Hige vs. Otaku

Owen, ever the Machiavellian puppet-master of the anime blogging community, has kicked off another ramshackle community event by asking a number of bloggers to watch (or indeed rewatch) Darker than Black and then talk about it. The method? Two episodes a day for thirteen days and write about it however you see fit. The intention? To watch the series as it was intended – as two episode story arcs rather than singular episodes, thus preserving the pacing and getting the most out of what is actually quite a sophisticated show. It’s also been two years since it originally aired, during one of the best anime seasons in recent memory, so it’s half-experiment, half-celebration. Kind of puts all the recent dross we’ve had to contend with in startling perspective, eh?

The way I’m contributing is by adding a chunk of text onto Owen’s episodic blogs. I’d originally intended to provide wee quotes, alternative angles on points made by Owen, but they’re basically just mini-blog entries tacked onto the end of his posts. My role in this event is much like Owen’s; we’re documenting how our attitudes have changed in two years as well as noting how rewatching an anime (particularly a BONES anime, I’ve found) can shed all sorts of new light on what it’s trying to do and say. Owen and myself had very different opinions on DtB when it first ran – I loved parts of it but had serious issue with the tangential storylines whereas Owen was a frenzied mess of fanboyism, near incapable of writing a coherent blog because the urge to fap gave him the tremors. We’re older now, and we’re watching the show in a much more reasonable way. You can read our ruminations over at Cruel Angel Theses (we’re currently up to episodes 3 – 4) and we’re running on a daily schedule. It’s worth it just to witness me blog in a frequent and consistent fashion. Quite the phenomenon.

While we’re on the subject of watching and rewatching, I recently sat down with Mamoru Oshii’s latest animated feature The Sky Crawlers, which was not the philosophical clusterfuck I was expecting. In fact, it was an incredibly ambient experience up to the two-thirds mark. Everything explodes somewhat after that point – we get characterisation, plot development, intrigue, excitement – but the nothing that comes before it has a very strange charm. That alienating Oshii vibe is bubbling beneath the surface but it’s nowhere as acute as with his previous films. I think the constant blue skies and lush scenery gave it a serene feeling that stands out against his usual decaying cyberpunk aesthetics, and it works in a difficult-to-grab-hold-of sort of way. It turns out to be a Lain-styled non-reality where everything is fixed to continue on an infinite loop, which is where the textbook Oshii headfuck comes in, but superficially it’s not as unnerving as his usual output.

This infinite loop is what draws Sky Crawlers into the ‘watch and rewatch’ theme of this post. After the credits finish rolling there’s another scene that plays out almost identically to the start of the film; to the point where I thought the video had looped over and started again. Then the Production I.G. logo popped up and I was left with a very upsetting thought. All of these characters were expendable. The deceased would be replaced with exact copies of their prior selves only with none of the memories. Those who survived had to live on and suffer with their memories and experiences with the prior incarnation as the new one stands before them completely ignorant. The cycle continues on and during the film we merely witness one of these repetitions. After realising this I wanted to rewatch the film immediately. I wanted to see it again with this vital bit of understanding so I could appreciate the eerie feeling that had previously confused me and finally grasp the behaviour of some of the cast. The Sky Crawlers is really a film that has to be watched twice in a row to understand as a whole. It’s a very perplexing but very exciting experience.

Tokyo Sonata is about a modern Japanese family that’s falling apart. Sasaki, the father and patriarch, is made redundant at the beginning of the film and spends much of it hiding his unemployment to his dutiful wife, Megumi. She presents an image of domestic perfection going about her duties as a mother and wife with a diligent grace, unquestioning of the authority her husband exerts over the household. Her resolution in this role is shaken, however, as the family she works so hard to maintain rapidly begins to unravel.

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"Tony Takitani (played by the great stage actor Issey Ogata, last seen on film in Edward Yang’s A One and a Two) is a commercial illustrator, specialising in mechanical drawings. An only child, half-estranged from his father, he isn’t conscious of his own loneliness until it’s unexpectedly filled by a wife, Eiko (Rie Miyazawa). Life hovers on the brink of fulfilment – except that Eiko buys an alarming number of clothes. And when she dies in a road accident, Tony Takitani is left with a roomful of near-new designer outfits…" – lff.org.uk

Haruki Murakami offers some of the most compelling, addictive modern fiction available today. Quite apart from his Japanese nationality, and our love for such activity, the man is just a brilliant author.  Norwegian Wood acted as my entry-point; Dance Dance Dance became an all time favourite; The Wind-up Bird Chronicle presented a challenge only matched by Ulysses. Throw in his newest, Kafka on the Shore (which is beneath a whole buggerload of school reading, sadly) and many other short stories and novels and you have a robust and consistent set of excellent literature.

With Tony Takitani we get a very concentrated, brief visual representation of what Murakami is about. The underlying sense of melancholy and loneliness – both of which the protagonist is unaware of until another party changes their outlook – are present in spades and embodied beautifully. This is a very sad film. It doesn’t take any cheap shots or pander to the audience. It has no sex, violence or swearing but it still holds a great deal of emotional weight and maturity.

The narrative voice (detached from any of the characters, perhaps suggesting a Murakami-like figure) playfully interweaves with the dialogue and characters often finish off its sentences in ‘real time’. This demonstrates the film’s gentle sense of humour as well as giving a good nod to Murakami’s comedic style.

Cinematically the film is shot in quite a broad, set-piece manner, with each scene panning into the next with a single fluid movement. The sense of whimsy Murakami creates with his realistic settings is one of his signature points, and Tony Takitani captures this ethereal feel perfectly. The cast also acts brilliantly with restraint and subtly. I haven’t heard of any of the actors here, but after this film I’m going to make an effort to investigate their work.

Conclusion
Tony Takitani is a quiet film with a slow pace and not a lot of visceral satisfaction . . . but this is exactly why it’s so charming. Watching one scene drift dreamily to the next is compelling in a completely different way. It doesn’t grab your attention as much as lull it gently, and this is one of the better ways to explain how Murakami’s writing works. Strangely, Tony Takitani doesn’t immediately represent what I envisioned Murakami’s work to look like, but I’m at a loss to criticise it in that respect. A definite recommendation to those who enjoy subtly and beauty in their films, and Murakami fans will be more than satisfied. Lovely stuff.

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Director: Jun Ichikawa
Links: Official site, Rotten Tomatoes page, indiewire review