Tag: 2021 Reviews

Review: Terrorizers

In the decade or so since Wi Ding Ho’s debut film Pinoy Sunday in 2009, he has continued to garner acclaim for his handful of films. From Best New Director Award at the Golden Horse Awards to the 2018 Platform Prize at the Toronto International Film Festival in 2018, the Malaysia-born Taiwanese filmmaker now turns his eye to a handful of fragmented lives across Taipei.

Ming Liang (Austin Lin) is a insular and somewhat disturbed young man, obsessing over a cam girl while engaging in violent role-playing. It’s a public slashing that causes him to intersect with seemingly separate individuals across the city.

One of them is Yu Fang (Moon Lee), an acting student who lives with her father. Xiao Zhang (JC Lin) loves her and wants to get married, but Yu Fang falls for Monica (Annie Chen), another aspiring actress desperate to erase her past in porn. Then there’s the enthusiastic cosplayer Kiki (Pipi Yao), who is herself keen on Ming Liang and continually tries to pushing the buttons of people around her.

There’s been a bunch of hyperlinked films on the festival circuit this year, including Spaghetti Code Love and Come and Go at the JAPAN CUTS fest last month. This Taiwanese film perhaps references the 1986 award-winning Edward Yang film of the same name, one in which also looked at connected lives across Taipei. Yet this is not just about those invisible connections, with Ho digging into some other social issues in the process.

Here it’s more about the origins of violence, with a repressed and violent character connected to several people through various means. The film begins with an attack, before jumping back in time to show us the events that led up to it. Ming Liang’s behaviour might readily be compared to a certain hate group who shall not be named, but that would be too easy a reference. We do see how his frustrations mount leading him to the violence, and how the media’s bigger concern is the tacit links to Yu Fang’s politician father.

This slickly-shot film, with Chopin’s Nocturne as a constraint refrain in a score by composer Cheers, is led by a solid central cast. Annie Chen and Moon Lee in particular get the most nuanced roles, especially the former’s multiple relationships and aspirations. She also shares a terrific scene with Austin Lin on a train where she reacts to his creepy and insistent overtures as an obsessive fan.

If the film was purely about male toxicity, then the message is occasionally a heavy-handed one that occasionally treads close to a ‘both sides’ argument at times. Yet its also about connections, both the tangible and invisible ones, and on this level director Ho has delivered a little pre-Covid bubble of the kinds of interwoven lives we may never fully return to.

TERRORIZERS (青春弒戀) is reviewed as part of our coverage of the Toronto International Film Festival (TIFF) 2021.

2021 | Taiwan | DIRECTORS: Wi Ding Ho | WRITER: Wi Ding Ho, Natasha Sung | CAST: Austin Lin, Moon Lee, Annie Chen, JC Lin | DISTRIBUTOR: Changhe Films, TIFF 2021 | RUNNING TIME: 127 minutes | RELEASE DATE: 9 September – 18 September 2021 (TIFF 2021)

September 21, 2021
Review: Burning

The summer of 2019/2020 in Sydney is still so vivid for me, and most Australians. The bright orange skies. The constant cover of smoke for over three months. Having to wear masks outdoors was an ill omen of what the rest of 2020 and 2021 would bring. In early January 2020, we drove through areas where cars and train carriages had been gutted by fire, and the burnt landscape seems to go on forever.

Bushfires have been a way of life in Australia as long as I can remember, yet this one was different. It felt like the culmination of years of unheeded warnings all coming to fiery fruition at once. In BURNING, documentarian Eva Orner (Chasing Asylum) paints Australia as “ground zero for climate change.” Indeed, before tackling the ‘Black Summer’ directly, Orner gives a potted history of the longer and more dangerous seasons that saw record fires ravage parts of the country in 1994, 1997, 2001, 2003 and 2009.

Systematically chronicling numerous decisions Prime Minister Scott Morrison’s Liberal government made in the lead-up to a potentially preventable disaster, the film and Orner casts the the government as a group that listened to mining interests while refusing to address the climate crisis literally burning around them. Various media clips show that previous governments may have questioned the “genuine concern” of climate change, or referred to the discourse as “fragrant.” Yet the most damning footage comes from a 2017 session of parliament in which Morrison gave a speech against the ‘ills’ of ‘coalophobia,’ while later campaigning against electric cars.

To explain the impact of the fires, Orner has assembled a diverse group of commentators. Former Fire Commissioner Greg Mullins emotionally relates personal stories of colleagues lost, or trees that “have been like an arc through space and time” drying up. Tim Flannery and Bruce Pascoe speak to climate change and Indigenous land management respectively. Daisy Jeffries, who was one of the leaders of the school climate strikes, speaks to the hopes and fears of a generation inheriting this crisis. Eyewitnesses and people directly impacted by the fires have their own heartfelt tales to tell.

Some may feel that this documentary is a one-sided attack, especially given that there are no representatives of the Liberal government interviewed for the picture. (They do appear via archival footage and we’re told that Morrison declined to be interviewed). If anything, there were probably grounds for Orner to go even further, especially when she tacitly credits the government’s ‘socialist’ responses to Covid as the kind of action lacking in the climate discussion.

It was the pandemic that ultimate put a halt on any of the momentum gained in the climate discussion, and for the moment very little has changed. BURNING doesn’t offer any radical departures from coverage so far, but as an oral history it will stand as a record of a moment in time. As Australia braces for another hot summer, it’s a record that an anxious nation undoubtedly hopes won’t be repeated.

2021 | Australia, USA | DIRECTORS: Eva Orner | CAST: Tim Flannery, Bruce Pascoe, Mark Graham, Greg Mullins, Daisy Jeffries | DISTRIBUTOR: Amazon Studios, TIFF 2021 | RUNNING TIME: 86 minutes | RELEASE DATE: 9 September – 18 September 2021 (TIFF 2021)

September 18, 2021
Review: Violet

From the opening frames of Justine Bateman’s VIOLET, this is a film that places a hand on each side of your head to hold it in place so that you pay attention. Set to the discordant electronic music of Venetian Snares, a rapid series of images flash on screen, from a decaying animal to the streets of Los Angeles. A voice tells us to ‘just hold on,’ and we’re already white-knuckling it for the ride.

Bateman’s directorial debut is about choices. “If you’ve ever made a fear-based decision that took you off track,” said Bateman at the Toronto International Film Festival introduction, “this film is for you.” When we meet her titular lead (played by Olivia Munn), she’s a character who appears to have an aspirational lifestyle. Violet has an influential position at a film studio, and effortlessly works industry connections.

It isn’t long before Bateman digs beneath the surface. A male voice of interior judgment criticises her every move, telling her that she’s ‘fat’ or not worthwhile, while contrary white text (featuring phrases like ‘Is there something wrong for me?’) signal a contrary interior self that is desperate to escape this cycle of self-blame. What the titular Violet refers to as “the committee in my head” comments, and is often at war, over a sea of micro (and macro) aggressions from men and women she meets in her Hollywood job.

VIOLET is a wholly immersive film. If you’ve ever suffered from even the mildest anxiety, Bateman’s innovative technique taps directly into that critical part of your brain that insists you take the path of least resistance. Of course, within the context of the wider #MeToo movement and the exposure of toxic masculinity across the world, Violet’s inner chorus feels less like a mental anxiety than it is a desperate and justified cry for escape. The screen literally fills with red as Violet’s committee clashes.

Munn is terrific in the lead, navigating the multiple roles that the people around her ask her to play. There’s a particularly powerful couple of scenes that showcase the nuance of her talent. In one, she speaks to her ex while keeps flashing back to the candles she’s left lit in an apartment, and a literal fire that drives her inner voices. Her eventual shift to the realisation that her inner voice has been lying to her this whole time is so gradual that you may find yourself surprised at the final act decisions.

To date, we have admired Bateman as an actor, writer and producer. With VIOLET, Bateman arrives as a confident filmmaker with a unique point of view. A vital film for the current climate, if you don’t see yourself in this film somewhere then you are probably part of the problem.

2021 | USA | DIRECTORS: Justine Bateman | WRITERS: Justine Bateman | CAST: Olivia Munn, Luke Bracey, Justin Theroux | DISTRIBUTOR: Relativity Media, TIFF 2021 | RUNNING TIME: 92 minutes | RELEASE DATE: 9 September – 18 September 2021 (TIFF 2021)

September 18, 2021
Review: Montana Story

From the sweeping skylines to the casual presence of mountains in the background, MONTANA STORY has a firm sense of place. Scott McGehee and David Siegel’s (What Maisie Knew) latest drama may seem like an unassuming affair, but there is as much lurking under the film’s visual surface as there is in the characters who lead the narrative.

Cal (Owen Teague) returns home to his family ranch as his father nears death. Comatose, he is cared for by palliative nurse Ace (Gilbert Owuor). When Cal’s estranged sibling Erin (Haley Lu Richardson) also returns home, it is the first he has heard from her in years.

As the story slowly unfolds, we learn of the shared trauma of these characters. Born to different mothers, they both had to contend with the abusive behaviour of a father who is no longer able to answer for his crimes. As the siblings come to know each other again, they must also deal with the conflicting emotions of caring for a person who was relentlessly cruel to his children.

Backed by the stunning cinematography of Giles Nuttgens, whose striking photography has been a character of equal footing in films like Hell or High Water, it’s hard not to get swept up in McGhee and Siegel’s story. As the title would imply, this is a story of and about Montana. The physicality of the surrounds is impossible to miss in every frame, especially when the interiors are darkly lit and claustrophobic by comparison.

Yet it’s a two-hander at heart, and a terrific character study at that. Richardson gives away very little when we meet her character, we don’t even know where Erin’s been, although Erin’s insistence on taking Mr. T back home belies a deeper need for something. The younger Teague carries a similar unspoken weight to his Cal, so when the emotional catharsis between brother and sister finally comes, it is as understated as film’s measured pace.

MONTANA STORY has been widely called a neo-western, and there’s some sense in that. It transplants those frontier emotions into a contemporary setting, although the ‘bad guy’ in this case is a passive entity for much of the picture. As a showcase for its location and stars it’s impeccable, and a welcome addition to the quarter-life coming of age genre.

2021 | USA | DIRECTORS: Scott McGehee and David Siegel | WRITERS: Scott McGehee and David Siegel | CAST: Haley Lu Richardson, Owen Teague, Gilbert Owuor | DISTRIBUTOR: Deokub, TIFF 2021 | RUNNING TIME: 113 minutes | RELEASE DATE: 9 September – 18 September 2021 (TIFF 2021)

September 17, 2021
Review: Hellbound

If there’s a constant in Yeon Sang-ho’s career, then it’s change. After beginning his career with the animated King of Pigs, he has since crossed over into the global mainstream with Train to Busan. Since then, he’s kept adapting with Psychokinesis and Busan sequel Peninsula. With HELLBOUND (지옥), Yeon’s second foray into television, he brings the blockbuster sensibilities of his features to serial storytelling.

Co-created by Yeon and Choi Gyu-seok (Awl), adapting Yeon’s own webtoon, it begins as three hulking demonic figures appear out of the ether, beat down a fellow fleeing from a café, and leave nothing but a pile of ashes. It soon emerges that people are hearing predictions of when they will die, and these monsters are sending those people straight to hell.

Jung Jin-Soo (Yoo Ah-In) of the religious cult New Truth, explains the phenomena as a revelation from god, gaining enthusiastic and dedicated followers across Korea. Jin Kyung-Hoon (Yang Ik-June) is a detective investigating the deaths while dealing with the darkness in his own past. Intersecting with these strange events is lawyer Min Hey-Jin (Kim Hyun-Joo), who stands up to the Arrowhead group who follows Jung Jin-Soo’s teachings.

Following the based-on-a-spiritually-themed-webtoon sub-genre that made Along With the Gods such as success, HELLBOUND wastes no time in wowing us with the scale of its ambition. From giant heads appearing to tell people they will die through to the aforementioned demons, there’s clearly some of that good Netflix money involved here. Of course, if it was just a special effects outing it wouldn’t be a Yeon Sang-ho joint.

Genuinely creepy in parts, especially as revelations about the various characters come to light, much of the first half of the series is investigative in nature. There’s the more obvious plots from the cops and journalists, but as aspects of Jung Jin-Soo’s character unfurl, one suspects that this will end with some major reveals. Where it gets especially interesting is where the intersection of ‘cult’ behaviour and media intersect. Jung Jin-Soo’s followers might seem blind, but there’s a spectacularly tense scene in which hundreds of onlookers and the assembled media have gathered ostensibly to watch a woman die.

Yoo Ah-In, known most recently for zombie films like #Alive, is an intriguing lead character — we genuinely don’t know what motivates him for the longest time, and that’s properly scary. Similarly, Yang Ik-June brings a rounded performance to a character that has some layers to unpick.

Festival viewers have been treated to the first three episodes of this six part series, with the remainder coming to Netflix at a future date. So, it’s difficult to give this a complete review at this stage, but the bones are good. There’s several notable cliffhangers that will make this compelling viewing when it hits the streaming giant later this year, and I can’t wait to see how it ends.

HELLBOUND is reviewed as part of our coverage of the Toronto International Film Festival (TIFF) 2021.

2021 | South Korea | DIRECTOR: Yeon Sang-ho | WRITER: Yeon Sang-ho, Choi Kyu-sok | CAST: Yoo Ah-in, Park Jung-min, Kim Hyun-joo, Won Jin-ah | DISTRIBUTOR: Netflix, TIFF 2021 | RELEASE DATE: 9 September – 18 September 2021 (TIFF 2021), TBA (Netflix)

September 17, 2021
Review: Aloners

When writing about a film like ALONERS (혼자 사는 사람들) in the middle of a global pandemic, the film inevitably takes on a different meaning. Hong Sung-Eun’s feature debut examines the feelings of self-isolation while pondering what it really means to be ‘alone’ in a modern context.

When we meet Jin-A (Gong Seung-Yeon), she’s a cool-headed employee at a credit card call centre. Yet her star worker status doesn’t translate into personal relationships with her colleagues. She lives alone, and one day discovers that the single neighbour who did attempt to chat with her has been found dead. Shocked by his demise, she begins obsessively watching the hidden camera footage from her recently widowed father’s house.

The phenomena described in Hong’s film is so common there’s a name for it: honjok. The term, which refers to people who engage in typical social activities — eating, drinking, leisure trips — alone. Caused by everything from social ennui to an increase in single person households, companies have now developed strategies to market specifically to this group.

Hong taps into this trend in the form of an intimate character study, rather than as any commentary on honjoks across the board. Jin-A’s facade is aloof and stand-offish to everyone around her, a deliberate choice that keeps her an island unto herself. New employee Sujin (Jung Da-Eun) is the polar opposite, vainly attempting to be friends with Jin-A despite the latter’s rejection of social mores.

The audience could easily be just as isolated as Jin-A were it not for the excellent performance from Gong Seung-Yeon, seamlessly transitioning from TV dramas to feature lead. The death of her neighbour might force her to reconsider her life, but Gong’s performance is so subtle that she undergoes more of a slow evolution throughout the film rather than a revolution.

Which seems to be exactly where Gong wants to position ALONERS. It’s a collection of moments that add up to a major shift but could just as easily have gone in the other direction. Jin-A ultimately works to break a cycle that was taught to her, and eventually concludes with some irony that “I just need some time to myself.”

ALONERS is reviewed as part of our coverage of the Toronto International Film Festival (TIFF) 2021.

2021 | South Korea | DIRECTOR: Hong Sung-Eun | WRITER: Hong Sung-Eun | CAST: Gong Seung-Yeon, Jung Da-Eun, Seo Hyun-Woo, Park Jung-Hak | DISTRIBUTOR: Deokub, TIFF 2021 | RUNNING TIME: 91 minutes | RELEASE DATE: 9 September – 18 September 2021 (TIFF 2021)

September 14, 2021
Review: All My Puny Sorrows
Trigger warning: this post discusses self-harm and suicidal feelings.

As the winner of multiple literary prizes, the sixth novel from Canadian writer Miriam Toews has a huge reputation. Drawing heavily from the events that led up to the suicide of her own sister, bringing it to the screen must be something of a bittersweet experience for the writer. Michael McGowan’s film, which premiered at the Toronto International Film Festival this year, attempts to convey some of the nuance on screen.

Sisters Yoli Von Riesen (Alison Pill) and Elf Von Riesen (Sarah Gaddon) have long since left behind their strict Mennonite upbringing following the suicide death of their father (Donal Logue). Elf has become a successful concert pianist with a family, while Yoli struggles as a writer and lives with her teenage daughter (Amybeth McNulty) and remains in an unsatisfying relationship.

Yet Elf has lived with the same chronic depression that plagued her father. Following a second attempt at ending her own life, Yoli makes it her mission to save her sister, even as Elf begs her to be taken to a Swiss assisted suicide clinic. How Yoli and her pragmatic mother Lottie (Mare Winningham) deal with the situation is the primary focus of the narrative, and often difficult and occasionally confronting examination of coping with death.

“When I wake up in the morning, I have moments of excruciating hope.”

Even without knowing the source material, you may be surprised to find that a film about suicide had so many disarmingly funny moments in between the malaise. Even as Elf lays in a hospital bed, every member of the family has a dry and inky black sense of humour about the situation. “Your mother and I buried 14 brothers and sisters,” says their aunt Tina (Mimi Kuzyk), as if by explanation. If death is a way of life, then there is inevitable comedy in there too.

However, even without knowing the source material one can see that the film is indebted to it, recreating its literary references awkwardly in the language of film. In between Yoli’s lengthy monologues there are a stack of textual allusions that sit awkwardly on the tongue. The film format feels far too contained for the weight of what these people are going through, offering only a slideshow of moments.

The performances are excellent though. In the face of Gaddon’s unnerving grace in the contemplation of taking her own is complemented by Pill’s raw turn as Yoli. There is one scene in particular, a moment of losing her temper at a guy in a parking lot, that feels nothing short of an authentic emotional outpouring. Winningham is the true scene-stealer here, from her non-nonsense quips to her understated grief lurking inches from the surface.

So, while some viewers may struggle with the arm’s length approach McGowan takes with the material, ALL MY PUNY SORROWS will no doubt resonate with many a viewer (and reader), and if it speaks to your truth then this is unquestionably a good thing.

ALL MY PUNY SORROWS is reviewed as part of our coverage of the Toronto International Film Festival (TIFF) 2021.

2021 | Canada | DIRECTOR: Michael McGowan | WRITER: Michael McGowan (from a novel by Miriam Toews) | CAST: Alison Pill, Sarah Gadon, Amybeth McNulty, Mare Winningham | DISTRIBUTOR: Voltage Pictures, Mongrel Media, TIFF 2021 | RUNNING TIME: 103 minutes | RELEASE DATE: 9 September – 18 September 2021 (TIFF 2021)

If you or anyone you know needs help or just someone to talk to, here are some excellent services:
- Lifeline on 13 11 14
- Kids Helpline on 1800 551 800
- MensLine Australia on 1300 789 978
- Suicide Call Back Service on 1300 659 467
- Beyond Blue on 1300 22 46 36
- Headspace on 1800 650 890
- QLife on 1800 184 527
- Crisis Text Connect (US)
September 13, 2021
Review: Alien on Stage

When you think about Alien, chances are pretty good that a West End stage production isn’t the first thing that comes to mind. Yet it was for this crew of bus drivers in Dorset, whose handmade show unexpectedly made its way to London.

In a culture where the charity pantomime is almost untouchable, this very amateur troupe of British actors decides to do something a little different. They spend month putting together a stage version of Ridley Scott’s 1979 classic, right down to the dialogue. To their surprise, it doesn’t do very well with local audiences, but they get a second shot at fame when they are invited to perform it for one night only in London’s West End theatre district.

With almost zero budget but a lot of passion, we watch as their director — who often looks as though he is herding cats — pulls the ragtag group together and keep them motivated for the duration. Necessity proves to be the mother of invention as bike helmets, foam and fishing wire stand recreate some of the film’s iconic effects with surprisingly effective results.

The sheer audacity of trying to stage one of the greatest sci-fi films of all time on a community theatre budget is enough to warrant a look. The beauty of this documentary is that they are never laughing at the players, although it’s never clear whether or not they are in on the joke when the West End audiences often do just that. Or, as one punter puts it, it might just be “the right piece of art being met by the right audience.”

As a documentary, Danielle Kummer and Lucy Harvey’s piece is a fairly no frills affair. Yet the fly on the wall approach allows us to get incredibly close to this group of people. Think of a Christopher Guest mockumentary, but one where you genuinely care about what happens to each of them. Where it really succeeds is in the last act, where we get to see large chunks of the show live. The audience reactions are priceless, but not as rewarding as seeing the elation of the crew when they’ve accomplished their goals.

More than anything, it’s got a big beating heart in the place where Kane used to have a chest. It’s the kind of film where you want them to succeed so very much, but secretly want it to all unravel. The fact that they’ve done repeat performances and have this very documentary made about them is probably of indicative of which way this delightful doco heads. Now all we need is Prometheus on Stage.

2020 | UK | DIRECTOR: Danielle Kummer and Lucy Harvey | CINEMATOGRAPHER: Danielle Kummer | CAST: Jason Hill, Lydia Hayward, Jacqui Roe | DISTRIBUTOR: SUFF 2021 | RUNNING TIME: 86 minutes | RELEASE DATE: 9 September – 26 September 2021 (Sydney Underground Film Festival 2021)

September 10, 2021
Review: The Pass: The Last Days of the Samurai

Contrary to popular belief, Tom Cruise was not the last samurai. There are several people who could potentially make that claim, but it is true to say that the 19th century saw some of the most radical changes in the history of rulership of Japan.

Director Takashi Koizumi’s film pick up the end of Japan’s Edo period in 1867, with the relinquishing of power by Tokugawa Yoshinobu (Masahiro Higashide), the 15th Shogun of the Tokugowa Shogunate. As civil war erupts between the loyalists in the east and west, chief retainers Tsuginosuke Kawai (Koji Yakusho) desperately attempts to remain neutral and broker peace. Yet when his heartfelt attempts fail, Kawai nevertheless serves his duty as a samurai would.

For a film that refers to the battle at Enoki Pass in the title, director Koizumi certainly takes a measured approach to getting there. In the contemplative first act, we witness Kawai in a life of semi-tranquillity. After all, save for the civil war that ended it, the Tokugawa shogunate saw the longest period of peace and stability in Japan’s history at 260 years. “It shall be your era, Sir Shotaro,” he optimistically tells a young artist before the fighting starts.

More than anything, Koizumi’s film has a very particular sense of time and place. The period details, especially the blend of Japanese and increasingly western influences, is remarkable. Every time someone speaks, they do so with the weight of knowing exactly what this moment means to Japan. It’s almost as if all the players are aware of their ultimate place in history and which side of it they will be judged from.

When the main event begins — namely, the Battle of Hatchōoki at the Enoki Pass — the staging is quite impressive. Explosions, gattling guns and swords clash in equal measure. It’s a fleeting affair though, as if to signify that this violence was but a brief and bloody end to an otherwise peaceful era.

Koji Yakusho, seen of late as an embattled yakuza in The Blood of Wolves (2018) and Under the Open Sky (2020), is wonderfully cast in a role that allows him to contain those vivid portrayals just under the surface of a zen soldier. Takako Matsu as his wife is also a delight, and they make for a powerful on-screen couple. “Love is not about looking in each other’s eyes,” observes a contemporary, “but gazing together in the same direction.”

The period just before the Meiji Restoration is a fascinating one, serving as the inspiration for films like Shinsengumi (1969) and more recently When the Last Sword Is Drawn (2003). Given that some modern texts allegedly refer to it as a bloodless revolution, Koizumi’s solid film is one of many that have picked up on the ample evidence suggesting that the year-long Boshin War was indeed filled with lost lives, and brought the age of samurai to an end.

THE PASS: LAST DAYS OF THE SAMURAI (峠最後のサムライ) is reviewed as part of our coverage of JAPAN CUTS 2021.

2020 | Japan | DIRECTOR: Takashi Koizumi | WRITERS: Takashi Koizumi | CAST: Kôji Yakusho,Takako Matsu, Tatsuya Nakadai, Masahiro Higashide | DISTRIBUTOR: Shochiku, JAPAN CUTS 2021 | RUNNING TIME: 114 minutes | RELEASE DATE: 22 August – 2 September 2021 (JAPAN CUTS 2021)

September 2, 2021
Review: Kiba: The Fangs of Fiction

When we last encountered Daihachi Yoshida a few years ago, it was with the excellent character study The Scythian Lamb. His follow up, an adaptation of Takeshi Shiota’s novel, takes a very different group of eclectic personalities and pits them against each other in the savage world of publishing.

KIBA: THE FANGS OF FICTION (騙し絵の牙) opens a bit like a mystery novel, rapidly cutting back and forth between rookie editor Megumi (Mayu Matsuoka) and the soon-to-be-deceased head of the Kunpu publishing empire. The death of the magnate sparks a series of events, including the brash and confident Akira (Yo Oizumi) being given the task of taking over the failing Trinity magazine imprint.

Despite their backing by the CEO (Koichi Sato), Trinity is in a rivalry with publishing housemates at the prestigious Kunpo Magazine. Akira brings Megumi with him to shake up the magazine. Along with convincing blowhard writer Daisaku Nikaido (Jun Kunimura) to try something new, they draw in new talent including a model (Elaiza Ikeda), influencers and other people that will catch the attention of new readers. Meanwhile, Megumi attempts to track down a literary giant who hasn’t published in decades.

There’s some legitimately sharp commentary to be had in Yoshida’s adaptation, co-written with Ichiro Kusuno. Sure, the film has references to Japan’s unique method of book and magazine distribution, the rise of gimmicks and the decline of the book store, including a sub-plot about Megumi’s dad and his failing book shop. Yet the core of the drama is the rivalry between the fourth and fifth floors of Kunpu, and the colourful characters who work there.

As is the case with most adaptations, there’s probably a few more character threads than a single feature can handle. Elaiza Ikeda’s Saki Joshima, for example, has a whole backstory involving a gun fetish that peaks with a legal scandal, one that feels almost incidental to the main plot. Yet even this has its day by the clever-clever ending. Plus, the already impressive cast gets a little added boost with the final act appearance of a very recognisable Japanese actor as a mystery man.

“There’s more than books and magazines,” concludes Akira at one point, and he could be talking directly about the film’s plot. Like TV’s Younger or similar programs, KIBA has a core strength in the personalities that delight in intriguing each other. In fact, there’s a whole series worth of storytelling to be had here, so perhaps the only disappointment is that it all has to wrap up so quickly.

KIBA: THE FANGS OF FICTION is reviewed as part of our coverage of JAPAN CUTS 2021.

2021 | Japan | DIRECTOR: Daihachi Yoshida | WRITERS: Ichiro Kusuno, Daihachi Yoshida (based on the novel by Takeshi Shiota) | CAST: Yo Oizumi, Koichi Sato, Mayu Matsuoka, Hio Miyazawa, Elaiza Ikeda, Jun Kunimura, Yoshino Kimura | DISTRIBUTOR: Shochiku, JAPAN CUTS 2021 | RUNNING TIME: 113 minutes | RELEASE DATE: 22 August – 2 September 2021 (JAPAN CUTS 2021)

September 1, 2021