Muñeca inflable

Hirokazu Koreeda takes a look into the abyss of Japanese society and paints a deeply disturbing but true picture of human beings who replaced their real lives into a state of mere existence. Solitude and emotional repression, ironically enough, in the country with one of the highest population densities and material goods ad infinitum. A study of cultural constraints.

Our protagonist (Du-Na Bae), masterfully chosen, is the newest excretion in the line of goods to blow some of that sexual steam off: an air doll with a washable rubber vagina. Her owner (refreshingly serious comedian Itsuji Itao), a lonesome waiter uses her as a substitute for a girlfriend, bathes, talks and of course - has sex with her. One day she awakes and discovers that she has grown a soul and begins her first tiny steps in a hostile world, without any prejudice or knowledge of the environment surrounding her. First enthralled and joyful to find all those wonders of life, she is soon crushed by the empty bitterness of people. A fallen Amélie, powerless before the unloving societal apparatus.

In Japan, there is a socially acknowledged system which consists of the Tatemae (homogenous, polite, superficial and carefully considered not to break in one's boundaries) and the Honne (one's "real" personality/ intentions). This seemingly schizophrenic social obligation produced monsters in industrialized 21st century Japan and this film shows us some of their victims. Live your lives! Be you! Appreciate the little things! Talk to people!, although slowly paced, the pictures flickering on the screen seem to shout in your face. What may sound ridiculous and hard to understand for American/European audiences, Japanese reality needs exactly those words.

Although I do not agree with some artistic choices on a personal level, I cannot stretch how much I agree with the message of this film. With increasing alienation and mistrust of people even in western societies, I am sure you can pick something up for yourself, look over frontiers and "crazy japs sticking their dicks in plastic wtflulz!!1". Definitely worth your while.

Once again, Koreeda Hirokazu puts the finger on his recurring topic: the insular lifestyle in urban Japan, and how interactions fail to achieve fulfillment.

The premise of a sex doll coming to life may appear a bit irksome, but 'Air Doll' is Koreeda's most introspective film to date because he establishes a solitary principal character observing her surroundings. This allows for a somewhat analytical narrative comment which goes beyond an exclusive focus on Tokyoites. The deductions of the doll Nozomi could be well transmitted to postmodern society as a whole: love excludes ownership, submissiveness culminates in (self)destruction and abandonment, and there is no remedy for a human heart. Some of the lines by which these points are made seem truly unforgettable, such as when the doll's creator mentions that the only distinction between humans and dolls is that we are combustible, while they are non-combustible trash.

As a result, 'Air Doll' is very philosophical and dark, maybe a bit exceedingly so. Yet the film doesn't ignore the humorous implications of an air doll coming to life, which makes for a few breaks in the simple story, as do a number of well-placed side characters. And the slow pace typical for Koreeda's films, plus wonderfully imaginative photography sum up to a thoroughly enjoyable and gratifying movie experience.

With each of Kore-eda's new films, he tries new topics and/or narrative approaches. This film reminds me less of his previous work and more of Michel Gondry's short film that's a part of the TOKYO!(2008) compilation (a collection of 3 films with the topic being the city of Tokyo directed by three directors - Michel Gondry, Leos Carax, & Bong Jun-Ho).

Unlike some of his previous films that had connections with "family" and "memories" (AFTERLIFE, DISTANCE, NOBODY KNOWS, MABOROSI, & STILL WALKING), AIR Doll also connects but focuses on Losses - not about loved ones passing away, but the lost of values and feelings that make us human. In a much more surreal narrative compared to his previous realite approaches to story-telling (HANA being the exception as he was trying to dabble with comedy and period-pieces), AIR DOLL's story is dark and fairy-tale like. As usual the cinematography is perfect and appropriate for the story he is telling, and Kore-eda in this case works with Taiwanese DP Lee Ping-Bing to bring some of the most beautiful visuals and colors to each and every scene - the close-ups utilizing soft spot-focus are good enough to be used as Leica advertisements.

While the subject matter to AIR DOLL could have treaded onto "hentai" territory, Kore-eda keeps it in its surreal context and what results is a reflection on how we all are lost in a time where we also have all our material needs satisfied as substitutes to the valuable things in life we no longer have.

It's great to see the enigmatic Arata returning to a Kore-eda film (as always, his characters almost always come across as the alter-ego to the director), and Kore-eda again shows his love of the movies. I had no idea he actually liked THERE'S SOMETHING ABOUT MARY.

My favorite of Kore-eda's work still being THE AFTERLIFE, DISTANCE, and NOBODY KNOWS, but AIR DOLL is a bold attempt for Kore-eda, showing he can break the mold and continue on his journey of bringing new ideas to the film medium. Kore-eda and Kiyoshi Kurosawa are no doubt two of Japan's most talented filmmakers today.

If you're thinking: "Oh, those wacky Japanese. A movie about a blow-up doll who, keenly aware that her function is to provide sexual pleasure, comes to life. That'll be fun!", you will be surprised, if not disappointed, by this film. Du-na Bae does a few scenes in her birthday suit, and spends most of the rest of the film in cute little outfits with very short skirts—one of them being the maid's uniform you see in the poster—but there isn't much that's erotic, let alone prurient, about this film at all. It's sad and melancholy. And innocent.

There are three things that contribute to the superbity (yep, I'm going with it) of this film. The first is the cinematography by Mark "Pin Bing" Lee. Remember that name. If he's the director of photography on a film, you can count on it at least looking good. The second is the soundtrack by World's End Girlfriend—which is actually just one guy who specializes in other-worldly noise experiments with hints of jazz and classical. His work here creates a hip, contemporary, and dreamlike atmosphere, and since this is a film about the emptiness and isolation of modern life, it's a good thing. The third contributing factor is the masterstroke of casting Du-na Bae as the Air Doll. It's hard to think of another actress who could have made such a success of the role. Bae is a fearless, talented, versatile actress and she also somewhat looks the part with her large expressive anime inspired eyes. She's also Korean, giving her a head-start playing a fish out of water in this Japanese film. There are few actors who can convincingly run through a range of several emotions in a matter of seconds without moving a muscle in their faces. Bae is one of those actors, and she does it often.

The film starts right off with the Air Doll inexplicably "finding a heart" and coming to life. She sneaks out during the day, while her owner is at work, to discover the world and its characters. She gets a job at a video store and when one day she accidentally cuts herself, and starts losing air instead of bleeding, a co-worker who seems completely non-plussed by the event puts a piece of tape on the tear and blows her back up. They fall in love. If there is one sexy scene in the film, in a sort of convoluted way, it's when the two "make love". The guy wants to take off the tape and watch her lose air and then watch her re-animate by blowing her up again. When the Air Doll wants to do the same by cutting the guy, things don't turn out as she expects. Bae plays the scene in a very convincing way.

Air Doll has a slow pace and a number of characters seem to just float by without explanation but when it's all over they will have made sense. The central conceit of the film doesn't hold up to scrutiny if you think about it too much so if any of these kinds of things bother you, take a pass. There is also an extended scene where the Air Doll meets her maker. The director seems to have wanted to use this meeting to explain the film, "Aren't we all just empty vessels"? Although the scene is a touching one, I could have done without it, not only because it would have tightened up the film, but also because I don't like it when directors make beautiful films and muck them up with verbal explanations of what they are trying to present metaphorically.

Korean actress Bae Doo-na is superb in Japanese director Hirokazu Koreeda's latest film Air Doll. Shown at the Vancouver Film Festival, Air Doll is based on the Japanese manga The Pneumatic Figure of a Girl and tells the story of a life-size inflatable doll used as a sex object for a lonely waiter who finds a heart and becomes a real person. The film is supported by the enchanting photography of Mark Lee Ping-bing who worked with Hong Kong director Wong Kar-wei in In the Mood for Love, and poetic images abound. When the film opens, Hideo (Itao Itsuji), returns from work as a waiter and begins a conversation about his day and everything seems normal until we discover that he is talking to a doll propped up in bed that he calls Nozomi, (the name of his former girl friend). Though she is a mannequin, he tells her about his life, gives her a bath, dresses her, and has sex with her each night.

One morning, Nozomi (Bae Doo-na) wakes up and finds her heart and is transformed, at least as far as appearances are concerned, into an ordinary human being. Displaying the innocence of a child, Nozomi, dressed in a French chambermaid's uniform, goes out to explore the outside world and finds out what it means to be human (and how society treats women), picking up patterns of speech from neighbors, but comes home each night to resume her roll as the compliant inanimate doll for her master. Nozomi soon lands a job in a video store and quickly learns about movies though she has never seen one and develops a friendship with the attendant Junichi (Arata), while continuing to believe that her only function is to provide sexual pleasure.

Promoting the idea that everyone is empty at their core and must be fulfilled by the companionship of others, Koreeda introduces a host of minor characters such as an old poet who feels betrayed by the world, the doll maker who created her, a woman fearful of being left alone, and a bitter old woman. Junichi abruptly learns about Nozomi's non-human status, however, when she falls and pricks her arm and all the air is drained out of her. In a very erotic scene, Junichi inflates her by blowing air into the plug in her stomach and their relationship is sweet. Nozomi discovers, however, that being half human and half doll is not fulfilling and wishes to become fully human but cannot find anyone to help her, turning to her maker (God?) for assistance.

Air Doll is a sweet, sad fable about the loss of innocence and Bae Doo-na is funny and touching in the role of a childlike doll in the tradition of Pinocchio. While it is valuable to view the world from a childlike perspective and discover once again, for example, how beautiful the stars are, having a mannequin eventually become a mirror of humanity's dark side serves little purpose. Yes, life is ugly and beautiful, sad and full of joy, but this is hardly a revelation. The film, which took nine years from planning stages until completion, has important comments about alienation in the modern world, but at two hours the simple premise is stretched too thin. Koreeda makes the point repeatedly about the emptiness of humans, forgetting that cities are home not only to lonely, alienated, and empty people but to brilliant, fulfilled, and compassionate individuals who contribute much value to our world.