Week(s) In Watching: Late May 2011 Report

As a three day weekend comes to something of a relaxed close, it felt like a pretty good time to go ahead and share some thoughts on a number of things watched over the last few weeks. And since Gamera: Revenge Of Iris is nowhere to be seen on Blu-ray, this feels like a good place to follow up my reviews for Kaneko's first two monster entries. And while the majority of what's been playing in the domicile veers relatively far from the Kaiju side of things, I'm sure there'll be something worth examining here as many of these are re-watches that are telling of how much certain views of them remain the same, versus others that may have changed over time (or rather, post-film education, podcasting, reading, etc.). It is an interesting thing to re-evaluate something that at one time may have had a more prescient place in the heart. But before getting to all that, here's something I wasn't sure was going to wind up on these pages...

Midnight Eagle (2007)

Oh boy. If there is anything regarding J-cinema that hurts like a rock in the shoe, it's television-laced sentimentalism, and artifice. And that pretty much oozes throughout Izuru Narushima's adaptation of Tetsuo Takashima's political thriller novel.It's the story of respected photojournalist Yuji Nishizaki (played half asleep by Takao Osawa), who's work covering not only war-torn lands in an unnamed Middle Eastern nation, but of vast mountain ranges becomes witness to what looks to be the downing of a U.S. aircraft into the snowy Northern Alps of Japan, where he is enlisted to attempt to cover the story, which could very well blow the lid off of several parties looking to gather the remains of the plane by any means necessary. The plot grows more suspicious when it is revealed that the pilots were not as one may assume, and the aforementioned unnamed parties are in hot pursuit of those responsible in order to silence them. All the while, Nishizaki & magazine rep, Ochiai are in the mountains, surrounded by not only JSSDF, but another unnamed party with full knowledge of a terrible secret, an explosive nuclear payload within the remains of the plane! And we haven't even mentioned Nishizaki's estranged son, his (also journalist) sister-in-law (Yuko Takeuchi) looking to gain custody, the Japanese Prime Minister looking to do the right thing, and a group of (again nationality unnamed) refugees chased by men with coats and guns. What it all adds up to, is a slow, tonally uneven piece that careens headlong into melodramatic (There are still apparently many in Japan who found Michael Bay's ARMAGEDDON impressive, and influential.) territory.

To muddle matters even further, is a clear decision to not name opposition. This treading on thin ice approach is not only naked, but it serves to make matters even more confusing than the film has to. Especially in nearly a decade after S.Korea took on regional tensions to great success with Shiri(1999), this feels ill-concieved, not to mention murky in the storytelling department. If we are meant to feel any sympathy for the refugee characters, let alone our heroes, it takes much more than showing a cute kid, and some treacly photos to make the viewer care about any of this. And considering the subject matter (US aircraft involved in potential conspiracy opening rifts between the long, tenuous relationship between the american military and the JSSDF, and the ramifications of Article 9.), this could have been a golden opportunity to further explore the debate in a way that Mamoru Oshii & Kazunori Ito so eloquently did with an anime film (Patlabor 2 - 1993). But as it stands, the film opts for languid pacing, tin characterization, and forced sentimentalization to wrench whatever crocodile tears it can. It's the type of film that requires the audience to know who is what, and what is at stake beyond the nuclear threat to drive such themes home, and as a movie experience, Midnight Eagle fails to do any of this. In fact, one can even argue that once the scripts comes to an impasse with the political plot, it cops the nuclear finale as a last resort. If one is willing to explore touchy subject matter, it's best to go as far as one can, or not at all. And From the looks of things, it feels as if there wasn't enough from the getgo to even warrant a release. JSSDF involvement, or no. It lacks the punch required to make something like this truly work, and is indicative of many trends bogging down recent Japanese film. It's like directing in a vacuum; cold, empty, and utterly devoid of risk. File Under: dreadfully dull.

And it isn't even that this is the kind of film to normally even be considered for the Kaijyu, but rather the spiritual connection to Patlabor 2 hovers over the film like a cloud. But the big obvious difference here, is that even when Oshii's film opts to give a little to the mecha otaku near the finale, it reverts quite nicely into the central debate, which ME clearly forgets halfway through the film.




Thank goodness for antidotes. Especially older, still potent antidotes!

Had the chance to spend some time in early 90s Hong Kong this last week with another semi-annual ritual  viewing of  John Woo's initial goodbye to British HK, Hard Boiled(1992), and it remains one of the last truly astounding pre-CG action achievements. Sure, it's loud, cartoony, completely illogical, and over the top, but hey, the film knows exactly what it is, and delivers the goods without regret. For those unlucky five who haven't seen the film, it is essentially a bombastic precursor for Andrew Lau's Infernal Affairs films, and the ultimate primer for virtually every first person shooter ever created. Simple plot: Renegade cop, Tequila (played with every last bit of charisma by Chow Yun Fat) is on the trail of the Triad baddies who's trail left him without a partner, leading him to a bright & dangerous killer(a still fresh-faced & pre-dramatic legend, Tony Leung Chiu-Wai) who's obviously more than he seems. Mix in an almost meta-now Anthony Wong as the unstable gun runner, Johnny Wong, along with Phillip Chan, Teresa Mo & martial arts favorite Philip Kwok, and one has a "they truly don't make-em like this anymore" good time complete with insane stunts, pyrotechnics galore, and some great drama to hold it all together. It almost doesn't even warrant posting since this has become such a part of cine-geek royalty, but it just stands to reason. Woo's film was meant to be something of a Dirty Harry-styled epic sendoff before his mixed trip overseas, and it remains an influential piece of action cinema that any admirer of genre shouldn't miss. The mention here comes courtesy of finally getting claws on a copy of the Blu-ray, which for better or worse is lacking the trailer which is mentioned in the print (false advertising chaps, no matter what), and the three-year-old Dragon Dynasty commentary by Bey Logan is still very informative, if a bit dry. Either way, all this recent talk of a sequel/remake of Woo's films remains as ineffective for this writer, as it seems that more than ever, action films are at a place where story comes first. But can these projects ever come as close to death-defying as they were back in HK's heyday? Doubtful.



As for anime, well I guess it's going to be hard to be considered anything but a yearning for nostalgia, which in some ways can be true. But giving some old favorites a good re-watch lately has been interesting. Now granted a part of me is looking for a means to better explain these thoughts, as Anime Diet is in need of some more 80s anime discussion. But I will share here for now that these thoughts involve shows made during the early days of the OVA, and considering how rocky and still untested the medium was, the results were often mixed to almost revolutionary for an industry that remains shackled to an antiquated tv-based model. Again, now isn't the time to go into it all, but for now...

Regarding Reviews: What Makes This Kaijyu Tick?

Waking up this morning, I was suddenly possessed with typing up some kind of explanation as to how some of my tastes function, as well as perhaps elaborate a little on what makes certain movies/shows work for me personally. And to be honest, like anyone else, I couldn't pinpoint such things with any absolute razor thin accuracy. All I can do is perhaps shine a light on what it is that makes me lose myself in a film as opposed to seeing it as just a collaborative project that either functioned, or didn't. And it is by looking back at years of watching movies that I can finally see patterns emerge, which is what I hope to share here over time. If anything, The Wandering Kaijyu works not unlike a means to see where I am, not only as a "fan", but as a "maturing" human.

So with that, let's dive on in...

As I just mentioned via Twitter, one of the larger components of what works for me as a reviewer is if the completed work carries within it some manner of "truth". And when I say this, it isn't that there's some hidden desire for absolute truth of any kind. But rather that the work's established thesis carries with it a certain amount of conviction permeating throughout the entire piece. (without getting lost along the way) And this even includes films with a certain level of naivete. If the piece maintains that spirit, no matter how silly, or goofy, chances are it can pass. But the establishment of these feelings, ideas, concepts must be well established within the first few moments, otherwise tone can be compromised, oftentimes creating something of an uneven mess.


If a film/show establishes a highly logical universe, it is important that the writing and acting maintain this in order to keep more attentive audiences locked into the story. This is where I have to chime in that the moving picture is more an emotional medium than an intellectual one, so the sheer level of logical complexity will almost always never be one hundred percent, but if the story established asks the audience to be wary of minute details, it's important to at least convince us that what is happening really is. The brain can detect falseness very well, and as such, this is part of a very tricky balancing act in order to keep viewers emotionally engaged in matters. So "logical truth" is important, if only to keep the more thematic/emotional material intact. This is something that film often gets wrong since the other part of this equation is in many ways more important, but in that rare occasion, something closer to airtight can also better support the projects' more direct ideas & themes.

Now...on the other hand...

Looking back at everything that tends to secure a fave spot somewhere, there are times when simple logic is often abandoned. I mean, let's get down to it. I'm a grand sucker for tokusatsu films featuring giant monsters, giant robots, spirits, fantastic worlds without standard physics in attendance. I have a raging love for works that often bend conventional rules of reality, until it no longer even resembles a recognizable construct aside from maybe having humans in them. So what about these? And why do some of these still get iffy reviews regardless?

Let's go ahead an illustrate what I mean with a truly mainstream example of this; Spiderman 2 (2004).

Much like the previous Sam Raimi film(and before things really got out of hand), this was a fully realized American comic book world brought to life complete with classic archetypes, derring-do, and special effects. And considering the era of special effects that were attainable at the time, along with some seriously questionable physics, the film in many strange ways, looks strangely quaint in retrospect considering where comic adaptations went in regards to "realism" years following. The action scenes of Spidey 2, while exciting to some degree, feel not only video game-like in execution, but also sadly plastic-y, and sans any real feeling of threat. As Spiderman is battling Doctor Octopus, there are multiple moments of human bodies slamming against concrete, busting brick walls, bending steel, and so-forth without any concern for the all-too mortal Peter Parker underneath the spandex. It gets to a certain point where the back of the mind just gives up, and the suspension is compromised.


So why do I still own this film? Why does it still work in my mind as a successful popcorn experience?

Simple; Raimi and crew stuck to their guns regarding their rendition of Peter Parker and his life. In the end, the action was nowhere near as important as the human element. Whether it be his living situation, his love issues, or even guilt over the past, it is all played beautifully, and does so in a clever way when considering the plight of Dr. Octavius. It is here that the fantasy elements are countered by emotional, and thematic truths that are played well from first frame to last. And even as the credits roll, we understand the sacrifice inherent in living such a life. Even as the world embraces a more heightened reality, the more personal underpinnings of the story are what stay.


Therein lies what I find to be one of the the more challenging parts of the viewing experience, and yet can be summed up with a simple response; when one is dealing with the fantastic, at least for me, there needs to be some kind of emotional, spiritual thesis at work from the beginning of the film, which again brings back the idea of intention. Some films while utterly steeped in the unbelievable are capable of counterbalancing the often tinkered rules of physical/logical reality at hand. It goes all the way back to my love of films like Gojira for example. There is an almost youthful exhuberance in the execution of many of TOHO & DAIEI's early special effects films that comes through quite clearly despite all the fantasy bouncing off the edges like a vengeful Superball.

When faced with envisioning the impossible within film (or anime for that matter), a need for something else to ground matters is vital. And more often than not, this is where effective emotional storytelling comes into play. Without this, it all whittles down to merely spectacle with no real point or purpose, which for me is worse than anything. Especially in a time when anything can be achieved visually, story & theme eventually must take point in whether the project will speak to me or not.

If the spirit of the work is well established from the outset, and the creators find ways to maintain that spirit throughout, there's a good chance for a successful experience for us. Even if certain rules are bent, beats are underplayed, notes are forgotten, or even betrayed with new revelations, they still can help weave a unique tapestry. But more often than not, it all needs to be well-planned and executed. There are exceptions out there for sure. Works that came together on the day, within happenstance, or out of last moment necessity. In fact, some works can work in spite of all of this due to their immediacy, ingenuity, and energy. As long as the central nucleus of thought is consistent and carried through to the credits, chances are it'll work its wonders on me.

At the end, there are no real rules so much as a need for the work to speak truthfully, even if it's through the mind of a child. It is a quest to believe in the possibilities. And this is the spirit of The Wandering Kaijyu.

Axioms Of Change (More thoughts on Toy Story 3)

Do we even need addressing here? I suppose it might be, in order to have a record of my feelings on the ideas shared on the film while they're still fresh. But it seemed pretty clear to me that PIXAR was not only going for broke with their grand finale, but also looking to better illuminate a world that has only recently opened up toward lifestyles & solutions long ignored by the mainstream. And much like a humble parent, Unkrich, Doctor, Lassiter, and the rest of the Toy Story crew have taken great pains to spotlight a changing planet gleaming with the kind of possibilities a child has with their imagination.

- The Sunnyside Day Care tale is one of division brought about by an individual convinced of the inevitable pain brought forth by allowing unconditional emotions to reside. His solutions make sense to a population unsure of their place in the world as confused victims of whatever circumstance left them donated to the day care center. And in the hands of this leader, the aptly named Butterfly & Caterpillar rooms are an interesting play on words for divided states of maturation. A sort of, pre-emptive lifestyle designed to shield certain people from what can be considered "public service". Something a certain number of folks do not see as an enviable position.

- Ken. It's written in strokes the width of a superhighway. Despite the relationship between he and Barbie, it is clear that he is among the more misunderstood citizens of Sunnyside. And even as he had for a time attained a certain level of power before Andy's toys came, he was obviously in a relegated position with noone to really grasp what he was truly about. Much of this begins to change as the recently dejected blonde happily accepts him as a part of a "complete set". Being that they are toys, it is in the clothes-loving that things take a pretty obvious metaphor, and are upgraded by a sense of playfully adult humor without beating his thematic change into our minds. It's a sweet little subplot that ends pitch-beautifully by making him a new leader. Someone who grasps the hopes and dreams of the whole, as opposed to the fearful few.

- To a lesser degree, but no less amusing, Buzz Lightyear's Demo Mode mishap. By leaving the ever-dashing rocket man in Espanol mode, he takes on a romantic persona that comes off as a little superficial until one realizes, we're watching a big budget family film with aggressively fast subtitles. Something that could never have been considered ten years ago. A little something that only gets better as part of the Buzz/ Jessie subplot gathers steam throughout the whole film. And Jessie's growing approval of Mr. Lightyear via this technical goofup is a more than appropriate testament toward shifting cultural attitudes. It could also be argued that the switch on Buzz's back can be seen as a visual nod toward the splintering changes that are beginning to blossom in most unexpected places.

- Andy's decision in the finale & the inclusion of little Bonnie are also strong notions that change, while inevitable, do not have to remain bittersweet as long as there are new minds pouring new thoughts into the mix. After all, in the Toy Story universe, a toy's greatest joys are to be played with & to be there when a child needs them most. For Andy to keep Woody with him at college is fine and sweet. (It is indeed possible that the classic cowboy doll was a keepsake of his never seen father's) But in order for the toys to have a longevity of need, it is important that they remain in the service of the young. Hence the transition. As much as I love many of my old toys, it does pain me to merely leave them shelved. To see Woody and friends in the hands of such a spry, imaginative soul is not only evidence of the immortality of the inner child, but of all of us who long to retain the spirit of one.