Kûki ningyô

In the early 70's I used to wander in and out of sex shops in Soho London. One of the high-ticket objects that always caught my eye was the rubber blow-up dolls labelled "sailors help". I always tried to imagine a lonely sailor having sex with this travesty of an imaginary woman. What particularly puzzled me was:- "how is the doll more satisfying than masturbation with the hand?". I concluded that all its contrivance was superfluous, and that those that used the doll, must need to create a highly complex artificial world. Koreeda's movie,

• which I viewed exactly forty years since I last looked at a "sailor's help", features certain technological advances - the skin tones are more life-like and the latex is less rubbery, the hair and make-up is more convincing - apart from these minor alterations its the same old dumb doll.

Koreeda, whose poetic imagination is different to mine, wondered about many magical and profound possibilities, when he encountered his first sex doll. I can only analyze these from a Western point of view. A Chef is portrayed interacting with his doll. Apart from the sexual act, in which we are introduced to the snap in, snap out, washable vagina, we are made privy to his affection and warm intimacy with his inanimate doll. All his emotional needs are fulfilled in his totemization of his latex goddess. What gives the doll life is the "blow job" he regularly gives the doll, in the inflation process. This introduction is well acted and convincing.

Then, the fairy tale begins, as the doll is, in the Ancient Egyptian manner, transformed with "pneuma" into a living being. How is she different? Well for one her breasts change from the usual silicone bag shape {the ubiquitous Hollywood look} to a natural form of great beauty - this "live" doll is a magnificent apparition of womanly grace and archetypal form - she's not big, brash and in your face, but, instead she has a bird-like elegance, that lovers of the nude, will find breathtaking {at least I did}. The fairy tale now progresses into a portrait of what this beautiful woman , who is still a doll, but is also a gorgeous woman, will experience in a world of intense emotional discipline. The Tokyo setting is appealing and the music has a wind up clock, musical box feel, {imagine a twirling ballerina accompanied by the Nutcracker Suite on top of a musical box}. This is very effective and calls ones attention to the mechanical in the doll.The director Koreeda ponders about the realities of urban Tokyo life with its density and its order. The life of the libidinous search for sexual gratification is controlled by the harmless sublimation of sexual energy into the doll {with its washable vagina} reminiscent of the condom, - especially the female condom, the femidom.

The "living doll" has many adventures dressed {in fashionable Tokyo style}, or amazingly in the nude, as the slow, but, beautiful movie lets you see her evolution into a fully-fledged womanhood. Here we come to the genius of this movie, which is the erotocization of "air". It all makes logical sense that the air doll is turned on by air. Her tumescence and detumescence is a pneumatic event , while humans have blood running through their veins, the doll has air. These sexual scenes portraying her sexuality, illustrating the strength of her intake and the weakness of her air loss. It is so resonant of so much that is human, that, it is nothing short of dazzling.

The Japanese samurai tradition {see Paul Schrader's Mishima} is confirmed in the fetish of the belly-button, {solar plexus}, and the seppuku ending, with the doll trying to reach her lovers life, through the vestige of his umbilical cord.

I am not sure whether I have done this lyrical, poetic inspiration justice, but it certainly is a touching paean to human frailty and the "doll" is an awesome vision to behold. She gives a moving performance in a difficult role to pull off convincingly. The director must be congratulated {with his cinematographer} for an intelligent excavation of the difference between feeling and lack of feeling. This movie will appeal to both genders as it navigates uncharted waters in the field of the human psyche. An exhilarating experience that lives on way after the curtain closes.

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.

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.

Air Doll is a poetic, unhurried, beautifully shot and poignant movie which may remind you of Lars and the Real Girl, Artificial Intelligence, Enchanted, Cyborg She, Pinocchio and Toy Story, yet it distinguishes itself by its poetic quality and focus on the emptiness of city life.

Indeed, city dwellers resemble sex dolls. Lacking souls and uniqueness, they can be easily substituted by others. Nozomi's sex with three different men exploiting her and treating her as a substitute is one of the examples. Degrading themselves by treating each other as functional objects, they will be forgotten once they become useless. A dead person therefore is depicted as a piece of garbage.

Moreover, some city dwellers prefer to live alone and sometimes they feel lonely. The movie reminds us that humans should have companions. DVDs gradually replacing cinemas also indicates that people nowadays prefer solitude.

Apart from these, city slickers value money and sex more important than soul and love. For instance, a man prefers an air doll to a real woman and even a little girl prefers a ring to a doll given by her mother.

Despite the gloomy atmosphere, the movie reminds us of the cycle of life which consists of not only downs, but also ups. Although plants wither in winter, they grow in spring. Perhaps we should learn from Nozomi who tries to appreciate every moment of happiness, be it fleeting or lasting, for instance, gazing at stars and even a raindrop, admiring the breathtaking scenery in the city, embracing a man she has a crush on while riding on a motorcycle, etc. Indeed, Nozomi is already happier than other real human characters in the movie.

Starring as an inflatable sex doll with a soul, Korean actress Doona Bae (The Host, Linda Linda Linda) gives a convincing and dazzling performance in this Japanese movie. The audience will be amazed by every nuance of her expressions / movements and the daring naked scenes.

The renowned Taiwan cinematographer Mark Ping-bing Lee (In the Mood for Love) succeeds in capturing the mood of this lonely city by often panning his camera slowly to observe loners. The dreamlike music by World's End Girlfriend also adds much purity, mystery and melancholy to this fractured modern fairy tale.

Although the plot would become more substantial if other minor characters were further developed, they help illustrate how lonely and alienated humans are.

After seeing this haunting movie, one may leave the cinema with a heavy heart and a deep sigh, trying to feel one's long-lost soul and pondering on the meaning of ephemeral life.

Hirokazu Koreeda is one of my favorite directors and his previous movies like Maborosi, Nobody Knows and Still Walking are highly recommended.

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.