin has received many accolades such as an Award to the Best Director received by Hou Cannes. The Assassin is an acme of the visual beauty and technical sophistication of cinematography. This film would be very boring for those viewers who are used to the narrative features. Here the plot doesn’t really matter, as the film was made to immerse the viewers into the mood, visual beauty, atmosphere. It comes as a wuxia film, yet many critics call it a deconstruction of wuxia. The protagonist portrayed by Shu Qi gives a detached effect of both character herself and also the whole world around from the traditional way of storytelling. It really takes time to look into this film properly, I didn’t understand if I entirely liked it or not when I watch The Assassin first. I’ve started getting from the 3rd or maybe 4th time. And this is how this film is. My opinion about this film has changed a lot since the moment I wrote my first comments on it. A delight for those who admire visual delicacies, the film of Hou Hsiao-Hsien, in my eyes would probably always remain a standard of beauty I’ve seen on the screen.

4. Yi Yi (一 一) – 2000. Edward Yang. Taiwan

Getting back to the films I select as the ones standing upon the pillars of smart and intelligent stories, I’d call Yi Yi my favorite Taiwanese film ever. The last and the best feature of Edward Yang has three perspectives in its story shifting from the glimpse into one generation of the family into another. This is a story of very simple people’s relations, feelings and emotions showing how the life goes around in a circle. It is almost impossible to find any weak points of this marvelously crafted story of three generations showing so many feelings and problems related to love, middle-age crisis, development of the individuality, childhood, teenagers’ discoveries, the fate of old people. The whole life is here, in Yi Yi. The film makes the viewers ruminate and look into their own lives from a different angle. The story is being told by a wise man who has got good eye observing littlest things in everyday’s life that really matter and make a difference. With little or without action at all, the slow pace of Yi Yi brings genuine emotions to those who watch it. Like I wrote in my review on Yi Yi, it was one of the strongest impressions I have ever had watching a film. 3. In the Mood for Love (花樣年華) – 1999. Wong Kar-wai. Hong Kong

It’s been already told too much about this film in my reviews of Wong Kar-wai’s films I’ve written for my blog, and I want to stay away from iterations. I’d just say that one of the fascinating recent developments about In the Mood of Love I made is connected with the fact that one of the most important things for the director was to show the life of intelligent Shanghainese people in the 1960-s who were forced to immigrate and settle down in Hong Kong. This is the whole new dimension of the film which might be not obvious for the Western viewers, and it is fascinating. Other than that… I just cannot resist these shots in slow motion where Maggie Cheung takes me to the Universe of this story and visual style with her delicate and tantalizing sashay while the famous Yumeji’s music theme is playing. This is a supreme beauty! 02. Late Spring (晩春) – 1949. Yasujiro Ozu. Japan

Narration wise, Late Spring remains my favorite without any doubts. The best role of Setsuko Hara, the fantastic emotions expressed by the whole cast impress me greatly again and again. Ozu had created a very interesting and difficult personality Hara’s Noriko: every time I watch this film I find something new in Noriko. And yet every time it makes me sometimes cry, smile happily or it just simply casts shiver down my spine with its sophistication and development. Sometimes, I feel like watching Late Spring 24/7! This film is also extremely important for me due to becoming a strong introduction for me into the world of classic Japanese films that remains the best period and school of cinema making to me. The only one reason I don’t name this film my favorite once again as I did a year ago is my dependence on emotions making me a type to easily fall for different things based on sharp and strong romantic emotions. And my choice of #1 film is again nothing, but an emotional thing.

01.   Fallen Angels (堕落天使) – 1995. Wong Kar-wai. Hong Kong

The acme of neon exuberant cinema developed by Wong Kar-wai and Christopher Doyle is a non-plot film focusing on images of Hong Kong nights and lovesick young people who are always aliens in the middle of this neon-lit night. The story doesn’t say a lot while the romance is extremely intense. This is not a movie you may like or enjoy, you can only dissolve and it and love it if you’re the type and if you watch it in the time you’re apt for such emotions. I remember the first time I watched it and I was not really impressed… Yet I realized its emotional and romantic power later. Wong Kar-wai and Doyle are crazy about neon and they take it as an encapsulation of Hong Kong’s nights. The neon is very sexy, it is a symbol of attraction and alluring sexual power. We get dozens of memorable close-ups with female protagonists shot in unnatural neon light, and their faces radiate enthralling and mesmerizing neon sexuality. Considering Hong Kong is a city full of neon, this light also represents the rush of Hong Kong’s life that is exuberant, but reluctant to consider the romantic feelings of young lovesick youngsters. The characters, these people in their 20s, dissolve in this neon world craving for love, but not being able to have even a bit of this feeling. They are trying to find their own place within this Hong Kong night, and their struggles and showed lyrically. Heroes are silhouetted in neon lights which is extremely beautiful to see on the screen. The film is a master class of Christopher Doyle giving utmost attention to the lights and inventing an enormous number of camera tricks. The shots of Doyle are visually striking and perfect. He shots different moments from extremely wide angles to emphasize different feelings of characters. Many of the shots in this film are quite iconic, especially the ones coming with these crazy angles, extreme close-ups, step-print effect and with extreme wide-angle lenses.  It’s just unforgettable! Sometimes Doyle uses hand-held cameras which is punchy and quixotic. One of the most delightful and visually beautiful moments is the ending scene when an extreme close-up of Michelle Reis in the cafe, with bizarre green light directed on her. With her calm voice, she tells she has learned not to involve emotionally with the people. She talks about the weather, yet we know about her emotional wounds and woe. Meanwhile, there is a fray on the background she doesn’t even pay any attention to. The camera just stares at her, the background is blurred. And then it shows the mute guy beaten with the same type of close-up. This experience is totally about intense romance and visual delighted created by director, cinematographer and editor. And at this particular time of my life, I would name it the best development in the cinema I came across. I love Fallen Angles, no doubt a long time number one.

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Tantalizing four. Leslie Cheung, Maggie Cheung, Karina Lau Wong Kar-Wai’s Days of Being Wild ( 阿飞正传, 1992)

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Shu Qi, 2001. Millennium Mambo set.

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Enigmatic Obscurity of Life-long Taipei Neon-lit Nights in Rebels of the Neon God (青少年哪吒 ,1992) by Tsai Ming-liang

The debut film of Tsai Ming-liang is a psychological and visually stylized glimpse into the struggles of young people of Taipei in the 1990s. This motif appears to be popular in the cinema of the last decade of the twelfth century which has been reflected in several cult Oriental films (especially, Taiwanese New Wave), such as Edward Yang’s Mahjong, Wong Kar-wai’s Days of Being Wild, Hou Hsian-Hsien’s Millennium Mambo and others. The film also makes an obvious reference to the classic Hollywood film Rebel Without a Cause with James Dean. However, Rebels of the Neon gives a very unusual image of the troubled youth dissolving in a fast-paced life of the megalopolis.

Rebels of the Neon God centers Hsiao Kang (Lee Kang-sheng), an unsettled student who is struggling to obtain his own identity, ideals and values. Haunted by family problems, he is unable to find his place in exuberant and frenetic Taipei. The viewers learn a bit about Hsiao Kang, his family and school in Taipei before seeing a turning point of his life. He is somehow traumatized by witnessing a thief Ah Tze (Chen Chao-jung) vandalizing the car of his father which triggers bizarre affinity Hsiao Kang experiences to this thug and thief. He tracks down Ah Tze and his friend Ah Ping (Jen Chang-bin) and follows them on the city streets watching them robbing shops, getting into various troubles and having dates with Ah Kuei (Wang Yu-wen). Once Hsiao Kang was compared with the Chinese Neon god Nezha by his mother. And now the hero finds an essence of his empty life in bringing havoc into the world, based on his fictitious similarity with violent and powerful Nezha. It may seem Hsiao Kang seeks revenge for his father’s car and he ends up vandalizing Ah Tze’s bike in response. However, it is certainly not his actual point.

The protagonists Hsiao Kang, Ah Tze, Ah Ping and a girl Ah-kuei (Yu-Wen Wang) are depicted as totally lost in Taipei, the only city they must be familiar with. The young people are not able to get along with the everyday's life in this big city everybody is expected to live. They are not meant for the corporate world, regular jobs and so on. They try to find their own way through life in Taipei which is usually quite similar for all people. And they all end up in enigmatic obscurity.

Hsiao Kang becomes obsessed with Ah Tze who is now a kind of idol for him. Seeking revenge, in fact he is trying to do something similar to what Ah Tze did to his father's car to be like him. Ah Tze stands out in this city, in eyes of Hsiao Kang. And the viewers see this strange traumatic story of obsession Hsiao Kang experiences. He would gloat over his success in the end, writing 哪吒在此 (Nezha was here) near Ah Tze's vandalized bike. The neon god Nezha is an alter-ego of Hsiao Kang, and writing his name he tries to demonstrate to his idol a sort of divine nature in himself he longs for. On the other hand, after celebrating the victory the hero would go to help Ah Tze dragging the bike to repair, and this feeling also seems to be genuine: Hsiao Kang is obsessed with the young thug symbolizing freedom for him. This chase of Ah Tze now becomes the only reason to live for Hsiao Kang.

Yet Ah Tze is another unsettled youngster whose life is being depicted on the screen. He doesn't know what he is looking for in his attempt to not dissolve in the neon-lit Taipei. Unlike the other young people around, he attempts to rebel the regular life, but he doesn't have anything to come up with. In fact, we see he is quite similar to Hsiao Kang in their revolt. Tsai Ming-liang employes many symbols and props to show the emptiness of Ah Tze's rebel and his desperate hope to make his life outstanding. But his hopes are slowly sinking in the shallow water of the overflown apartment we see on the screen a few times.

The peculiarities and details of unsettled young people also include a sub-plot concerning a story of young girl Ah-kuei who also falls for a couple of attractive young Taipei thugs. She mingles with them in the hope of becoming a girlfriend of one of these guys she is obsessed with. She does manual, useless jobs which don't bring a young lady far and she hopes these outstanding guys can change her life. But when she fails, she ends up having bizarre dates with the older men from the ads she comes across in the newspapers. Even though she is still so young, her life is so empty that the only way settle in for Ah-kuei is to secure her life in a way of being with someone. It comes as no surprise, she only falls into more problems and dramas and remains another lost soul in neon-lit exuberant Taipei, the city whose frenetic life pace can easily bury numerous rebellious souls, just like any other megalopolis.

It may seem that the characters don't have any proper reasons for their rebel. However, the paradigm of the life they have to follow is very depressive. Looking at the examples of their fellows or parents, heroes don't feel comfortable with that the chain of studies and corporate work appearing the only way to live their lives. But the big city life straightens them out to shut down their rebel. The hypnotized protagonists wander around Taipei under a sort of strange spell or enchantment Nezha casts upon them. The Neon God brings havoc into their worlds which seems to be the only way for them not to get along with the life they are meant to live. But the havoc of young people's life is not constructive in any way and they see only a dead-end.

The debut film of Tsai Ming-liang stands out in terms of aesthetics, mood and music. The prominent riff written by Huang Shu-jun makes the endless nights of Taipei which are both frenetic and lifeless even darker and haunts the protagonists, as the plot develops. The exquisite aesthetics of the cuts and props go hand-by-hand with this music embedding the characters in an extricable reality leading to a blind-alley of their rebellious youth and making Rebels of the Neon God one of the most atmospheric films of the Taiwanese New Wave (perhaps, along with Millennium Mambo by Hou Hsiao-Hsien).

Rebels of the Neon God remains the most available film of Tsai Ming-liang for the broad audience. With the coherent plot and atmospheric mood, the feature became a turning point for the career of director forming his unmistakable style which would later become very influential.

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阿飛正傳. Tony Leung Chiu-wai

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Carina Lau in Days of Being Wild (阿飛正傳 ,1990) 

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Michelle Reis on a front cover of Madame Figaro China (2013)

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Ineko Arima in Tokyo Twilight (1957) by Yasujiro Ozu

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Kiko Mizuhara for i-D Japan Magazine: https://i-d.vice.com

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In the Memory of great Machiko Kyō (1924-2019)

One of the last living stars of the Japanese Golden Age Cinema Machiko Kyō passes away aged 95.

 In 1950, the film of Akira Kurosawa Rashomon based on Ryunosuke Akutagawa’s short story “In a Grove” became the first Japanese feature in the history of cinema to conquer the world stage. The film has won the Academy Honorary Award and Golden Lion at the Venice Film Festival in 1951. The lead female star of the film was 25-years-old Machiko Kyō made a fantastic breakthrough with her role as a femme fatale of the story. Machiko Kyō has pulled the actor’s performance on the new level with her ambiguous and haunting character. She was able to emphasize the very essence of the story and demonstrated vividly the breadth of extreme emotions. Rashomon made her superstar of the Orient cinema whose glory and importance could be compared with Vivien Leigh’s role she’s been playing for decades in the West.

Born as Yano Motoko in 1924 in Osaka, Machiko Kyō was raised in a poor slum-like district of the city. She aspired to be a dancer from an early age and entered the stage at the age of 12. She’s been trained as revue dancer till the late 1940-s before she was discovered by the scout of Daiei studio and made her first appearance on the screen to become a renowned actress.

The most prominent period of Machiko Kyō’s career has covered the 1950-s and beginning of the 1960-s, the times of the rise Japanese Golden Age cinema. Perhaps, her most well-known role in the West, in addition to Rashomon was a noblewoman Lady Wakase in Kenji Mizoguchi’s Ugetsu Monogatari (1953). The enigmatic and mesmerizing sashay of the Machiko Kyō’s character through the troubled world of Ugetsu became a memorable personification of the illusions the men easily fall for. Machiko Kyō reunited with one of the greatest Japanese directors Kenji Mizoguchi later to star in 1955 Princess Yang Kwei-Fei and in Street of Shame (1956) becoming the director’s final film.

One of the most important motifs of the Japanese films of the 1950-s was related to the changes in social conduct of Japan and independent women getting more rights and freedom. Machiko Kyō became one of the most important symbols of this topic portraying independent, strong hard-working and tough women in many films of the directors developing such topic throughout their career. This is not only Mizoguchi’s Street of Shame but Mikio Naruse’s films, such as Younger Brother, Older Sister (1953), Sorrow in Only for Women (1958) by Kaneto Shindo, Yasuzo Masumura’s novel in an anthology film Jokyo (1960), Teinosuke Kinugasa’s films and many others.

Yasujiro Ozu, the Japanese master of the cinema who is highly acclaimed in the West, also cast Machiko Kyō in his film Floating Weeds (1959). The role of aging and jealous kabuki-actress became one of the essential for the famous Japanese actress. The only foreign film starring Kyo is The Teahouse of the August Moon (1956), the American feature where Kyō played together with Marlon Brando. The film considered among her most remarkable roles.

Until these days, Machiko Kyō remained the last living actresses who starred in the classic films of the most prominent Japanese masters of the Golden Age starting from the late 1940-s. The life of Machiko Kyō was a subtle link to the pre-war time in Japanese history and rise of the Japanese culture and art in the post-war period. She would be remembered for enigmatic roles, for portraying women in the fight for their rights in Japan, and for recreating the ancient Japanese customs and outfits on the screen with her various roles. A beautiful and great Machiko Kyō will remain the symbol of the Japanese cinema glory and her role in the development of cinema and defining the traditions of Japanese films make her immortal.

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The Assassin (刺客聶隱娘, 2015): the quintessence of Hou Hsiao-Hsien’s visual style

The journey of Taiwanese New Wave director and a living god of Oriental cinema Hou Hsiao-Hsien has been very long and hopefully, it is not over yet. There were many rumors on his new film starring Shu Qi, though it is not confirmed if a 72-years-old master would release it or not. Till date, his latest film is The Assassin (2015) which became another feature receiving mixed reviews in his home country Taiwan and becoming quite acclaimed in Europe. The film had brought Hou Hsiao-Hsien the award for Best Director at Cannes Film Festival, his second reward at Cannes.

According to Hou Hsian-Hsien himself, the modern audience in Taiwan has been changing a lot during the last years with the further expansion of the Internet. His films have always been not for farm obscurity in Taiwan, as the viewers there still watch Hollywood films of a different sort. Now it is even more challenging for Hou to entertain the viewers, and it seems like The Assassin was doomed to be praised only in Europe. We can't say the film is not dramatic, but it requires utmost attention towards aesthetics, patience, and full immersion into the visuality of the world created by Hou Hsian-Hsien. You can't skip anything, and The Assassin is sort of enchantment you fall under. Unfortunately, such spells might be unable to penetrate many viewers, yet it doesn't make the film of Hou less vivacious.

The Assassin is based on a plot revolving around the outstanding professional assassin Nie Yinniang and adapts for the screen the ninth-century Chinese story written by Pei Xing. The girl was betrayed by her family and sent to the monastery high in the hills to be brought up. From the age of ten, Yinniang was raised by nuns in exile and trained to become an assassin. She slays the victims assassinating different officials and big-wigs. Yinniang is impeccable in her skills, but her heart doesn't allow to execute some killings she considers dishonorable. In order to test Yinniang's spirit and resolve, her superior gives her the task to kill Yinniang's own cousin Tian Ji'an (portrayed by Chang Chen) who also used to be betrothed to her. She hasn't gotten over the feelings to him, as we learn later. Moreover, the family drama had deeply affected her being, and the assassins’ wounds don’t get healed with the years passing by. While encountering Tian Ji’an, she also meets his wife, concubine, father, other assassins and many other extra characters forming the story. In short words, the plot is all about Yinniang's inner fight between the resolve to follow the orders and her heart's desire to contradict them. However, the way Hou delivers the story is very mysterious and not quite clear, so many viewers might be confused. It doesn’t bother the director so much, as the plot is not a thing of drastic importance in The Assassin.

Commonly for Hou, the plot of the film is not something the viewers would be really paying attention at. Just like for example in Shanghai Flowers or A City of Sadness there is nothing much going on, in terms of action. The Assassin is de-facto a wuxia film, but there are very few instances where the characters cross their weapons. These scenes don't stand out in the beauty of combat but come up to emphasize the drama. But the real action is missing, and this is Hou's intention. The majority of viewers would try to follow this simple plot for the first 20-30 minutes and then they are to decide whether to immerse fully into the visual sophistication of The Assassin or to give it up.

The visuality and imagery of The Assassin are on the highest peaks of Hou's style development. It's hardly unlikely you would find so many vivid and sophisticated landscapes depicted in such manner in other films. The way Hou shows them is hard to describe as these landscapers swamp your mind and immerse into the old times you can really feel and taste. This is realistic and beautiful as in the epic legend at the same time. The work on decorations is absolutely impeccable. It reminds of Shanghai Flowers very much, but this time all props are even more tense, bright and gorgeous. There are very few locations in the film, but both nature spots and buildings are made in a perfect way emphasizing the significance of every littlest thing. The design of costumes is also just classy - watching Yinniang wearing her black outfits and her hair is one-of-a-kind experience leaving you enthralled and mesmerized.

As I already mentioned, the film falls short in the narrative part, and we just need to ignore the concept of domination of the narration in the cinema. The only way to watch The Assassin is to let the stream carry you wherever it goes and to observe every detail. The pace of the film is extremely slow and hypnotic, this is the real example of Oriental arthouse where the visual delights overwhelm all other parts of the film. However, it is very different from those Asian wuxia films that became very popular in the United States. Unlike those films, The Assassin is not really moving and it doesn't give a glimpse into "bizarre Asian culture" and crazy sword fights with wild visual effects. Hou’s film would fascinate those who are already deep into Oriental romance, drama, and culture. Hou Hsiao-Hsien is not against editing, but we see that he still employes slow dramatic close-ups and long takes to avoid too much of montage. The camera work is never frenetic. Camera sashays with tremendous grace, slowly immersing the viewers into the boundless of The Assassin. It feels like the time had stopped, as Hou's camera reveal this adorable dream.

Shu Qi's role of Yinniang is worth mentioning in separate articles and passages. A haunting and mysterious assassin would say only a few words when the film opens. The next time we hear Yinniang talking would be somewhere at the second hour of the run. Her role doesn't presume many expressions, as she lacks emotions. This illustrates the battle inside the protagonist. Many viewers might be alienated by the fact that her face doesn't change often, but there is something magical and enigmatic about her look emphasizing this Oriental drama. Shu Qi is wrapped into the beauty of The Assassin’s costumes, decorations, landscapes, diversity of bright colours and stunning images, yet everything revolves around her, and she is able to be perfect till the very end where she slowly walks away during the ending credits. Perhaps, it was a difficult work for Chang Chen to play his part as he is completely overshadowed by Shu Qi in her most exuberant and memorable role in the cinema so far.

To sum up, The Assassin is a truly Oriental romance many viewers would find dull and slow. From the other hand, for those who enjoy the boundless dimensions of the Oriental world's sophistication and mood, The Assassin would be an unforgettable delight. The film lacks a coherent narrative part, but it is extremely beautiful. It entertains with sublime visual methods of Hou Hsiao-Hsien and kills with the performance of Shu Qi playing this haunting and alluring assassin Yinniang. Once again, Hou decided to rely upon visuality, and this is a challenge the Taiwanese New Wave master accepts. He encounters the world of modern cinema where the film has to come up with moving action and call upon the similar instincts and predilection of the audience raised on the Hollywood rubbish and clips where you can always skip half or even more without losing anything. Hou Hsiao-Hsien keeps making his films against all odds, despite some adjustments. His style remains unique, and the beauty of The Assassin is worth millions of faceless features. The Assassin is another great achievement of his career and one of the best modern Oriental films I have seen.