Le petit garçon

Tetsuo Abe travels Japan with his mother and father and little brother. They're con artists, pretending to be hit by cars and then mulcting the drivers for cash. The youngster makes up his own reality in which an alien comes from the stars to bring righteousness to the world. But sometimes it seems he believes it, sometimes he he tells this fiction to amuse his younger brother, and sometimes he seems to use it to comfort it somehow. He loves his mother and fears his father.

I have concluded that, brilliant film maker that he is, director Nagisa Oshima rarely makes movies that I find particularly telling. He seems to hate all his characters, and blames them for the ills of Japan. He doesn't have any solutions; like many of the Japanese New Wave, he seems more intent on apportioning blame than is solving any problems. Sometimes that is an appropriate thing to do, but in this slow-moving movie of misery, falsehoods, and insanity, there seems nothing to do but throw up my hands at the rampant nihilism.

The premise of Boy is quite simple: a middle aged couple travels around Japan and fakes accidents because they know hapless automobile drivers would rather pay a little bit of money to make their troubles go away then confront them. Most of the time they get the oldest child, who is never given a name beyond Boy, to quickly jump into a car from the side. The drivers must be very guilty people because they all assume they have in fact hit the Boy in spite of the impossible logistics they are presented with.

The Boy is the main character of the film and he's as disturbed as you would expect a ten year old boy who works dangerous con jobs to be. Since his family moves around all the time he doesn't have any sort of perspective of place, he hears the names of cities they are in and ones they are going to but they are never more than names to him. The Boy also lacks the usual naivety and faith in others that are usually found in children that age; he sees the worst side of the strange adults he deals with and his parents are trashy criminals: in addition to being the mastermind of their scam, the Father is also abusive and manipulative. The Mother is actually not the Boy's real mother but he still prefers her to his father; she may treat him poorly and give in all too easily to his father but she at least occasionally feels bad and tries to make him feel better. The Boy is in the unusual position of being the most intelligent and mature person in most of the encounters he has with others.

Although the Boy is disenchanted with humanity he is not disenchanted with all lifeforms: he repeatedly tells his baby brother and the Mother about the aliens from outer space. These aliens actually care about one another and help each other out instead of greedily deceiving each other. Basically, the aliens represent to him what family represents to most children his age. Unsurprisingly, he sees himself as a part of this mysterious but ubiquitous race, presumably one that has been placed in Japan by mistake.

In addition to the fascinating characterization of the protagonist Boy is also interesting for its experimental style. Oshima experiments with still images and distortions (as in the scene in which the Boy wears someone else's glasses and everything is slanted) and especially with color: filters give scenes tone they wouldn't have otherwise, often suggesting the emotions of the Boy quite effectively.

Oshima shows Japan as a country striving to find a sense of itself much as the boy does, particularly in the scene where Japan's traditional colors of red and white are displayed prominently in the background: not on the familiar flag but on a giant Coca Cola billboard. It's also no coincidence that the family exploits automobile traffic and not something more traditionally Japanese.

With Boy Oshima managed to make a film that was simultaneously universal in its treatment of human nature, culturally relevant in its treatment of postwar Japan's national identity, and modernistically rich in its treatment of cinematic techniques.

This movie dramatizes the real-life adventures of a roving family of con artists who faked traffic accidents to extort money from unwitting victims all over Japan. It offers a tension-filled psychological study of depraved, sociopathic parents exploiting each other and their 10-year-old son for easy money. The acting is remarkably good, particularly on the part of the boy who takes up the family trade with a mixture of gusto and reluctance.

The cinematography is wonderful -- many shots are taken at a distance from the subjects, often through half-open doors, semi-closed blinds and other obstructions. The camera work reinforces the message, subliminally, that these are dangerous people living on the margins of society, and it is best to watch their antics at a safe distance. The film editing is excellent, particularly in the scenes where traffic mishaps are being plotted and executed by the family.

My only quibble is that the film does at times have a mannered, contrived quality. For example, it abruptly switches from color to black and white and back again to color. At times, as when the black and white footage is quite overexposed, the effect is constructive and adds to the strained atmosphere; at other times, though, you feel a little whipsawed to little purpose.

This film is as worthwhile as it is off the beaten track. Anyone with an interest in Japanese cinema or aberrant families would do well to see it.

Based on true events, a family of struggling con-artists drift across Japan faking car-pedestrian accidents and then convincing the drivers to settle out of court. When the mother (Akiko Koyama) discovers that she is pregnant and is no longer is willing to take the risk of stepping into the path of a moving vehicle, Toshio (Tetsuo Abe) her 10-year-old step-son takes on the role of 'victim'. Sad, bleak and oddly structured (notably the ending), the film features lovely cinematography and an excellent cast (note: watched on TCM with English subtitles), especially Abe as the stoic youngster who attempts to run away, both literally, by taking the train as far as his resources allow, and in his imagination, a pretend- world in which he and his little brother are searching for aliens. I don't know how much of this tale of an abusive, dysfunctional is factual, but I found the story compelling and was impressed by the nuanced treatment of the parents, who are immoral, manipulative fraudsters but who at times seem to actually care about their son, despite being willing to constantly expose him to danger. The boy's acceptance of doing 'jobs' despite his increasingly damaged body to 'support' his family is both touching and chilling.

'Boy' is, below the surface, a scathing commentary on post-war Japan. The country has been consumed by greed and has taken Western ideals to its hilt. The parents exploiting their son for money strikes into the heart a family that is so far away from the respect and courtesy of old Japanese values.

As a contradiction, Oshima rejects the classical repertoire of Ozu or Mizoguchi and creates a radical language much more to his own invention. The soundtrack unsettles, the camera movement is slow and anxious ridden and the characters push against any sort of likability. The fact that a small boy is the most morally conscious out of a cast of adult characters is especially telling. Also used are still images and colour filters, almost a surefire way to portray the inner thoughts of a young boy who can't adequately express himself. The widescreen filming allows for much detail in the scenes, a rush of intricacies flood each shot. Exquisite to look at but also plenty to think about.

Oshima is usually volatile in his ideas and this leads him to be a not very consistent filmmaker but when his ideas align themselves like this, there are very few who could direct better.