2020 Blindspot Pick #12: One Cut of the Dead (2017)

Tags

Comedy, Foreign, Horror

If actors in movies are merely fakes,
How do you manage to up the stakes?
How do you take the viewers’ slump
And get their blood to truly pump?
How do you take a film’s façade
And prove it’s more than just a fraud?

Reality! I’ve said it here;
It’s not enough to fake a tear,
To cry on cue, to feign a scream,
To cheapen what should be extreme.
I want a shark that really bites,
Real zombie hordes with appetites,
A true disaster caught on tape
From which the cast may not escape.

Alas, such things we can’t get at,
With contracts, laws, and things like that,
But if real danger should appear
Why not record the drama, fear,
Reality?! No thought for taste,
Let no disaster go to waste.
_______________________

MPA Rating:  Not Rated (probably R for bloody violence and F words in the subtitles, though there’s clear fakery to the gore)

At long last, I have reached the end of my 2020 Blindspot list, and once more I tap the trite but apt phrase “better late than never.” I didn’t intend to wrap up the list with this Japanese zombie film; it just happened to fall to last place, which only makes it even more surprising that it turned out to be my favorite of all the Blindspots from last year. In case there is doubt, I am typically averse to extreme violence in movies, so zombie flicks are far from my cup of tea. Yet I did love Train to Busan, and the 100% Rotten Tomatoes score for One Cut of the Dead gave me hope that this one might be something special. It is.

For starters, One Cut of the Dead is gleefully meta, being a film about the making of a film about people making a zombie film when real zombies appear. It is also the kind of film that is hard to talk about without giving too much away, but I’ll try to avoid spoilers. Director Higurashi (Takayuki Hamatsu) is trying to wring emotion out of his actors as they shoot an ultra-low-budget zombie flick in an abandoned factory. While the cast and crew grow weary of his demands, actual zombies suddenly appear, and he seizes the life-and-death situation to bring realism to his film, insisting on keeping the camera rolling as the undead move in.

That synopsis alone probably doesn’t seem particularly innovative, but let’s just say there’s more to it. The film’s most impressive achievement is that the first 37 minutes are all one long tracking shot with no cuts (a favorite technique of mine), following the characters from zombie chases to Higurashi’s sabotaging of their escape attempts. As impressive as this is, the film’s low-budget status is evident from the awkward pauses, stilted dialogue, and schlocky violence that largely stays off-screen, building into increasingly funny absurdity. Yet the rest of the movie adds so much more to the initial film within a film, providing context of what happened beforehand and what happened off-camera, making the proceedings even more hilarious, quirky, and (as strange as it may sound) heartwarming.

Modern comedies rarely hold a candle to the older classics, in my opinion, but I’ll admit that One Cut of the Dead had me grinning much more than I expected going in. What seems at first like a groan-worthy wannabe horror turns into a celebration of film and the enormous effort put into it, and I loved how even seemingly insignificant details were given amusing explanations as the story unfolded. Even the director’s name had me wondering if it was an oblique reference to the classic Higurashi horror series.

As much as I enjoyed the film, I wasn’t quite sure if it warranted placement on my list; then I found that there was actually a follow-up sequel of sorts from last year called One Cut of the Dead: Remote Mission, in which the same cast made a short film from their homes during COVID lockdown. Just revisiting the characters and their quirks made me smile all over again and confirmed to me that One Cut of the Dead should be List-Worthy. As a comedy masquerading as horror, its inventive plot, endearing characters, and brilliant execution make it an instant classic in my book.

Best line: (Higurashi’s wife) “Pom!”  (You’ll get it when you see it.)

Rank:  List-Worthy

© 2021 S.G. Liput
719 Followers and Counting

I Lost My Body (2019)

Tags

Animation, Drama, Fantasy, Foreign, Romance

A hand without a body or a man without a hand –
Which would be more piteous or prone to reprimand?
The hand is guiltless, lacking fault; its owner bears the blame
Of entering a situation liable to maim.
The hand is helpless, lacking mind; its owner bears the thought
That they may wish to clap and clasp two hands and yet cannot.
The hand is listless, lacking will; its owner bears the task
Of moving on and living life behind a fragile mask.

The former owner bears so much, yet his lot I’d prefer
Than that poor hand that cannot even know how things once were.
Pity the hand but love the stump and all to it attached.
At bouncing back from tragedy, we humans are unmatched.
____________________________

Rating: TV-MA (should be PG-13)

I take the Best Animated Feature Oscar perhaps more seriously than others do. After superb anime films like Your Name or Maquia have been spurned in recent years, I take notice when the Academy deems other foreign films worthy of the honor of nomination. The seventh French production to earn such a nomination was last year’s I Lost My Body, a strangely poetic meditation on loss that happens to involve a severed hand.

At first, we don’t know how the severed hand came to be, though; the film starts out with the appendage “waking up” in the macabre fridge of a hospital and figuring out how to walk and jump with its fingers, like a more mobile Thing from The Addams Family. Cut then to the past and sullen pizza delivery guy Naoufel (Dev Patel in the quite good English dub), whose childhood of joy and trauma is recounted in flashback throughout the film. In failing to deliver a pizza, he becomes acquainted with a librarian named Gabrielle (Alia Shawkat) and takes up a job as a woodworker to get closer to her. Edited into this more grounded story, Naoufel’s future hand (which is evident from a scar they both have) makes its way across Paris in search of its owner.

It’s hard to call any movie about an animate severed hand anything but strange and morbid, but I Lost My Body treats it as an extended metaphor, which, as I said before, grows surprisingly poetic, heightened by a memorably haunting score. The close calls of the hand’s travels across a dangerous urban landscape provide thrilling visuals, while Naoufel’s struggles offer bittersweet human drama. Naturally, the film’s ultimate lead-up is to how the hand and its owner were separated, which is both cringeworthy and deeply symbolic.As an art film that happens to be animated, I Lost My Body’s main drawback for me is how open-ended it is, not offering much closure beyond what viewers choose to interpret. What does the hand represent? It’s up to you, I suppose. At one point, Naoufel is criticized for not knowing another character is sick and accused of not truly caring; the film never mentions it again, so I guess the film doesn’t care much either. Despite this, I’ve often said that I enjoy animations that can delve into mature themes without wallowing in mature content, and I Lost My Body fits that laudable mold. Amid last year’s nominations, Missing Link was the weak link that should have been replaced last year, preferably with Weathering with You; while imperfect, I Lost My Body is a worthy nominee.

Best line: (Gabrielle) “Once you’ve dribbled past fate, what do you do?”
(Naoufel) “You try to keep away from it. You run blindly… and keep your fingers crossed.”

 

Rank: List Runner-Up

 

© 2020 S.G. Liput
697 Followers and Counting

 

The Wandering Earth (2019)

Tags

Action, Drama, Foreign, Netflix, Sci-fi, Thriller

(Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt was to write about items gathered during a walk. In my house, I latched onto a nearby globe and decided to write about the planet at large, even though the film is more about disaster than discovery.)

What ancient cartographer could have imagined
A world as small as this?
Back then, the maps ended without a true edge
In blurry oblivion. One would allege
A brand new discovery, and they would wedge
The new land upon the abyss.

And now we know everything, satellite-view;
No land is left to miss.
But now we look upward and see a frontier,
More blurry oblivion. Scorning the fear,
We still must endeavor to find what’s not here.
We just can’t abide an abyss.
___________________________

MPA rating: TV-MA (it’s a PG-13-level movie, but the English subtitles have more F words than the original Chinese for some reason)

When you think of Chinese films, science fiction isn’t a genre that immediately comes to mind, but The Wandering Earth might change that. Based on a 2000 novella and released through Netflix outside of China, this big-budget blockbuster is like Asia’s answer to Michael Bay, a solar-system-spanning disaster flick that is just over-the-top enough to work.

Anyone remember the Spongebob episode with the Alaskan bull worm threatening the town, where Patrick says they should just take Bikini Bottom and push it someplace else? Well, that’s the brilliant idea the future world leaders in this film came up with to escape an expanding sun. Studding the earth’s surface with enormous rocket engines, they push the planet out of its orbit toward a safer system while most of the population retreats underground to escape the freezing surface. Years into the journey, the roaming planet gets caught in Jupiter’s gravity, forcing young adult Liu Qi (Chuxiao Qu), his sister, and their accomplices to fix one of the failing engines and save the world, while his father (Jing Wu) on a space station tries to do the same.

With tiny people causing planet-level effects, everything in The Wandering Earth is on such a humongous scale that even its semi-plausible elements seem utterly ridiculous, yet the earnestness of the characters and coolness of the visuals make the suspension of disbelief possible. In creating China’s first big sci-fi movie, the filmmakers certainly went all out with their emulation of similar Hollywood blockbusters: collapsing ice towers, a single-minded AI to fight, huge explosions, questions about saving the many vs. the few, last-minute heroics and touching sacrifices.

There’s a reason it made $700 million, making it the third highest-grossing non-English film ever. (Netflix has an English dub, but I’d only watch it if you absolutely can’t stand subtitles or want fewer obscenities.) I don’t know how the current pandemic will affect China’s film industry, but The Wandering Earth is proof that it can compete with Hollywood on special-effects extravaganzas. I wouldn’t say it’s better than films like Armageddon or Sunshine, but it’s certainly bigger.

 

Rank: List Runner-Up

 

© 2020 S.G. Liput
679 Followers and Counting

Parasite (2019)

Tags

Drama, Foreign, Thriller

We take what we can when a chance is in reach.
‘Tis not a behavior we humans must teach.
We covet and crave and we grasp and we use,
And somehow find ways to ignore and excuse.

And many believe some are worse than the rest,
More prone to wrongdoing, more quick to detest,
And common it is to believe that such foes
Are less than a human, the lowest of lows.

Yet sins such as these are not tied to one class,
One race or one creed or one crowd to harass.
We humans are kindred, for better or worse,
And vice is the same in a world this diverse.
______________________

MPA rating: R (for language, violence, and sensuality)

My mind has been ruminating over Parasite ever since I saw it in the theater three weeks ago, trying to decide what exactly I think about it. After hearing people gush over this obscure Korean film that was becoming increasingly less obscure, I was surprised and curious when it managed to snag a Best Picture nomination. It was the last nominee I saw in the theater this time around, and I liked it well enough. Yet in the days that followed, my opinion of it kept edging higher, its layers of meaning and metaphor being peeled away in my head. And then, lo and behold, it went from dark horse to Best Picture winner at the Oscars, the first non-English-language film to do so!

The Kims are a lower-class family of four struggling financially, doing what they can to make ends meet. When son Ki-woo gets an opportunity to tutor the daughter of the affluent Park family, he jumps at the chance, even though he must lie about his credentials as a university student. Soon, his self-justified fib morphs into an ongoing plot to provide his whole family with jobs in the Park household:  his sister as an art therapist, his father as a chauffeur, and his mother as the housekeeper. Their scheme goes well at first until things begin to unravel as untruths and unkindnesses pile upon each other.

I’ve been trying to pin down why Parasite is so critically beloved, at least in terms of its cinematic style. In some ways, it’s like the Korean equivalent of Jordan Peele’s Get Out, its thriller elements leavened by occasional humor and underscored by a potent social message. But I think the best and most flattering analogy is that it is a mixture of Hitchcock (exploration of human nature’s dark side, methodical direction) and Shakespeare (fits of mania, mistakes leading to disastrous consequences), both critical darlings themselves. Bong Joon-ho made history winning Best Picture, Director, and International Film at the Oscars, and, although a part of me considers it potentially a politically correct choice, I can’t deny that it’s deserving.

With public opinion increasingly turning against the rich, Parasite feels like the right film at the right time to earn its acclaim, and the stark class divide in South Korea also makes its story work best in its Korean setting, making me hesitant about the upcoming American remake. Yet there’s a balancing act at play as well, in which neither the poor Kims nor the wealthy Parks are pigeonholed as good or bad. There are sympathy and blame to go around, deceit and a distinct lack of empathy at work in them both, as well as other characters I won’t spoil. At one point, while reveling in the Parks’ home while they are away, the Kim matriarch declares, “If I had all this, I would be kinder,” yet within minutes, she is offered a choice between harshness and mercy and chooses poorly. From themes of escalating class rage to man’s knack for long-term shortsightedness, the plot is replete with subtlety yet remains entertaining as it embodies the saying, “Oh, what a tangled web we weave, when first we practice to deceive.”

Typically, I know my own opinion of a film by the time it ends or within a day or two if it bears rumination, so it’s a rare thing when my opinion continually goes up for reasons unknown. I still consider 1917 to be a more technically impressive film that I enjoyed more (and Sam Mendes definitely should have won Best Director IMO), but, despite my mild disappointment when Parasite won Best Picture, I’m okay with its win. I’m still not a huge fan of its violent climax, but I can’t help but admire Bong Joon-ho’s cinematic craft, from the brilliant bewilderment of its central twist to the setting and composition of the Park home, which deserves a place among notable houses in film.

Parasite is proof of the director’s memorable line from his Golden Globe acceptance speech: “Once you overcome the one-inch-tall barrier of subtitles, you will be introduced to so many more amazing films.” Even if it’s not destined to be a personal favorite of mine, this is not just a quality Korean import but a quality film, period. For me at least, Parasite attaches itself too strongly to ignore.

Best line: (Kim Ki-taek, the father, referring to the Parks) “They are rich but still nice.” (Kim Chung-sook, the mother) “They are nice because they are rich.”

 

Rank: List Runner-Up (though it comes closer to List-Worthy than I expected)

 

© 2020 S.G. Liput
662 Followers and Counting

 

Under the Shadow (2016)

Tags

Foreign, Horror, Thriller

The night is black,
A bleak throwback
To when the world was without shape.
A shadow shifts,
The darkness drifts
And snares your eye with no escape.

You crane your neck
To merely check
That all is well outside your bed.
And pray no face
Or graver case
Will give you reason for your dread.
________________

MPAA rating: PG-13

I’m not really into horror generally, but it’s become something of a tradition for me to watch a scary movie alone at night, just to review it for Halloween. Like The Conjuring, The Babadook, and Lights Out in years past, I decided to check out an acclaimed creepfest that focuses more on atmospheric tension rather than gross-out gore. This time, though, I went outside the English-speaking world to watch Under the Shadow, a Persian-language horror (with a 99% on Rotten Tomatoes) set in 1980s Tehran.

Of course, 1980s Tehran wasn’t the best place to be, especially during the increasingly frequent bombings of the Iran-Iraq War. It’s already a tense setting, as the inhabitants of an apartment building must head downstairs into the basement at the sound of bomb sirens, much to the chagrin of mother Shideh (Narges Rashidi) and her daughter Dorsa (Avin Manshadi). Disgruntled by her country’s rigid decrees keeping her from becoming a doctor, Shideh is further unsettled when her husband is sent off to war, and as strange events start to occur late at night, she wonders if there is indeed something haunting her family.

In many ways, Under the Shadow is exactly the kind of horror movie I like, with a creeping dread serving as the main source of fear, knowing that something could happen at any moment and jumping out of your skin when it occasionally does. There’s zero blood on display, and it doesn’t need it. While it taps into the mythology of malevolent air spirits or djinns, it’s surprising how well the frights work when they stem from what is essentially the most minimalist ghost, a floating sheet (technically a chador, a Persian women’s cloak). The uncanny fear conjured by its sudden appearances is potent stuff.

However, there’s nothing especially notable about the story itself, aside from its unique cultural setting, which is itself a danger, since Shideh can be punished for even fleeing her home without a head covering. Yet the plot isn’t too far from that of The Amityville Horror, and the mother/child dynamic, while showing growth, has been done with better closure elsewhere. Even so, Under the Shadow provided exactly what I look for in a scary movie, while excluding what I avoid in the genre. Well-acted with a slow-burn anxiety, it’s an excellent addition to my Halloween reserve, even if it’s made me look over my shoulder more often than before.

 

Rank: List Runner-Up

 

© 2019 S.G. Liput
652 Followers and Counting

 

Chicken with Plums (2011)

Tags

Drama, Fantasy, Foreign, Romance

(Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt was for a mournful elegy about the physical rather than the abstract. Thus, I focused on the everyday grief that doesn’t always make itself visible.)

I grieve every day but don’t show it.
None see it, of course, but I do.
No moistened eyelashes,
No sackcloth and ashes,
It’s deeper and yet no less true.

I grieve in the taste of the chicken
That never tastes quite like it did
When Mother would heighten
My senses and brighten
My day with the lift of a lid.

I grieve at the sound of the classics,
The ones that my father proclaimed
Were better by far
Than the modern songs are,
To which I agreed or was shamed.

I grieve at the touch of an afghan,
Hand-knitted with love in each thread.
Its knots and defects
Made the knitter perplexed,
But now they are precious instead.

I grieve where the world in its hurry
Has left things of value behind.
Don’t doubt I’m sincere
If I don’t shed a tear;
They moisten my heart and my mind.
___________________

MPAA rating: PG-13

It was three years ago this very month that I reviewed Marjane Satrapi’s animated drama Persepolis as part of NaPoWriMo. That film was such a refreshingly unique experience that I knew I had to check out her next film, which, like Persepolis, was also based off her own graphic novel. Chicken with Plums may not be animated, but its similarity of style is equally praiseworthy, just on a far less consistent level than its predecessor.

Told in French and set in 1950s Iran, Chicken with Plums is the story of a man who decides to die. After his critical wife (Maria de Medeiros) smashes his beloved violin, the famed concert pianist Nasser-Ali (Mathieu Amalric) loses his will to live, lying in bed awaiting death and dreaming of the past and future. The narrative is far from linear, interspersed with subjective thoughts of how his children will grow up, memories of his success, and bizarre fantasies (hugging a giant pair of breasts, for example). It’s a weird mix as the tone swings wildly from obnoxious slapstick to pensive reminiscences, and not all of it works.

However, what does work is outstanding, at least on a visual level. The settings and overall aesthetic have the dated, magical aura of yesteryear, with a carefully crafted artistry that I could compare to that of Wes Anderson if he had half the idiosyncrasies. Satrapi’s vision of 1950s Iran oddly has the look and feel of Europe, reminding us how western-leaning the nation was before the Revolution, as detailed in Persepolis. And the acting is certainly on point, with Amalric of The Diving Bell and the Butterfly fame once more proving his thespian skill.

I wasn’t quite sure what to make of Chicken with Plums up until the ending, where the story takes a sublimely bittersweet turn that is crushing in its emotional resonance. It’s a rare and beautiful melancholy replete with the story’s themes of music, heartache, and loss; it may not quite fit with many parts of the film but still ended it on a high note of poignancy.

Best line:  (Nasser-Ali’s music teacher, speaking of his initial music) “Sounds come out. But it is empty. It is barren. It is nothing. Life is a breath; life is a sigh. It is this sigh that you must seize.”

 

Rank: Honorable Mention

 

© 2019 S.G. Liput
626 Followers and Counting

 

I Am Dragon (2015)

Tags

Drama, Fantasy, Foreign, Romance

(Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt was to present “a scene from an unusual point of view.” Thus, I took the fairy tale terror of a dragon carrying off a young maiden and provided the dragon’s angle.)

I am the dragon, the lizard of lore,
So hated and feared by mankind.
From the sky do I hunt,
And I take what I want
From the men who wince under my roar.
From the day that I hatched,
I’ve had power unmatched,
A monster by nature designed.

Now in my talons, I carry a girl,
Flown higher than humans would dare.
I made my attack
With the thought of a snack
And escaped with my prize in a whirl.
Her kin now must mourn,
For their cold-blooded thorn
Has taken her back to his lair.

Gladly, I’d deem her my prey to devour,
As dragons by nature must do,
And yet in her face
Is a vestige, a trace
Of a feeling confronting my power.
No man is my match,
But this woman I catch
Offers something I cannot subdue.
_______________________

MPAA rating: Not Rated (could be PG, maybe more PG-13)

It’s rare that a film feels like a fairy tale, not just a Hollywood version of one but an original fairy tale with its roots firmly planted in romance and the fantasy culture of a nation. In the case of I Am Dragon (or He’s a Dragon), that nation is Russia. Based on the Russian novel The Ritual, the result is a film that tows the line between epic and sappy but is beautifully mounted and appealingly dignified compared with what I imagine a Hollywood version might look like.

A prologue explains how a dragon once terrorized a medieval village, carrying away the innocent maidens offered to him as sacrifices until the day a hero slew the beast. Fast forward then to the arranged wedding of free-spirited Princess Miroslava (Maria Poezzhaeva), or Mira, who is none too thrilled with her appointed husband. In a case of unwise history-rebranding, someone thought it would be a good idea to use the old dragon-summoning song during the ceremony, and everyone is shocked when the dragon reappears to carry Mira away. Mira soon awakens on the dragon’s remote island lair, where a handsome young man she names Arman (Matvey Lykov) proves to be a charming but conflicted host.

I won’t say any “spoilers” outright, but as you can probably surmise from my description, this is like a Russian version of Beauty and the Beast, with some very clear echoes to the Disney version of events. However, with a dragon taking the place of the Beast and an almost Game of Thrones-style aesthetic, it’s a successful variation of the familiar tale, which is also leagues better than Disney’s cringe-worthy live-action version.

As for the romance, there’s certainly chemistry between Mira and Arman, the former headstrong and adventurous, the latter self-loathing and in need of love. The island setting, though, along with Arman’s perpetually shirtless self does make the romantic scenes feel like something out of a Harlequin novel, albeit one with surprisingly grand production values, atmospheric music, and impressive CGI. (I even included the above image from this film in the top right picture of my fantasy banner.)

It really depends on your capacity for potentially mawkish love stories, but for me, I Am Dragon had enough high fantasy to outweigh the few corny moments, and the romance was still engaging and carried weight while thankfully keeping things PG for the most part. I’m glad to have stumbled upon this admirable fantasy, which makes me think that little-known Russian cinema can hold its own against Hollywood’s more publicized output.

 

Rank: List Runner-Up

 

© 2019 S.G. Liput
626 Followers and Counting

 

Psychokinesis (2018)

Tags

Action, Comedy, Drama, Foreign, Superhero

A hero isn’t born, you know,
With all he needs to earn that rank.
All roles are blank
Until they grow.

He may have strength to break a chain
Or speed to outrun any train
Or powers to abolish pain
With snap of finger or of brain,
The likes of which man can’t contain.
But all of that would be in vain
If he viewed others with disdain.

It’s finding one worth fighting for
That makes a hero from a blank.
___________________

Rating: TV-MA (with several beatings, the content is much more PG-13, but there are a few F words in the English subtitles)

It took me longer than everyone else to jump onto the bandwagon praising Yeon Sang-ho’s South Korean zombie hit Train to Busan. One advantage to waiting was that I didn’t have to wait too long for his next live-action feature, this time tackling the superhero genre. Though not on the level of his earlier film, Psychokinesis is an enjoyable counterpoint to the big-budget Marvel movies to which we’ve become so accustomed, a decidedly smaller-scale adventure that still delivers the goods.

The film starts out a little confusingly, segueing from an advertisement about successful young restaurateur Shin Roo-mi (Shim Eun-kyung) to a night attack on her restaurant by a group of workmen, who try to evict her and accidentally kill her mother. Soon after, we meet her absentee father Seok-heon (Ryu Seung-ryong), an oafish security guard who happens to drink from a fountain right as it’s contaminated with energy from a meteorite and discovers he has telekinetic powers. Just reading back those two sentences makes this film sound really bizarre, and maybe it is at the start, but I’m glad I gave it a chance because it somehow does work by the end. After hearing of his ex-wife’s death, Seok-heon decides to use his power to reignite his relationship with the daughter who hates him and protect her from the villainous corporate developers trying to remove her and the other tenants who refuse to leave their shops.

Like Train to Busan, Psychokinesis is just as concerned with its human characters as its genre conventions. At first, Seok-heon is hardly the type to stick up for others and tries to dissuade Roo-mi from joining the rebellious shopkeepers. Much as the inconsiderate father in Train to Busan had his conscience pricked, Seok-heon ends up second-guessing his own selfishness and aiding them with his psychic abilities. Both Ryu and Shim are quite good as an estranged father and daughter (they voiced similar estranged roles in Yeon’s previous film Seoul Station as well), and those playing the villains are gleefully evil, especially Jung Yu-mi (the pregnant woman in Train to Busan) as a beautiful, power-crazed mastermind.

As for the superhero side of things, the effects are actually very well done, and their impact is gradually built up as Seok-heon progresses from floating lighters and ties to throwing bad guys around to almost flying. It clearly takes immense concentration for him, and his mental straining often verges on comedic. With some over-the-top reactions and simplistic motives, the film knows when to chuckle at itself and when to be serious, bolstered further by some genuinely cool superhero moments.

Psychokinesis may not be quite on the technical level of Marvel’s offerings, but with its Korean setting and surprisingly small body count, it’s a refreshingly low-profile member of an increasingly crowded genre. It’s also a sign that Yeon Sang-ho is a director worth keeping an eye on for empathetic family dynamics and quality genre fare.

 

Rank: List Runner-Up

 

© 2018 S.G. Liput
579 Followers and Counting

 

Mojin: The Lost Legend (2015)

Tags

Action, Comedy, Drama, Fantasy, Foreign, Horror, Mystery, Thriller

(Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt was for a poem inspired by our choice of tarot cards, whether the image on it or the symbolism behind it. I went with the Moon, which has some personification and mentions imagination, light, and the unknown.)

 

Where we’ve wandered, none can trace,
For none now live who knew this place.
The darkness creeps from stone to stone
And makes us feel we’re not alone.
Then, from above, the moon appears,
Perhaps to soothe our growing fears.

She peers below through open cave
At we who thought ourselves so brave
And lends us light to glance about
In search of some departure route.
Yet what she shows us haunts our dreams,
And only she can hear our screams.
____________________

MPAA rating: Not Rated (PG-13 content, though the profanity in the subtitles can get strong)

At least one good thing came out of my watching the utter waste of time that was The Assassin: I saw a trailer for Mojin: The Lost Legend and was intrigued enough to seek out this rather fun Chinese adventure movie. Apparently based on a Chinese book series, this tale of three grave robbers may have its weaknesses, but it’s also evidence of the blockbuster action and visual merit that Chinese cinema has to offer.

Hu Bayi (Chen Kun), his temperamental girlfriend Shirley (Shu Qi), and his reckless longtime friend Wang (Huang Bo) were all once Mojin, official treasure seekers and tomb raiders (Lara wasn’t available), but have since fallen into disgrace. Fed up with their washed-up lives in America, Wang is approached by a wealthy patron to locate an ancient Mongolian tomb. Compelled by a personal connection from his past, Wang accepts, dragging Hu Bayi and Shirley back into the dangerous business of booby traps, double-crossing villains, and supernatural(?) threats.

While the acting is all serviceable and sometimes quite good (the heroes are better than the villains), Mojin: The Lost Legend is most interesting as an example of how the Chinese do an Indiana Jones-style adventure. It takes a little while to get into tomb-raiding mode, but once it does, the pace stays brisk, and the set designs are impressive and elaborate, like the Moria of the Orient mixed with the Temple of Doom.  Anyone who enjoyed The Mummy or National Treasure should also find much to enjoy, from the playful banter to the horror elements of a particularly thrilling flashback to the way Chinese history and myth are used as clues and solutions along the way, not that I understood all of it.

While it does mix a lot of aspects of adventure films I love, it is hard not to view those ingredients as copied or borrowed, even if there’s originality in how they are combined. Likewise, the special effects are one of the film’s strengths, yet there are moments that overuse slow motion and CGI to the point of being overblown and almost laughable, especially during the climax. Plus, the whole thing is a little too long for its own good. Yet it’s still a highly visual treasure hunt that even manages to work in some deeper emotions and themes of letting go of past tragedy. Flawed but fun, Mojin: The Lost Legend is an entertaining ride for those curious to see China’s take on their own National Treasure.

 

Rank: Honorable Mention

 

© 2018 S.G. Liput
565 Followers and Counting

 

In This Corner of the World (2016)

Tags

Animation, Anime, Drama, Foreign, History, Romance, War

(Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt was for a hopeful elegy, so I wrote mine about the mourning of a way of life.)

 

What’s almost as sad as a person’s death
Is the death of the way that they lived.

They once woke up, knowing what their day
Would likely hold,
And they’d watch unfold
A normal we’d say
Was strange and old,
But they took pride
And personified
A life that bloomed till the world went cold.

Disasters sudden or a cancer slow
Or new breakthroughs
Would cause them to lose
What was status quo.
They could not refuse,
For who can tell
A dead bloom, “Get well,”
When its winter’s come and it’s paid its dues?

But people live on, like roots that remain
For new blooms to rise
Once the former dies
And forgets the pain
Of its sad demise.
Our ways of life fade
Daily and are remade.
Remember that grief is short-lived for the wise.
___________________

MPAA rating: PG-13

And the number of award-worthy animated films of 2016 just keeps on growing. When I heard that a crowdfunded project called In This Corner of the World had beaten out Your Name and A Silent Voice for Japan’s Best Animated Feature award, I rolled my eyes that anything could top those two emotional hits. I still would have preferred one of them to win, but I can now at least see why In This Corner of the World would deserve to win. (It’s also further proof that the American Academy can’t seem to recognize an award-worthy animation if it hails from another country.)

Set before, during, and after the Hiroshima bombing of August 6, 1945, this Japanese period drama has a slice-of-life charm and simplicity that endures the ever-looming shadow of death. In many ways, it is reminiscent of Grave of the Fireflies (a painful favorite of mine), yet while that film is essentially grief and desperation from start to finish, In This Corner of the World uses its long runtime to show the daily life of its characters and how the approaching war changed that way of life for the sake of survival.

It begins with the childhood of Suzu Urano, an often absent-minded artist who grows up in an idyllic seaside town close to Hiroshima. After receiving an offer of marriage from a man she doesn’t know, she hesitantly leaves her own family to marry into the Hojo family in Kure, a Navy dockyard about an hour away by train. There is a wealth of humorous vignettes as Suzu adjusts to her new surrounding and family members, including a short-tempered sister-in-law and her daughter, and many aspects of their daily life are steeped in Japanese culture, from the fashioning of kimonos and later pants to the preparation of traditional field-to-table meals, which require resourcefulness once wartime rationing is implemented. From amusing asides and sweet romantic moments, the tone gets more and more serious and even dire as the war gets closer, the bombing raids become more frequent, and we the audience wait for the inevitable bomb to drop, wondering how it will affect Suzu and her loved ones.

The abrupt editing of all those vignettes does contribute to a sometimes unfocused storyline that puts certain details in doubt, and a few forays into Suzu’s imagination left me confused as to whether surrounding scenes were supposed to be real or not. Yet such negatives don’t detract too much from the humane power of the whole. Perceptive details and lovely snapshots abound, notably a post-war scene where the town’s lamps are uncovered (no longer in fear of air raids) and one by one shine into the night. The animation is not your typical anime style, with more of a gentle, hand-drawn impressionism that can be reminiscent of either a comic strip or a museum piece, depending on the tone of the scene. It’s surprisingly effective in its consistency depicting both Suzu’s carefree early life and the grief-stricken toll of war, and the filmmakers put great and laudable care into re-creating the pre-bomb city of Hiroshima accurately.

Once again, I’m torn on how to rank what is clearly a great film, trying to judge my personal opinion of it. It’s absolutely worthy of Japan’s top animation prize, and I can see why they would opt for the more historically significant choice, even over the box-office juggernaut that was Your Name. Despite its winsome animation and gradually developed poignancy, it didn’t bring me close to tears like Your Name or A Silent Voice or Grave of the Fireflies, which matters to me as a way of measuring the emotional impact. Even so, I feel like I’m growing fonder of this film the more I think about it. Perhaps its ultimate ranking is a wait-and-see. It requires some patience, but I highly recommend In This Corner of the World for its touching civilian-level view of World War II.

Best line: (Suzu, comparing her current life to a dream) “I don’t want to wake up because I’m happy to be who I am today.”   (Shusaku, her husband) “I see. The past and the paths we did not choose, they’re like a dream.”

 

Rank: List Runner-Up (for now)

 

© 2018 S.G. Liput
564 Followers and Counting