Last Bill Translation

[Richard Suchenski]

For what it's worth here are my thoughts on the three films:

The Last Samurai - For a Hollywood epic, "The Last Samurai" really isn't all
that bad, but neither is it anything special.  Zwick has a certain talent
for rhythm and composition, but he doesn't really integrate them into
anything, and he hits far too many false notes.  Plus, as others have
pointed out, the depiction of Japan was both shallow and didactic
(especially in the final scenes).  As a partial defense, however, John
Toll's cinematography, which was the main reason I went to see the film, was
wonderful, and most of the performances were more than adequate.  As for the
Japanese reaction, I saw the film in a packed screening at Movix Kyoto, and
most of the foreigners started clapping at the end.  The Japanese audience
members, who were almost all under 30, seemed to like it, but the reaction
was pretty subdued and I didn't overhear anyone giving a strong opinion
either way.

Lost in Translation - I actually really liked this film, especially Sofia
Coppola's gently bittersweet lyricism and the pitch-perfect performances of
the two leads.  Coppola has a good eye, but she also has a talent for
pairing up the nuances of the performances with the editing rhythms of the
scene and the impressionistic camerawork.  Her film has grace, beauty, and a
feel for both the alienated ambivalence and quiet joys of modern life, in
Japan or any other country.

That said, I do think it's fair to grapple with the film's portrayal of
modern Japan.  Charlotte's journey to Nanzenji and her tourist's vision of
Tokyo, Kyoto, and the rest of Japan didn't bother me because that is exactly
how most Americans see Japan see Japan when they first arrive (I know I
looked at Nanzenji when I went to Kyoto for the first time and was struck by
all the neon in Tokyo).  Is it a bit reductive?  Sure, but I think it's
honest, and it rings true, for me and for most of the other film people I
saw the film with in Kyoto.  Far more objectionable, in my mind, were the
cheap potshots at the Japanese language (the l/r jokes were somewhat funny,
but also far, far too easy) and the smugly condescending "lip my stockings"
scene.  Overall, though, I thought the depiction of Japan was very fair, and
just about every Japanese friend that I've asked feels the same way.  The
one who didn't think it was fair objected, of all things, to the television
host and the bar/arcade scenes, but those scenes seemed pretty accurate to
me, especially the anomie of the Japanese teenagers in the arcade.

Kill Bill - Kill Bill was Tarantino through and through, full of vigorous,
stylish sound and fury that ultimately signifies nothing.  Tarantino knows
his B-film tropes, and there are genuinely thrilling moments in his film,
but they are all devoid of context (social, historical, metaphysical, or
even cinematic) and emotional resonance, let alone significance.  I
"enjoyed" watching the film, but I can think of few films this stylish that
felt more empty to me.  In that respect, the portrayal of Japan neither
excited nor annoyed me, because it was just as decontextualized as
everything else in the film.

As a contrast, take a look at Kitano's "Zatoichi," an admittedly slight, but
fascinating revisionist samurai musical.  The film is ultimately rather
shallow, but the action has weight (often ironic) and emotional pull,
largely because Kitano seems to genuinely care about his characters and pays
attention to the details of the world they inhabit.  Even more interesting,
for me anyways, was his experimental play with musical rhythms, which
culminated in the ebullient final dance number, which had far more verve and
passion than all of "Kill Bill" combined.  Kitano has done much stronger,
more personal films than Zatoichi, but it was an admirable effort and, to my
sensibility, the most satisfying Japanese film released in mainstream
theaters last year.

As for Japanese cinema in 2003:  2003 was a really solid year for world
cinema, with masterpieces like Jia Zhang-ke's "Platform" and "Unknown
Pleasures," Gus van Sant's "Elephant," the Dardenne Brothers' "The Son,"
David Cronenberg's "Spider," Errol Morris' "The Fog of War," and Clint
Eastwood's "Mystic River," but it was a pretty weak year for Japanese
cinema.  That said, there were some really wonderful Japanese films released
in 2003, most notably Kiyoshi Kurosawa's "Doppelganger."

 K. Kurosawa reminds me of a cross between, of all people, Robert Aldrich
and Andrei Tarkovsky, insofar as he smuggles really fascinating material
into seemingly staid genre films and because the focus of that material is
on  ambient atmospherics and the internal landscapes of the self (99's
"Charisma" is the best demonstration of this).  What's most interesting
about Kurosawa's direction, however, is his tendency (which seems to be
constantly growing since 97's "Cure") to create highly evocative, noverbal
moments that are only marginally narrative-driven and to let those moments
play out naturally.  In "Doppelganger," for instance, I was really struck by
the scene in which Koji Yakusho tears up a research lab; it's a beautiful,
liberating moment that, somehow, has both poetry and mystery.  It's a bit
like the "free" moments Peckinpah and Leone were trying to create in their
late films, but, while Kurosawa's moments are far less operatic, they also
feel considerably less forced.  "Doppelganger" is by no means a perfect
film - and I'm still trying to work out exactly why Kurosawa's films almost
always start to feel disjunctive, or at least tonally inconsistent, in their
final act - but it's a fascinating film, and it's well worth checking out if
it ever comes to an art house near you.

The most interesting new Japanese experimental films I saw last year were
Shiho Kano's "Lily in the Glass" and Nagaru Miyake's "Hakujitsu," and,
hopefully they'll get more festival screenings in the near future.  Finally,
someone asked about "demonlover," and without spending too much time on it,
let me just say that it was one of the best films of 2003 and it's Assayas'
best film since "Irma Vep."  The depiction of Japan might upset some people,
only insofar as the subject matter is both dark and perverse, but the film
has more to say about media and contemporary life than virtually any other
film released commercially in the past year.

There are a number of releases by major Japanese directors including
Hirokazu Kore-Eda, Shinji Aoyama, and Mamoru Oshii slated for 2004, but the
most exciting Japanese film on the horizon is Taiwanese director Hou
Hsiao-hsien's Ozu tribute, "Coffee Time."  Hou Hsiao-hsien is on the short
list of "greatest living narrative filmmakers" and I've heard, from people
who actually saw the Tokyo premiere on December 12 (the Ozu centennial),
that it's on par with some of his other masterpieces.  In any event, here's
hoping that 2004 is a banner year for Japanese, and world, cinema.

Richard Suchenski