An / Sweet Red Bean Paste / あん

Naomi Kawase has moved out of her tired and trite new-ageism into a more nuanced and substantial phase of her career with last year’s moving coming-of-age story, Still the Water, and now with An. The story’s pretty simple. Sentarou (Masatoshi Nagase – finally given a decent role in a worthwhile film to show his talent) is a beaten-down middle-aged ex-con, going through the motions of maintaining a tiny dorayaki shop. The place is frequented by a small coterie of high school girls, including Wakana (Kyara Uchida), in search of a father figure. Dingy old lady Tokue (the inimitable Kirin Kiki) arrives to save the day. She makes the best sweet red bean paste in Nihon. The initially reluctant Sentarou hires her and the business takes off. There are ups… and downs – and eventually Tokue ends up in nursing home. Kawase’s gentle take on this intergenerational trio travels a bit in a clichéd fetishism of Japanese food and exhibits some heavy-handed symbolism, but the great acting and smart direction give the story tons of emotional heft.

Originally published in EL Magazine, June 2015.

Hanetsu no tsuki

Hanetsu no tsuki opens with a voice over telling an ancient tale of three small mountains that people believed were inhabited by gods over the images of an excavation in process, a conveyor belt making new hills from the tailings. It’s a strong image in a meandering drama that ultimately gets buried under its heavy symbolism. The simple story revolves around Kayoko (Yoko Oshima) living with Takumi (Touta Komizu), obviously at the end of their relationship. She has an affair with woodcarver Tetsuya (Tetsuya Akikawa). One day she reveals that she’s pregnant and proceeds to break off with both men. Director Naomi Kawase’s (The Mourning Forest) take on a basic feminist trope has some moments of stunning beauty and gentle rhythm that almost makes it work. Even the introduction of an enigmatic and silent World War II soldier and his family nearly makes the bridge from the mythic to the historic to the contemporary work, but the characters exist merely as stand-ins for some not very clear ideas, rather than individuals the viewer can identify with.

Originally published in EL Magazine, September 2011

Genpin / 玄牝

Naomi Kawase’s unrepentant new age-ism takes another bow in her new film Genpin. Through testimonials, interviews and scenes of daily life and therapeutic routines, Kiwase languidly documents the natural childbirth clinic founded by Dr. Tadashi Yoshimura some 40 years ago. Though not particularly profound or deep, moments of Genpin linger. Scenes of pregnant women doing rhythmic deep squats as they endlessly wash the clinic walls (a pregnancy exercise), client/acolytes of Dr. Yoshimura cutting wood (not only a source of free firewood, but also good for the pelvis), and 3 (count ‘em 3) long scenes of childbirth. Despite documenting the profound experience of bringing a new human into the world – and the childbirth scenes are quite moving – Genpin lacks much in the way of tension, narrative or drive. Though the testimonials hint a cult-like undercurrent it remains unexplored. It’s like a feel-good news report needlessly padded to feature length. Kiwase’s covered similar ground with a much more complex and moving effect in Tarichime (2006), where she documented her own pregnancy and birth giving.

Nanayomachi / 七夜待

Nara-based film director Naomi Kawase made a quite a splash on the international film scene last year when her film, The Mourning Forest, won the Grand Prix at Cannes. The story of a caregiver and her testy relationship with an Alzeiheimer’s stricken man – both coming to terms with family and loss was a marvel of intense emotion, careful structure and quiet intensity. A far cry from the usual wall-to-wall action blockbusters, feature-length advertisement for Disney rides, ham-fisted weepies and infantile comedies that usually command the big screens around Japan, The Mourning Forest stood out by its intelligence and its very real emotion. A simple chamber piece, with brilliant direction of non-actors, it seemingly came out of the blue.

Kawase, though, has been building a body of work since the early 90s, primarily with a series of documentaries turning the camera on herself and her family. Her most recent, Tarachime, in which she documents in disconcerting detail, her relationship with her grandmother and the birth of her child, received the Special Prize at the Yamagata International Documentary Film Festival last year.  She’s simultaneously been making her mark with fiction films. She was feted at Cannes in 1996 with the Camera D’Or for her debut feature film Suzaku.

Her new feature – her 5^th – Nanayomachi premieres throughout Japan on November 1. Like The Mourning Forest, Nanayomachi’s tale is built around a spiritual and emotional journey. The story follows a young 29-year-old woman, Saiko who has just arrived in Thailand. Why she’s there is unexplained. A vacation? Running away? It’s left up to the viewer.

Escaping from a suspect cab ride, she runs into the woods – straight into the arms of French heartthrob, Colin Gregoire, who as the character, Greg, takes her to where he lives and studies – a small school of traditional Thai massage. Greg, the master masseuse Amari, her son and an old maid are the only people living in this enchanting place in the heart of the forest. Even the strange taxi driver, who happens to be the Amari’s brother, reappears. Together they all form an odd pseudo family. They do not understand each other’s languages – Thai, French, English and Japanese – but through the touch of Thai massage, they communicate nonetheless.  Mystical and physical happenings, random meetings – all build to revelations for all involved. What could have easily become a shallow new age screed carries a subtle profundity.

Saiko is brilliantly played by Kyoko Hasegawa. She made her name in the popular TV drama, Bokudake no Madonna (My Only Madonna), and through smart casting choices is showing her chops a Japanese star to watch. Like Mike Leigh, Kawase’s method of working with actors (and non-actors alike) is not to reveal events, motivations, or even plot. Viewers share the very same situations, feelings and moments that the actors themselves discovered. And Hasegawa is particularly adept in working with this technique.  Nanayomachi highlights not only actors, but also director Kawase at top form.

Originally published in Japanzine, November 2008