Tag: Asia in Focus

Coverage of films from the Asia-Pacific region.

Review: Blue Sun Palace

Brooklyn-based filmmaker Constance Tsang offers a meditative exploration of loss, communal grief, and belonging that is so deeply immersed in its community and characters that one might forget it’s set in New York.

Tsang’s debut feature, BLUE SUN PALACE, ostensibly takes place in Queens, where recent Chinese migrants Amy (Wu Ke-Xi) and Didi (Haipeng Xu) work in a massage parlour. We first meet Didi in the middle of a date with Cheung (Lee Kang-sheng), sharing tender and intimate moments in a restaurant and under the lights of a karaoke room. This scene sets the tone for Tsang’s narrative approach.

When an unexpected event disrupts this glacial rhythm, Tsang moves us forward in time. Yet the characters remain trapped in a kind of arrested development, replaying cycles we’ve already seen while searching for meaning and connection amidst the familiar. It’s here that we learn the most about Amy and Cheung, with revelations about their lives outside the bubble peppered throughout the dialogue like artefacts waiting to be uncovered.

Tsang’s lens provides the audience ample space to connect with these characters while also maintaining a sense of distance. When non-Chinese customers enter the massage parlour, they feel like intruders, especially given that their requests are inherently uncomfortable or outright aggressive.

The presence of Lee Kang-sheng might draw comparisons to the slower cinema of Tsai Ming-Liang, particularly his documentary and exhibition pieces rooted in observation. This is, after all, a film where the main title drop comes 34 minutes into the running time. Wu Ke-Xi, who impressed us in Nina Wu, is compelling as she ponders an alternative to the predetermined path.

Cinematographer Norm Li, who has worked across multiple genres, gives Tsang’s film a distinctive look and feel. At times, we feel like we are in the room; at others, the blue tones of the massage parlour suggest a voyeuristic perspective, until the sudden contrast of outdoor brightness breaks the spell.

As we watch Cheung take an extended walk, presumably forever, he slowly drags on a cigarette as the credits fade to black. One gets the impression that we are only seeing a snapshot of the surface, confirming the unbelievably restrained storytelling on display. BLUE SUN PALACE unquestionably marks Tsang as an important new voice to watch.

2024 | USA | DIRECTOR: Constance Tsang | WRITERS: Constance Tsang | CAST: Ke-Xi Wu, Haipeng Xu, Lee Kang-sheng | DISTRIBUTOR: Melbourne International Film Festival | RUNNING TIME: 116 minutes | RELEASE DATE: 8-24 August 2024 (Melbourne International Film Festival)

August 9, 2024
Review: A Century in Sound

If you’ve noticed more vinyl bars and listening cafes cropping up around the world, you should know that before they were cool in your neighbourhood, they were already cool in Japan. The small coffee houses known as kissaten, or specifically jazz kissa, trace their roots back to the 1920s, but blossomed into the hundreds during a postwar boom.

The concepts are deceptively simple. In essence, they are cafes where the main focus is to simply and quietly sit and listen to a specific type of music. Most kissaten serve beverages, some serve food but all make the quality of sound a priority. In A CENTURY IN SOUND, New Zealand filmmakers Nicholas O’Dwyer and Tu Neill focus on three such kissa across Tokyo.

The first of these is the Meikyoku Kissa Lion, a classic musical cafe that has been around for nearly a century and is run by Keiko Ishihara at the time of filming. Jazz Kissa Eigakan offers a contrasting atmosphere, aiming to evoke “a warm sound that doesn’t tire you out.” Then there’s Junichi Umezawa’s Bird Song Cafe, which is imbued with memories of the legendary rock kissa Blackhawk while celebrating 1970s Japanese rock.

There have been so many documentaries that examine Japan through an ‘othering’ anthropological lens. The beauty of O’Dwyer and Neill’s camera is that it is just like one of the customers in the listening cafes it depicts. It simply sits and listens to the people playing the records in these truly unique locations around Tokyo.

Rather than just being a series of talking heads, these reminiscences are cleverly interspersed by visuals from Japan’s turbulent 20th century. Through this potted history, we get a sense of the owners, their customers and where that passion for music comes from. For some it’s memories of the War, for others it’s a time of political revolution or maybe just rebelling against the mainstream bubble culture of the 80s. Yet all are united by music.

Like the spaces themselves, A CENTURY IN SOUND is not necessarily intended for a broad audience. Yet the niche audiences who do find this film will undoubtedly appreciate the comforting vibes it gives off as the various strains of classical, jazz and rock music wash over them. A wonderful cinema experience.

2024 | Japan | DIRECTOR: Nick Dwyer, Tu Neill | WRITERS: Nick Dwyer, Tu Neill | CAST: Keiko Ishihara, Mashiro Yoshida, Junichi Umezawa | DISTRIBUTOR: Melbourne International Film Festival | RUNNING TIME: 101 minutes | RELEASE DATE: 8-24 August 2024 (Melbourne International Film Festival)

August 8, 2024
Japan Cuts 2024: 7 things to watch at the festival of New Japanese Cinema

One of our favourite festivals has returned for another year! The Japan Society in New York brings back JAPAN CUTS for its 17th season, running in-person from 10 to 21 July 2024.

This year’s JAPAN CUTS is no exception, with sharply contemporary films, the emerging next generation of filmmakers and classics like Gakuryu Ishii’s August in the Water. There are five International Premieres, 10 North American Premieres, four US premieres, two East Coast premieres and seven New York premieres.

You can find the full program and buy tickets on their official site. Here’s a couple of films we are keen to see.

Blue Imagine

One of the things we love about JAPAN CUTS is that it showcases new voices. Actor Urara Matsubayashi makes her directorial debut with a much-needed look at sexual violence in the Japanese film industry. Starring Mayu Yamaguchi as an actress dealing with the aftermath of an assault, and moves into a communal space for abused women.

Rei

Toshiko Tanaka is best known as an actor in films like Love Exposure and Sunk Into the Womb. In this film, he is writer/director/producer/editor/actor alongside Takara Suzuki (TV’s Real-Fake) as a photographer finding a connection with someone, moving from Tokyo to Hokkaido. The festival description promises “staggering internal mindscapes” and I am all in based on that alone.

KUBI

There’s really only two things you need to know about this film to hook you in. It’s produced, directed, written, edited and starring the one and only Takeshi Kitano. If that’s not enough, it’s also an epic samurai saga (based on Kitano’s own book) that tells the tale of the 1582 Honnoji Incident in which the samurai warlord Oda Nobunaga is betrayed.

Cha-Cha

The fourth installment of the “(not) HEROINE” series, a project that focuses on up-and-coming actresses and next-generation directors, Mai Sakai directs former Nogizaka46 idol Marika Ito in this female-focused, screwball comedy.

All the Long Nights

Director Sho Miyake’s And Your Bird Can Sing was one of the thoroughly enjoyable films from Japanese film festivals a few years back, and this new film — based on Maiko Seo’s book of the same name — follows a pair of individuals with debilitating conditions encouraging each other into more outgoing lives.

Shin Godzilla: Orthochromatic

It truly is the year of Godzilla. Between the Oscar-winning success of Godzilla Minus One and the Hollywood blockbuster Godzilla X Kong, the festival offers the chance to see the film that kicked off the franchise’s Reiwa Era. Hideaki Anno and Shinji Higuchi’s Shin Godzilla is re-issued in a black-and-white version to pay tribute to 70 years of Tokyo getting stomped by an analogy for nuclear disasters and government bureaucracy.

The Making of a Japanese

Ema Ryan Yamazaki’s documentary was shot over the course of a single scholastic year in in Tokyo suburb Tsukado, one of Japan’s largest public elementary schools. Taking a snapshot of the education system, this is sure to be a fascinating look at some of the foundational building blocks of contemporary Japanese society.

BONUS: Shorts Programs

If you have followed our coverage of JAPAN CUTS over the last few years, it will come as absolutely no surprise that we heartily endorse the short film programs. Some of the slices include new animation from Akihiro Nishino (Poupelle of Chimney Town) in BOTTLE GEORGE, the international premiere of Mayu Nakamura’s HAIL MARY and NEZUMIKOZO JIROKICHI, legendary anime director Rintaro’s (Metropolis, X/1999, Galaxy Express 999) first new work in over a decade.

June 18, 2024
Review: Godzilla Minus One

Godzilla is pretty big right now. Not just physically, although the iconic kaiju has grown significantly over the decades. Yet with a massive Hollywood franchise, an anime film series and several Japanese films all running simultaneously, it’s safe to say that the big lug is still stomping all over our hearts almost 70 years after he was first introduced to audiences.

So, writer/director Takeshi Yamazaki’s GODZILLA MINUS ONE (ゴジラ-1.0) is something of a revelation. Starting during the closing days of the Second World War, we are introduced to Godzilla through the eyes of kamikaze pilot Kōichi Shikishima (Ryunosuke Kamiki). Having faked plane issues, he and the repair crew encounter a younger Godzilla on Odo Island. Shikishima has the opportunity to shoot the beast, but freezes at the fateful moment.

Several years later, Shikishima lives with Noriko Ōishi (Minami Hamabe) and an adopted child orphaned during the war. As a devastated Tokyo tries to rebuild, the sudden appearance of the giant Godzilla – enlarged by the US nuclear tests at Bikini Atoll – reawakens Shikishima’s survivor guilt.

Indeed, it’s this theme of guilt and trauma that pervades Yamazaki’s film more than anything else. The later period of Tokyo’s rebirth has long fascinated Yamazaki in the Always Sunset on Third Street series, but like In This Corner of the World or Grave of the Fireflies, here is a film that shows the raw devastation of Japan immediately after the war. (In this sense, it’s an interesting parallel with this year’s Oppenheimer).

Yamazaki embodies this theme in Shikishima and the cross-sectional band of scrappy chaps surrounding him: the intellectual, the working class survivor and a young man who never got to fight in the war. The ultimate thesis – that it’s ok if you don’t feel the need to die for your country – has no chance of getting lost in the action. It looms as large as Godzilla on the Ginza skyline.

Like the original Godzilla (1954), the film acknowledges the impact of the nuclear bombs dropped on Japan, but manages to comment on contemporary Japan as well. With another narrative thread endorsing citizen action when governments fail, it’s probably no stretch to suggest that this – like Hideaki Anno’s Shin Godzilla (2016) before it – is just as much a response to the 2011 tsunami and Fukushima nuclear accident as it is to Hiroshima/Nagasaki. Yamazaki isn’t afraid to linger on the quiet revelations, mirroring the introspective drama of postwar Japanese cinema.

Yet this is still a kaiju movie, and those looking for large scale destruction won’t be disappointed either. Every cent of the modest $15 million budget is present on screen, and is infinitely more effective than some recent films that cost ten times that. From the moment Godzilla appears on screen, it is a tangible entity acting with a lightning fast savagery hitherto unseen from the creature.

As Godzilla grows in size, so too does the scale of the action. At full strength, Godzilla is capable of reducing a city to rubble with a single blast. Naoki Satō’s score, often drawing from earlier iconic soundtracks, is used like a scalpel to draw in the audience. By the time we reach the heart-stopping climax, only the hardest of hearts won’t be invested in the drama.

While there will always be fierce debate as to which is the greatest Godzilla film of them all, GODZILLA MINUS ONE makes a pretty good case for being somewhere on the podium. As the US counterpart preps another monster mashup for Godzilla’s 70th anniversary in 2024, here’s a film that reminds us of the power of Godzilla’s streamlined roots.

2023 | Japan | DIRECTOR: Takashi Yamazaki | WRITERS: Takashi Yamazaki | CAST: Ryunosuke Kamiki, Minami Hamabe, Yuki Yamada, Munetaka Aoki, Hidetaka Yoshioka, Sakura Ando, Kuranosuke Sasaki | DISTRIBUTOR: Toho (Japan), Sugoi Co. (Australia)| RUNNING TIME: 125 minutes | RELEASE DATE: 1 December 2023 (Australia), 3 November 2023 (Japan)

December 6, 2023
Review: Remembering Every Night

Yui Kiyohara’s 2017 film Our House, an often abstract film that featured two subtly intersecting storylines, didn’t always manage to get beyond the surface level. With REMEMBERING EVERY NIGHT (すべての夜を思いだす), the filmmaker uses a similar motif played out on a broader scale – and it works wonderfully.

While this is the point in these reviews where one tends to describe the plot, there is no storyline to speak of, at least not in the traditional sense anyway. It begins with 44-year-old Chizu’s (Kumi Hyodo) trip to the employment centre, and her subsequent wanderings to find someone living in the former commuter village, Tama New Town.

During her voyages she spots university student Natsu (Ai Mikami) practising her dance moves, someone we later learn is grieving the loss of a friend and on the hunt for photographic evidence they ever existed. Also wandering the area on what feels like a pleasant summer day is Sanae (Minami Ohba), a utility inspector who gets sidetracked into helping an elderly man find his way home.

On the surface, it’s a pleasant afternoon’s walk through the suburbs, with three women crossing paths, subtly intersecting each other’s lives, or having minor near misses along the way. Everything that happens is at once immediately important and also wholly transactional. Indeed, those near misses are only obvious because the camera chooses to observe them for the audience. Unwatched, they would simply be three people going about their day.

There’s an intimacy to Kiyohara’s view of New Tama Town that no doubt comes from the time she spent there when she was younger. Developed in the early 1970s as Japan’s largest residential housing project, Kiyohara’s memory of New Tama Town is filtered through these three seemingly unrelated women – in their 20s, 30s, and 40s – while contemplating the distance between them and ultimately us as well. It’s exactly the kind of film that emerges from a post-pandemic Japan.

Despite the title, Kiyohara and cinematographer Yukiko Iioka spend the majority of their film in daylight hours. While each of the women is weighed down by their own trauma, sense of isolation and worries, the jaunty score and bright photography act to shine some kind of light of recognition on them.

While I’ve just recently declared that I might be done with slow cinema, perhaps I just wasn’t spending time with the kind that gels with me. As one of the threads comes to its natural conclusion, Chizu simply asks “Does that mean it just ends like that?” Offering no dramatic conclusions, or convenient plot ties, like the women it depicts it simply spins in its own orbit. Here is one group of people I could have happily spent the rest of the day with.

2022 | Japan | DIRECTOR: Yui Kiyohara | WRITERS: Yui Kiyohara | CAST: Hyodo Kumi, Mikami Ai, Ohba Minami | DISTRIBUTOR: KimStim | RUNNING TIME: 109 minutes | RELEASE DATE: 15 September 2023 (NYC), 22 September 2023 (LA)

September 11, 2023
Review: The Breaking Ice [MIFF 2023]

In Anthony Chen’s feature Wet Season, there was often the pervading sense that we were tantalisingly close to something that never caught fire. Following Drift earlier in 2023, THE BREAKING ICE (燃冬) takes a similarly leisurely exploration of different kinds of relationships. Here a trio of unlikely connections explores longing and isolation in a remote town.

Set in a cold winter in Yanji, on the Chinese side of the North Korean border, Shanghaiese Haofeng (Detective Chinatown’s Liu Haoran) finds himself literally and figuratively stuck. While on a bus tour of Korean cultural towns led by disaffected guide Nana (Zhou Dongyu), Haofeng loses his phone. Nana invites him to hang out with her friend Xiao (Qu Chuxiao).

From the start, it’s evident that there’s something lingering beneath the surface for all three players. After all, even ice sits on top of something. Haofeng keeps receiving calls from a medical centre and insists they are the wrong number. Nana is haunted by visions of a past as a competitive ice skater dashed by a foot injury. She, like Xiao, dreams of leaving Yanji but can’t quite make themselves move away.

Much of the film exists in a floating world, one where Chen is almost a documentarian for the micro adventures of Haofeng, Nana and Xiao. They drink, they dance, there’s attempts at sex and stealing books, and something of a minor love triangle. Through this, we get hints at what has damaged each of these people, even if they aren’t willing to articulate that to themselves.

Underlying this is a recurring mention of a defector who has crossed the border, with surveillance footage and wanted posters turning up wherever they go. It’s almost suggesting that this whole affair is just happening in the background of a larger story, with Chen flipping the script and putting a laser focus on an average group of people near the border.

Indeed, the border is a constant presence in Chen’s film. The trio walk along barbed-wire fences, and shout into the North Korean side. There’s always a feeling that they are walking between two cultures. It’s all gorgeously shot by Jing-Pin Yu (Better Days, Leap), from the neon drenched ice rinks and mazes to a climactic shot of Heaven Lake on Paektu Mountain. The spot, which turns up in paintings and imagery all throughout the film, has long been important for both Chinese and Korean peoples.

Liu Haoran gives one of his best performances to date. While Chen never reveals what Haofeng is running from (or to), there’s moments of verbalised suicide ideation that snap us out of the carefree reveries. Speaking directly to the theme of isolation and loneliness, there’s a scene where Nana and Xiao dance in a nightclub while Haofeng bursts into tears, alone in a crowded room.

Speaking at the Melbourne International Film Festival, which was one of the first public screenings after Cannes, Chen said that THE BREAKING ICE was “the result of a lot of pent-up energy during the pandemic.” Which makes sense, given the overall theme of the film. As we are now all a couple of years out from the majority of the lockdowns, perhaps we can all relate to this listlessness, caught in the liminal spaces and still getting used to feeling okay about other people.

2023 | China | DIRECTOR: Anthony Chen | WRITERS: Anthony Chen | CAST: Liu Haoran, Qu Chuxiao, Zhou Dongyu | DISTRIBUTOR: Melbourne International Film Festival | RUNNING TIME: 97 minutes | RELEASE DATE: 3 – 20 August 2022 (MIFF)

August 25, 2023
Review: As Long as We Both Shall Live [Fantasia 2023]

Director Ayuko Tsukahara is certainly no stranger to fantasy films or romances, having worked extensively on dramas like Dearest, Why I Dress Up for Love, and Meet Me After School. With AS LONG AS WE BOTH SHALL LIVE (わたしの幸せな結婚), based on Akumi Agitogi’s light novel series My Happy Marriage, here Tsukahara combines both.

Set in an alternate 19th century Japan, Miyo (Mio Imada) is the eldest daughter of the respected Saimori clan. Born without the supernatural powers that have protected the clans for generations, she shares the fate of Cinderella by being mistreated by her stepmother and universally beloved stepsister for years.

At least, that is, until she is arranged to be marriage to Kiyoka (Ren Miguro), heir of the fearsome Kudo family. With a reputation for being cruel, each of his previous would-be brides have fled within days of arriving at his place. Yet Miyo is different, and she not only discovers that he is capable of kindness, but that she is capable of much more than she ever believed as well.

There’s a very particular Venn diagram of fandom that this slips into: fantasy romances that begin with a toxic relationship and end with literal magic. There’s a scene early on where Miyo takes the initiative to cook for Kiyoka, but is dismissed and rebuffed by him. She ultimately takes it as a sign to try and crack through that gruff exterior. So yes, it’s not just Cinderella but Beauty and the Beast, the ultimate Stockholm Syndrome tale.

In the plus column, it sure is a pretty film to look at. As it’s ostensibly a period piece set in the Meiji Restoration era, some gorgeous set and costume designs convincingly immerse us in another time and place. At various times, powers would manifest in simple but effective light displays that neither clashed with nor overwhelmed the period setting.

Yet given that these fantasy elements are sparingly used, they may not feel stylistically out of place but they certainly don’t always work in the narrative. At times it feels they are only remembered when the plot calls for it, especially during the climactic scenes. Swinging between tortured sequences and randomly manifesting powers, there were honestly just points where I simply had no idea what was going on.

A post-credits scene, one that probably means more to fans of the original novels than it did to this viewer, suggests that there is more to come. Which makes sense, but given the presence of serial director Tsukahara, one can’t help but feel this would ultimately work much better as an anime series (which commenced in July 2023 on Netflix) than as films.

2023 | Japan | DIRECTOR: Ayuko Tsukahara | WRITERS: Tomoe Kanno | CAST: Ren Meguro, Mio Imada, Keisuke Watanabe, Ryusei Onishi | DISTRIBUTOR: Fantasia Film Festival | RUNNING TIME: 115 minutes | RELEASE DATE: 20 July – 9 August 2022 (Fantasia)

August 10, 2023
Review: Mad Cats [Fantasia 2023]

It opens on a group of women dressed in white, standing on a hill and serving up some serious Hanging Rock realness. As an axe falls, and an unknown prisoner is fed like a cat, you may wonder what you’ve gotten yourself into with Reiki Tsuno’s debut feature. You may spend the rest of the running time trying to figure that out as well.

Taka (Sho Mineo) has been living a shiftless life ever since his archeologist brother Mune (So Yamanaka) went missing, spending his days in a trailer and threatening his demanding European landlord with deportation when she dares ask for the rent. When he receives a mysterious recording with clues to his brother’s location, he is off like a shot to find Mune.

What sounds like a solid setup takes a rapid left turn into the bizarre when Taka begins to encounter a strange collective of warrior women with catlike abilities. Uncovering a plot that connects ancient artefacts with supernatural catnip, Taka is joined by a homeless man with nothing else going on and a gun-toting woman who knows more than she is letting on.

Filled with non sequiturs, over the top action set-pieces, and characters that are more inspired by cartoons than action films, MAD CATS is the kind of film that you ride along with rather than watch. As the audience, we really just keep pace alongside Taka, who seems to be genuinely reacting to every new weird scene that he encounters.

Tsuno, who released the cult short film Crying Bitch a few years ago, wears his influences right there on his shirtsleeves. From the 1950s US inspired diner sequence to the epic martial arts and sword-swinging pieces, Tsuno happily ticks off some favourite bits of inspiration while gently poking fun at entire tropes produced by the action franchise machinery.

From a technical point of view, the film is stunningly shot by cinematographer Shintaro Teramoto, who recently did amazing things with Wonderful Paradise. (Indeed, there’s a little bit of Yamamoto Masashi’s insanity in this film’s DNA). Pristine landscape shots look like they could have stepped out of neo-Western, and the obvious and deliberate use of rear projection during key driving sequences gives the whole thing a retro vibe.

“For all the innocent lives, past and future, taken away by selfish devils,” declares a mid-credits dedication. “Humans will fear the sound of MAD CATS coming for you.” While it would be folly to even pretend that we know what this means, it’s perfectly in keeping with the irreverent and chaotic philosophy of the movie. Like the cats of the title, it scratches and knocks random things off the table, but it’s still going to be one of your favourite feisty felines.

2023 | Japan | DIRECTOR: Reiki Tsuno | WRITERS: Reiki Tsuno | CAST: Sho Mineo, Yuya Matsuura, Ayane, Michael Aaron Stone, So Yamanaka | DISTRIBUTOR: Fantasia Film Festival | RUNNING TIME: 88 minutes | RELEASE DATE: 20 July – 9 August 2022 (Fantasia)

August 5, 2023
Review: People Who Talk to Plushies Are Kind [Fantasia 2023]

It’s rare to find a film that not only deals with people on their own mental health journeys, but one that (like the group who do what the title says) is completely non-judgmental and observational in its approach.

Following several short and mid-length films, and a contribution to anthology 21st Century Girl, director Yurina Kaneko makes her feature length debut with PEOPLE WHO TALK TO PLUSHIES ARE KIND (ぬいぐるみとしゃべる人はやさしい). From the opening scene, Kaneko makes it clear that this film is about connection, the absence of it, and the people who struggle to connect with a harsh world.

Based on the novel by Ao Omae, university student Tsuyoshi Nanamori (Kanata Hosoda) is one of those people who often feels alone in a crowd. When he and fellow student Mimiko Mugito (Ren Komai) discover the Plushie Club, a place where other students speak directly to plushies while wearing headphones, it opens up a new way of being.

What emerges is a little therapy club, one where the act of sitting and listening and being listened to – even if it is by a stuffed animal – holds an immense power. After all, it would have been really easy to treat this subject as a comedy, and it’s a massive credit to all involved that it becomes such an engaging piece.

Nor does it simply sit on its laurels, and say job done when the group begins to connect. In exploring the complexities of introversion, sexuality, gender, and broader notions of tolerance, Kaneko and Omae recognise that there’s no one size fits all solution. Club member Shiraki (Yuzumi Shintani), for example, finds that kindness a type of torment, something even more of a burden than isolation or harassment. She purposefully puts herself in unsafe environments in order to ‘toughen up.’

The film is intimately shot and casually paced, allowing us time to simply sit with these characters on their way through this period in their lives. There are entire scenes of the group having their own individual conversations with plushies. Other moments show an unguarded character simply struggling to make it out the door. Occasionally the film will switch to the POV of the plushies, as if to suggest that they really are listening.

It’s fair to say that PEOPLE WHO TALK TO PLUSHIES ARE KIND is a unique film, and one that will fly under the radar – much like the characters who inhabit the film. Yet after two years with long stretches of isolation, and increasing levels of social anxiety across the board (especially in Japan), it’s such a timely exploration and well worth seeking out.

2023 | Japan | DIRECTOR: Yurina Kaneko | WRITERS: Suzuyuki Kaneko, Yurina Kaneko (based on the light novels by Ao Omae) | CAST: Kanata Hosoda, Ren Komai, Yuzumi Shintani | DISTRIBUTOR: Fantasia Film Festival | RUNNING TIME: 109 minutes | RELEASE DATE: 20 July – 9 August 2022 (Fantasia)

August 5, 2023
Review: Shin Kamen Rider [Fantasia 2023]

Between rounds finishing his theatrical versions of the Neon Genesis Evangelion saga, Hideaki Anno has been not so quietly reinterpreting other icons of Japanese pop culture. Having climbed the titanic mountains of Godzilla and Ultraman, Anno has turned his eye to a superhero who has been a staple of Japanese media since the 1970s: Kamen Rider.

Like Shin Godzilla and Shin Ultraman, the film version of SHIN KAMEN RIDER (シン・仮面ライダー or Shin Masked Rider as its marketed internationally) reimagines the original franchise in the here and now. Anno wastes no time in throwing us in the deep end, coming in hard with a massive chase highway sequence that’s as fast and furious as any major event film.

Yet the third part of Anno’s thematic trilogy immediately distinguishes itself from its predecessors in a few key ways. The first in the series without his frequent collaborator Shinji Higuchi, the opening fight sequences are quite literally bathed in blood. You might even say it’s a SHOCKER to the system. (That pun makes so much more sense if you’re familiar with the source material – so let’s get on that).

Reinterpreting the original material, the film sees motorcyclist Takeshi Hongo (Sosuke Ikematsu) kidnapped by the Sustainable Happiness Organization with Computational Knowledge Embedded Remodeling (SHOCKER) and transformed into a grasshopper-human augmented being. He is set free by Ruriko Midorikawa (Minami Hamabe), formerly of SHOCKER and the daughter of Dr. Hiroshi Midorikawa (Shinya Tsukamoto), who enhanced Hongo to take down the organisation.

What follows is a series of very comic book inspired fight sequences, a who’s who of single-serve villains and recurring favourites. It’s as if Anno was asked which villain should be used in the film and he responded with ‘Yes.’ Stylistically, this is most cartoony of Anno’s Shin Japan Heroes Universe, even when including Evangelion 3.0 + 1.0: Thrice Upon a Time in that expanded world. Playing up the inherent camp of the genre, there’s certainly no government boardroom meetings this time around.

Some of it is incredibly impressive, especially a speed fight with a Wasp-Aug, while other pieces would happily fit in the wobbly cardboard eras of the franchise history. There’s a Bat-Aug (played by Toru Tezuka), for example, that is a comical rubber mask villain. It may have been a conscious throwback, but it takes one out of the moment.

Yet it remains fascinating for those signature Anno touches. There’s scenes between one of the villains and an artificial intelligence, one that believes mankind’s salvation lies in subjugation, that stylistically and thematically continue Anno’s Evangelion work. In these scenes, a single figure stands in an otherwise blackened room speaking to the AI, and it’s hard not to think about Gendo Ikari talking to the avatars of SEELE.

Building up to a classic team-up of a climax, and leaving the door wide open for future adventures, there’s a lot to like about SHIN KAMEN RIDER. At the very least, it’s a refreshing alternative to the increasingly formulaic Hollywood equivalent and a great end to Anno’s Shin Japan Heroes Universe – and quite possibly the start of something new.

2023 | Japan | DIRECTOR: Hideaki Anno | WRITERS: Hideaki Anno | CAST: Sosuke Ikematsu, Minami Hamabe, Tasuku Emoto, Nanase Nishino, Shinya Tsukamoto, Toru Tezuka, Suzuki Matsuo, Mirai Moriyama | DISTRIBUTOR: Fantasia Film Festival, Amazon Prime | RUNNING TIME: 121 minutes | RELEASE DATE: 20 July – 9 August 2022 (Fantasia)

August 3, 2023