Operetta tanuki goten

"Many things happened," sighs Lady Hagi. The actress Hiroko Yakushimaru commented in the DVD extras that this explains her character's entire philosophy. It can also apply to the whole thing.

Watching this movie is an Experience. It confused my brain, but made my mouth smile. I did not expect it, but afterward, I wanted to watch it again.

This is a parody of musicals, movies, theater, folklore, religion and myth. There are many more connections than I can name. There are references to Japanese culture mixed with items from all over the world.

During the villains' rap scene, a giant painting of Andromeda is featured. This set piece looks like a painting by Sir Edward John Poynter. It has a man's face added in the ocean waves.

The ancient Greek story of Andromeda has been used in movies such as "Clash of the Titans." Her mother was in trouble with the gods for bragging about her beauty. Her parents send Andromeda to be killed by a sea monster to atone for this, but she is saved by a handsome hero.

This myth is echoed in "Princess Raccoon" when Prince Amechiyo is doomed by his father, who wants to remain, "the fairest of them all." This phrase also reminded me of the fairy tale Snow White.

The set painting sometimes has the number 1582 on it. I'm not sure, but it could be related to Japan being exposed to Western traders. Some Portuguese characters appear in early scenes.

The female villain, Virgen Hag, is Catholic. The hero carries a rosary. Words from that religion are used, but it doesn't seem to be with understanding. The satire doesn't bite.

Every scene is full of connections and links. I'm sure I didn't get half of all the jokes. The movie is still enjoyable as spectacle. Gawk at the visuals and listen to the "soda-water" songs.

I think this could become a cult musical like the Rocky Horror Picture Show.

I use "Princess Raccoon" (to give the film its not-quite accurate English title) as a litmus test for my friends' sense of humour. It either leaves them cold and baffled - as it clearly did several other commentators on this site - or results in doubled-up laughter, unassailably huge grins and occasional gasps of admiration.

The laughter comes from the film's consummate mixture of parodies in contemporary style. Targets include a bouquet of Japanese and Western classical stage drama forms, from Kabuki to Late Shakespearian and Spanish renaissance Christian fantasy; the naff vacuity of the modern American and European musical, as witness a host of random tap- and rap- dance songs and some very funny banal lyrics, all choreographed with loving "amateur" cliché; Japanese anime and samurai live-action clichés; portentous Buddhist ritual; and the overweening sweetness of Viennese operetta. I've not laughed out loud so much at this type of film since Ken Russell's outrageous musical deconstruction in "The Boyfriend".

The grins come from the clever textual subversion of the Japanese legend, told in a traditional 5-act structure reminiscent of the plays of the 17th century master Chikamatsu. As in his work the narrative is advanced in a mixture of song, recitative, high-flown poetry and low comedy relief - here the pot-broiling of the incompetent ninja, Ostrich, by peasants under the illusion that he is a tanuki-raccoon in human guise. All of this somehow does hang together, and even more remarkably does manage to engage the watcher's emotions through the welter of cultural references.

In truth "Princess Raccoon" wears its pan-cultural garb with alluring lightness, and that's where the gasps of astonishment come in. Visually - again, as with Russell's masterpiece - the film is a treat, a riot of colour with its digitised backdrops of classical Japanese images from screens and prints, over-the-top costumes and stage sets, mixed with some breathtaking live action sequences in summer fields and seashores. You'll love it or loathe it, but there's no point castigating chalk for being cheese; and "Princess Raccoon" stands, first and foremost, as a wickedly funny as well as affectionate put-down of our contemporary cultural vacuity, in both East and West. Bravo!

Partly inspired by the Tanukigoten musicals popular in Japan in the 1940's and 50's, maverick director Seijun Suzuki's as-yet final feature, Princess Raccoon (2005), is a deliriously abstract and stylised fantasy that mixes elements of philosophy and mysticism alongside an approach to film production that is incredibly theatrical in design. Beyond the look and feel of the film - which is really quite extraordinary from beginning to end - and the wider disregard for genre conventions and emphasis on visual storytelling, the narrative of Princess Raccoon is disarmingly simple; essentially dealing with the notions of betrayal and desire and the ultimate in forbidden love at its most fable-like and unrequited; with all of these contrasting ideas presented in an incredibly metaphorical sense, with the allusions to traditional Japanese folklore and certain ideas that would also inspire the underrated Isao Takahata film, Pom Poko (1994), produced by Studio Ghibli.

Although this combination of influences and ideas might suggest an impenetrable work that requires a great deal of thought and consideration, the film is never heavy-handed or dense; with the themes being continually disguised by a veneer of colourful farce and giddy fantasy sequences that occasionally recall the style of classic cult TV series Monkey (aka Monkey Magic, or Saiyūki, as it was originally known), with the over-the-top characters, moments of kaleidoscopic colour and strange scenes of imaginative theatrical performance all captured against an artificial backdrop of stage design and lighting effects. It is typical of the defiant approach to cinematic rule-breaking and disregard for conventional storytelling that has been a highlight of Suzuki's work for the past forty-five years, as we see a complete symbiosis between the separate elements of the subject matter, and the self-conscious stylisation of the performances. Here, Suzuki really does indulge himself completely, drawing on elements of Noh theatre, Kabuki performance, Chinese scroll paintings and contemporary music videos, as he plays with a variety of sounds, images and musical motifs to create a jarring melange of ideas that underpin the thoughts and feelings of the two central characters.

If you're unfamiliar with the director's work on iconic films like Gate of Flesh (1964), Tokyo Drifter (1966), Branded to Kill (1967) and the more recent Pistol Opera (2002), then you'll no doubt find much of the film a complete shock to the system; with the filmmaker's personal style, combined with the unapologetic reliance on Japanese cultural motifs that require a certain sense of familiarity with the subject, definitely causing a problem for many viewers unaccustomed to this particular stylistic approach. The style may also prove to be something of a barrier for anyone unable to look beyond the sense of camp and kitsch favoured by Suzuki in his vision of the film; with the opulent colour schemes, theatrical facade, blue screen projections, wire-work, musical numbers and action choreography becoming entirely self-indulgent, and yet, perfectly suited to the thematic concerns of the film. Again, such devises may seem jarring or needlessly ostentatious to audiences unfamiliar with the director's work, however, if you make the effort to meet the film halfway - disregarding the more obvious elements of purely nostalgic Japanese iconography and concentrating on the fun and frivolity of Suzuki's style and the deeper themes expressed through the characters - then the film pays off on a number of levels.

Admittedly, there are still a few flaws; with elements of the story often grating and occasionally becoming hard to follow. There is also a downside to the film's emphasis on look and style - which eventually overwhelms us and causes us to lose sight of the more human element of the story within the scenes of outlandish, fantastical abstraction. Nonetheless, perseverance and a keen attention span will allow us to keep up with the film's jaw-dropping spectacle, and again, if we disregard the more purely Japanese elements of the script and focus on the central moral dilemma, then the film does work on a more immediate level. Unfortunately, judging from many of the other user comments, it would appear that some elements of the film were lost in translation. A real shame! Once again with Suzuki, the film exists, first and foremost, as a work of joyous, escapist entertainment; something that Princess Raccoon delivers in spades.

I think the problem with some reactions to this film is that they don't focus on its problem with deciding who it's really for, and what it's really about.

On the we-like-it side, there are those who are taken in because it's CUUUUUTE. Sure it has very nice visual design, pretty costumes, and a variety of elements. Some children's movie fans love the colour and animation, and all the un-scary 'magical' effects, shapeshifting animals, and so on. Some culture vultures like the complicated references, the layerings of different folklore elements, and the fact that they can watch Zhang Ziyi singing and quasi-miming, in two different languages, in what really was intended to be a children's comedy.

I hate to pop the balloon, but a hodgepodge of styles and references does not a movie make. (1) A children's movie should still have a point, (2) a blend of folktales is not the same as a coherent story, and (3) it's easier to believe in magic when enough thought and care has gone into the technical aspects to make it seem real.

In other words, the ideas could be lovely; but when you put them onstage they have to deliver. Here, they don't.

A good folktale - from any country - has a clear story, a point, and characters who interact strongly with each other. This picture lacks them all.

As a fantasy fan, I must say that I've sat through some turkeys and loved a few, but this one really tries to do too many things - cheaply. The main problem isn't that there's no plot; there's half a plot, which means that you keep getting pulled in, then dropped again as another none-too-sharply-executed dance number kicks off. Putting in Zhang Ziyi to try to add a little glitter smacks of exotic flower syndrome. A few over-sophisticated gestures towards OPERA, Western and Japanese, are no replacement for a solid theme.

The characters all seem to know that they're starring in a movie. Unless you really like watching other peoples' amateur video, this ain't good. I'd like to test this on real children; I think they'd drop it for Uproar in Heaven after about 20 minutes.

OK so this is a totally confusing and at times bizarre experience. Of course I didn't understand it and can also understand why lots of people think the whole thing a disaster. Yet on several levels it has a wicked fascination. Forget the story, it's so illogical that trying to make sense of it is like trying to explain the fifth dimension. Viewed as a series of extraordinary images you just keep watching, as one tableau transforms into another. Viewed as a send up of Japanese opera it has its moments, likewise as a take on western musicals it hits some bulls eyes.

Frankly, it feels like something made by someone from another planet so why expect to understand it all? But you do, so just sit back and give in. If you like your films neat, packaged and with a clear story line, this is not it. On the other hand, I bet you'll talk about it quite a lot.