Le labyrinthe des rêves

In the Japanese countryside, young girls dream of going to the city find a little job like conductress because of the pretty uniform. But conductress is not so much fun after all. Then they dream about Love... And get lost in a labyrinth of dreams.

Seems a simple plot but wait...

That is one of the few psychological thrillers where you keep wondering until the very end if what you think will happen is really going to happen.

Plus great acting (esp. Tadanobu Asano), plus excellent cinematography, black and white and music just add something to the overall mood.

Highly recommended!

Based on Kyusaku Yumeno's novel "Shojo jigoku satsujin rerei", Yume no ginga (Milkyway of dreams) is a masterpiece depicting young girl's dream, and thriller of serial murder.

The film is shot like the old movies from '50s Japan, but the faces of the actors are unmistakably new.

Tomiko who is a bus guide hears about the death of her friend Tsuyako who was engaged with her fellow bus driver Niitaka. She hears about a rumor about serial murderer who is also a bus driver and suspects Tsuyako might have been his victim. One day, Tsuyako's ex fiancé starts to work in her bus company. Tomiko begins to suspect Niitaka might have been responsible for Tsuyako's death.

Yumeno has a dreamy style to his novel. The movie reflects his style, and the translation is done superbly and seamlessly in this movie.

You have to see this movie to appreciate its subtle artistry. Great suspense and mystery set on a backdrop of ordinary day to day life of a young girl.

Highly recommended.

It is another end of the curve of the erratic schizoid cinema, with this and August in the Water, Ishii seems like an impressionistic, poetic schizoid on powerful downers. Point is that most with such a strong perspective will want to flaunt it instead.

I am amazed how he can distill these ideas into a hyper reality, through minimalism. Then the big, stylized moments that do happen, are earth-shattering because they are emerging from a subdued canvas. It never feels like a bus, it feels like a dream bus. It never feels like a movie. Nothing happens in these but the time moves in odd ways that impact the psyche. This one comes down to her performance, those looks she makes just explode off the screen. I don't know how Ishii did these, it is hard to trace his thoughts.

It is exciting as someone who came up with western films to discover there are auteurs every bit as good, even better than a lot of our golden ones, it is like staring into a parallel reality.

This is a film that is gorgeous to look at and will keep you watching till the end. But it is ultimately style over content; the cinematography is everything, as well as the staging to showcase the performances by the principals. The gaping hole in this film is characterisation. Neither of the principals seem to possess a life before or after the events we see on screen. Their bouts of staring at each other become faintly ridiculous after a while, even by Japanese standards. The film exhibits symptoms of the malaise afflicting J-cinema as a whole - great directing, sublime photography, and a script that seems to have been written on the train on the way to the studio.

We live in a universe in which our fronts are three dimensional. We move into the world, moist, breathing, shaping moist breath to cause and shape things. We are worlds unto ourselves, feeding our lovers oysters with colored eyes engaged.

From behind we are flat. Things have occurred. We are no longer agents weaving worlds but effects of a hungry system. We are no longer worlds but bits of a machine who chases us, closing in on our excretions of different types. Our sexual organs are balanced between, subject to being swallowed by fate, by mechanics alien in every way, but yearning to be the stuff of agency, making, being.

Its at this fractal edge this film (and its companions by this filmmaker) places itself, determined to scintillate between being, causing, at the front and noir structure behind, flat. Only the Japanese can approach this precipice in this way because only they have this tradition of flatness in image. Kurosawa solved it by superimposing sliding planes. Ishi by sliding narratives, conflicting in direction: things happening, caused versus things that have happened seeking explanation. He also leverages the ghost story form that seems to go back a millennium.

I applaud his ambition, and viscerally thrill at the cinematic investment. Its where art comes from. All art fails... that's the risk. Its just a matter of whether the artist has the confidence in how HE moves, because we can only see his flat backside. Ishi has that confidence, which you can sort into structure, and thence into life. And then if you dare into encounter.

Its then that you determine whether it is deep, a love, something that changes or merely tastes. In my case, I have to report, dear reader, that I was not transformed by this. This is not a life-altering encounter as some are. But it is something, not nothing, to have a film designed to be fully entered from behind. It is not trivial to find something open. In this case, the watcher is a pretty young woman who presents that cultured coyness unique to Japan that reports (here by letters) her willingness, no, eagerness to succumb.

By entering, you breath, and that's enough.

If you want a report from behind: the film is a mystery story about a male bus driver who may be a serial killer and his next victim, a pretty bus conductor who has placed herself in that position to investigate. Nominally, it is a game, a labyrinth, that the two enter, enclosed, largely pre-determined but with some choices. She falls in love with him...

This is the stuff that Ruiz handles so deftly but scarcely so visually.

Ted's Evaluation -- 3 of 3: Worth watching.