Hana-bi

It took at least three repeat viewings of this film before I felt I was ready to review it here on IMDB. The first time I played the DVD I felt a strange sense of detachment as I tried to absorb what had been played out before me.

Kitano plays a detective with huge burdens on his shoulders. His wife, Miyuki) is dying from cancer, a trusted partner & friend (Horibe) is in a wheelchair with nothing to occupy his mind other than to paint landscapes & think about suicide now that his wife & family have deserted him. And to cap it all during an undercover operation headed by Kitano a young detective (Tanaka) is mortally shot & killed because of a blunder on Kitano's part.

Having been subsequently kicked out of the policeforce, Kitano has to cope not only with the loss his job (and income) but to come to terms with his guilt regarding the dead detective, Tanaka, his emotional feelings & absent love for Miyuki as she sees out her last few weeks. And finally, Kitano has a great deal of sympathy & loyalty to his former partner & friend crippled in a wheelchair.

In typical Kitano fashion he decides to rob a bank, pay off his debts to the local Yakuza warlords and spend the rest of the money on his crippled friend, Horibe; Tanaka's young widow and Kitano's dying wife.

Being a big fan of Kitano I wasn't disappointed by the style of the movie. His directional trademarks are visible through most of his films: flowers, beach scenes, picturesque landscapes, beautiful & haunting music (by the ever dependable Jo Hisaishi); face-to-camera shots and of course a sense of helplessness & defeatism within the lead actors themselves.

But what I wasn't quite prepared for was the melodrama & pathos the film revealed to me. Unlike most of his other "gangster/police" movies such as Brother, Sonatine & Violent Cop, the violence seems secondary to the moving, sometimes harrowing scenes of Kitano & Miyuki holidaying together, trying to relive some of their past love & passion for each but only to find there is nothing but loss & grief.

Kitano shows a great range of emotions in this film: from being a tough & very unforgiving man with his dealings with the Yakuza (the violence is sharp, sudden & very graphic). While at other times he is a man totally lost in a world of sorrow & pity, a man who finds it hard to grieve, to own up to his mistakes & guilt, a man who only now realises how much he will miss his wife after spending so many years staying away & not appreciating her needs whilst doing his job in the police.

The ending is absolutely gut-wrenching, but to be honest it was of no real surprise since there are similar outcomes in most of Kitano's films, especially Violent Cop & Sonatine.

The cinematography is absolutely outstanding, coupled with the haunting score of Jo Hisaishi (who also did the score for my favourite Kitano film, Sonatine). Kitano's direction is also beautifully paced with very tight editing & not a single shot is wasted.

The acting as well, is top drawer. Nothing needs to be said about Kitano's performance because it is that good. But the support from Kayoko Kishimoto (Miyuki), Ren Osugi (Horibe) & Yûko Daike (Tanaka's widow) is truly excellent and never weighs the movie down with too much manufactured & false melodrama so typical of Hollywood (especially movies starring Robin Williams).

As I said at the beginning of this review I had to see this film at least three times before I felt compelled to write about it, such is the power & strength within this film. Kitano's humanity is very redeeming & reveals to our Western eyes the true values of Japanese tradition & family relationships, especially with regards loyalty, friendship, love & coming to terms with one's guilt.

I recommend this film to anyone who takes an interest in movies of this kind. It may appear to drag at times, and some of the shots seems uneven & redundant on first viewing. But give it a chance because after about the second or third view more & more of the film's inner strengths will brim to the surface leaving you aghast & begging for more.

*****/*****

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.

A slow burning movie, full of brooding atmosphere, lots of fierce stares and minimal dialogue. Lots of violence mainly aimed at yakusa so that's OK I guess.

Very good photography, solid music and a soul spiralling out of it's orbit.

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.

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.