Learning Japanese with Takeshi Kitano

Learning Japanese is no easy feat. Let no-one ever tell you it is. Having learned French from an early age, and been enchanted by Latin from seven, I’ve always had a fascination with language. Japanese, however, is a whole different kettle of sushi.

With no root language even remotely similar to our Roman ancestry, Japanese is not only alien to look at, with its three different alphabet systems, but also entirely unique in its grammar, phonics and just about every other aspect of communicative linguistics. As such, despite having been submerged in this country for a year now, I still struggle past even the most basic of communications.

That said, I’m coming along. At a recent teachers’ seminar, someone brought up the concept of “Recall and Recognition”, wherein the first stage of learning a language is being able to understand what is going on. Whether or not one can take an active part in a conversation is not important, it’s the fact that the content of said conversation is understood. Naturally, knowing roughly what the subject is to start with is always helpful…

So, today, with the theory of R&R in mind, I decided to visit a film that I know relatively well; Kinji Fukasaku’s infamous political thriller and general blood-fest, Battle Royale.

Having seen the film twice before, and ravenously devouring the book earlier this year, BR is a tale I’m familiar with, and probably my favourite Japanese film to date. And so, an adventure. A test, if you will.

Battle Royale, without subtitles.


Battle Royale
(Kinji Fukasaku, 2000)

4.5 Stars

Based on perhaps Japan’s most notorious book of all time, Kinji Fukasaku’s film version of Koushun Takami’s 1999 tome Battle Royale seems to be one of those marmite movies… You either love it, or you hate it. The hate, however, seems not to stem from the film itself, but the concept; in a dystopian near-future, the Japanese government have turned to extreme measures in an attempt to control their rebellious students. The BR Act dictates that one class of high school students shall fight to the death each year, thus eliminating rowdy students and acting as a deterrent for subsequent classes.

It’s a twisted concept on paper, and even watching the film, and having read the book, it’s one that’s difficult to comprehend the reasons behind. It is, nonetheless, one of the most shocking and disturbing ideas for a story that one could come up with. I remember fondly the moment I first realised the impact of this movie; watching, for the first time, the scene in which the forty school-kids are told that they must kill their nearest and dearest friends if they wish to survive the next seventy-two hours. Told via a grinning TV presenter, this is truly one of the most nauseating and thought-provoking scenes I have ever come across.

Following heroes Nanahara (played with just the right amount of annoying whininess by Tatsuya Fujiwara) and Noriko (Aki Maeda) as they attempt to survive the program, we are introduced to an array of supporting characters, most of whom unfortunately don’t get enough screen time to explore their intricate stories outlined in the book. Instead, Fukasaku concentrates on the major arcs from the book, portraying them well and, for the most part, with deliciously shocking effect. Most notably, the infamous “lighthouse” scene, in which the true effects of the Programme are shown; distrust, betrayal, and inevitably, bloody, bloody death.

The acting is top notch throughout; Taro Yamamoto is wonderful as the rugged and world-weary Shogo Kawada, whilst Masanobu Ando is maniacally malicious as cold-blooded killer Kazuo Kiriyama. Alas, his death is rather anti-climactic.

The star of the show, however, is the legendary Takeshi Kitano, who not only adds an element of the blackest comedy to an otherwise bleak tale, but also brings an uncomfortable tenderness to a character that could have easily been played as a simple bastard.

Perhaps my only gripe with the film is the pretentious poems which follow the majority of the deaths. Displayed across the screen, these do little more than detract from what’s actually going on within the movie.

Beautifully shot in some fantastic locations, and with a score of perfectly chosen classical instrumentations, Battle Royale is truly a masterpiece of Asian cinema, and indeed of cinema itself. The haters, in my opinion, don’t hate it for the craft, they hate it for the content.

And did I understand it?

Let’s just say I’m glad I’ve seen it before…

God Bless The Outcasts

The Hunchback of Notre Dame
(Gary Trousdale and Kirk Wise, 1996)

4 Stars

Having watched The Little Mermaid earlier this week, I decided last night, after a rather crappy day at the office, the revisit another bit of Disney nostalgia, this time in the disfigured form of everyone’s favourite bell-ringer, Quasimodo.

Admittedly, The Hunchback was never one of my utmost favourites as a kid. I never disliked it, it just wasn’t necessarily a film of choice. Watching it now, I’m really not sure why. Perhaps its dark undertones and somewhat more grownup themes are, like The Princess and the Frog (which I also watched again over the weekend, but shan’t be reviewing for a second time, ‘cause it’s still amazing), what make it all that bit more appealing to an adult.

Hunchback’s animation is seamlessly stunning, standing out as one of the first films where CGI was really coming into its own. The wide shots of Paris, and of the eponymous cathedral are beautifully rendered, and at the time, I’m sure, would have been all the more impressive.

Each of the perfectly designed characters is brought to life by an equally aptly chosen voice artist, ranging from Kevin Kline and Demi Moore, to Jason Alexander and Mary Wickes (in her final role). It’s actually a rather impressive display of stars; signifying perhaps just how well Disney were doing for themselves at this point.

To compliment the darker feel of the tale, Menken and Schwartz really pull out the stops with an equally dark soundtrack, the twin pinnacles of which are the haunting “God Save the Outcasts” and the deliciously evil “Hellfire”.

Perhaps the least well-loved of Disney’s nineties hey-day, this is none-the-less a film that stands proudly amongst the rest, a tale of hope, despair, and inevitably redemption. With singing gargoyles.

Fairytale Ending

Shrek Forever After
(Mike Mitchell, 2010)

2 Stars

Ten years ago, hitherto unknown division of Universal Studios, Dreamworks Pictures shook Disney Pixar to the bone by producing one of the most innovative and original animations the world had ever seen. Turning the traditional fairytale entirely on its head, Shrek introduced us to the eponymous ogre and his world of Mother-goose-eries with hilarious and memorable results.

Of course, being a successful family film these days gives way to an inevitable sequel, which was delivered with suitable aplomb, building on its predecessor and, in a fair few ways, improving upon it. The third film, quite honestly, was so appallingly forgettable that I had to check the plot summary on IMDB to remind myself that I had indeed seen it. Which alas I have.

A poor three-quel, however, is rarely something that will put me off going to see a fourth instalment if the studios do so insist on making one. As such, it was with a mild sense of apathy that I sat down to film four, the naffly named Shrek Forever After, last night.

I shall start by saying that this wasn’t necessarily a bad film. There was enough going on to keep me at least awake for the film’s eighty minute duration. The fact is, however, much like Shrek the Third, this simply feels like an elongated episode of a sub-quality TV series that never happened. The story is nothing more than It’s a Wonderful Life with fairytale characters; Shrek is having a mid-life crisis, what with wife and kids in tow, and subsequently makes a deal with nasty pixie Rumplestiltskin to spend a day as a “real” ogre again, in exchange for a day from Shrek’s past. Nominally, the day Shrek was born. Cue a tale of “oh crap, I want my life back” that we’ve seen all too many times since Jimmy Stewart first wanted to live again.

In a far departure from its namesake, Shrek Forever After is also about as funny as watching grass grow. It dawned on me about thirty minutes into the movie that I had not even cracked a smile once, soon making me realise that the once hilarious team of Mike Myers and Eddie Murphy are doing nothing more than going through the motions. Even Antonio Bandaras as Puss in Boots failed to raise more than a curt smirk.

Without the warmth and originality of the first movie, it feels now like Dreamworks are simply churning out uninspired, unfunny sequels for no other reason than the marketing opportunities. The fairytale looks like it’s well and truly ended for this tired donkey of a series.

Part of Your World

The Little Mermaid
(John Musker and Ron Clements, 1989)

5 Stars

I’ve spoken in the past of the problems with reviewing childhood favourites; there’s a sense of sweet nostalgia that taints even the most impartial of critics. And to say I was impartial would be like saying the Pope is Jewish.

When it comes to Disney though, pretty much every film prior to the “end” of the 2D animated feature with Home on the Range in 2004 has some kind of emotional or nostalgic remembrance, and none so more than 1989’s classic, The Little Mermaid.

The film that re-ignited the flame of Disney’s torch, The Little Mermaid was the first film I went to see at the cinema, back in the days of the reel-changing interval and the orange split ice-lolly, it can probably be blamed for most of my subsequent filmatic obsessions.

But what made this film so special? Why was this the movie that made Disney big again? During the eighties, there were some true classics; Oliver and Company had some fantastic tunes, and The Great Mouse Detective remains to this day one of the most underated Disney movies of all time. True, The Black Cauldron was shoddy, but everyone makes mistakes, right?

I think what does it, more than anything, is the juxtaposition of Menken and Ashman’s instantly memorable score with its bold, bright and beautiful animation. Throw in some of animation’s most memorable sidekicks and villains and you really do have a recipe for infinite success. Add to that cinema’s sexiest and most aurally enchanting mermaid and need I say more?

Disney will always hold a very special place in my heart, but Ariel and her friends hold the honour of reigning over the rest with aquatic audacity. True, Basil of Baker Street took us on a more thrilling escapade, and Hercules will forever bring a tear to my eye as he Goes the Distance, but Ariel and I shared something special. And it wasn’t just an orange ice lolly.

Maximum Entertainment

Titan Maximum
(2009)

4 Stars

As regular readers will know, I spend far too many hours of my life searching for those rare gems of TV gold that do occasionally surface amongst the general drudge of televisual mundanity.

One of the few channels to regularly deliver little unknown cult gems is the home of “grown up” cartoonage, Adult Swim. Over the past few years, AS has given us such classics as Robot Chicken and Harvey Birdman: Attorney At Law, as well as being the current home to the more mainstream hits Family Guy and South Park.

Having exhausted Robot Chicken over the past few months (I may or may not do a review shortly, dependant on my mood), I was delighted to discover another little show from creators Seth Green and Matthew Senreich, along with writer Tom Root.

Titan Maximum, like its predecessor, is a wonderfully fun adventure in stop-motion animation, this time taking us into the all too familiar world of giant robot space escapades. Paying homage to Voltron, Battle of the Planets, Power Rangers and just about any teenagers/battle robot-based show, Titan Maximum tells, over nine ten minute episodes, an intricate tale of adventure, romance and betrayal, interspersed with cutting comedy and captivating crudeness, all spiced up with a crotch-crunching robot.

A cast of loathable yet loveable characters, ranging from douche-bag egocentric hero Palmer, sex symbol Sasha and the fantastic Admiral Bitchface, brought to life by a collection of some of the finest voice actors in the business; Breckin Meyer, Seth Green, Rachel Leigh Cook and even the legendary Billy Dee Williams, create a truly memorable experience, interspersed with one of the sharpest scripts I’ve seen in an adult cartoon in a long time.

Low viewing figures has left Titan Maximum’s future uncertain, but rest assured, this is a ball-busting piece of genius from a team that never fails to impress.

Nom Nom Nom (Part Two)

So, to continue my bumper bundle of beauties from my newfound chums at http://www.napajapan.com/ we have some Hokaido specials, as well as the elusive new soda flavours that I nearly made the foolhardy mistake of not picking up last weekend at the 7/11.

Banana KitKat – 3.5 Fingers

This is another of last year’s specials that I rather fell in love with and have been trying to track down since. Bananas and chocolate are an obvious combination, dating back to that first brave man to wrap the two together in tinfoil and throw it on a raging barbecue. Nestle’s venture is a delightful milk chocolate outing that tastes like a yummy banana milkshake. Top banana.

Corn KitKat – 1 Finger

This is the first of two Hokaido specials that NapaJapan were happy to oblige me with. What the hell they were thinking, I’m not sure. Why anyone would want corn flavoured chocolate, I really don’t know. Though utterly disgusting, this KitKat does taste exactly like buttery sweetcorn. But seriously, not a good thing.

Melon KitKat – 3 Fingers

I’ve never been big on the fruity flavours, but I must say that the second of the Hokaido editions is much easier on the tastebuds than its brother. Melony and sweet, its one downfall is the horribly sickly aftertaste.

Cola KitKat – 3 Fingers

Yes, that’s right, Cola flavour. It’s an odd one to say the least, but somehow it works. It think the chocolate is a brown coloured white, though it could be a strangely light milk… Really not sure to be honest. The flavour is a wonderfully aromatic mix of cola and milk, somewhat akin to a traditional coke float. Nom.

Lemon Soda KitKat – 2 Fingers

This is one that really should’ve worked better than it does… Lemon and chocolate is fun, and by and large the soda style bars have been some of the fore-runners in the polls. However, the experience is somewhat underwhelming. White chocolate with an all too subtle lemon hint. Add a little fizz and a bit more pizzazz, and this could’ve been a classic. Alas, it’s flatter than a bottle of White’s that’s had the top left off too long.

Summer's Here and the Time is Right...

Summer has truly arrived here in Yanai, and with it, a chorus of shrieking and shocking creatures, some of which appear to have decided that there sole mission in life should be to stop me from sleeping. Others meanwhile are just too darned adorable for words.

Ushigaeru (American Bullfrog)

These gargantuan amphibians have rapidly become the bane of my existence. The first night I heard them, I had no idea what the hell they were. I envisaged some great beast from the underworld, their cavernous croak echoing along the riverbanks like the roar of Cerberus himself. Intrepid, I grabbed my torch and, pyjama clad, discovered to my ire that the source of the ruckus was just a ruddy frog. Since then, these softball-sized buggers have kept me awake many a night with their choral cacophony.

Hien (Swallow)

The swallow is truly a delight to watch; their svelte form gliding through the skies with an unrivalled grace. This particular chap was one of a pair who decided to nest above the back door to my school, greeting me every morning with a warning attack. Eventually, their nest yielded three gorgeous little hatchlings, all of whom have since flown the coop, leaving nothing more than an empty nest. Perhaps some soup is in order.

Maimai (Groovy Snail)

This chap was just too cute. Settled on the underside of a bamboo leaf, he really was one of the prettiest snails I’ve come across. I must say, surprisingly, considering the current raininess, I’ve seen very few molluscs. The occasional slug crops up, but I do believe this is one of the only snails I’ve actually come across.

Inoshishi (Eurasian Wild Boar)

I’ve been desperate to find a wild pig since I got here. It’s a dangerous adventure, what with their fiery temperament and lethal tusks, and as such I have taken the coward’s route and avoided venturing into the woods at night. So it was with a real air of melancholy that I witnessed this unfortunate youngster floating downstream a few days ago. Maybe 50cm from nose to tail, it could only have been a few weeks old. On the plus side, I now know that they’re definitely out there.

Kusagame (Reeve’s Pond Turtle)

Turtles are one of my favourite beasties round these parts. Every time I see one, I find myself grinning like a Cheshire Cat. Usually, however, it’s just the ninja terrapins that come to say hello, so I was delighted to meet this little cutie. Smaller than his infamous cousin, and with a curious black face, I was most pleased to be graced with his greeting.

Tombo (Dragonfly)

Dragonflies here are bloody huge. Every size and colour is buzzing about right now, and this particular one decided the best place to be picking up a mosquito buffet would be my bedroom. A biscuit tin trap soon saw him on his way though. He did however spend the rest of the evening glaring menacingly at me from the other side of the screen door.

Kumo (Spiders)

With the heat comes mosquitoes, and with the mosquitoes come spiders, feasting merrily on anything that should be foolish enough to stumble into their webs. This fellow (not actually white; that’s just the flash…) decided that my window would be the best place to set his trap. I must say, since he moved in, there’s been a lot less midges invading the flat. Hazah!

Aogaeru (Green Tree Frog)

This little beauty was sat, rather inconveniently, on the handle of my front door when I returned home last night. About the size of a squash ball, he was relishing in the evening’s offerings of flying delicacies. Utterly tame, he allowed me to snap away for a good fifteen minutes, completely nonchalant to my obvious delight at his presence.