This week, I was fortunate enough to catch a few screenings at the 24th Tokyo International Film Festival in Roppongi Hills. I decided to take advantage of the opportunity to see some Japanese films that I might not get to see once I leave Japan. And I’m glad I did, for even just a few films gave me some perspective on the diversity and artistry of Japanese cinema. Hopefully, without spoiling, I’ll be able to illustrate my point by comparing two films I found particularly interesting.
About the Pink Sky, by director Keiichi Kobayashi, follows a high school girl who finds a money-laden wallet and encounters unexpected consequences on her journey to return it to its “rightful” owner. Two Rabbits in Osaka, by (Korean) director Lim Tai-hyung, follows several characters as they await the mysteriously preordained final hour of humanity.
The first film opens with a close-up of the heroine in monochrome (the entire film is in black and white). She looks nervous, panicked and confused. She looks left, right, left and right. Is she looking for someone? Or choosing where to run? The director answers immediately, showing us the wallet and the girl’s initial reaction to the discovery of its contents, 300,000 Japanese Yen. The situation is believable, and the director establishes the main character’s central conflict (while not revealing the complexities that will ensue), from the film’s first moments.
Two Rabbits in Osaka, on the other hand, begins quite differently. The film opens with a series of long, steady, wide-angle shots of a quiet, still city. The only movement in each shot is a single animal that crosses the field of view, progressing from bird, to dog, and finally to human. At first we wonder, where are all the people? Then, when we actually see one, we wonder, who is he and where is everyone else? The next few shots follow our hero as he walks alone through the streets. Eventually, we begin to see bodies lying in the alleyways and our hero checking their pockets as he steps over the corpses. What could have happened here?
Although in Pink we do not know the story behind the wallet and the money inside, it is clear that it does not belong to our heroine and that she must now figure out how (or perhaps even whether) to return it. The situation affects her and her alone, and the audience plunges into the depths of her psyche, embarking on a journey of getting to know and to understand the person that she is and why she struggles with the decisions she’s forced to make. Indeed, the film is shot from her perspective and appropriately includes her in every scene. Contrastingly, Lim chooses to focus on the global circumstances that will define the development of a range of characters in his film, which become fewer and more focal as the film progresses. The audience is drawn to the film not because of a single character’s specific dilemma, but rather by a world shrouded in mystery, revealed slowly and piecemeal. We must take a leap of faith, but once we have, we’ve made far too large of a psychological and emotional investment to stop watching.
After the screening of About the Pink Sky, I got a chance to ask Keiichi Kobayashi about his direction of the film. I noticed in particular several long, steady shots that highlight the heroine’s passionate reactions to surprising new information. I asked how Kobayashi managed to get such intensity from such a young actor. He told me that they just kept shooting over and over until they got exactly what they wanted. Sometimes it took 10 or 15 takes before the actors were able to really relax and settle into the scene. Also, he said, having a small cast and crew (only about 15 people total), made it easier to later retake shots they weren’t satisfied with.
In terms of script, the film is heavy on dialogue and runs chronologically with a minimal score. As such, it screens more like a play than a film. Kobayashi replied that it was indeed intentional and that the film remained true to script. The film is less about the plot and more about the characters and their interactions. As we see what they say and do, we learn about how they think about themselves and the society they live in, which reveals the film’s social and political undertones.
Two Rabbits in Osaka is quite the opposite. There is relatively less dialogue, and the film is driven by erratic, choppy shots, intertwining story lines, and flashbacks. Min Junho and Daishi Matsunaga, the film’s principle actor and actress, respectively, shared that there was significant improvisation in this film. I asked the actors how much of the final cut is improvised and how it differed from the original script. They told me that, in fact, they did not know much about the plot or how the film would end, but were told by Lim only that they would be in a movie about the human anticipation of death. They explained that in many of the scenes, they would be surprised with new information and would have to react on the spot. Many of these types of scenes were clipped together in editing.
In contrast to Kobayashi’s multiple-take approach, Lim’s approach is lean and mean, but it too manages to induce powerful emotion. For example, Matsunaga revealed that one of the film’s most emotive scenes, where her character is thrown a surprise birthday party (her birthday is on humanity’s last day), was a total surprise. The technique allows the film a more organic, “home movie” feeling, drawing the audience into the story and bringing to life the characters’ complex emotions.
I was impressed with both the diversity and quality of these two films in addition to other I saw at the festival, each of which presented a unique viewing experience. Kobayashi hopes his film gets some attention and can make it into Western countries. I hope for him, too, as I think the film is relatable and would have an equally strong message for Western audiences. However, Kobayashi claims that this was not his goal in making the film. He said that his Dad once told him that, in Japan, there are 20,000 fans for anything. So if he can entertain 20,000 people with this film, he’ll be happy. Imagine how happy the rest of us would be if we all had such practical goals. Good for you, Kobayashi.
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