Hana-bi - Fiori di fuoco

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.

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.

Takeshi Kitano's "Hana-bi" aka. "Fireworks" of 1997 is sad, funny, violent and melancholic and, alongside his 1989 debut "Violent Cop", my personal choice for his best work. Hardly ever have I seen a movie which is this memorable and unique in both its tragic and its funny moments, as it is the case with this great film.

I am a big fan of director Takeshi Kitano, who also stars in the leading part (as 'Beat' Takeshi) in this, and "Hana-bi" is my personal favorite of his movies.

Yoshitaka Nishi (Kitano) is a mostly calm, but occasionally irascible and ultra-violent cop, whose wife Miyuki (Kayoko Kishimoto) is terminally ill of leukemia. After his partner Horibe (Ren Osugi) is wounded, and another police officer is killed, Nishi decides to quit his job at the police and spend more time with his dying wife. In order to help Horibe, who is now in a wheelchair, and the dead police officer's widow, and in order to make the remaining time as comfortable as possible for his wife, Nishi, who also owes money to the Yakuza, needs money and he is determined to acquire it.

Not only is Kitano a gantastic a writer and director, his acting performance in "Hana-Bi" is also superb. Nobody else could have played the role of Nishi with such brilliance as 'Bito' Takeshi Kitano, who rarely says a word in the first half of the film and is (nevertheless or therefore) absolutely impressive in his role of the cop with the constant poker face, which typical for Kitano. By the way, the impressionist and very original pictures which are shown occasionally throughout the movie were also painted by Kitano himself. The rest of the performances are also very good, Ren Osugi delivers a particularly memorable performance as Horibe, Nishi's partner who is struck by fate and has to live in a wheel chair, and Kayoko Kishimoto is great in the lovable role of Nishi's dying wife.

Fantastic cneimatography and Kitano's typical way of patiently drawing out some scenes while showing abrupt outbursts of violence with stamina that makes them hurt as well as his unique talent for the combination of tragic and comical elements make this one of his greatest achievements. Highly recommended!

Hana-bi (1997) is Japanese film maker Takeshi Kitano's masterpiece along his Sonatine (1993). Hana-bi reminds me pretty much of his more recent film, Brother (2000), which still has much more humor and positivism in it. Those who have experienced Sonatine may ask can a film be even more beautiful and brilliant, but Hana-bi is at least as masterful, if also different. The film stars again the director himself as Nishi, a police man who learns his wife suffers from some extremely lethal disease which has taken her speech, too. She is going to die soon, and all Nishi has in his mind is to make his wife's last weeks as enjoyable and nice as possible. He is forced to deal with Yakuza in order to get some money for her medical care and other plans he has for her last days, and that leads of course to troubles with the gangsters as Nishi isn't able to pay back his loans. Nishi's partner is another tragic character, who is shot and paralyzed for the rest of his life during one shoot out. Also one of Nishi's partners is shot dead in a scene, which belongs to the film's most powerful scenes and it is shown as a flashback, in the usual silent and symbolic style of the director. What follows is all the great elements we've learned to wait from this artist from one of the greatest cinema lands in the world, Japan.

Hana-bi is almost unbearably sad and emotional, and its most tragic character is Horibe, the partner who is paralyzed and totally abandoned by his wife and children after he loses his ability to move and be like his used to. The scenes in which Horibe tells to Nishi about his loneliness and that everyone has left him are extremely powerful and really make think about the values of one's own life for the second time. Horibe finds some kind of way to express his sadness through art and painting, and he gets a great gift from Nishi, one of his last friends who understands him and would never leave him like the others did.

The shoot out flashback is also one memorable segment in this film, and it is in its slow motion one of the most beautiful, yet shocking depictions of violence ever possible. Hana-bi has some very strong scenes of violence, and it all erupts again as rapidly as always in Takeshi's films. Weak souls resort to violence very often, and the result is always just more violence, death, depravity and pain, both physical and emotional. I will stress again that those who think Takeshi's cinema is gratuitously violent (or Japanese cinema in general, i.e. the work of Takashi Miike and Ishii) miss the whole point as his films absolutely never glorify violence or present it as a noteworthy tool; his films analyze violence and show many aspects of it, without hiding or embellishing anything. His films are as important in this level as they are in cinematic element level as some of his usual trademarks are absolutely unique and stunning, and Hana-bi is definitely not an exception.

The music is again by Joe Hisaishi, who composed Takeshi's films Sonatine and Brother plus some others. The soundtrack in Hana-bi is again one key element of the film, and it is perhaps closer to Brother's than Sonatine's, but still all these three films have unique and masterful soundtrack which is full of emotions. The greatest element of all, however, in Hana-bi are the paintings by the director himself, who painted them after his nearly fatal motorcycle accident in 1994. They are stunningly beautiful and staggering as they combine different types of nature's beauty in very unique way. The animals combined with flowers are so wonderfully effective and their power is taken even further by the music. This symbolism creates so powerful experience that it almost requires the viewer to cry for the characters, but also for the cinematic magic this director has created.

The usual wry humor of Takeshi is almost completely missing in Hana-bi, but there are some little bits, which are still in right places and work as fine as they always do. Still, this is the most inconsolable film of Takeshi, and be sure to watch the whole film the end credits included, since there's one extremely purifying image coming, in the tradition of the finale in Brother. Despite Hana-bi being so sad and harrowing, the very end is again very relieving and belongs among the greatest endings of all time. Another film with similar ultra-powerful image at the end is Lars von Trier's Breaking the Waves, another masterpiece from the 90's.

I just cannot imagine loving some other film maker's work more than Takeshi's, and he is among the greatest cinematic artist I know, and it is not a surprise he's from Japan, since Asian film makers are usually the most personal and stunning and don't have any restrictions for their work like in Hollywood film makers usually have as they have to keep the ratings and commercial things in mind. Fortunately Takeshi has been able to do his films completely free, and I really hope he can continue it for many years to come. Hana-bi is his brightest masterpiece. 10/10 immortal cinema.

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.