Eu Era um Homem Comum

Film is first and foremost a story-telling medium. Film is at its best when it has straight forward story, strong characters, a linear plot that is easy to follow, and a theme you don't have to search for. If this had any of these, it went over my head.

When people go into an art gallery, there are those who look at the art on the walls and ponder, and (with honest sincerity, or the need to show pretentious artistic knowledge) say, "Hmmm, very deep. It truly moves me." Then there are those who look at it, with head askew, and say "Huh?" I am the latter. I don't know, maybe I am just a landscape and flowers kind of guy. I could never pretend that I understood and liked wine, either. I am more of a coffee guy, with just a little cream and sugar to take the bitter out.

This film seemed slow, drawn out, plodding, and all over the place with unintroduced characters, a story that roamed, and a theme that never penetrated for me. The beautiful cinematography simply could not make for for what it lacked. I had to strain to hear what little dialog there was, I had to strain to see through the persistent darkness, and I had to strain just to understand what it was about. Maybe it was a cultural thing, but when we strive today for a cross-cultural awareness, I felt left behind.

Film as art for art sake has never interested me. I just wondered what the point was, and that question was never answered...for me.

"How am I supposed to care for him, when he didn't care for us?"

This is a slow film, especially at its beginning, and it deals with the depressing subject of an old man beginning to die, so it won't be for everyone. His situation is even sadder because he's not close to his adult children, having made decisions in his life that his younger, more idealistic self would not have thought possible. In these reflections at the end of life, flashbacks to the past with regret, and ghostly visits, I saw a little bit of Bergman's Wild Strawberries, Hawaiian style. In this case, the man chose to spend time drinking and playing pool rather than being with his kids, and after his wife passed away, they lived with their aunt. There is a touching parallel between his life story to the changes to Hawaii, with scenes showing statehood and massive development.

In the present, the man calls his son on the east coast in the middle of the night, which is in the wee hours given the time difference, and his son hangs up on him. His daughter provides some care but doesn't really want to be there, and another son is present but has some form of mental disability, which while presenting challenges, gives him insight into the spirit world. One of his adult grandsons isn't close to him and feels like the old man never really liked him, but finds himself in the awkward position of trying to fill in as a caretaker one day. Meanwhile, the old man is mostly uncommunicative to those around him, sometimes confused, and sometimes able to say a few things or crack a joke.

Aside from the reminder of our mortality and how bleak it can be without loved ones, the question which forms is how could it have come to this? We see him as a young man walking on a deserted beach with a girl he's fallen in love with, and together with the beautiful cinematography, it all seems very idyllic. Eventually the events in the man's life are revealed, but I won't spoil them. I think the film would have been stronger had it included more flashbacks to show these events rather than telling us about them through the wife's prophecies in the past though, and it probably should have avoided repeating the line "dying isn't it simple, is it," which started feeling a little trite. On the other hand, putting the image of the younger self wondering why he would have abandoned his kids next to the older self lying on his deathbed was pretty powerful.

Offsetting some of the darkness of death and regret is an expression of a larger spirit world, of how death isn't the end, and how a sense of tranquility can be achieved. How well these work for you may depend on your personal views, but to me they didn't ring true, or in any event, weren't rendered as artistically as they could have been. Overall though, it's a movie I liked more as it went along, and I thought it was worth seeing.

About 30 minutes into this film, there is a quick, almost fleeting shot of a rotten fruit falling from a tree at nighttime, paired with a shot of the fragile main character as he lies on his deathbed. A little while earlier, we see him attentively picking fresh fruit from the same tree, the sun blazing overhead. It might just be a small visual detail, but this contrast stood out most to me amid all the frames director Christopher Makoto Yogi interweaves in this film.

I Was a Simple Man is an almost mystical story of an elderly man, Masao, nearing the end of his life. Over the course of the movie, we explore the circumstances that shaped him into the solitary man he eventually becomes through revisiting shattering experiences, and happy memories-all while life is slowly slipping out of his worn out body. Yogi gives these experiences time and space to unfold, never once rushing the reflective nature of the film; instead, he lets the film slowly lure us in by merging different timelines and points of view. This is a movie that doesn't need many words to "talk", it's a movie that thoughtfully conveys its message through pictures, like fruit falling from a tree.

The first two acts are filled with color and stunning Hawaiian scenery, accompanied by the tranquil sound of waves breaking softly on the shore. As the film goes on, however, some of its initial heart and care unfortunately get lost along the way, in my view. Although the initial premise-centered around an experience we will all inevitably go through-feels universal, the movie isn't fully able to take us on the same journey as its protagonist, subsequently reducing the film's emotional impact to a minimum, despite its visibly heartfelt direction and performances. Since most of the story is told through flashbacks, there is almost no character development otherwise crucial to the emotional tone of a dramatic film like this one.

As a result, the overall tone and atmosphere of I Was a Simple Man feels indecisive; it's as if the film and its message got lost somewhere in the cuts between present and past, reality and fantasy. Both the flashbacks and the present timeline work well on their own, with solid cinematography and strong narratives; put together, however, they feel rather dissonant than harmonious-like melodies each beautiful by themselves, but played together, they become a discordant sea of notes without a clear phrase or harmony.

A contemplative movie exploring the end of a man's time spent on earth, I Was a Simple Man seeks to convey the feeling of being in the presence of someone who is passing away-Yogi's main inspiration behind this film, as he mentioned during the Q&A following the screening. While this movie succeeds at painting a pensive portrait of a man's life, it unfortunately doesn't succeed as much at interweaving the story of his life with the passing of his life. Nonetheless, in the end, I Was a Simple Man is perhaps a mindful reminder that our lives are to be lived, and lived fully, before we depart this planet.

"I Was a Simple Man" is obviously a very personal project for the director. So personal that it doesn't translate to a comprehensible experience for the viewers. The characters are poorly explained, and the pace is super slow. It may be an artistic film, but it's not for me.

I Was a Simple Man is a beautiful, haunting, and rewarding film. I recently saw the film's premiere at Sundance (virtually) where both of the virtual screenings sold out, which is an indicator of the film's intrigue. In I Was a Simple Man, director Christopher Makoto Yogi tells the story of a dying man named Masao on the North Shore of Oahu. We realize after some interactions with family that Masao is in no way a simple man and has quite a complicated past. He is a man who fell deeply in love with his wife, but after her death decades ago he chose to have very little involvement with his children, which leaves him mostly isolated on his deathbed. I connected with this storyline deeply, particularly during this pandemic when many of us are confronting death to an extent that we never have before, and also feel incredibly isolated at the same time. Days later the film has me grappling mentally with deaths in my own family and the complex, sometimes flawed personal relationships that greatly complicate our emotions when death comes around.

The story touches on a lot of interesting topics, some that might be familiar to those who have seen Yogi's previous work. The characters and script are nostalgic for an old Hawaii, one not littered with high rise hotels and apartment buildings, and one that is more green and untouched. Hawaiian nature is deeply linked to the characters and is a focal point visually, aurally, and symbolically. The complicated issue of Hawaiian statehood also creates a layered backdrop to the story that unfolds in the past.

The performances by the actors and cultivated by Yogi are impressive. Constance Wu is probably the draw here, but this is not your typical Wu project. In fact, I was most appreciative of the subtle acting of relative newcomer Steve Iwamoto in the lead role, whose tanned and weathered face expressed so much. I was also impressed by Tim Chiou who played "Adult Masao" during some of the most difficult times for his character.

Regarding the film's style, I Was a Simple Man would be categorized in the genre of Slow Cinema and is rewarding to those with some patience. Perhaps this pacing will not be for everyone, but I found that it created a meditative and thoughtful tone that felt intentionally and deeply in tune with the Hawaiian environment where "time moves differently," which is also a reference to the film's fluid chronology. Though some of the boldest choices come later in the film, most of which I'll refrain from spoiling, I found the film to be quite dynamic as it builds towards its conclusion. The film's cinematography is quite gorgeous, showcasing a less familiar side of Hawaii, and featuring frames reminiscent of Ozu. The sound design is incredible, providing the Hawaiian environment life and vibrancy through powerful crescendos and hard cuts. When combined with the haunting score, I found myself quite moved or even rattled emotionally as the drama unfolded. Overall the film is quite the unique and profound sensory experience.

Ultimately, I Was a Simple Man was the perfect antidote to so much binging of generic Netflix series that I think we all are having to resort to these days. I was deeply affected by the film and I'm still thinking about it days later. If you're looking to watch something refreshing, different, and thoughtful, then I would highly recommend checking out I Was a Simple Man. I think it will go down as one of my favorites of the year.