News and Opinion Archive August 2008

Kurosawa Kiyoshi

The second director to come to my summer class was Kurosawa Kiyoshi. Kurosawa-san and I go back a couple of years: we were first introduced by Aoyama Shinji, but I only had a real talk with him when I interviewed him after Bright Future. He kindly came to Yale in March 2006 when we hosted Kinema Club and gave a workshop on film (he mostly discussed other directors) and commented for a panel on Japanese horror. I think this was the first time I've seen him since then. We showed Cure and again went out drinking afterwards (this time to a better place). 

As some students noted, on a personal level Kurosawa-san is a marked contrast from Hiroki-san. They are about the same age (Hiroki-san is one year older), but whereas Hiroki-san wears funky t-shirts, hangs out with young people, jokes around, and quickly answers questions, Kurosawa-san wears conservative clothes, tends to be serious (without being stiff and formal), and thinks very carefully before answering. In terms of translating, Kurosawa-san is a lot easier to interpret for because he is quite measured in his speech. 

Still, I remember going out drinking with Kurosawa-san after the screening of Loft at Yale. I think he was quite nervous before the screening about how the audience would react, but the good comments he got (one of my students made a great observation about the "anxiety of influence" in that film), coupled with the two-foot tall glass of beer he had, made him visibly relieved. It was nice to see a looser Kurosawa-san that time.

I think he was also quite relaxed this time around too. He confessed he had not talked about Cure in a while, so he could not answer every question the students had, but I think he, like with Hiroki-san, did make them think a lot about how to create cinema that does not ram explanation down the throats of the audience. He was especially interrogated about the scriptwriting process and his relations with producers. He emphasized his belief that the ambiguity in his films stems not only from his own, honest inability to provide clear answers, but also from a central ambiguity in cinema compared to the novel. I then queried him about the novelization of Cure that he wrote, noting, for instance, that the end is "clearer" in the novel than in the film. He laughed, and commented how novels allow you to lie better than cinema does. 

It was nice to have these two directors come to class. I can occasionally rope in a visiting director or two when I am at Yale, but teaching in Japan allows for a lot more contact with filmmakers and the industry. The summer class this year was pretty tough (it was too hot to lead students around on field trips!), but quite rewarding.

Hiroki Ryuichi

Sorry for the lack of posts. The summer class was frankly one of the toughest classes I have taught, not because of the students--who were great--but because of the time involved. My last post was written during the last week of class, after which I had grading, a trip to Hokkaido, cleaning up and packing, and the plane back to the States. Now I am back in Connecticut.

But my class was graced with some nice guests in the last few days. The first one was the director Hiroki Ryuichi. I've known Hiroki-san for some years, since when I first met him at the Tokyo Film Festival after a screening of I Am an SM Writer (he kindly said he had read my review of Night Without Angels). I had more opportunities to talk with him when we were both invited to the Dejima Film Festival and later to Nippon Connection. It was he who kindly gave me a birthday cake during a Q and A session after one of his films at Dejima and joked about making a movie called "Tokyo Ramen Baby" about a traveling ramen stand in Europe with me in a side role as a crazy customer. Hiroki-san is a nice guy, though we somewhat live in different worlds.

This was Hiroki-san's first visit to one of my classes and we showed Vibrator and had a great discussion afterwards. It was the first time many of my students had met a director and talked to him about a film he had made and some were quite inquisitive. What I am glad got out was the degree to which Hiroki-san refrains from explanation in his films, preferring long takes to cut-ins and close-ups. He even related a time in Sundance when Robert Redford noted that of his work and Hiroki-san took that as confirmation that his way of making films was OK. I've always thought about Hiroki-san in the same line as Matsuoka Joji as a director who uses what I call the "detached style" more from his guts, or from a both intuitive and professional sense of what cinema is, than from an intellectual stance like Aoyama Shinji or even Kurosawa Kiyoshi. And unlike Kitano, who can also think from the gut, Hiroki-san and Matsuoka-san do this without foregrounding an auteur style, presenting instead their long take, long shots as the accumulated knowledge of a craftsman.

We went out drinking afterwards (I have to apologize to Hiroki-san about the choice of restaurants), and "Hiroki-san-rashiku" he brought a young actress with him.

I saw Hiroki-san's Kimi no tomodachi after his visit to class and I was quite impressed. In this day, when there are still tons of Japanese tear-jerkers out there where one side of a couple dies, this was one film without cheaply obtained tears. Again using long-shot, long takes for much of the film, Hiroki-san makes us work hard to get close to the characters. When something sad happens, we thus cry (and I cried a lot!), not because we have been manipulated to cry, but because we have made that effort to try to learn about these people.

Here's a shot of Hiroki-san's tasteful t-shirt.

Hiroki


Akatsuka Fujio

This may not be that directly related to film, but one of my favorite manga artists (and one of the favorites of my son), Akatsuka Fujio, died on the 2nd at the age of 72. Akatsuka was one of the famous residents of Tokiwa-so, the rundown apartment where many of the postwar manga greats like Tezuka Osamu, Ishinomori Shotaro, and Fujiko F. Fujio lived. Akatsuka worked in a variety of genres, including shojo manga (his Himitsu no Akko-chan was a big hit as an anime), but his genius lay in gag manga, creating such great works as Osomatsu-kun, Moretsu Ataro, and especially Tensai Bakabon, the masterpiece that deconstructs, if not destroys the very premises of manga. He never quite surpassed such a devastating and brilliant work, but his experimental and playful verve continued, as he made some silly movies in the late 1970s like Shimooichiai yakitori mubi and Akatsuka Fujio no poruno gyagu. He was on good terms with the comedic fringe (he's famous for supporting Tamori when he was starting out), and also had connections with the radical left (the only time I ever met him was at the party for Adachi Masao when he got out of jail). His gags became popular phenomenon, and even Godzilla was once caught doing a "shey" (the body gesture Iyami always did in Osomatsu-kun).  

Being a fan also of Sugiura Shigeru (note my article on him and Godzilla in In Godzilla's Footsteps), the great gag manga artist of the 1950s, I was impressed when Akatsuka, on the occasion of Sugiura's death, declared "I never met Sugiura, but he was my teacher." To me Sugiura, Akatsuka, and Sasaki Maki (another experimental manga artist greatly influenced by Sugiura), form a very significant and alternative line in Japanese manga history.

Gomeifuku o inorimasu na no da!

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