A Estrela Sussurrante

The Whispering Star truly solidifies Sion Sono as one of the greatest filmmakers working in the world today. This low budget sci-fi-art-house film is the first feature from Sion Productions, the directors own production company and is based on a script he wrote 25 years ago. Whispering Star is probably the directors most abstract work and will definitely divide audiences. The only real actor in the film is incredible Megumi Kagurazaka, the dialogue is spoken only in whispers and it mostly takes place on a spaceship that looks like a Japanese house and the ruins of Fukashima, which double as barren planets. That being said, this is definitely the most visually beautiful film of Sono's career and is probably the most beautifully filmed movie of 2015. Masterfully shot in stunning black & white (except for one gorgeous scene), the film's cinematography is truly amazing. The spaceship flying through the galaxy, the devastated landscapes of the planets she visits and the nature that survived will stay in your memory for a long time after viewing. Without giving anything away, the film deals with the subject of loneliness and how everybody and everything truly needs somebody or something in order to feel alive. Even if it's far away, just knowing that person is out there is enough to make your survive.

The reviews of this film will definitely be split. Some will love it, some will hate it, it will mean something different for every viewer, just don't go into it expecting anything like the directors most recent works. This film is something else entirely, and that is why Mr.Sono is one of the best directors in the world today. As his output goes into hyper-drive, he becomes even harder to pin down.

I didn't know what to expect from my first Sion Sono movie, so when The Whispering Star ended up as what I can only describe as Stanley Kubrick meets Andrei Tarkovsky I was certainly surprised. Its narrative is almost wholly visual with minimal dialogue, often spoken in hushed and reverential whispers, expecting the audience to fill in the gaps with the limited information they've been given. Despite the clunky and unoriginal outlook of society and nature, it's the way the film is presented to you that makes all the difference, the black & white photography of the seemingly abandoned Fukushima Prefecture is gorgeous, with one scene of colour feeling beautifully alien to the rest of the movie. The long periods of reflective silence allow the audience and character to ponder on their meaning and place in the universe. While at times feeling akin to that of an arthouse production, for what it's worth, your patience will be rewarded if you can make it to the end.

There is a dripping tap and the repetition of minimal action before we even discover that we are in a space vehicle and only later that we gather everything is robotic and that parcels have to be delivered. a whole pile of parcels to be delivered all around the planetary system. Indeed the first half of the film is fairly static and we only gradually learn a little more and we get to go outside. Despite the claustrophobic nature of the early section it is always very well shot but when we go outside and the beleaguered Fukushima doubles as the various inter galactic stops the cinematography is even finer. But it is creepy. The walks to the recipients are worrying and the confrontations decidedly odd. I would not rush to watch this extraordinary film again but it is a unique experience.

"The Whispering Star" strikes at first thanks to an unexpected austerity and elegance that set it apart from Sion Sono's most known repertoire. The film follows android Yoko Suzuki's daily life as she travels through space to deliver packages. Despite teleportation technology being available, humans still prefer to spend years, sometimes decades, for their deliveries, as the wait is what makes the items special. The nostalgic mood suggests that people eventually rejected modern technologies to retain their emotions and humanity. Yoko's spacecraft looks like an old Japanese house, and all the technology we get to see is retro to say the least (tape recorders, dry cell batteries, gramophones). A strange emphasis is also put on sound: for example, while the sand under an old woman's fingers is loud as hell, the waves crashing against the shore seem to make no sound at all. On some planets, humans became their own shadows, and cannot survive any sound that is louder than 30 decibels.

The concept is definitely interesting, but I wonder if it was enough for a full-length feature film. Most of the running time is spent with Yoko silently walking across post-apocalyptic landscapes and repeating the same chores all over again inside the spacecraft. Even though these scenes help the viewer feel the monotony and lose the perception of time just like Yoko, I don't think the payoff was worth the patience. Sure the sepia cinematography is gorgeous, and there are a few highly poetic moments here and there, but sometimes it gets tough to keep the focus on the film rather than your grocery list.

It's a contemplative work that cherishes fading memories and reflects on what it is to be human, but a short might have been more than enough to convey the same meaning.

It's not a bad film but it's a difficult watch. Even if I like the crazy Sono, I also appreciate his quieter films (I absolutely love The Land of Hope), but this is a bit too introspective for my taste.

Certainly beautiful, certainly with a lot of meaning, certainly with great acting, but boy...I'm sure I will not rewatch it even with all it's merits, as this seemed much longer than it is.