95 and 6 to Go

I was very moved by this film, it was an incredibly investigation of human emotions.

So I can erase my memory of this movie? I would 100% pay it.

This is a film you don't see every day, and one from which I felt to have learned a lot as a filmmaker. Even though I watched it over two years ago at the doc competition of Krakow Film Festival, many aspects of it have managed to stay with me vividly.

For instance, the well crafted construction of the character of Tom, who becomes more and more compelling as the film progresses. For someone who at first may seem a fragile old man, Tom lets his complexity unknowingly shine through. Bit by bit, he becomes the disciplined collector of magazine ads; the nostalgic music and dance enthusiast; the ultrasincere, tough-loving grandfather; the widow who is motivated to go on with his life... and last but not least, the unbelievably creative storyteller.

By focusing on this fascinating character, Takesue ended up undertaking several goals, most of them successfully achieved. For starters, she permanently inscribed the history of her family into celluloid, carrying on the narratives of her grandpa, grandma, aunt and others for herself and the rest of the world to see. Not only is this noble goal of constituting and preserving memory a raison d'etre for cinema itself, it is also one that I personally aim at.

Aside from this heartwarming gesture of "documenting", which would make this film great on its own, what really elevates it in comparison to other documentaries out there is the subtle insight we are given into the process of self-acceptance the director engages in while she documents her grandpa.

As she listens, throughout the years, to her grandpa's vivid script advice regarding a project that she seems to be fixated on for too long a time, Takesue comes to realise that the film she so badly wanted to make might have been somewhere else all along... And to experience this somewhat frustrating, yet inestimably sobering process of self-reflection take form as the film we're seeing at this very moment, is what makes "95 and 6 to Go" a gem as unforgettable as Sarah Polley's "Stories We Tell".

Also, it's beautifully shot and the soundtrack kicks ass. Filmmakers alike will be inspired by its beauty.

"Poignant and funny, woven from family, history, geography and grief, this documentary had me at its opening shot of Kimi Takesue's grandfather (a man the age my father would be if he still were here) going through his daily routine of countless push-ups, and moving on from there to watering his garden, clipping coupons and having his meals, while his granddaughter, offscreen, peppers him with questions. There is a rhythm to this devotional film driven by the recent grief shared by grandfather and granddaughter for the grandmother and wife who has died, and the coming grief for a courageous man facing his own ending - the source of the mysterious title, a medical prognosis taken up by the patient, contemplative, facing forward into his future.



That rhythm, oceanic and Pacific - Hawaii is Tom's home, though Japan is his patrimony - punctuates the scenes of Kimi and Tom doing his daily life together. The sublime of the quotidian is embraced in turning from palms, sky and sea back to the filmmaker and her subject, engaged in the deliberate inquiries that she must pursue while his stories are still present in his words, in his voice, not just in photos. As kin can do, he is utterly at ease telling of his long life with its work and love, dancing and bickering, and an attitude born out of the simple truth that you "cannot grieve all your life." Kimi has hard questions about a daughter lost to death too young, and how he and his wife, Kimi's grandmother, whom we see aging through photography made history and biography, struggled together to keep on beyond loss.



We come to feel love for this kindly, sometimes querulous man, and we share Kimi's grief in her loss, even as she has drawn a detailed cinematic portrait of what makes every life exemplary and ordinary, quotidian and sublime, and not forgotten. "