Como na Canção dos Beatles: Norwegian Wood

I have read a different novel by Haruki Marumi (1Q84), which I found bizarre and excessively verbose and labyrinthine, but I wrote it off to the translation. (Those poor translators: they get all the blame and none of the credit!) This film makes me think that HM and I are probably just not a very good fit. The story of Norwegian Wood reminds me in some ways of something by Michelangelo Antonioni, except that here there is a perky salvation-type ending instead of a consistent tone of devastation wed to an aesthetically perfect depiction of meaninglessness.

The cinematography of Norwegian Wood is excellent. So if you are big on cinematography, then this would be a good film to watch. Otherwise? Not so sure... I myself find the character of Watanabe very unappealing, and his appeal to Japanese women rather baffling, but maybe that's just a cultural difference.

Based upon the novel by Japanese author Haruki Murakami, Vietnamese director Tran Anh Hung boldly translates the story to the big screen with a cast of familiar faces in Kenichi Matsuyama and Rinko Kikuchi in lead roles, but somehow this attempt seemed to float along rather casually into a typical tale of a love triangle, loss and sexuality without much emotional depth. Set in the late 1960s in Japan with a whole host of student turmoil, this aspect of the story got shelved aside to focus more on the personal coming of age tale of Toru Watanabe (Matsumaya) and the women in his life.

So putting aside the various one night stands he benefited from hanging out with casanova Nagasawa (Tetsuji Tamayama), Watanabe has to choose between Naoko (Kikuchi), a girl whom he knows from his younger days when she was the girlfriend of his best friend Kizuki (Kengo Kora) who inexplicably committed suicide, and that of Midori (Kiko Mizuhara putting in a very charismatic performance) who actually had made the first move in getting to know him better, although stopping short of going the full distance given a boyfriend whom we never see on screen.

Depending on your preference and emotional pull toward broad stereotypes of people, the two girls are very much distinct in their personalities, one being an emotional wreck given the loss of Kizuki and spending her time in rehabilitation, which accounted for the many lush, green and white sceneries depending on the calendar month, while the other is a perpetual sunshine, confident, outgoing and attractively lively. It's pessimism versus optimism, although you'd probably understand Watanabe's obligation toward Naoko having spent time growing up together, losing their mutual friend and growing close, not to mention an awkward deflowering process that happened to seal the emotional deal and attachment.

And you wonder if you'd call that love, or attraction even, as opposed to the proposition with another girl who had entered into a crossroads in his life, being stuck in time having to want to care for someone close, versus a new opportunity being presented with Midori's presence. Tran's vision puts one into a deliberately slow paced evaluation as Watanabe struggles to understand his emotional predicament and dilemma presented, where if one doesn't know how to proceed at a forked road ahead, one stalls for time, and stalling is what this film felt like.

But thanks to cinematographer Mark Lee Ping Bin, this allows for plenty of beautiful postcard picturesque shots of the countryside, and many visually stunning captures of emotions of the characters at hand, allowing sensitive, moving moments to come through, and even chances to showcase a long tracking shot set out in the fields which flip flops across the screen as Naoko shares with Watanabe her oft confused state. My favourite however involved that between Watanabe and Midori in a snow filled landscape, cold in scenery but completely filled with the warmth of heart. The cinematography added a boost in the mundane state of characterization, and when things can't move forward, at least your eyes can start to roam at the well crafted technical shots and composition of the film, in addition to the era of the 60s.

The subplots of the rich story tried to muscle its way into the film but ultimately got sacrificed to stay focus on the primary trio, in a tale about finding it tough to let go and move on without being perceived as uncaring. And just when I thought the story had finally found its grounding from which to move off, in comes a deus ex machina moment to help propel it forward, taking off the shine of emotional roller-coaster of the previous two hours, which made it all seem a little futile and a waste. Draw your own conclusions if you will since the film left things unsatisfying open ended, and what you take away from the film, will probably be self reflective. I tried to love this film, but ultimately I can't.

Those were the best years of our lives. Every once in a while when the weather gets melancholic, we would reminiscence those years when loss and sexuality meant a whole lot more. Every once in a while when we hear a morose tune on the radio, we would recall those moments when relationships mattered a whole lot more. And every once in a while when we watch a moody film, we would remember those times when life played out like a cinematic feature.

All that remains now is nostalgia.

And that is why, critically acclaimed Japanese writer Haruki Murakami's novels spoke to so many people. His works poignantly captures the spiritual emptiness of the modern generation and explores the loss of human connection in the bustling society we live in today. And just when detractors thought that Murakami's bestselling 1987 novel was un-filmable, along comes Tran Anh Hung, whose past works include the award winning Cyclo (1995) and The Scent of Green Papaya (1993).

Set in Tokyo during the late 1960s, the film's male protagonist is Toru, a quiet and serious college student. He loses his best friend to suicide, and his personal life is thrown into turmoil. He becomes emotionally closer to his friend's ex-girlfriend Naoko, who shares the same sense of loss. Circumstances bring Naoko to a sanatorium, and Toru becomes devastated. Another girl, Midori, enters his life, and he realises that she is everything Naoko isn't. Torn between two women and feeling empty about life's past and future, what ensues is Toru's nostalgic journey of loss and sexuality.

The above synopsis probably doesn't do justice to Murakami's writing, which is known to be humorous and surrealistic. While we haven't read the original novel which this 133 minute film is based on, we have chanced upon Murakami's other works, and we must recognize Tran's decision to adapt the story into a feature film.

The first thing which grabs you is the hypnotically mesmerizing cinematography by the award winning Lee Ping Bin (In the Mood For Love, Three Times). The breathtaking mountainous landscapes of Japan are captured on Lee's lenses like gems. You can imagine yourself wandering through the green grasslands and the snowy grounds, letting the spectacle engulf your senses. To replicate the mood of 1960s, production designers Norifumi Ataka and Yen Khe Luguem have painstakingly created scene after scene of the film's characters journeying through life's alleys against backdrops of intricately decorated cafes, workshops and hostel rooms. The result is a visually pleasing mood piece which displays the director's eye for details. The soundtrack composed by Radiohead guitarist Jonny Greenwood completes the viewing experience with an enigmatic score.

Also commendable are the cast's performances. Playing Toru is Kenichi Matsuyama (Death Note's "L"). He has an empathetic vulnerability which leaves a lasting impression with viewers. Rinko Kichuki (Babel) displays the much needed frailty of Naoko's character without becoming overly melodramatic, while newcomer Kiko Mizuhara is charming as the charismatic Midori.

Like most literary adaptation, this film loses some of the novel's poignancy when it comes to character and plot development. Emotions are conveyed through convenient voiceovers, and the exploration of sexuality may appear preposterous to those who uninitiated to Murakami's works. Furthermore, the slow and meandering pacing of the two odd hour film may be a test of patience to some.

It will take audiences who are familiar with the postmodern writer's work to appreciate this film. If you are an individual who often indulges in poetic wistfulness, this may just be the perfect film for you on a contemplative evening too.

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I wasn't expecting too much, but the problem with this film is that it's basically just a heavily butchered-down version of the book. It's too short for its own good, and because of that you never begin to feel anything for what happens to the characters. Usually I'm not too interested in caring for the characters, but with a film like this it's all too important. It's like the director was trying to fit a 4-hour film into a 2-hour version. Now, it could have worked perfectly fine as a 2-hour version if the director had chosen to present the story in a different way. But as it is now, it's like watching the whole story from the book being fast-forwarded, while you get to see a few random scenes in it's entirety.

Readers of the book will be disappointed because the characters feels too shallow and underdeveloped, while general viewers will leave the cinemas with a big question mark. I won't begin to mention all those small bits of information in the film that are never explained unless you happened to have read the book. That's OK with me by all means, since I have read the book, but either way neither party should be pleased with the film.

Movies like these are rare. They are special – Unique in their own ways. Norwegian Wood is the kind of film that ends better than it starts. If you can get through the first 30 minutes, the film will grow onto you and engage you and eventually immerse into your world. Based on a 1987 award winning novel about the 60s changing social situation in Japan, the film explores the complicated notions of unrequited love, the era of sexual freedom and the loss of innocence. Director Anh Hung Tran paints a beautiful, slow and lingering picture which allows the film to grow onto the audience. At times the film feels like something from Wong Kar Wai and the Beatles title song is fitting. The film ends on a lighter tone and there is one quote that I find worthy to share about loss: "All we can do is see it through to the end and learn something from it, but what we learn will be no help in facing the next sorrow that comes to us without warning". I am delighted to have gone through this cinematic journey and despite its opening flaws; Norwegian Wood eventually wins the audience's heart…

Neo rates it 9/10.

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