Go

[mark schilling]

Tadayuki Okubo, the Toei PR person in charge of Go. told me that the
zainichi Korean reaction to the film was mixed. Half, he said, were "really
moved that a Japanese movie would show some understanding of the pain they
endured," while another half thought the happy ending unrealistic. "In real
life, most girls (like the heroine) would not come back," he said.

Here is my Japan Times review of the film:

                  Go
                  By Mark Schilling
                  Rating: * * * *
                  Director: Isao Yukisada
                  Running time: 122 minutes
                  Language: Japanese




            A few years ago, Asians were the hot thing in Japanese films,
and
            then, suddenly, they were not. The peak was Shunji Iwai's
            "Swallowtail," a 1996 dystopian fantasy about a near-future
Tokyo
            overrun by hungry young Asians who would commit any crime for a
yen,
            but were more vital than the gray Japanese masses around them.
With
            its stylistic borrowings from Ridley Scott's "Blade Runner" and
its
            peculiar mix of xenophilia and xenophobia (its Asians were great
            people to party with, but not to trust with the CD player),
            "Swallowtail" became a hit -- and more Japanese money and talent
            went into movies with an Asians-in-Japan theme.

            Unfortunately, none of the later Japanese films with Asian
heroes
            surpassed the success of "Swallowtail," and the Asian boom died
            down, if not out. Instead, horror films became the next hot
thing --
            and their principals all carried Japanese passports (save for
the
            ones from the Great Beyond).

            Isao Yukisada's "Go" is something like "Swallowtail Redux": a
film
            by a promising new director arriving in the theaters with
terrific
            buzz, whose zainichi (resident-in-Japan) Korean hero exudes the
kind
            of spunk and soul most of his Japanese age-mates have either
lost or
            never had to begin with. But in contrast to Iwai's Asians, who
were
            mostly cool figments of the director's imagination, the hero of
"Go"
            -- a teenager with a lion-mane hairdo and a temper to match --
is
            the credible creation of Kazuki Kaneshiro, author of the
            best-selling novel on which the film is based, and a zainichi
Korean
            himself.

             This hero, Sugihara, simmers with the rage that comes from
being
            different in a society that celebrates its homogeneity and
defines
            membership by blood. Though they may be the third generation of
            their families in Japan and they may look, talk and act like the
            Japanese around them, Sugihara and his Korean pals are still
            excluded, in ways subtle and not so subtle, from the mainstream.
            They are, the film notes in a funny, fast-paced, slickly edited
            opening sequence, more likely to end up in a police lineup than
            behind a company president's desk.

             This is not a new theme -- Japanese films such as Nagisa
Oshima's
            "Koshikei (Death by Hanging)" (1968) and Kohei Oguri's "Kayoko
no
            Tame ni (For Kayoko)" (1984) tackled it, usually from the
            Koreans-as-victims angle. Probably the most accurate and
certainly
            the funniest take, however, was that of zainichi Korean director
            Yoichi Sai in his 1993 film "Tsuki wa Dotchi ni Deteiru (All
Under
            the Moon)." It told a blackly comic tale of a Korean cabby who
is
            just trying to get by (if not along), shrugging off slurs from
his
            Japanese passengers while fending off the demands of his
bar-mama
            mother that he find a nice Korean girl and settle down. Instead
of a
            social problem demanding redress, Sai treated his hero's
ethnicity
            as a condition admitting no easy solution. This approach won the
            film many awards, but did not earn the apolitical Sai many PC
            points.

           Though he may not have Sai's street cred, Yukisada is
well-equipped
            for the task of making Koreans trendy again. In addition to
working
            as an assistant director for Iwai on several films, including
            "Swallowtail," he has made everything from music videos to
features
            ("Himawari," "Zeitaku na Hone"), while becoming fluent in the
hip,
            new language of the modern eizo sakka (visual artist), with its
            large vocabulary of computer-aided editing tricks and its blithe
            rejection of traditional boundaries between high and low art.
His
            new film is by turns, cheeky, cartoony and wittily stylish --
but
            never dully self-important. It also has a vitality and drive
that
            soothes its irritants, primarily the gratingly coy Ko Shibasaki
as
            Sugihara's love interest.

            Most of all, it has a star-making performance by Yosuke Kubozuka
            who, as Sugihara, brings a combination of brash attitude and
boyish
            charm, raw toughness and comic flair. After a decade of looking
for
            its next Yusaku Matsuda, perhaps the Japanese film industry has
            finally found him.

            The film traces Sugihara's journey from his lock-step education
at a
            Spartan minzoku gakko (Korean junior high school), dedicated to
the
            greater glory of Dear Leader Kim Jong Il, to his entry into an
            ordinary Japanese high school and his fateful encounter with the
            lovely Sakurai (Shibasaki), she of the long, copper-colored hair
and
            dramatically arched eyebrows. A bit of a rebel herself, coming
            across as 18-going-on-28, Sakurai is attracted by the fire in
his
            eyes -- and makes him believe, for the first time, that "Korean"
is
            a category he can escape.

            The film, as Sugihara keeps reminding us in a voice-over, is
thus a
            "love story," but it is also a coming-of-age story, with a
frenzied
            energy and occasional sharp, satiric bite. Instead of running
the
            usual oppressed-versus-oppressor changes, Yukisada and
scriptwriter
            Kankuro Kudo turn them inside out. Trained from boyhood by his
            former pro-boxer father (Tsutomu Yamazaki), Sugihara knocks off
a
            succession of would-be Japanese bullies as though they were so
many
            arcade-game villains. His big eyes-lock moment with Sakurai is
            preceded by a free-for-all, inspired by Hong Kong chopsocky
movies,
            in which he takes on an entire hostile basketball team (his own,
as
            it happens).

            He might appear to be a local version of that familiar figure
from
            Hollywood films -- the Super Minority Hero. (Yosuke Kubozuka,
meet
            Will Smith.) Only he is not. Dad, a testy eccentric who changed
his
            nationality from North to South Korean so he could take Mom
(Shinobu
            Otake) on a trip to Hawaii, regularly knocks the stuffing out of
            him, while his delinquent pals at the minzoku gakko get him into
            idiotic trouble, such as running down the tracks ahead of an
            approaching subway train, with only the suicidally slimmest of
head
            starts. Then Sakurai weaves her spell and reveals him as a gawky
kid
            who can hardly talk to girls, let alone bed one.

           Sugihara, however, is something more as well. Refusing the
loser's
            role in which society has cast him, he tries again and again to
            break out -- and nearly has his heart broken in the process.
            One heartbreaker is Shoichi (Takahito Hosodayama), Sugihara's
best
            friend, who has the most promise of all the Korean kids he
knows --
            and the worst luck. Another is Sakurai, who, as played by
Shibasaki,
            is flirty, flighty and supremely full of herself. But Kubozuka
is
            the real thing -- and makes "Go" worth going to.