Achille e la tartaruga

Achilles and the Tortoise is the last installment in a loose trilogy actor/director Takeshi Kitano has made about the figure of the artist. Whereas the first two entries, Takeshi's and Glory to the Filmmaker, could basically be described as one big self-referential absurdist joke, Achilles is a more controlled film, with a proper story and a precise set of themes, albeit decorated with cheerfully absurd humor.

Such a scenario occurs right from the beginning, in an animated prologue which explains the bizarre title: as pointed out by the philosopher Zeno, if Achilles (the fastest mortal man, according to Greek mythology) and a tortoise competed in a race, and the latter had even the slightest advantage (say three feet), logic demands that in the time required for Achilles to reach that point, the tortoise would keep moving forward, and therefore the famous warrior, paradoxically enough, would never be able to catch up with the notoriously slow animal.

In Kitano's film, Achilles would be Machisu, a young boy fascinated by art, and the tortoise is success. Despite the boy's determination and occasionally bold choices of subjects (he has a knack for painting macabre events), his lack of stylistic originality makes all galleries shun him and most of his friends abandon him. Only his wife will keep supporting him, even in his older days (at this point, Kitano himself plays the role), when they're practically broke and their own daughter is ashamed to live in the same house as them.

Kitano's passion for painting is quite well known among those familiar with his work (he personally makes all the artwork that shows up in his movies), and so Achilles and the Tortoise is a good opportunity for him to use his hobby as a tool to reflect on the elusive subject of art and its various ramifications. Naturally, he does this with his usual penchant for darkly humorous set-ups, especially in the third act, with some scenes so audacious it's doubtful even something like Six Feet Under would have featured them. And yet one does not feel repulsed by those scenes. On the contrary, it's the absurdity of the plot, paired with Kitano's quietly composed directing and minimalistic performance, that constitutes the movie's primary point of attraction. In fact, Kitano's on-screen presence is so charismatic that perhaps he would have been better off shortening the first section of the picture and granting his quirky alter ego more room. Furthermore, the straightforward "happy" ending feels completely at odds with everything else, but then again coming up with a suitably crazy epilogue might have proved too arduous a task.

Ultimately, the only thing that seriously damages a part of this strange and, in its own way, funny opus is the running time (almost two hours), with minor help from the somewhat off- beat conclusion. Nevertheless, Kitano fans are likely to find something to embrace yet again, and anyone with some kind of interest in art should take a good, close look at this original take on the matter.

This should be required viewing for everyone in the "art" world. Kitano skewers global modern art culture and also makes fun of his own work.

The story is simply of an artist from childhood to "middle age" (which seems to be around 62) as he tries to be a successful artist. He starts out as an untrained "primitive" but with a certain talent for texture and color. He is insulted at every turn while we get to see the "good" art by "masters" which are all really, really bad. Unfortunately the artist gets progressively worse as he takes advice from gallery owners on how to make his work "sellable", which it never is. Every time the work gets better, he's advised to go in a different direction. Many mildly humorous situations arise but the film isn't going for outright laughs most of the time. The scenes of the "middle aged" artist (played by Kitano) getting his supportive wife to make his art are very long, get progressively cruel (probably part of the point) and could have been cut down a little. The issue of autism isn't directly addressed but the character certainly exhibits symptoms.

This is a very good film although a little long. It may not be as good to someone who has no experience with the art world of today. Kitano created all the art in this film, good and purposely bad.

Kitano trying something different - is kind of something you expect from him. Now while he could have just been doing Yakuza or silly comedies, he goes ahead and does movies like this. It's about art - not just his decision, but what this movie is about. Now there is quite a lot of comedy in it and there is also quite a lot of violence in it too.

It is what he knows to do - and he is good in it. And while I did not look into if there is any autobiographical aspect to it, it does feel like he at least is chanelling something about himself. It may feel like small pieces sown together, but there is craft in that, making it compelling and interesting to see the road and determination of an artist. It is odd, but it is also really good

I like different films especially from Japan and this fits the category, interesting from beginning to end, a sad film in my opinion but with lots of messages for art lovers if you look that deep into the story, a bit like Rembrandts 'Nightwatching'.

Didn't quite get the ending but it didn't seem to matter. Gosh to have a wife like he had, so patient and supportive all his life but sad for the daughter who had to endure so much also all her life.

The title is a stunning one. Okay the Tortoise is the pursuit of success but what is the Achilles, the inability over time to achieve that success? Good acting throughout but cant take it as a comedy with a western mind.

Machisu is an artist, and has been as long as he can remember. As a child, his mother died, followed a few years later by his father. His stepmother sent the boy to his aunt and uncle, who didn't want him; giving him to an orphanage. Painting was the only relief from the callous world he found himself in. Through art college, he experimented with various styles, never finding one that suited his vision. As he grew up, got married and had a daughter, his obsession with art intensified, until it became his sole driving force; to the detriment of his personal relationships. Will Machisu ever find a style that suits him, or will he be left unable to express himself adequately?

Takeshi Kitano's fourteenth film, 'Achilles and the Tortoise' is a poignant drama exploring the meaning and cost of artistic passion. Kitano's narrative- partially autobiographical- shows how Machisu's obsession with art blinds him to the reality and needs of his family, work and society. He becomes a self-indulgent beast, indifferent to the feelings of those closest to him. Likewise, his art suffers, and though he strains to attain an individual style, he never can. Although a little repetitive, the film acts as a pointed indictment of obsession- even of the artistic variety.

Conversely, the film also suggests that art can be a form of therapy. In his younger days- before his passion turned to obsession- Machisu's painting released him from the pain of his existence. Though he had no family to turn to, he had his paintings and peers in art college. They gave him hope, and the will to continue living. It is because of his love for art that he met his wife, and the years they spent together trying to further his career were certainly the best of his life. A film of much depth, various readings can be made with regard to its thematic content.

Visually, the film is stunning, with ingenious composition and clarity of images. Every frame could be a painting. Furthermore, the paintings seen throughout- done by Kitano himself- are striking, while Katsumi Yanagijima's cinematography continuously impresses. His use of bright colours, dynamic movements and symbolic elements contrast with the dark and tragic events of the narrative.

Moreover, under Kitano's direction, Yanagijima's work reflects Machisu's artistic evolution and experimentation. He uses different styles and techniques to match the different periods and influences that Machisu goes through, such as realism, expressionism, surrealism, pop and abstract art. The film also pays homage to some of the artists that inspire Machisu- such as Van Gogh, Picasso, Warhol and Pollock- by recreating their works and incorporating some of their motifs. Meaningful and expressive, 'Achilles and the Tortoise' makes for a unique and captivating visual experience.

Additionally, Yuki Kajiura's score is delicate and evocative, reminiscent of the work of Kitano's old collaborator, Joe Hisaishi. Kajiura's work complements the mood and tone of the film, adding to its emotional impact. Norihiro Isoda's subdued production design is in keeping with Kitano's minimalist style, enhancing the film's artistic expression. The simple and sparse settings- such as Machisu's studio, his home and gallery- allows one to fully focus on the paintings and the characters.

Isoda's work also draws inspiration from different genres and styles of art and design, such as the Japanese traditional art of calligraphy, modern arts like manga and anime, as well as postmodern ones such as pop and kitsch. Isoda incorporates these elements in subtle and clever ways, such as through the use of brush strokes, comic panels and neon signs. Furthermore, the film pays homage to some of the artists and designers that influenced Kitano, such as Hiroshige, Hokusai, Miyazaki and Murakami.

'Achilles and the Tortoise' stars Kitano as Machisu, alongside Kanako Higuchi as his wife Sachiko and Eri Tokunaga as their daughter. A quiet, enigmatic painter, who else could be better for the role than Kitano? He pulls it off with his trademark wit and ease, while Higuchi is marvellous, delivering a nuanced, believable performance as his long-suffering spouse. Tokunaga is similarly good, while Kitano regulars Susumu Terajima and Ren Osugi do not disappoint in all too small cameo roles as a Yakuza pimp and Machisu's uncle, respectively.

A film both fun and affecting, 'Achilles and the Tortoise' proves Kitano's skills as director, writer, editor and actor. Visually remarkable and boasting a fine score from Yuki Kajiura, it impresses on every level. Though at times the narrative might seem a little repetitive, its exploration of themes- such as the cost of artistic passion- is profound and intriguing. As the last chapter in a semi-autobiographical trilogy- including 'Takeshis'' and 'Glory to the Filmmaker!'- this is a memorable, philosophical film about the power and price of art that Achilles might have found to his tastes.