Eki

It is fatalistic and cyclical. A work of philosophy with a structure that is thought provoking well past the ending. "What did that look mean?" "Why did she do that?" It is anchored by the lead performance of such layers. While he is terrorized by his past he unwittingly makes entirely new mistakes. Mistakes that, in Shakesperean tradition, could not be avoided.

The film is a true visual experience, with scenes that have a palpable sense of atmosphere like nothing else. The snow-covered setting is rendered with such vividness that it feels you are there.

But it's not just the cinematography that impresses; pretty picture on their own do not inspire. It is the feelings of these images. The filmmakers understand how to get in our psyche through a cozy sense of atmosphere.

The performances are equally evocative, with every expression carrying the weight of a panoramic vista. Every scene of quietness is like a puzzle. It is the rare mix of an adult drama, but also a cop film at its core. It delivers all the staples of the genre: hostage situations, shootouts, and surprise attacks. What more can one ask for? It is a film for film lovers.

This is a Ken Takakura vehicle, and as such follows his formula. Takakura plays to type as the laconic brooder who suffers multiple tragedies with manly stoicism. While the variety of his film varied greatly, his films with director Yasuo Furuhata were always of the highest quality, and this is no exception. Takakura is a cop training to be a sharpshooter for the Olympic games, he divorces his wife and abandons his daughter when he discovers she's had an affair. Later his coach is gunned down by a fleeing criminal. Years later Takakura returns to his snowy hometown and starts an affair with a middle-aged bar owner. The story is a bit thick, with a number of subplots, yet it is extrordinarily melancholic, as Takakura seems to regret everything he's done in his life and is made over and over again to relive his mistakes. There is very little "action" as such, and no yakuzas of any kind; but beyond that this is one of the most lushly beautiful and emotional films you can see (if you can see it), with an excellent score by Ryudo Uzaki.

I have to admit I'm a bit stumped when it comes to Station, and maybe the imperfect subtitles on the version I found added to that confusion. It's a film of two halves, kind of, but both parts follow one man who I guess is lost in life. One synopsis will have you believe the movie is about trying to find a murderer who's on the loose, but that's really only part of it. The second half isn't so much about crime of any sort, and instead feels like a sequel to the first half. It's a bit like watching two movies with the same main character back to back.

If this was the intention, I guess that's cool, but like I said, I'm lost, so I don't really know why the choice was made to do it that way. It resulted in a movie that felt very long and not always very interesting, as well as a bit jarring. If it were a duology, though, I don't think I could fault either half quite as much.

Taking the two halves together, too, the approach is still interesting, and I'll probably be trying to think about what it all means for a little while... or it might just be a character study; all about one man trying to do two different things at two different stages of his life.

Anyway, messiness aside, it's not poorly made, and I think the lead performances were generally good. I'm confused by a lot here, but that also might just be me.