Feux d'artifice

It was frustrating at first- I couldn't work out what the plot was, wasn't really caring for the characters, and didn't know whether it was in non-chronological order or not. At a point, I unconsciously stopped worrying about those things, and started to enjoy it more. It felt less about having a conventional narrative and more about simply evoking some powerful- yet sorta hard to describe- emotions. The visuals are largely great and go a long way in making the film oddly beautiful and hypnotic, and the musical score is outstanding. I could see myself really liking this on a rewatch at some point, when I know what I'm in for, and therefore aware of the best mood to experience such a film in.

'Hana-bi' is one of the most impressive movies I've seen in the last ten years. Writer/director/star Beat Takeshi (Takeshi Kitano) is best known in Japan as a comedian and TV personality, so this movie is even more astonishing to outsiders like myself. Takeshi has a very laconic and charismatic screen presence, and is no slouch as a director either. It's difficult to describe the feel of this movie, and its poetic use of violence. Peckinpah's brilliant and misunderstood 'Bring Me The Head Of Alfredo Garcia' comes to mind, as does Cassavetes' 'The Killing Of A Chinese Bookie', Ferrara's 'King Of New York' and 'Bad Lieutenant'. 'Hana-bi' reminds me of those movies but Takeshi adds his own unique voice to the material. I was knocked out by it, and I cannot recommend it highly enough to movie fans who are fascinated by the relationship between art and violence. I don't think calling this movie a masterpiece is an exaggeration. Absolutely essential viewing!

Kitano's Hana-bi is something quite special, a film where images of violence and beauty are juxtaposed. The violence is deadly, but certainly not gratuitous or pointless. The beauty is the love story, the happiness between a cop and his wife.

There are 3 main stories in the picture, each one given the time it deserves. The film is beautiful to watch, the camera work is slick and amazing.

The direction is faultless and no frame is wasted. The film's images speak out, they are very powerful. The long silences add so much to the film, the director really knew what he was doing.

The screenplay is almost in the shadow of the awe-inspiring images, but does give the picture a deserving foundation!

The performances are 101% perfect, very authentic!

The film's musical score is beautiful, it feels very isolated from the images which only adds to the raw ambience, it's perfect!

This is a Japanese masterpiece, see it in wide-screen!

It's lyrical poetry: sensitive, eloquent, visual, hard and soft edges simultaneously, and sparing dialog. There's no need to tell all -- all is conveyed in the paintings presented, in the words spoken by supporting characters, in facial expressions and gestures. It's minimal -- nothing's gratuitous. The story is told mostly visually, unhurried, not even a hold-up scene -- that feels leisurely, too.

It's a story about a cop, miles apart from Hollywood commercial productions. The treatment writer-director Kitano delivered is unlike any seen before. The central character, Nishi, he has guts to live or to die. "He's a darn good cop," Horibe his partner confirmed. (Horibe, whose poignantly restrained performance by Ren Osugi, is more than just a supporting role in the film). Nishi has two close partners: one (Tanaka) died in action and left a widow, the other crippled in action and confined to a wheelchair. His wife Miyuki (a wonderfully quiet performance from Kayoko Kishimoto) is in the hospital; she's been ill for two years; their daughter died earlier. These details are given to us through casual conversations from supporting characters and flashback memories reflecting Nishi's constantly attentive mind in spite of his mostly blank face.

He's a caring man. But when he is ignited, incensed by injustice or anyone's action or words that get in his way, his reaction is the other extreme of his subdued gentleness inside: an unhesitating steady strike or continuous multiple blows, or "emptying his bullets into a corpse." He has a lot of pent-up emotions ready to explode. Nishi is an honorable man; he felt responsible for the misfortunes that occurred to his two partners. Perhaps it's guilt; he has to do something to amend the situation. There are crime depictions, including Yakuza related segments. His physical reactions to thugs are unflinching to the point of brutal yet they are essentially graphic -- at times in powerful silence.

He's a pensive man -- we can tell he's constantly thinking. There are occasional comic relieving pauses: we see him taking a moment and even breaking into a smile, e.g., when he beckons to play ball with the two workers on the street while at a stake out; his brief exchange with the junkyard owner was revealing. It's all paced in good measure.

It's a quiet film yet strong and deep, filled with human frailties and vulnerable situations. The relationship between he and his wife is beyond words. There are little mutual gestures between the two of them -- so much is expressed silently. Sometimes it's straight to the point short questions from Nishi to his wife -- and this could be delivered to us in voice-overs. The camera gives us serene scenic landscapes: seaside view with a horizon -- waves rolling in being a repeated theme; snow scenes; a temple with a big bell and a few wandering cats. It also embraces the paintings and still lifes (e.g., a wooden puzzle game and two dessert plates on a table), giving us deliberate meaningful close-ups. In HANA-BI, silence speaks louder than effects of any kind.

The film touches on aspects of life and living -- relationships of working partners, husband and wife, and being human. It's a canvas Kitano thoughtfully creatively painted on film -- broad strokes, little poignant details here and there, vibrant solid colors and imageries. Words are sparse. Simple and yet not at all simple. It could be evident that perhaps he did it all for love? His love for his wife certainly shows. Throughout the film, his face seemed void of emotions -- hardly flinches -- and in the end, possibly a flinch or two did cross his face. Perhaps he's resigned to fate?

The music by Jo Hisaishi at times is reminiscent of European film scores, e.g., flowing tune following a car leisurely cruising along the seaside road at some Riviera of Italy or Southern France. It complements the story in soothing tempo from beginning to end. Kitano's "FIREWORKS" is in perfect cadence -- an excellent piece of film expression. A rare gem.

There are two challenges in building a life with the help of art.

The first challenge is the matter of finding good art, sorting it out from background noise. Good art is a communication from a transcendent place through a person or group with the skills to deliver it coherently. This is rare enough. All good craftsmen think they are artists and sell themselves that way.

This film is a work of art. Yes, quirky. Yes, some elements are clumsy. He has some paintings he wants us to see, so he shoehorns in a suicidal painter. He needs a suicidal painter, so he...

But we tolerate these misfits because the nature of the story follows the Japanese gangster movie convention of being a bunch of borrowed quotes from elsewhere. Borrowing these from Takeshi's artistic world is as fair as from the pop vocabulary. All these projects reference the outside.

So this is good art. It resonates. I recommend you look at it.

But the second challenge with art is deciding how to relate to it, to use it to build your mind, to work and extend your imagination. You are what you eat artistically. I cannot eat this.

No, it is not the violence. Violence in film is merely cinematic tension, to be used like smoke. It is the world that matters. Art is a gateway to a world and you have to be disposed to the target: can you use it? Will it help?

What's wrong here is that this the flip side of noir. Noir defines a world of random pain, animated by some conspiracy between the viewer and a disembodied fate. But it comes from an intent of humorous exploration, capricious hazard but hazard for mischief, not deliberate pain. Its the deliberate pain we get here, the incessant grinding of the human spirit, and incidentally some valiant tolerance, but only incidentally.

If I clove this into my mind, I would be another half step closer to suicide myself. So watch it... from a distance.

Ted's Evaluation -- 3 of 3: Worth watching.