Tokyo! is a collection of 3 short films shot by 3 directors (two from France and 1 from Korea) using Tokyo as the setting. Fittingly, each of the films focuses on characters who are outsiders within Japanese society.
“Interior Design”, directed by Michel Gondry, is a funny and whimsical coming of age story that cleverly toys with the notion of identity and the path to personal fulfillment. Akira, an aspiring filmmaker, and Hiroko, his supportive but aimless girlfriend, have moved to Tokyo to pursue their dreams. They bunk in a friend’s apartment temporarily while Akira sets up film screenings and Hiroko spends her days trying to find an affordable apartment. Her apartment hunting exploits result in some hilarious scenarios that will be familiar to anyone who’s tried to find a decent apartment in a big city.
Realizing that he can’t make a living as an artist, Akira confronts Hiroko about her lack of direction. He believes people are defined by what they do. Forgoing his dream of filmmaking for the moment, Akira finds work as a gift wrapper while Hiroko undergoes a very unusual transformation that takes the idea of “defined by what you do” literally.
“Merde”, directed by Leos Carax, is a semi-parody of the “monster run amok in Tokyo” story that explores themes of xenophobia and terrorism. It is the weirdest and the least engaging of the three films. The monster here is a shabby green-clad, one-eyed foreigner named Merde who lives in the sewers of Tokyo. He emerges each day to inflict havoc among the Japanese – one day he’s merely a pest who pushes people on the street, knocks them down and makes off with their possessions. The next day he’s killing innocent bystanders with grenades. Captured by the police, he confesses that hatred of the Japanese is what drove him to kill. Tried by a jury, he is sentenced to death. While awaiting his death sentence in prison, he becomes a sort of national hero to the non-conformists while the conservatives condemn his actions.
The premise of this story is an interesting one and the film starts with promise but ultimately fails to deliver much of an emotional connection as the central character is relentlessly unlikeable and the scenes set in the prison are rather tedious.
“Shaking Tokyo”, directed by Bong Joon-Ho, is a visually beautiful love story between two recluses (known in Japan as “hikikomori”) that underscores the human need for connection. The story focuses on a young man who has confined himself to his apartment for 10 years. One day a delivery girl arrives with his weekly pizza just as a small earthquake occurs. The girl faints and while tending to her, he falls in love. Desperate to see her again, he summons up the courage to venture outside to find her and discovers that all of Tokyo’s residents have become recluses.
This is a sweet film that is enhanced by its excellent cinematography and lovely views of Tokyo’s quiet back streets. The haunting image of the man walking through the deserted Tokyo streets as he searches for the girl’s home lingers and serves to underscore the isolation and loneliness that one might feel in the concrete jungle.
Saturday, December 13, 2008
Sunday, November 30, 2008
Review: "Executive Koala" (2005)
To say that “Executive Koala” is bizarre would be an understatement. It is definitely in its own cinematic realm. I don’t think I’ve ever come across a movie as absurd and goofy as “Executive Koala” but it warrants a viewing precisely for those reasons, not to mention that it’s eye-poppingly entertaining.
“Executive Koala” opens up by introducing us to Mr. Tamura, a hardworking executive for a pickle manufacturer. He labors long hours devising a business plan to build the company’s market share via a partnership with a Korean kimchi producer. A typical Japanese salary man, Tamura spends most of his time in the office, slaving away with spreadsheets and chatting up the company president. He’s divorced but has a cute girlfriend named Yoko that he hardly spends any time with. Oh, did I forget to mention the minor detail that Tamura is a 6 ft. tall koala? None of the other humans in his world seem to notice this fact – on the contrary, the office ladies find Tamura rather hot, though a bit on the furry side.
Suddenly his girlfriend is found stabbed to death and Tamura is at the center of a police investigation that digs up some unsavory bits on his past. Is he not the cuddly and sweet koala that everyone thinks he is? Prone to memory lapses and blackouts, Tamura seeks the assistance of the company president (who’s a white rabbit by the way) and his human shrink to solve the mystery of his girlfriend’s murder.
To describe the plot in any more detail would be pointless. Suffice it to say that what starts out as a psychological thriller segues to something increasingly bizarre with each new scene. There’s a hint of a slasher horror flick which then transitions to a delightful musical interlude. This is then followed by a prison drama that morphs into a kung-fu showdown at the local game arcade where humans and animals alike possess supernatural powers of resurrection after being repeatedly thrown against hard metal objects. Threading through all these transitions is a love story between human and koala, the likes of which have never been seen (and likely never will be) on the big screen.
Make no mistake. This is a weird, weird movie even by Japanese standards. But if you can subdue the left-brained tendency toward understanding and analysis (a few drinks before watching may help), you’ll be rewarded with something completely different that’s never boring and curiously amusing.
“Executive Koala” opens up by introducing us to Mr. Tamura, a hardworking executive for a pickle manufacturer. He labors long hours devising a business plan to build the company’s market share via a partnership with a Korean kimchi producer. A typical Japanese salary man, Tamura spends most of his time in the office, slaving away with spreadsheets and chatting up the company president. He’s divorced but has a cute girlfriend named Yoko that he hardly spends any time with. Oh, did I forget to mention the minor detail that Tamura is a 6 ft. tall koala? None of the other humans in his world seem to notice this fact – on the contrary, the office ladies find Tamura rather hot, though a bit on the furry side.
Suddenly his girlfriend is found stabbed to death and Tamura is at the center of a police investigation that digs up some unsavory bits on his past. Is he not the cuddly and sweet koala that everyone thinks he is? Prone to memory lapses and blackouts, Tamura seeks the assistance of the company president (who’s a white rabbit by the way) and his human shrink to solve the mystery of his girlfriend’s murder.
To describe the plot in any more detail would be pointless. Suffice it to say that what starts out as a psychological thriller segues to something increasingly bizarre with each new scene. There’s a hint of a slasher horror flick which then transitions to a delightful musical interlude. This is then followed by a prison drama that morphs into a kung-fu showdown at the local game arcade where humans and animals alike possess supernatural powers of resurrection after being repeatedly thrown against hard metal objects. Threading through all these transitions is a love story between human and koala, the likes of which have never been seen (and likely never will be) on the big screen.
Make no mistake. This is a weird, weird movie even by Japanese standards. But if you can subdue the left-brained tendency toward understanding and analysis (a few drinks before watching may help), you’ll be rewarded with something completely different that’s never boring and curiously amusing.
Friday, November 28, 2008
Review: "Sukiyaki Western Django" (2007)
“Sukiyaki Western Django” is a homage to spaghetti westerns that mixes samurai and gunslingers in a visually stylish, bloody soup that is weirdly entertaining if not completely satisfying.
The plot, if such an incoherent narrative can be considered to have one, is loosely based on Akira Kurosawa’s “Yojimbo” and focuses on a mysterious lone gunman who rides into a remote mountain town that is controlled by two rival gangs, the Heike known as the Reds and the Genji known as the Whites. Determined to find a gold treasure in the town, the two sides are creating quite a ruckus with the locals.
The movie works best when viewed as a kind of live-action anime set in a post-apocalyptic Mad Max vision of 19th century Nevada. While the nameless gunslinger is rather stoic and thus somewhat bland, the leaders of the two gangs radiate a certain 70’s rock-star charisma. Throw in some over-the-top, stylized action sequences, gory death scenes, a vengeance seeking widow-turned-prostitute, a lonely grandmother who reveals herself to be the legendary Bloody Benten, gunslinger extraordinaire, a sheriff with a split personality and the result is a bizarre sensory extravaganza. While there are extended moments of tedium and humor which falls flat, it’s worth watching for the absurd and oddball action which culminates in a visually spectacular showdown as swords and silver bullets clash amidst a background of pelting snow.
The plot, if such an incoherent narrative can be considered to have one, is loosely based on Akira Kurosawa’s “Yojimbo” and focuses on a mysterious lone gunman who rides into a remote mountain town that is controlled by two rival gangs, the Heike known as the Reds and the Genji known as the Whites. Determined to find a gold treasure in the town, the two sides are creating quite a ruckus with the locals.
The movie works best when viewed as a kind of live-action anime set in a post-apocalyptic Mad Max vision of 19th century Nevada. While the nameless gunslinger is rather stoic and thus somewhat bland, the leaders of the two gangs radiate a certain 70’s rock-star charisma. Throw in some over-the-top, stylized action sequences, gory death scenes, a vengeance seeking widow-turned-prostitute, a lonely grandmother who reveals herself to be the legendary Bloody Benten, gunslinger extraordinaire, a sheriff with a split personality and the result is a bizarre sensory extravaganza. While there are extended moments of tedium and humor which falls flat, it’s worth watching for the absurd and oddball action which culminates in a visually spectacular showdown as swords and silver bullets clash amidst a background of pelting snow.
Saturday, November 15, 2008
Review: "Woman in the Dunes" (1964)
“Woman in the Dunes” is a beautifully crafted and thought provoking film that tells a simple story about a man and a woman living at the bottom of a sandpit yet conveys profound wisdom about the nature of human existence and identity.
Based on Kobo Abe’s novel and directed by Hiroshi Teshigahara, “Woman in the Dunes” opens with a simple set-up that is not unlike a horror movie. An entomologist (Eiji Tokada) is wandering among sand dunes in a remote area of Japan searching for bugs. Engrossed in his research, he loses track of time and misses the last bus back to town. He encounters a villager who offers to put him up for the night in the home of a local woman (Kyoko Kishida). The entomologist graciously accepts the offer of hospitality and the villager leads him to a ramshackle hut, curiously located at the base of a sand pit and requiring a steep descent via rope ladder. He awakens the next morning to discover that the rope ladder is gone and he is trapped in the sandpit. Gradually he learns that the villagers have selected him to be the woman’s companion and help her with her daily work of shoveling sand, a necessary task to prevent the hut from being engulfed. As he struggles to find a way to escape, he develops a relationship with the woman that transforms his life.
The story of the man and the woman, two very different people who likely would never meet in the outside world, and the strange bond of companionship and responsibility that develops between them is emotionally compelling. He is an urban, educated man who values rational, scientific knowledge and disdains the experiential knowledge of the villagers. Elitist and arrogant, he refuses to demean himself by shoveling sand, believing that manual labor is beneath him. He professes to be fascinated with sand bugs and their environment but seems more interested in making a name for himself. His social status defines him. The woman is earthy, humble and hardworking. She lives day by day and shovels sand to survive and to obtain food and provisions from the village. Her nature is emotional and intuitive and she longs for companionship, having lost her husband and daughter during a violent sandstorm.
One of the themes that resonates is the struggle to find a connection to others and how our identity can shift as we adapt to changing conditions. Early on, the man admits that his fascination with sand and his desire to escape from the bustle of Tokyo brought him to the village. It’s ironic that, when given all the time in the world to live as he desires, he feels trapped and spends his energy struggling to escape. In the end, as he develops a close bond with the woman and discovers something valuable in the sand that could benefit the entire village, he is transformed into a new self, someone who has humbled himself and forged a connection to others.
The sand itself is a major character and the images of it are some of the most beautiful captured on film. A metaphor for life (or “flow”), the sand in “Woman in the Dunes” is not dry and unyielding; rather, it is a fluid, constantly shifting entity that changes the nature of things. It is everywhere -- seeping through the ceiling, blowing ferociously through the doors, sticking to the body, sensually cradling the man and woman during intimate moments. The more the man tries to escape the sand, to conquer it, the more it beats him back down. He realizes that he cannot shape the sand to his will. Ultimately, it is the sand that shapes him.
Based on Kobo Abe’s novel and directed by Hiroshi Teshigahara, “Woman in the Dunes” opens with a simple set-up that is not unlike a horror movie. An entomologist (Eiji Tokada) is wandering among sand dunes in a remote area of Japan searching for bugs. Engrossed in his research, he loses track of time and misses the last bus back to town. He encounters a villager who offers to put him up for the night in the home of a local woman (Kyoko Kishida). The entomologist graciously accepts the offer of hospitality and the villager leads him to a ramshackle hut, curiously located at the base of a sand pit and requiring a steep descent via rope ladder. He awakens the next morning to discover that the rope ladder is gone and he is trapped in the sandpit. Gradually he learns that the villagers have selected him to be the woman’s companion and help her with her daily work of shoveling sand, a necessary task to prevent the hut from being engulfed. As he struggles to find a way to escape, he develops a relationship with the woman that transforms his life.
The story of the man and the woman, two very different people who likely would never meet in the outside world, and the strange bond of companionship and responsibility that develops between them is emotionally compelling. He is an urban, educated man who values rational, scientific knowledge and disdains the experiential knowledge of the villagers. Elitist and arrogant, he refuses to demean himself by shoveling sand, believing that manual labor is beneath him. He professes to be fascinated with sand bugs and their environment but seems more interested in making a name for himself. His social status defines him. The woman is earthy, humble and hardworking. She lives day by day and shovels sand to survive and to obtain food and provisions from the village. Her nature is emotional and intuitive and she longs for companionship, having lost her husband and daughter during a violent sandstorm.
One of the themes that resonates is the struggle to find a connection to others and how our identity can shift as we adapt to changing conditions. Early on, the man admits that his fascination with sand and his desire to escape from the bustle of Tokyo brought him to the village. It’s ironic that, when given all the time in the world to live as he desires, he feels trapped and spends his energy struggling to escape. In the end, as he develops a close bond with the woman and discovers something valuable in the sand that could benefit the entire village, he is transformed into a new self, someone who has humbled himself and forged a connection to others.
The sand itself is a major character and the images of it are some of the most beautiful captured on film. A metaphor for life (or “flow”), the sand in “Woman in the Dunes” is not dry and unyielding; rather, it is a fluid, constantly shifting entity that changes the nature of things. It is everywhere -- seeping through the ceiling, blowing ferociously through the doors, sticking to the body, sensually cradling the man and woman during intimate moments. The more the man tries to escape the sand, to conquer it, the more it beats him back down. He realizes that he cannot shape the sand to his will. Ultimately, it is the sand that shapes him.
Thursday, November 6, 2008
Review: "The Rebel" (2007)
“The Rebel” is a satisfying, good-looking Vietnamese martial arts flick with an interesting and engaging story and solid performances.
Set during the 1920’s in colonial Vietnam, “The Rebel” follows the journey of Cuong (Johnny Nguyen), an undercover agent of the French colonial government who is deployed to root out and destroy a group of freedom-fighting rebels. Growing troubled by the bloodshed, he decides to free Thuy (Veronica Ngo), the daughter of a rebel leader captured during an attempted political assassination. Escaping with Thuy and on the run, he is tracked by his superior Sy (Dustin Nguyen), a ruthless Vietnamese version of Agent Smith, who hopes that Cuong will lead him to the rebel leader’s hideout. The plot is straight-forward but filled with enough twists that it held my interest and kept me wondering whose side the conflicted Cuong was ultimately going to choose.
The story moves along at a quick pace and the fighting action is bloody, violent and visceral. The martial arts on display seem fresh and feature more distinctive Vietnamese fighting styles such the spinning kick and an impressive scissor headlock. Both Johnny Nguyen and Veronica Ngo shine as screen fighters with Ngo, reminiscent of a young Michelle Yeoh, more than holding her own as an action heroine. The romantic chemistry between the two leads is palpable.
For a low budget picture, the production values are good. The costumes and period design are impressive and the sepia-toned imagery supports the appropriate dark and serious tone. Gorgeous views of the Vietnamese countryside are a nice bonus.
Set during the 1920’s in colonial Vietnam, “The Rebel” follows the journey of Cuong (Johnny Nguyen), an undercover agent of the French colonial government who is deployed to root out and destroy a group of freedom-fighting rebels. Growing troubled by the bloodshed, he decides to free Thuy (Veronica Ngo), the daughter of a rebel leader captured during an attempted political assassination. Escaping with Thuy and on the run, he is tracked by his superior Sy (Dustin Nguyen), a ruthless Vietnamese version of Agent Smith, who hopes that Cuong will lead him to the rebel leader’s hideout. The plot is straight-forward but filled with enough twists that it held my interest and kept me wondering whose side the conflicted Cuong was ultimately going to choose.
The story moves along at a quick pace and the fighting action is bloody, violent and visceral. The martial arts on display seem fresh and feature more distinctive Vietnamese fighting styles such the spinning kick and an impressive scissor headlock. Both Johnny Nguyen and Veronica Ngo shine as screen fighters with Ngo, reminiscent of a young Michelle Yeoh, more than holding her own as an action heroine. The romantic chemistry between the two leads is palpable.
For a low budget picture, the production values are good. The costumes and period design are impressive and the sepia-toned imagery supports the appropriate dark and serious tone. Gorgeous views of the Vietnamese countryside are a nice bonus.
Sunday, November 2, 2008
Review: "The Legend of the Black Scorpion" (2006)
Inspired by Shakespeare’s “Hamlet”, “The Legend of the Black Scorpion” (originally screened in Hong Kong under the title “Ye Yan” or “Night Banquet”) presents a visually gorgeous façade that cloaks a story that is emotionally hollow.
Taking place during the Tang Dynasty, Zhang Ziyi stars as Little Wan who is secretly in love with the Crown Prince Wu Luan (Daniel Wu). When his father takes Little Wan as his bride and Empress, the young Prince is banished into exile where he spends his time studying the dramatic arts. But he becomes the target of assassins when his Uncle Li murders his father and takes over both throne and Empress. Escaping death he returns to the palace to plot revenge. Political and romantic entanglements ensue hurtling toward a midnight banquet where death is predictably on the menu. The twist on the Hamlet story is that “The Legend of the Black Scorpion” is told from the perspective of the Empress Wan whose desire for love is equal to her desire for power.
“The Legend of the Black Scorpion” is beautifully filmed and unfolds like a stage play: the cinematography, set design and costumes are exceptional. Unfortunately, it is primarily the visual spectacle that dazzles as the film fails to deliver on the powerful emotions that should resonate with such an epic story. Add to that an overly complex plot which obscures who is conspiring against whom coupled with a relentlessly bleak tone and the result is a film that struggles to engage the viewer on a deeper level.
Although Zhang Ziyi gives a charismatic performance as the Empress Wan, the complexity of her character -- the struggle between her ambition and her love for the Crown Prince -- is not fully realized. This may be a function of her youth (the role was originally written for the older actress Gong Li) as Zhang’s Empress comes across more as a petulant girl than a seasoned woman who is driven by her ambition and desire for power to deception and betrayal.
The kung-fu acrobatics are beautiful to watch but don’t really pack much of a punch for anyone hoping for full on action. Yuen Woo-Ping choreographs the action in a highly stylized and sometimes surreal manner reminiscent of a slow-motion ballet, with lots of flying and floating but very little direct combat. The most creative action sequence takes place early on when the Crown Prince and his theatrical troupe battle the Emperor’s assassins in an open-air theatre in the midst of a bamboo forest.
Taking place during the Tang Dynasty, Zhang Ziyi stars as Little Wan who is secretly in love with the Crown Prince Wu Luan (Daniel Wu). When his father takes Little Wan as his bride and Empress, the young Prince is banished into exile where he spends his time studying the dramatic arts. But he becomes the target of assassins when his Uncle Li murders his father and takes over both throne and Empress. Escaping death he returns to the palace to plot revenge. Political and romantic entanglements ensue hurtling toward a midnight banquet where death is predictably on the menu. The twist on the Hamlet story is that “The Legend of the Black Scorpion” is told from the perspective of the Empress Wan whose desire for love is equal to her desire for power.
“The Legend of the Black Scorpion” is beautifully filmed and unfolds like a stage play: the cinematography, set design and costumes are exceptional. Unfortunately, it is primarily the visual spectacle that dazzles as the film fails to deliver on the powerful emotions that should resonate with such an epic story. Add to that an overly complex plot which obscures who is conspiring against whom coupled with a relentlessly bleak tone and the result is a film that struggles to engage the viewer on a deeper level.
Although Zhang Ziyi gives a charismatic performance as the Empress Wan, the complexity of her character -- the struggle between her ambition and her love for the Crown Prince -- is not fully realized. This may be a function of her youth (the role was originally written for the older actress Gong Li) as Zhang’s Empress comes across more as a petulant girl than a seasoned woman who is driven by her ambition and desire for power to deception and betrayal.
The kung-fu acrobatics are beautiful to watch but don’t really pack much of a punch for anyone hoping for full on action. Yuen Woo-Ping choreographs the action in a highly stylized and sometimes surreal manner reminiscent of a slow-motion ballet, with lots of flying and floating but very little direct combat. The most creative action sequence takes place early on when the Crown Prince and his theatrical troupe battle the Emperor’s assassins in an open-air theatre in the midst of a bamboo forest.
Saturday, November 1, 2008
Review: "Tuya's Marriage" (2008)
“Tuya’s Marriage” is a quiet yet powerful drama that explores the plight of one woman as she struggles to provide economic security for her family in the unforgiving Mongolian desert. Aside from the exotic setting, the landscape of complex human emotions that this film surveys is universal.
Tuya is an attractive, resilient, sensible and stubborn woman who ekes out a living herding sheep and cares for her disabled husband Batoer and two young children. She tends to a flock of 100 sheep, hauls water from a distant well twice a day, cooks, cleans and makes a mean milk tea. It’s backbreaking labor, literally, and one day she suffers a back injury while helping to lift a truck which has pinned a neighbor’s leg. Advised by a doctor to lighten her load, she chooses to divorce her husband with his consent and look for a new one -- a broad-minded fellow -- who will agree to take care of the entire family, including the ex-husband.
A parade of suitors follows, almost as many as Tuya has sheep. There is a quirky humor in the courtship rituals as each suitor arrives with his own entourage to plead his case. The first group arrives on horseback and tractor, the next via motorcycle and the last in a Mercedes-Benz, mirroring the economic hierarchy of a nation in transition as modern ways encroach upon ancient traditions. Tuya’s suitors include a former classmate made rich through oil prospecting who tries to impress her with his material wealth and a buffoonish buy loyal neighbor whose wife is always leaving him for another man. Of course, love is not the goal and it really doesn’t matter whom she chooses as long as he agrees to her terms and conditions. And make no mistake – Tuya is a survivor and will have her way.
Nevertheless, the tone remains solemn as we see the emotional turmoil that consumes Tuya’s family. Batoer attempts suicide and Tuya and her children continue to struggle with manual labor. Both the cinematography and music support the film’s melancholy tone. The camera captures austere images of the vast Mongolian steppe, revealing the harshness of the nomadic life. The haunting cello instrumentals underscore the bleak mood.
Kudos must be given to Yu Nan, the Chinese actress who portrays Tuya. Her performance is subtle yet powerfully moving, reminiscent of a young Gong Li. She imbues Tuya with a no-nonsense, tough-as-nails exterior yet we are always aware of the pain and despair lurking just below the surface.
Tuya is an attractive, resilient, sensible and stubborn woman who ekes out a living herding sheep and cares for her disabled husband Batoer and two young children. She tends to a flock of 100 sheep, hauls water from a distant well twice a day, cooks, cleans and makes a mean milk tea. It’s backbreaking labor, literally, and one day she suffers a back injury while helping to lift a truck which has pinned a neighbor’s leg. Advised by a doctor to lighten her load, she chooses to divorce her husband with his consent and look for a new one -- a broad-minded fellow -- who will agree to take care of the entire family, including the ex-husband.
A parade of suitors follows, almost as many as Tuya has sheep. There is a quirky humor in the courtship rituals as each suitor arrives with his own entourage to plead his case. The first group arrives on horseback and tractor, the next via motorcycle and the last in a Mercedes-Benz, mirroring the economic hierarchy of a nation in transition as modern ways encroach upon ancient traditions. Tuya’s suitors include a former classmate made rich through oil prospecting who tries to impress her with his material wealth and a buffoonish buy loyal neighbor whose wife is always leaving him for another man. Of course, love is not the goal and it really doesn’t matter whom she chooses as long as he agrees to her terms and conditions. And make no mistake – Tuya is a survivor and will have her way.
Nevertheless, the tone remains solemn as we see the emotional turmoil that consumes Tuya’s family. Batoer attempts suicide and Tuya and her children continue to struggle with manual labor. Both the cinematography and music support the film’s melancholy tone. The camera captures austere images of the vast Mongolian steppe, revealing the harshness of the nomadic life. The haunting cello instrumentals underscore the bleak mood.
Kudos must be given to Yu Nan, the Chinese actress who portrays Tuya. Her performance is subtle yet powerfully moving, reminiscent of a young Gong Li. She imbues Tuya with a no-nonsense, tough-as-nails exterior yet we are always aware of the pain and despair lurking just below the surface.
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Review: "Iron Monkey" (1993)
“Iron Monkey”, directed by noted martial arts choreographer Yuen Woo-Ping, is a Hong-Kong action-adventure that combines compelling drama, cheeky comedy and energetic action.
The story is inspired by the 19th century Chinese folk hero, Wang Fei Hong, a martial artist of great skill and a traditional Chinese herbalist who fought against government corruption. There have been many Chinese films about Wang Fei Hong but this is one of the few that takes a perspective from his early youth.
We are introduced to the Iron Monkey -- whose moniker is derived from the famous Monkey King -- in the dead of night as a masked, ninja-quick stealth fighter who battles a posse of evil Shaolin-trained guards, gains access to the corrupt Governor’s mansion and steals a treasure chest of gold which he proceeds to give away to the poor. We learn that the Iron Monkey, beholden in the community as a defender of the poor and weak, is a wanted man whom the Governor and his henchmen have not been able to capture. Frustrated and at wit’s end, the Governor kidnaps and holds hostage the young Wang Fei Hong, son of Wang Kei Ying (Donnie Yen), a traveling physician reknowned for his superb kung fu skills, forcing him to track down the Iron Monkey in exchange for his son’s freedom. What ensues is a classic story of good guys teaming up to fight bad guys with lots of eye-popping, adrenaline fueling action.
“Iron Monkey” is distinguished by its stellar fight choreography which combines traditional kung fu fighting with graceful “flying” acrobatics. One particularly exquisite scene occurs early in the story when we learn that the Iron Monkey is a compassionate local herbalist. Upon returning to his clinic after a night of battling evildoers, he greets his assistant Orchid and prepares to close up shop just as a strong wind scatters a pile of papers about the room. The floating ballet between the doctor and Orchid as they gather up the papers is not only a beautiful demonstration of kung fu but also underscores the emotional bond between the two.
Another notable aspect of the fight choreography is the creative use of simple props and background objects as weapons. Wang Kei Ying’s first fight with a group of local hooligans is masterful as he uses his umbrella in ingenious ways to defeat the gang. This umbrella fighting technique is subsequently used by his son Wang Fei Hong to defeat another bunch of rascals.
Overall, “Iron Monkey” offers high-energy action that will appeal to hard-core kung fu fans and mixes in enough comedy (including a real cheeky monkey!) and drama to interest those who are looking for a fun and interesting story. The relationship between the physician and his son is the most touching. The fight scenes progress at a rapid clip, each one raising the stakes as the villains become more heinous and harder to defeat. The final showdown between the team of Iron Monkey and Wang Fei Ying versus the Royal Minister as they maneuver amidst bamboo poles perched precariously over a raging fire is spectacular.
The story is inspired by the 19th century Chinese folk hero, Wang Fei Hong, a martial artist of great skill and a traditional Chinese herbalist who fought against government corruption. There have been many Chinese films about Wang Fei Hong but this is one of the few that takes a perspective from his early youth.
We are introduced to the Iron Monkey -- whose moniker is derived from the famous Monkey King -- in the dead of night as a masked, ninja-quick stealth fighter who battles a posse of evil Shaolin-trained guards, gains access to the corrupt Governor’s mansion and steals a treasure chest of gold which he proceeds to give away to the poor. We learn that the Iron Monkey, beholden in the community as a defender of the poor and weak, is a wanted man whom the Governor and his henchmen have not been able to capture. Frustrated and at wit’s end, the Governor kidnaps and holds hostage the young Wang Fei Hong, son of Wang Kei Ying (Donnie Yen), a traveling physician reknowned for his superb kung fu skills, forcing him to track down the Iron Monkey in exchange for his son’s freedom. What ensues is a classic story of good guys teaming up to fight bad guys with lots of eye-popping, adrenaline fueling action.
“Iron Monkey” is distinguished by its stellar fight choreography which combines traditional kung fu fighting with graceful “flying” acrobatics. One particularly exquisite scene occurs early in the story when we learn that the Iron Monkey is a compassionate local herbalist. Upon returning to his clinic after a night of battling evildoers, he greets his assistant Orchid and prepares to close up shop just as a strong wind scatters a pile of papers about the room. The floating ballet between the doctor and Orchid as they gather up the papers is not only a beautiful demonstration of kung fu but also underscores the emotional bond between the two.
Another notable aspect of the fight choreography is the creative use of simple props and background objects as weapons. Wang Kei Ying’s first fight with a group of local hooligans is masterful as he uses his umbrella in ingenious ways to defeat the gang. This umbrella fighting technique is subsequently used by his son Wang Fei Hong to defeat another bunch of rascals.
Overall, “Iron Monkey” offers high-energy action that will appeal to hard-core kung fu fans and mixes in enough comedy (including a real cheeky monkey!) and drama to interest those who are looking for a fun and interesting story. The relationship between the physician and his son is the most touching. The fight scenes progress at a rapid clip, each one raising the stakes as the villains become more heinous and harder to defeat. The final showdown between the team of Iron Monkey and Wang Fei Ying versus the Royal Minister as they maneuver amidst bamboo poles perched precariously over a raging fire is spectacular.
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
Review: "Mongol" (2007)
“Mongol” fuses compelling drama, a heartbreaking love story and visceral action into a visually stunning historical epic. The introductory piece of a potential trilogy, “Mongol” focuses on the early life of Temudgin, the fierce warrior who would unite all Mongols to become the legendary Genghis Khan.
The narrative traces the early life of Temudgin from his dangerous childhood to the decisive battle that seals his position as the leader of all Mongols. Covering much ground, the film wisely focuses on the two defining relationships of Temudgin’s early years: his love for Borte, his wife and trusted advisor, and his friendship and subsequent conflict with Jamukha, his blood brother and a rival Mongol chieftain.
The love story between Temudgin and Borte is one of the highlights of the film, with an emotional resonance comparable to “Dr. Zhivago”. The tender bond between the two is palpable and we instinctively know that their forced separations will drive them to desperate actions. It is to director Sergei Bodrov’s credit that he allows the viewer time to appreciate the tender moments between Temudgin and Borte without feeling the need to rush toward the next battle scene.
The battle scenes themselves are ferocious. The camera slows down and weaves chaotically amongst the fighters making you feel as if you are right there in the midst of battle. Blood flows freely in the stylistic “300” mode. The cinematography is stellar, capturing the desolate and dangerous beauty of the Mongolian landscape. The sense of place and time helps to underscore the film’s epic scale.
The acting is very good overall. Tadanobu Asano captures the stoic yet fiery Temudgin in an understated yet powerful performance. Khulan Chuulun, a Mongolian newcomer, portrays Borte as a spirited and courageous woman. But the powerhouse performance belongs to Honglei Sun whose Jamukha is transformed into a feral, ferocious beast.
The narrative traces the early life of Temudgin from his dangerous childhood to the decisive battle that seals his position as the leader of all Mongols. Covering much ground, the film wisely focuses on the two defining relationships of Temudgin’s early years: his love for Borte, his wife and trusted advisor, and his friendship and subsequent conflict with Jamukha, his blood brother and a rival Mongol chieftain.
The love story between Temudgin and Borte is one of the highlights of the film, with an emotional resonance comparable to “Dr. Zhivago”. The tender bond between the two is palpable and we instinctively know that their forced separations will drive them to desperate actions. It is to director Sergei Bodrov’s credit that he allows the viewer time to appreciate the tender moments between Temudgin and Borte without feeling the need to rush toward the next battle scene.
The battle scenes themselves are ferocious. The camera slows down and weaves chaotically amongst the fighters making you feel as if you are right there in the midst of battle. Blood flows freely in the stylistic “300” mode. The cinematography is stellar, capturing the desolate and dangerous beauty of the Mongolian landscape. The sense of place and time helps to underscore the film’s epic scale.
The acting is very good overall. Tadanobu Asano captures the stoic yet fiery Temudgin in an understated yet powerful performance. Khulan Chuulun, a Mongolian newcomer, portrays Borte as a spirited and courageous woman. But the powerhouse performance belongs to Honglei Sun whose Jamukha is transformed into a feral, ferocious beast.
Saturday, October 18, 2008
Review: "CJ7" (2008)
This is a refreshing little gem of a flick that melds Stephen Chow’s knack for slapstick comedy with an ET-like story about a poor Chinese boy and an alien. The result is a quirky, delightful family film with plenty of heart and lessons to be learned.
The story revolves around Dicky Chow, a very poor boy whose father Ti, a construction worker, toils day and night so that his son can attend an elite private school. Dicky is bullied at school by rich kids and haughty teachers alike for his smudge marked face, tattered clothes and stubborn pride.
While the school bullies flaunt their high-tech toys, Dicky’s father combs through the local garbage dump at night gathering discarded “treasures” for his son. One night he unknowingly disturbs an alien spaceship that flies away, leaving behind a small, shiny green orb. He brings it home for Dicky to play with and soon enough the toy transforms into a cute, furry dog-like alien that Dicky names “CJ7” (after a toy called CJ1 that is popular among the school kids).
There ensue some very funny moments as Dicky fantasizes about harnessing CJ7’s superpowers to excel in schoolwork and sports class. Although he soon realizes that CJ7 does not possess the powers he imagines, his schoolmates are quite impressed by the toy and his stock is on the rise until his father is involved in an accident at work.
What keeps this movie grounded is the warm rapport between Dicky and Ti despite their bleak circumstances and the talented cast of child actors. Jiao Xu, the actress (!) who plays Dicky, is fantastic. She gives a well-rounded and nuanced performance, portraying Dicky as both rebellious yet optimistic.
Although CJ7 offers an assortment of messages for children, it does so in a light-hearted, hopeful manner. On the one hand, it demonstrates that there is no shame in poverty and that integrity and family bonds are more important than material possessions and class status. While this message seems uniquely tailored to modern China as it struggles with the growing divide between rich and poor, the lessons are equally relevant to anyone feeling numbed by an increasingly consumerist culture. On another level, it also illustrates the dark side of the adage “be careful what you wish for”.
The story revolves around Dicky Chow, a very poor boy whose father Ti, a construction worker, toils day and night so that his son can attend an elite private school. Dicky is bullied at school by rich kids and haughty teachers alike for his smudge marked face, tattered clothes and stubborn pride.
While the school bullies flaunt their high-tech toys, Dicky’s father combs through the local garbage dump at night gathering discarded “treasures” for his son. One night he unknowingly disturbs an alien spaceship that flies away, leaving behind a small, shiny green orb. He brings it home for Dicky to play with and soon enough the toy transforms into a cute, furry dog-like alien that Dicky names “CJ7” (after a toy called CJ1 that is popular among the school kids).
There ensue some very funny moments as Dicky fantasizes about harnessing CJ7’s superpowers to excel in schoolwork and sports class. Although he soon realizes that CJ7 does not possess the powers he imagines, his schoolmates are quite impressed by the toy and his stock is on the rise until his father is involved in an accident at work.
What keeps this movie grounded is the warm rapport between Dicky and Ti despite their bleak circumstances and the talented cast of child actors. Jiao Xu, the actress (!) who plays Dicky, is fantastic. She gives a well-rounded and nuanced performance, portraying Dicky as both rebellious yet optimistic.
Although CJ7 offers an assortment of messages for children, it does so in a light-hearted, hopeful manner. On the one hand, it demonstrates that there is no shame in poverty and that integrity and family bonds are more important than material possessions and class status. While this message seems uniquely tailored to modern China as it struggles with the growing divide between rich and poor, the lessons are equally relevant to anyone feeling numbed by an increasingly consumerist culture. On another level, it also illustrates the dark side of the adage “be careful what you wish for”.
Saturday, October 11, 2008
Review: "Tony Takitani" (2004)
Adapted from a short story by Haruki Murakami, "Tony Takitani" is a visual meditation on the pain of loneliness and the ways in which humans struggle to fill its void. Unfolding as a series of images punctuated with haunting voice-over narration and a mournful piano score, the film succeeds as pure poetry by evoking a deeply melancholic mood.
The camera moves quietly, steadily, from left to right slowly propelling us on a journey through the life of Tony Takitani, a solitary man whose life revolves around his work as a technical illustrator. His isolation is transformed when he meets Eiko, a vibrant younger women who floats into his life as if from another world. He is captivated by her clothes: "she wore her clothes naturally, as though enveloped by a special breeze" says the film's narrator. As he becomes more alive in her presence and begins to fall in love, we sense his growing dependency on her to fill an emptiness he had never before noticed. When Eiko confides to him that "clothes fill up what's missing inside of me" we recognize a similar dependency. They marry, begin to build a life together but tragedy ensues when Tony tries to address his wife's growing obsession with clothes.
"Loneliness is like a prison" says the film's narrator. In the end, it is an apt metaphor. The absurdity, which this film highlights so eloquently, is that these prisons are largely self-constructed. By denying our need for human connection, avoiding any possibility of pain as well as joy, we are no more than prisoners isolated in our cells.
The camera moves quietly, steadily, from left to right slowly propelling us on a journey through the life of Tony Takitani, a solitary man whose life revolves around his work as a technical illustrator. His isolation is transformed when he meets Eiko, a vibrant younger women who floats into his life as if from another world. He is captivated by her clothes: "she wore her clothes naturally, as though enveloped by a special breeze" says the film's narrator. As he becomes more alive in her presence and begins to fall in love, we sense his growing dependency on her to fill an emptiness he had never before noticed. When Eiko confides to him that "clothes fill up what's missing inside of me" we recognize a similar dependency. They marry, begin to build a life together but tragedy ensues when Tony tries to address his wife's growing obsession with clothes.
"Loneliness is like a prison" says the film's narrator. In the end, it is an apt metaphor. The absurdity, which this film highlights so eloquently, is that these prisons are largely self-constructed. By denying our need for human connection, avoiding any possibility of pain as well as joy, we are no more than prisoners isolated in our cells.
Sunday, September 28, 2008
Review: "Chunking Express" (1994)
Two tales of love and loss unfold in Wong Kar Wai’s whimsical, romantic drama, “Chunking Express”. Each vignette features a lonely Hong Kong policeman dealing with the break-up of a relationship.
Taking its cue from classic film noir, the first story stars the handsome Takeshi Kaneshiro as a young detective who’s given himself 30 days to reunite with his ex-girlfriend. He marks each night alone by consuming a can of pineapple with a specific expiration date. Eventually he encounters Brigitte Lin’s femme fatale, a player trying to survive in the drug underworld after a smuggling deal goes wrong.
The second story stars Tony Leung as a patrol cop recovering from a break-up with a flight attendant. His coping ritual involves conversations with inanimate objects in his apartment, such as an old towel, a bar of soap and a stuffed bear to whom he pours out his sadness. Every day, he goes for coffee at the same snack bar where he meets up with the new counter girl, played by Hong Kong pop singer Faye Wong,
While in the vein of simple boy-loses-girl-meets-new-girl stories, the unique visual style in which the stories are told is anything but ordinary. Wong uses his trademark impressionistic style to create a restless energy and evoke strong emotions while painting a realistic portrait of people coping with loneliness, despair and boredom. His hand-held camera is frenetic, always moving. The action sequences feature unusual angles and stop-motion jumps.
The Hong Kong setting stands out as its own character, contributing a bustling energy that contrasts sharply with the solitude of the two cops as they muddle through their days.
All the lead actors are compelling to watch onscreen and manage to make their idiosyncracies believable. Faye Wong is a revelation here: she imbues her character with an appealing quirkiness and optimism. And it's that hopeful spirit that lingers on after the closing credits.
Taking its cue from classic film noir, the first story stars the handsome Takeshi Kaneshiro as a young detective who’s given himself 30 days to reunite with his ex-girlfriend. He marks each night alone by consuming a can of pineapple with a specific expiration date. Eventually he encounters Brigitte Lin’s femme fatale, a player trying to survive in the drug underworld after a smuggling deal goes wrong.
The second story stars Tony Leung as a patrol cop recovering from a break-up with a flight attendant. His coping ritual involves conversations with inanimate objects in his apartment, such as an old towel, a bar of soap and a stuffed bear to whom he pours out his sadness. Every day, he goes for coffee at the same snack bar where he meets up with the new counter girl, played by Hong Kong pop singer Faye Wong,
While in the vein of simple boy-loses-girl-meets-new-girl stories, the unique visual style in which the stories are told is anything but ordinary. Wong uses his trademark impressionistic style to create a restless energy and evoke strong emotions while painting a realistic portrait of people coping with loneliness, despair and boredom. His hand-held camera is frenetic, always moving. The action sequences feature unusual angles and stop-motion jumps.
The Hong Kong setting stands out as its own character, contributing a bustling energy that contrasts sharply with the solitude of the two cops as they muddle through their days.
All the lead actors are compelling to watch onscreen and manage to make their idiosyncracies believable. Faye Wong is a revelation here: she imbues her character with an appealing quirkiness and optimism. And it's that hopeful spirit that lingers on after the closing credits.
Monday, September 1, 2008
Review: "Zatoichi The Blind Swordsman" (2003)
“Zatoichi The Blind Swordsman”, directed by Takeshi Kitano, is a visually stunning samurai action drama that brings a whimsical, contemporary sensibility to the iconic Japanese superhero. Blind masseur by day and master swordsman by night, Kitano’s hero sports a platinum-blonde shock of hair and a blood-red cane that conceals his weapon.
The story is in the vein of traditional samurai drama: Zatoichi, an outsider, comes to the defense of a town caught up in a Yakuza gang war. While battling the gang members who are forcing the farmers and shopkeepers to shell out protection money, Zatoichi befriends two geisha (a brother and sister) seeking revenge against the gang for the murder of their parents years ago.
What distinguishes this flick is the stylish, lightning-quick fight sequences, colorful production design and whimsical spirit. I can’t think of any other movie that manages to seamlessly combine violent action and a lively tap dance number reminiscent of a Broadway musical.
The story is in the vein of traditional samurai drama: Zatoichi, an outsider, comes to the defense of a town caught up in a Yakuza gang war. While battling the gang members who are forcing the farmers and shopkeepers to shell out protection money, Zatoichi befriends two geisha (a brother and sister) seeking revenge against the gang for the murder of their parents years ago.
What distinguishes this flick is the stylish, lightning-quick fight sequences, colorful production design and whimsical spirit. I can’t think of any other movie that manages to seamlessly combine violent action and a lively tap dance number reminiscent of a Broadway musical.
Sunday, July 13, 2008
Review: "Paprika" (2006)
The Japanese anime, “Paprika” is an exciting sci-fi action thriller with stunning imagery, a mind-twisting plot and some thought-provoking social commentary.
The story centers around a new psychotherapy device called the DC Mini, invented by a group of scientists at a psychiatric research institute, which enables them to enter people’s dreams, explore their sub-conscious thoughts and help them work out their psychological issues. Just as the DC Mini is about to be approved by the government, several prototypes go missing, along with one of the scientists. Soon the perfect dream machine is being used as a terrorist weapon to freak people out by traumatizing them with nightmarish visions implanted into their minds. Called upon to uncover the evil mastermind is Dr. Atsuko Chiba, the head of the DC Mini development team and a somewhat stern psychotherapist, who can dive into this dangerous dream world using her alter-ego “Paprika”: a feisty, kick-ass warrior-detective who gives new meaning to the term “dream girl”. She is supported by some intriguing sidekicks: chunky colleague Dr. Tokita, the genius inventor of the DC Mini; Dr. Shima, a spunky little fellow known as The Chief; and Detective Konakawa, a hardened cop trapped in his own film-noir dream. As the various characters weave between their own dreams and the dreams of others in search of the terrorist, they also discover new insights about themselves.
As imagined by director Satoshi Kon, the dream world of “Paprika” is a scary and chaotic realm reminiscent of a Freudian sub-conscious run amok: a parade of dancing kitchen appliances, drumming frogs, laughing dolls, a Statue of Liberty, a rocking Torii gate along with other detritus marches along to a point of no return, sweeping up all the humans in its path; a giant geisha doll pierces glass with her high-pitched screaming and crashes through the Tokyo streets like Godzilla and a marauding robot with an insatiable appetite gobbles up whomever it wants.
Just like a dream, the narrative has many layers and isn’t always coherent. Not a big deal. The eye-popping, fantastical visual delights are enthralling in and of themselves. On another level, the film probes deeper psychological questions about the boundary between dreams and reality, how that which we repress or try to control inevitably escapes into dreams and how the Internet and dreams are similar. Ultimately, the dark world of “Paprika” underscores a cautionary message about the de-humanizing impact of technology and the danger lurking in our escapist fantasies that threatens to pull us further away from the real world and from each other.
The story centers around a new psychotherapy device called the DC Mini, invented by a group of scientists at a psychiatric research institute, which enables them to enter people’s dreams, explore their sub-conscious thoughts and help them work out their psychological issues. Just as the DC Mini is about to be approved by the government, several prototypes go missing, along with one of the scientists. Soon the perfect dream machine is being used as a terrorist weapon to freak people out by traumatizing them with nightmarish visions implanted into their minds. Called upon to uncover the evil mastermind is Dr. Atsuko Chiba, the head of the DC Mini development team and a somewhat stern psychotherapist, who can dive into this dangerous dream world using her alter-ego “Paprika”: a feisty, kick-ass warrior-detective who gives new meaning to the term “dream girl”. She is supported by some intriguing sidekicks: chunky colleague Dr. Tokita, the genius inventor of the DC Mini; Dr. Shima, a spunky little fellow known as The Chief; and Detective Konakawa, a hardened cop trapped in his own film-noir dream. As the various characters weave between their own dreams and the dreams of others in search of the terrorist, they also discover new insights about themselves.
As imagined by director Satoshi Kon, the dream world of “Paprika” is a scary and chaotic realm reminiscent of a Freudian sub-conscious run amok: a parade of dancing kitchen appliances, drumming frogs, laughing dolls, a Statue of Liberty, a rocking Torii gate along with other detritus marches along to a point of no return, sweeping up all the humans in its path; a giant geisha doll pierces glass with her high-pitched screaming and crashes through the Tokyo streets like Godzilla and a marauding robot with an insatiable appetite gobbles up whomever it wants.
Just like a dream, the narrative has many layers and isn’t always coherent. Not a big deal. The eye-popping, fantastical visual delights are enthralling in and of themselves. On another level, the film probes deeper psychological questions about the boundary between dreams and reality, how that which we repress or try to control inevitably escapes into dreams and how the Internet and dreams are similar. Ultimately, the dark world of “Paprika” underscores a cautionary message about the de-humanizing impact of technology and the danger lurking in our escapist fantasies that threatens to pull us further away from the real world and from each other.
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