Children Who Chase Lost Voices from Deep Below (星を追う子ども, 2011)

“.  .  .  it came in a language

Untouched by pity, in lines, lavish and dark,

Where death is reborn and sent into the world as a gift,

So the future, with no voice of its own, nor hope

Of ever becoming more than it will be, might mourn.”

- from “Orpheus Alone” by Mark Strand 

The Continuous Life: Poems

New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1990

For his latest anime, Children Who Chase Lost Voices from Deep Below (Hoshi wo Ou Kodomo, 2011), animator Makoto Shinkai delves into legends about the underworld.  In Japanese creation mythology, it is said that the female deity Izanami dies and goes to Yomi – the “shadowy land of the dead.”  The male deity Izanagi goes after her and tries to bring her back to the land of the living.  The tale has many similarities to the ancient Greek tale of Orpheus and his wife Eurydice, and Shinkai draws on the symbolism of both of these tales in this, his most complex animated film to date.

The central character is a lonely preteen girl called Asuna Watase.  Her father died when she was very young and her mother often works night shifts at the hospital which means that Asuna is frequently left to fend for herself.  In addition to her schoolwork she cleans her own clothes, makes her own meals, and does other chores around the house to help out as much as she can.  Although she is doing well in school and seems to get along well with her classmates, Asuna spends a lot of time on her own.  She often sits on the hillside listening to strange music that she can pick up on the crystal radio left to her by her father.

Hoshi wo Ou Kodomo 

(Children who Chase Lost Voices from Deep Below) (Theatrical Anime)"

subs: English/Japanese/Chinese

One day while crossing the rail bridge, she is attacked by a giant, bear-like creature.  A mysterious boy named Shun rescues her and the next day they bond with each other listening to the crystal radio.  Shun tells her that he comes from another land called Agartha and there appears to be a connection between his native land and the music Asuna listens to on her radio.  They promise to meet up again the next day, but Shun has disappeared and is rumoured to have fallen to his death into the river.

Meanwhile, Asuna’s teacher goes on pregnancy leave and is replaced by a charismatic male teacher called Morisaki.  Asuna is fascinated by Mr. Morisaki’s tales of the underworld and visits him at his house to learn more.  It turns out that both Asuna and Morisaki are destined to journey into the underworld (Agartha) together – Asuna is drawn there by her natural curiosity and her desire to be loved, whereas Morisaki has been driven mad by his grief for his late wife and he uses violence to go on his Orphean quest to resurrect his wife.

Makoto Shinkai has admitted in interviews that he has been deeply influenced by the films of Hayao Miyazaki and the influence is very strong in Children Who Chase Lost Voices from Deep Below.  Asuna has a little cat-like creature – which the medicine man in the underworld calls a yadoriko– which is very similar to the fox-like creature Teto in Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind (1984).  The Quetzalcoatls resemble some of the kami from Princess Mononoke (1997) as well as the stone robots of Laputa: Castle in the Sky (1987). The use of a flying ship – the Shakuna Vimana ark – is also very Miyazaki. 

While the Miyazaki influence is undeniable, I am not one of those critics declaring Shinkai as the next Miyazaki.  First of all, I think that’s putting way too much pressure too soon on a director who has not yet fully matured as an artist.  Second of all, Shinkai’s films have a very different feeling to me than Studio Ghibli films.  Shinkai’s work takes itself much more seriously than a Studio Ghibli film.  A typical Ghibli film is full of visual gags and self referential humour, whereas there are few laughs in Shinkai.  What sets Shinkai apart from his peers is that he is the master of dreamy landscapes.  He uses such a colourful palette – and not just for landscapes.  Some of the interior sequences of the medicine man's home looked as colourful and intricate as a patchwork quilt.  One of the more interesting sequences was the flashback to all the famous world leaders from Caesar to Napolean, from Hitler to Stalin who, according to the legends of the bottom-dwellers – tried to plunder the riches of the underworld.  The sequence was painted like an elaborate wall mural.

Children Who Chase Lost Voices from Deep Below is on the one hand the moving story of a lonely girl’s quest to make sense of the world she is living in.  On the other hand, for the viewer it is a philosophical journey into the realms of the possible.  Although there is some influence of the Orpheus myth, the ideas in this film largely come from Shintō, Buddhist, and even some Sanskrit thought, with the medicine man reminding us that while it is normal to grieve the dead, we should not pity them for the cycle of life and death is a natural one.  Death is not to be feared but accepted.  We need to count our blessings and learn to let go of the past in order to continue on our journey into the future.  

Catherine Munroe Hotes 2012

This film screened at:

onedotzero: j-star 11

onedotzero is a London-based moving image and digital arts organisation which commissions, showcases and promotes innovation across all aspects of moving image, digital and interactive arts.  Founded in 1996, onedotzero has gained a reputation for representing a diverse array of artistic endeavour via the annual onedotzero: adventures in motionfestival and its associated touring. Suppported by the BFI and the Arts Council England, it has a cross media and collaborative approach attuned to technological advances and fast paced change within digital arts and the contemporary culture landscape.

The Japanese portion of the festival selection j-star 11 screened at Nippon Connection 2012.  It’s an eclectic mixture of music videos, innovative commercials, and short films.  Thank You World from the Sapporo Short Fest 2011 and Blind by Yukihiro Shoda were made as a direct response to the 3/11 disaster.  I had not heard of Construction by Mirai Mizue, but it turned out to be a low res excerpt of Tatamp(2011) featuring twoth.  Some of the highlights for me were Toshiaki Hanzaki’s animated music video for Mr. Children – a popular band who have a long history of supporting alternative animation – tangefilms’ phenakistoscope inspired animated music video for Hitomi Azuma, the surreal geometric play of Shinya Sato’s video for Chateau Marmont, and Yasuda Takahiro’s two tone approach to the primal scream of Kaisoku Tokyo’s Copy.  For those of you who missed this event, a number of the films are featured on Vimeo.

cmmhotes 2012

Thank You World by Seiichi HISHIKAWA, J 2011, HDcam, 2’59 Min.

Christmas / Amazarashi by YKBX, J 2011, HDcam, 6’24 Min.

Blind by Yukihiro SHODA, J 2011, HDcam, 5’17 Min.

Construction by Mirai MIZUE, J 2011, HDcam, 3’15 Min.

Tsuchinoko / Gaka by Yuto NAKAMURA, Ayahiko SATO [rakudasan], J 2011, HDcam, 5’37 Min.

Nnet Station Op by Fantasista UTAMARO, J 2011, HDcam, 0’24 Min.

The Smell Of The Flowers / Mr. Children by Toshiaki HANZAKI, J 2009, HDcam, 5’23 Min.

Senkyou / Mergrim by Makoto YABUKI, J 2011, HDcam, 3’09 Min.

Xylophone by Seiichi HISHIKAWA, J 2011, HDcam, 3’05 Min.

Polygon Graffiti: An Uguisu Morph by QNQ/AUJIK, J 2011, HDcam, 4’32 Min.

Kira Kira / Azuma Hitomi by TANGEFILMS, J 2011, HDcam, 3’09 Min.

Assimilation by Takuya HOSOGANE, J 2011, HDcam, 1’29 Min.

Anomie / Amazarashi by YKBX, J 2011, HDcam, 4’37 Min.

Electropia / Joyz / Uk + by Noriko OKAKU, J 2011, HDcam, 4’39 Min.

One Hundred Realities / Chateau Marmont by Shinya SATO, J 2010, HDcam, 3’25 Min.

Kyu by Yyu FUJII, J 2011, HDcam, 1’29 Min.

Copy / Kaisoku Tokyo by Yasuda TAKAHIRO, J 2011, HDcam, 1’33 Min.

Damn What Ringtone / Hifana by Takashi OHASHI, J 2011, HDcam, 0’53 Min.

The TV Show / Takayuiki Manabe by Kousuke SUGIMOTO, J 2009, HDcam, 3’28 Min.

Henshin Gattai! by Shota SAKAMOTO, J 2011, HDcam, 1’33 Min.

Akino Kondoh’s Kiya Kiya (きやきや, 2010-2011)

At Nippon Connection 2012, we had the rare opportunity to see the latest animated short by the artist Akino Kondoh.  It took Kondoh more than a year to complete Kiya Kiya(2010-2011), which is remarkable considering that each frame of an Akino Kondoh animation is as highly detailed as her paintings and illustrations.  Kiya Kiya film is about six-and-a-half minutes long with Kondoh creating 15 frames per second.

Eiko, the bob-haired girl with the beguiling smile, sits in a cabinet with a kamishibai (紙芝居) on her lap.  Kamishibai, which translates as “paper drama,” is a traditional form of storytelling that dates back to 12^th century.  It underwent a revival in Japan in the early part of the 20^th century when kamishibaistorytellers (gaito kamishibaiya) would bicycle from village to village with their portable wooden display boxes.  Today in Japan, kamishibai sets are often used in schools in lieu of storybooks as they are easier for storytelling to an audience.  The pictures are on the front of the large cards and the text is on the back for the storyteller to read. 

In Kiya Kiya, Eiko is the storyteller.  As she changes the pictures in her kamishibai, her lips move and instead of hearing her words, cursive script begins to appear in columns as if written by a calligrapher’s hand in the traditional direction of top to bottom, right to left.  At first it appears to be hiragana (the cursive Japanese syllabary which Japanese children today learn first), but is actually illegible.  In an interview, Kondoh explains that she made the script by combining parts of hiragana with four letters from the Latin alphabet.

The illegibility of the text works on two levels in the film.  The first is that it gives the impression of text without allowing words to distract from the animation itself – which is what Kondoh herself has stated as her intention in the aforementioned interview.  The ambiguity of the text is heightened when it metamorphoses into shapes, and then into playful little tailed creatures in blue and red.

The indecipherable text also adds to the illusive character of Eiko herself.  Eiko is a kind of trickster character.  In one moment she charms with her smile, while in the next moment she shocks with a cruel or disturbing act.  The stark blacks and whites of Kondoh’s colour palette also highlight the dual nature of Eiko.  In Kiya Kiya, two more colours are added: red and blue.  In the third section of the film Eiko splits into two and a red Eiko and a blue Eiko chase each other and embrace each other like two kittens at play.  This sequence recalls Kondoh’s earlier animated film Ladybirds’ Requiem (てんとう虫のおとむらい, 2005-2006) which features a sequence in which a red ladybird (or “ladybug” in North American English) with black spots and a black ladybird with red spots embrace and spin around together.

Kiya Kiya is divided into three sections which are indicated by the insertion of title cards.  There is also a short introductory sequence and an upside-down title card before the end credits begin.  When I first heard the title of this film, I thought that “kiya kiya” might be an obscure onomatopoeia (sound word) for the sound made by one of the wonderful insects Akino Kondoh likes to use in her works.  It turns out that the title comes from an archaic expression that Kondoh found in Shojo korekushon josetsu (1985), a collection of short stories about girls by Tatsuhiko Shibusawa – a writer, critic, and translator of French literature (including Jean Cocteau and de Sade) who was close friends with Yukio Mishima.  In the glossary of the Shojo korekushon josetsu, Kondoh came across the expression “mune ga kiya kiya suru” (胸がきやきやする/a “kiya kiya” in one’s chest) which was translated as “a keen feeling experienced after an episode of déjà vu hat is unsettling and disturbing yet also familiar” (source). 

The Japanese language is rich with onomatopoeia which not only mimic sounds (giseigo) but also can describe actions or feelings (gitaigo).  For example, the giseigo “doki doki” is the onomatopoeia for the sound of a beating heart, but when it is turned into a verb “doki doki suru” it is used to describe the feelings one has when one’s heart is racing – such as nervousness or excitement.  “Kiya kiya” may have also at some point have had a sound associated with it, but Kondoh seems to have been drawn to the expression “mune ga kiya kiya suru” because it expresses the feeling of unease mixed with nostalgia that she expresses in her work.

This feeling of unease is amplified in Kiya Kiya by the soundtrack which was composed by the American avant-garde artist John Zorn – for whom Kondoh designed the album cover of The Goddess: Music for the Ancient Days (2010).  The soundtrack is predominantly high female voices and percussive instruments.  Like the images, the music repeats motifs - sometimes so much so that it sounds like a skipping record.  Repetitive images build throughout the film: Eiko lying as if dead in the overturned cabinet, Eiko being strangled by the branches of a tree, Eiko catching the tailed creatures in her hands like she did the ladybirds in Ladybirds’ Requiem.  The images build and build until finally Eiko stretches out naked on her back on a branch over a precipice and she smiles up at us inviting us to both admire and fear her beauty.

Akino Kondoh art comes out of the traditions of alternative manga (Garo, Ax).  In particular, she cites the controversial artist Toshio Saeki as an influence (source).  However, unlike the more exploitative and voyeuristic view of women in Saeki’s work, Kondoh’s work is an exploration of the self.  Eiko is the artist’s alter ego, developed out of Kondoh’s own, often disturbing, childhood memories.  Eiko’s trickster nature means she is hard to pin down, sometimes appearing as a girl while at other times a young woman, sometimes she seems to be the victim, while at other times she is the perpetrator.  Innocent and knowing, kind and cruel, drawing us in and pushing us away – Eiko both seduces and unnerves with her unusual charms.

Catherine Munroe Hotes 2012

Credits

Animation by Akino Kondoh

Music by John Zorn

Special Thanks to

Emi Nishiwaki

Marc Urselli

Masahiro Katayama

Tomoe Tsusumi

Agency for Cultural Affairs, Japan

Mizuma Art Gallery

Pola Art Foundation

To learn more about Akino Kondoh and Kiya Kiya, check out:

Akino Kondoh’s official website

Her profile at Mizuma Art Gallery

My chat with Kondoh at Shinsedai 2010

A glimpse of the studio in Astoria (Queens, NYC) where Kondoh made Kiya Kiya

Kamijo, Keiko.  “Manga x Culture Vol. 1 Akino Kondoh.”  Cat’s Forehead. Trans. Luke Baker, 2011.

Huynh, Matt.  “Q+A with Akino Kondoh.” Yellow Trace. 19 April 2011.

This film screened at:

http://nipponconnection.com/

The Modern Films of Mirai Mizue

The innovative experimental artist Mirai Mizue often takes a scientific approach to animation.  With each new film or film series, he challenges his discipline as an artist (take his current Wonder 365 Animation Project where he aims to make animation every day for a whole year) and investigates the theoretical possibilities of his craft.

Modern (2010) and Modern No. 2(2011) further explore the method of geometric animation which Mizue used for the first time in Metropolis(2009).  These films are made using isometric drawings planned out on graph paper, and are inspired by optical illusions such as the graphic art of M.C. Escher. 

In the “Making Of” extra on the DVD Mirai Mizue Works 2003-2010, Mizue explains that for Modern, he set himself the rule that he could only use three kinds of lines: one vertical and two slanting.  Thus the film consists only of the transformation of rectangular parallelepipeds.  Mizue was interested in making as interesting a film as possible using a minimal number of elements in order to prove the theory that animation can be very good when one imposes a limitation on movements.  It would be very easy, and much less time consuming, to make films like Modern and Modern No. 2 using CG software but the look and feel of the film would be very different.  There is a warmth and tactility to Mizue’s films that would be lost if the lines were computer generated. 

Modern and Modern No. 2 have a lot of visual similarities in terms of graphic style, but they are at the same time quite distinct from one another.  Modern begins completely in grey scale then the shapes take on bright colours that stand out against the foggy grey background and the whole frame outlined by a soft black outline.  The rhythm is much slower in Modern than in Modern No. 2 because Mizue asked his composer, twoth, to increase the tempo.  Modern also had a much more consistent tempo, whereas with Modern No. 2 Mizue experiments with variations in speed. 

The biggest change with Modern No. 2 is the change in colour.  For his earlier films, Mizue tended to use plain paper, but for Modern No. 2 he uses traditionally made paper with texture.  This creates a wonderful textured effect with the threads of the paper visible and jumping about from frame to frame.  The colour palette for the geometric shapes is inspired by traditional Japanese art – colourful and dynamic yet more muted than in Modern.

It is an exhilarating experience to watch Mirai Mizue’s geometric films.  The precision of movement and the way in which the animation works in together with the soundtrack is truly a wonder to behold.  Modern appears on the DVD Mirai Mizue Works 2003- 2010.  Please support his artist by ordering it today.

Catherine Munroe Hotes 2012

Modern and Modern No. 2 screened at:

In a Pig's Eye (わからないブタ, 2010)

  

A giant pig lies in an ordinary garden, blocking the door to the house.  The house is occupied by a large and unusual family: wife, husband, grandmother, and six nearly identical chubby boys.  The atmosphere inside the house is dark and oppressive: the balding, middle-aged husband slices deli meat, decorating his body with the slices while the wife tries to push granny up the stairs while chewing on snacks she keeps in her apron.  Life in the garden seems more carefree: a boy embraces a piglet in the branches of a tree, another boy is blown in a series of gentle front tucks by air blown through, a boy swings like an acrobat from the tree, while another pretends to fish from the rooftop.  The repetitive activities of everyday life come to an end with the wail of the town siren.  The family makes a circle around the giant pig and do a kind of ritualized dance. Is this all real life or just a dream?  

In a Pig's Eye (Wakaranai buta, 2010) is independent animator Atsushi Wada’s graduation film from the graduate animation programme at Tokyo University of the Arts.   With In a Pig’s Eye, Wada continues his exploration of the artistic concept of “ma” or the “spaces in between.”  As with his earlier works, the animation is drawn frame by frame using pencil on paper, with subtle colours added during the computer editing process.  Compared to his earlier work, this film has a wonderful sepia hue to it that recalls traditional paintings done on scroll paper.

The film revisits many themes and motifs typical of an Atsushi Wada film: subtle character movements, domestic animals (in this case pigs and a dog), chubby boys, and repetition of movement.  The dreary everyday chores of life depicted inside the house are in stark contrast to the more carefree play outside, yet the film as a whole depicts both the tedium and absurdity of ordinary day-to-day life.  For me the giant pig in the garden symbolizes the types of inexplicable curveballs life sometimes throws at us.  You can allow it to trap you (like the boy trying and failing to leave the house), or you can make the best of it and discover something really wonderful (the boy being blown into the air by the pig).

When I have been at screenings of Atsushi Wada’s earlier films – particularly Manipulated Man (2006) and Day of Nose (2005) – audiences have tended to be quite silent either with wonder or with incredulity.  Mechanism of Spring (2010) and In a Pig’s Eyeare the first Wada films where I actually felt the audiences engage in a warm way with his art.  In fact, In a Pig’s Eye has some slapstick elements (door slamming into pig; boy suddenly falling; etc.) that made me laugh out loud at the absurdity of it all.  Thus I was surprised to learn from Wada, that the films were made with only aesthetics and not comedy in mind.  At the Filmmaker's Talk that I hosted at Nippon Connection 2012, Wada revealed that he had been quite shocked the first time he attended a screening of one of his films at an international festival (it was at VIFF) to hear the audience laughing out loud at his film.

Wada reminded me that film audiences in Japan do not make any noise while watching a screening (they don’t even scream during horror films!), so he cannot tell if Japanese audiences find his films amusing or not.  Western audiences are not shy about expressing genuine emotion during a screening, and the reaction to In a Pig’s Eye at festivals has been largely positive.  The film has won several awards including Best Film at Fantoche in 2010 and the Prix DeVarti for the funniest film at the Ann Arbor Film Festival 2011.  


When Wada was speaking to me about his films I was reminded of Luigi Pirandello's absurdist meta-theatrical play Six Characters in Search of an Author (1921) and theories about authorial intention.  A creator of art obviously wishes for their creation to be well received by spectators, but once an artwork is created it takes on a life of its own.  Although audiences may not be receiving the work in the way that Wada intended, it is surely a wonderful thing that the film has taken on a life of its own and delighted audiences around the world.  


Each frame of a Wada film is a work of art in itself.  During the Filmmaker's Talk I asked him about whether or not he preferred working with film or digitally (he had to use 8mm film for Concerning the Rotation of a Child (2004) when he was a student at Image Forum).  Wada prefers making his films digitally because he draws such fine lines using a mechanical pencil.  These fine lines are more difficult to capture with film, so digitally scanning the images gives him a much better result.


Wada explains more about his technique on the CALF DVD Atsushi Wada Works 2002-2010 which also includes In a Pig's Eye.

Order Now

Catherine Munroe Hotes 2012

Ryo Hirano’s Holiday (ホリデイ, 2011)

Holiday (ホリデイ, 2011) is Ryo Hirano’s graduate film from Tama University of Art and the theme is one that he has explored before: love and the body.  Hirano has said that the concept was based on memories of the summer holidays (source: public-image.org) – and if you’ve ever experienced a swelteringly hot summer in central Japan you will understand how it might inspire a trippy, fantastical such as this one.

The film opens with an iris shot of a romantic lakeside resort with multicoloured gondolas quietly passing over the stretch of water.  It is as if we are viewing the scene through a telescope.  The idyllic scene abruptly ends with the next cut as we are suddenly confronted with an imori (an akahara imori / Japanese fire belly newt to be precise) stuck in a pipe.  The stuggle of the imori is in stark contrast to the idyllic sound of piano playing.  A rush of water sends the imori flying out of the tap and into a young woman’s drinking glass.  The woman drinks as she walks across the room and we see that she is in a Japanese room with tatami floor and the sliding doors wide open to reveal the lush landscape rising from the lake.  A naked man painted gold plays a miniature piano on his lap.  The girl chokes on the imori and falls to the floor, the idyll of the scene interrupted as she crawls to the toilet to throw up.  The imori walks out of the bathroom covered in puke – as he wipes it off himself we are treated to the revolting inducing image of a three-dimensional, realistic looking sick pile hitting a drawn tatami floor.  The girl lies prone on the floor as the gold man tries to help her recover and the imori beg her forgiveness by bowing.

Holiday Trailer:

The next scene really does say Japanese summer holiday: the imori in a hotel yukata stands smoking under a tree in front of the Lake View Hotel with a glorious view of the lake marred by a road cutting right through it.  Typical.  The naked gold man pulls up in a red car with the girl looking ill, but somewhat recovered and they take the imori on a journey with them.  The unlikely threesome put on a concert in a band shell in the forest.  Their only spectator is a naked, well-endowed cat who philosophizes about love.  The girl coughs until she collapses on stage and metamorphoses into an ear.  The imori – possibly enraged with guilt – attacks the cat.  The cat made me think of Kenji Miyazawa, but I do not know it this was Hirano’s intention.

Back in the Japanese hotel room, the ear sits on the table as the gold man cries.  He comes up with the ingenious idea of descending the imori into the ear by tying a rope to his tail.   At first, this seems to go well, until the imori gets stuck and the gold man rips off his tail in a futile effort to pull him out.  The imagery from here on out gets more and more dreamlike with piano music played from the ear like a radio, the girl running in the dark and crying, the red car floating in the air and rain falling in slow motion, and lovely landscapes.  It is a strange tale of love and loss blurred together like hazy memories of a lakeside holiday during Obon.

While working on this animation, Hirano saw a woman interviewed on TV who was upset by the suicide of the Korean actor and singer Park Yong-ha (1977-2010).  Through her tears, the woman said that the rain that fell that day was the rain of Park Yong-ha. (source: public-image.org)  This notion of a deceased person being turned into rain made a strong impression on Hirano and he incorporated it into this unusual animated tale of love and friendship between a man, a woman, and an imori.    

Catherine Munroe Hotes 2012

Filmography

2007  udara udara (うだらうだら)

2008  Future Man (蟻人間物語/Ari Ningen Monogatari)

2008  Midnight Zoo (深夜動物園/Shinya Dōbutsuen)

2009  music video orchestra (collaborative work for Omodaka)

2009  The Kappa’s Arms (河童の腕/Kappa no Ude)

2009  Ichigwankoku/ One-Eyed Country (一眼国/Ichigankoku)

2009  Guitar (ギター)

2010 Kensaku Shōnen (検索少年, Tabito Nanao music video)

2011  Hietsuki Bushi (ひえつき節/Omodaka music video)

2011 Space Shower TV Station ID

2011  Holiday (ホリデイ)

This film screened at:

The Kappa’s Arms (河童の腕, 2009)

It is said in Japanese folklore that the kappa are water sprites that, like the endangered Japanese giant salamander, inhabit streams.  Mischievous creatures, the kappa have been depicted as everything from harmless creatures who challenge those they meet to various tests of skill to threatening creatures who have been blamed for drowning and the rape of women.  In recent years, kappa have featured in everything from anime such as Keiichi Hara’s Summer Dayswith Coo (2007) to Shinji Imaoka’s pink film musical Underwater Love (2011).

The indie animator Ryo Hiranobased his 2009 short film The Kappa’s Arms (河童の腕/Kappa no Ude) on a story he had a read about a kappa losing its arm.  He initially developed one page of scribbles like a manga and based on that rough sketch developed the concept further.  As Hirano was working on this animation, a friend of his passed away, and this altered the story significantly.  This is Hirano’s most personal film to date, with a letter his mother once sent him when he was an exchange student in New Zealand also influencing the plot (source: Public Image)

On a flat rock in a quiet stream, two young kappa, one green and one yellow, playfully sumo wrestle with each other.  Fun turns to horror as the green kappa loses his balance and grabs onto the yellow kappa’s arm to prevent himself from falling into the water.  He ends up tearing both arms from his friend’s body, leaving the yellow kappa with bloody stumps.  The yellow kappa seems unperturbed by this until the green kappa playfully runs away with the arms.  He tries catch up with his friend but stumbles on a stone and floats away downstream.

The yellow kappa’s arms struggle free from the green kappaand jump into the stream as well.  The green kappa then spots his friends lifeless body and dives into the stream to try to rescue him.  The tearful green kappa and his friend’s arms wash up at a seaside resort and in this new mysterious habitat with strange visitations from a rainbow coloured triangular UFO, the green kappa faces the grief of having lost his friend. 

The Kappa’s Arms is a mixed media film that mainly relies on cutouts for the character movement.  The soundtrack mainly consists of natural sounds (flowing stream, bird calls) until the dream-like sequence at the end when Hirano adds music to the mix.  It is one of Hirano’s most straightforward stories and demonstrates his love of the grotesque (guro) in manga and animation.  Friendship conquers all in this little story.  .  .  just not in the way that you might expect.

Catherine Munroe Hotes 2012

Watch the film for yourself on Hirano's official Youtube channel.

Learn more about Ryo Hirano on his official website.

Filmography

2007  udara udara (うだらうだら)

2008  Future Man (蟻人間物語/Ari Ningen Monogatari)

2008  Midnight Zoo (深夜動物園/Shinya Dōbutsuen)

2009  music video orchestra (collaborative work for Omodaka)

2009  The Kappa’s Arms (河童の腕/Kappa no Ude)

2009  Ichigwankoku / One-Eyed Country (一眼国/Ichigankoku)

2009  Guitar (ギター)

2010  Kensaku Shōnen (検索少年, Tabito Nanao music video)

2011  Hietsuki Bushi (ひえつき節/Omodaka music video)

2011  Space Shower TV Station ID

2011  Holiday (ホリデイ)

Takashi Iitsuka’s Super Organic Battle Action Adventure

The young filmmaker Takashi Iitsuka (飯塚貴士, b. 1985) wowed Nippon Connection 2012 with the international premiere of his short film Encounters (エンカウンターズ, 2011).  The half hour action adventure action figure drama has previously screened at festivals in Japan such as the Sendai Short Film Festival and the Yubari International Fantastic Film Festival.

Encounters uses neither stop motion animation nor any CG effects.  It is purely old school live action puppet action – a technique which Iizuka has christened “Super Organic Battle Action.”  Using handmade action figures and monster puppets, Iizuka carefully manipulates the characters either by hand or fishing wire.  The result is a loving send up of the great monster movies of Ishirō Honda (Godzilla, King Kong vs. Godzilla, Mothra vs. Godzilla).  The campiness of the film and the use of marionette effects recalls the “supermarionation” techniques employed in the UK cult classic Thunderbirds (Gerry and Sylvia Anderson, 1965-6).

The story centers on two buddies, Max and John, who have taken a trip to the countryside to help Max get his mind off his girlfriend troubles. Just as the countryside and a chance encounter with a friendly stray dog named Kifune seem to be lifting Max’s spirits, a furry super-monster crashes into the scene and has a confrontation with some armed forces.  The story then spirals into a pastiche plot line that throws in all the elements typical in a Japanese scifi action adventure: a mad scientist, fear of robots, love and friendship conquering all, and so on.

Talking to Iitsuka at Nippon Connection, I discovered that he did indeed play alone with action figures a lot as a kid.  He was an only child and did not have the means to buy too many toys.  He had a hero figure in Ultraman but lacked monsters – a problem he remedied by creating his own monsters using PET bottles.  His aim with Encounters was to transfer the fun and spontaneity of such child’s play into the film. 

His eyes lit up with delight when I mentioned the Thunderbirds and he added that he was also a big fan of Captain Scarlet and the Mysterons (1967-8), a dark scifi “supermarionation” also by Gerry and Sylvia Anderson.  In terms of action films, in addition to being inspired by the Ultraman franchise, Iitsuka is also a big fan of The Delta Force movies starring Chuck Norrisand Lee Marvin.  This would explain his choice of Waffen Film Studio for the name of his one man production company.  “Waffen” is German for “weapons”. 

All levels of production were done by Iizuka himself: cinematography, editing, sound, music, set building, costumes and special effects.  He made about 5 or 6 sets and manipulated the figures either marionette-style using fishing wire (which you can cheesily still see in some frames) or by hand (but without the hands being seen).  For one sequence, for example, he built the set on top of the bathtub so that he could manipulate the figures from underneath.  Some of the figures and sets were made using materials that he already had but others were built with supplies from the hobby shop.  Some of the most interesting designs were done using papercraft and based on photographs Iitsuka took himself. 

Iitsuka even does all the voices including a falsetto for Max’s girlfriend in a flashback sequence.  The subtitles are kind of odd – at times very inspired – as when a wordy curse in Japanese is translated to English simply as “Jesus!”  At other times the English subs are awkward and badly spelled  –  but that just adds to the fun. The subtitles, which were done by Naoki Suzuki of the Sendai Short Film Festival, complement the kitschiness of the film and the quirkiness of the Japanese dialogue.   Iitsuka designed the dialogue as a spoof of the unusual Japanese dub s done on Hanna-Barbera cartoons like Shazzan (1967-9) and The Fantastic Four (1967-9) when they were first imported to Japan.

See opening to Japanese dub of Shazzan here, and The Fantastic Four here:

The film was shot on a Sony Video Z5J and edited using Abobe Software, Premiere, Aftereffects, etc.  Iitsuka told me that he hopes that people will get a message of hope from the film.  He is working on his next Super Organic Battle Action Adventure and was planning to explore German hobby shops for materials after the festival.  An art school grad, Iitsuka has a natural eye for framing - doubtless honed by years of TV watching.  The concept could easily have turned out completely schlocky, but I found the result brilliant.  I hope that Iitsuka’s Encounters obtains the cult following that it deserves, and I look forward to seeing where his imagination takes him to next.  

Catherine Munroe Hotes 2012

You can follow Iitsuka on Twitter (JP only)
A 20 minute cut of the film is available on imdb (JP/EN)

Postcard (一枚のハガキ, 2010)

Kaneto Shindō’s film Postcard(Ichimai no Hagaki, 2010) opened Nippon Connection 2012 last Wednesday night.  The 100 year old director, who was mentored by legendary filmmaker Kenji Mizoguchi, has said that it will be his final film.  Postcard features a strong female lead – a common feature of Shindō’s films – a resilient peasant woman named Tomoko Morikawa (Shinbou Ōtake).  In order to emphasize Tomoko’s emotional and physical strength, Shindō shows Tomoko ably carting water to her home using a shoulder pole.  This motif recalls Shindō’s classic film The Naked Island (Hadaka no shima, 1960) which tells a similar story of a rural family struggling to survive on a tiny island.

Tomoko does not live on an island but she is similarly trapped by circumstances of fate.  Women living in rural Japan during World War II may just as well have been living on islands for their choices were limited.  Tomoko has been living a meagre existence with her husband Sadazo (Naomasa Musaka) and his elderly parents (Akira Emoto and Mitsuko Baisho).  They were poor but happy for 16 years until Sadazo is called up into military service.  Sadazo is then one of the unlucky chosen by the drawing of lots to be shipped off to Manila.  On the eve of his departure, Sadazo shares a poignant postcard from his wife with his bunk mate Keita Matsuyama (Etsushi Toyokawa).  Sadazo has been unable to bring himself to reply to the postcard because he knows that anything he writes that is personal will be censored by the military.  He predicts that Matsuyama will be more likely to survive the war on home front duty and gives the postcard to Matsuyama for safekeeping, asking him to take it to Tomoko after the war and tell her that he received it.

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Postcard (Ichimai no Hagaki)

In structuring the film, Shindō has tried to find a balance between tragedy and comedy.  Indeed, tragedy upon tragedy befalls poor Tomoko in the first half of the film to the point that it almost becomes farcical.   Matsuyama himself also returns home to find his life is a tragi-comical disaster.  Matsuyama’s arrival on Tomoko's doorstep with the postcard shifts the balance towards comedy and romance with Ren Osugi putting in a terrific comic performance as a married man who desperately wants Tomoko to become his mistress.

As a female spectator I had mixed feelings about the film at first because for the first half it felt like yet another drama that romanticizes the self-sacrificing wife.  Tomoko is willing to not only do hard labour, but also to marry her brother-in-law in order to fulfil her duties to her husband’s family.  I was won over in the end by the realistic touches in the film.   Shindō has not cast the film with starlets but with mature actors who bring a lot of authenticity to their roles.  Although the string of tragedies Tomoko has to endure seems over the top to us today, such tragedies were sadly all too common in wartime Japan.  Shindō does not romanticize Tomoko’s life, he rather lays it bare.  From sex as a chore to preparing meagre meals with leftover scraps, Tomoko holds her head up high and survives all that life throws at her.

The most touching part of the film is the knowledge that for his final film, Shindō has chosen to tell his own story.  He too was drafted into the Imperial Japanese Navy.  Of the 100 men he served with, 60 were indeed chosen by lottery to serve on a ship and died when their ship was attacked by a submarine.  30 men were selected to serve on a submarine and were lost, and another four were selected to act as machine gunners on freight ships and were also killed.  Shindō was one of six men selected, like Matsuyama, to clean the Takarazuka theatre and they were the only ones from the 100 to survive the war.  "I have always had the souls of the 94 with me and have made them the theme of my existence," said the director when promoting the film at a press conference (source: Mark Schilling).  It is fitting that a director who has dedicated his career to facing injustice full on should end his career with a tribute to the memory of those men whose sacrifice gave us the gift of his talents as a director and screenwriter.  

Catherine Munroe Hotes 2012