Sabu is still Sabu.
But this film is stunningly brutal.
Relentless in its portrayal of a young man ‘coming of age’ through the most extreme trials, this is perhaps the most merciless film I have seen since “Requiem for a Dream.” And that’s saying something…
I will say as much about it as I can, but none of you have seen it yet, and part of its pleasure is in being entirely unpredictable. Unlike “The Crying Game,” in which we as an audience were requested to not give away the secret at the end, talking about virtually any plot points in this film at all would be to sap it of its power. Suffice to say, it is unpredictably grim. Though no less beautiful for that.
The central plotline involves a boy named Shuji living in a town which is essentially divided against itself (the landfill area is referred to as ‘offshore,’ while the rest is referred to as the ‘shore’) who discovers and deals with religion, love, lust, and being ‘his brother’s keeper.’ Hardship piles upon hardship, as he tries to comprehend his world and his feelings through the Bible, while also giving in to the counter urge to simply lose himself in running. (Sabu’s brilliant meditation on perpetual motion throughout his career continues here; this time the running signifies the impossibility of escape from a life of agony that is always there around him whenever he stops – it is avoidance.) Rebelliousness and death surrounds him (and all young people in the film) at all times. Nearing the end of the film, one of the most heartbreaking scenes in the history of coming of age movies occurs (skip to the next paragraph if you want to keep the surprise, but I simply must mention this point), in which he is taken to the place where the girl of the film likes to stand and vegetate. When she walks away, he finds written on the door where she was standing, “please, someone, kill me” with her phone number written beneath. He stares at it for a moment as we see her walking away in the background, out of focus. He pulls out a pen and writes, directly beneath her marking, “please, someone, live with me,” including his phone number as well, and turns to walk after her. Polar opposite responses to the same hellish experience that is growing up… I wept.
Sabu’s editing and overall film construction continues to amaze as he develops as a filmmaker. In an early scene, the young Shuji rode his bike in the direction of the righthand side of the screen. When he gets a lift home, after breaking his bike, the car ride home is to the left. Throughout the remainder of the film, Shuji spends most of his time running to the left. Always running in the direction of home, though home isn’t ‘home.’ It is a simple use of classical film construction that evokes a powerful feeling of longing and loneliness without saying a word.
The film opens and closes with gorgeous drifting camera shots of the sky, some houses, and empty landfill. Certainly the most lyrical and evocative opening of any of his films. He includes a couple of repetitive editing sequences, each constructed of three shots (if I remember correctly): one a montage of dead animals (a fish with a rod through its mouth comes to mind), and the other a montage of the objects in a bedroom. And he clearly had a budget this time, as there are a couple of unbelievable shots in the film that could not have been entirely serendipitous: one an image of the church under a cloudy sky with a hole in the clouds that lets the suns rays come down directly onto the church and nowhere else, and another a shot of Shuji on the pavement with armed police and a burning house in the distance.
Sabu also manages to continue his ability to choose music that is perfectly suited to the film. He is the only filmaker aside from Wes Anderson, and the film “Withnail and I” in which I have never shut off the film until after the credits have run completely. The closing theme by S.E.N.S. is wonderful.
This is a glorious film, though far and away the most downtrodden of his work. Sabu never falters – only improves as he goes on.
I remain, as always, completely bewildered that this man is not more well known.
So I will close this ‘review’ with exactly the same words with which I have closed my reviews of all of his films…
Bravo, Sabu.
You are the embodiment of why I do what I do.
So I’m guessing it had subtitles then? Great review. I’m jealous I didn’t get to see it. I was really jonsing for the projector tonight. I got a copy of Willow at the used DVD store for ten bucks and was blown away by the quality of the transfer. It looks like such a cheap DVD, but the video quality is stellar and the extras look solid as well. You need a DVD-R drive so I can get my Sabu fix? Any chance you can mail me the original so I can burn a copy and mail it back?
I’ve been trying to think about why I like “brutal” films so much. Are these the films you prefer, yon J? Why/how?
I’ve realized my favorite narrative, as it were, is “how evil happens.” And we’re all evil.
Chris.
I’m trying to decide on which would be the best way to go about getting you a copy. There’s a possibility that I can just use a friend’s computer and burn a copy here so that we don’t have to deal with return shipping or worry about it getting lost in the mail. I’ll have to double check on that though.
Unfortunately, this print on this disc isn’t what it could be. It does look like an original disc and not a bootleg, but the picture is a bit washed out. Not much, but the color tones seem a tad faded. Perhaps it’s because it’s region 3…
Adam.
I’m on the fence about brutal films. On the one hand, I like them simply for their unselfconscious admission of the appeal of melodrama. It is certainly true that human beings in general are ‘drama queens,’ and that films which deal with extremes are appealing simply for allowing us to see the world in black and white ways while still superficially appealing to shades of grey (with the “why we’re all evil” thing). It’s an easy out. Especially for men. A great deal of this “watch him suffer” thing appeals to the same urge for ‘manliness’ that always drove the ‘grin and bear it’ Western hero.
But I’m not sure that I really like them. When I find them aesthetically pleasing, then yes. (Like “Dead Run” or “Requiem…”) And when I can get lost in the genre (like “Empire Strikes Back” and “Revenge of the Sith”). But when it’s done just to be relentlessly dreary, like Mizoguchi, then no.
Maybe it’s that Mizoguchi doesn’t seem to care about the “why,” and instead just marvels at the ability of humans to suffer with dignity, while these other films are about reactions other than ‘dignity.’ I suppose that I like the brutal films when I can see the effects and feel that I learn something about human nature from them…
Then again, perhaps I’m just a sadist, who doesn’t like his sadism polluted with any of that ‘dignity’ crap.
You point out a distinction I hadn’t thought about. I like brutality lite with a story attached.