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.
Sunday, November 30, 2008
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.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)