Vancouver International Film Festival 2007

Review by John Packman.

Bare-Assed Japan, the debut film of director Ishii Yuya, examines the timeworn subject of post-adolescent ennui and sexual confusion from a refreshingly unfamiliar vantage point. As you may have gleaned from the title, the film's approach to sexuality is somewhat less than delicate; the opening shot finds recent high school graduate Taro (Toyone Yuichi) frantically jacking off on his bedroom floor, only to have his efforts thwarted when his seemingly oblivious grandfather enters the room. This mortifying episode sets the stage for essentially everything else that happens to Taro, a brooding young man whose unenviable family life and gormless friends have rendered him painfully unequipped for the encroaching demands of adulthood. His decision to escape to a house in the country with Yoko, the object of his affection, goes horribly awry when his deadbeat father decides to join them at the last minute.

Ishii's film is decidedly crude, both in content and execution, but this rough-hewn quality fits its subject matter perfectly. Countless films have been made about the emotional and sexual growing pains of young men, but few in recent memory have been this honest or observant. Taro is a compelling protagonist despite never exactly being likable, and Toyone's performance deftly straddles this line, exhibiting an adept comic sensibility while hinting at something darker in his moral haze. The film is occasionally reminiscent of Jim Jarmusch's early efforts in its awkward silences, laconic pacing and willingness to dwell on the mundane. The end result is a surprisingly assured debut for Ishii, one which finds both laughs and poignancy in unlikely spots.

Bare-Assed Japan
Ishii Yuya | Japan | 2007 | 91min

Wed. Oct. 3 | 7:30pm | VanCity Theatre
Thur. Oct. 4 | 1:45pm | VanCity Theatre

Review by gloria wong.

For his feature film debut, photographer-turned-director Anton Corbijn wisely chose familiar ground. As the ‘eye’ for New Music Express (and also bigger rags like Spin and Rolling Stone) from the late 70’s on, Corbijn was around for the real thing when Joy Division burst onto Manchester’s thrilling (post-)punk scene (also dramatized in the very different though extremely entertaining 24-Hour Party People). Based on the book "Touching From a Distance", Control is the story of the remarkable singer-songwriter Ian Curtis, his rise to fame with Joy Division, and sudden suicide at age 23 in 1980 (widow Deborah wrote the book and served as a producer on the film).

Like most any biopic of a famous songwriter, Control has requisite scenes of Curtis' personal life turmoil, turning real life situations into poetry, and putting depressing songs into their depressing contexts. But several things make this film feel fresh – not the least of which is its gorgeous, high-contrast black and white cinematography; the film is quite impossible to look away from, filled with images that are simultaneously beautiful and raw, perfectly composed but with the immediacy and intimacy of a great snapshot.

Performances are also impressive all around. Relative unknown Sam Riley (himself a singer) is entrancing as Curtis. He doesn’t just mimick Curtis’ distinctive stage presentation (which, if you’re too young to remember or never cared to learn, was the desperate, gangly progenitor of Michael Stipe’s bad dancing in the “Losing My Religion” video), but really embodying Curtis’ ambiguity about success and love, as well as his wide-eyed disbelief in the world coming up around him. (Joy Division went from first gig to ready-to-take-over-America in about two years). Riley also does an impressive job of singing all the performance scenes himself. Though his voice lacks Curtis’ eerie, deep resonance, it’s a remarkable facsimile that adds another layer of realism to the film. Samantha Morton does a typically fine turn as Curtis’ widow Deborah. And, despite the sadness that surrounds the Joy Division story, there are wonderful moments of tossed-off humour that remind us that so many of these mythologized figures were barely into their twenties when they hit big.

Control
Anton Corbijn | UK/Australia/Japan | 2007 | 121min

Fri. Sept. 28 | 9:00pm | Empire Granville Theatre
Sat. Sept. 29 | 2:30pm | Empire Granville Theatre

Review by Zandro Salvo

Based on the century-old writing of Japanese author Natsume Soseki, Ten Nights of Dreams comes from the collective imagination of ten Japanese directors interpreting each night as a short film. Like a night of dreams, this fragmented project is a combination of the forgettable and the vividly fantastic.

Each director plays with different techniques: from the commonly-used over-exposure, canted angles, superimposition, and slow motion, to animation, claymation, and silent film - each dream is unto itself. Unfortunately, the majority are toss-off's.; only about four of these films are worth delving into deeper. While the brilliance of the imagery in the animated dream sets it apart from the rest, its heavy-handed narration leaves little room for interpretation. Fortunately, the several dreams in which claymation and puppetry are used for both horror and comedy really punctuate the effect of dreams on the human psyche. The final dream’s anti-pork/anti-shallow message is put forth in such a fresh and satirical way that it could easily stand alone as a festival favorite; however, the saving grace of this film, and the film’s turning point, comes half-way through when a pop-locking Japanese version of a “Mad Max” extra uses his insane rhythm and fashion sense to carve wood. This could possibly be the only film to win with both the Sundance and YouTube crowds. Overall, these films are as close as it comes to dreaming: some are worth delving into and saddening to relinquish while most disappear when the lights turn on.

Ten Nights of Dreams
Jissoli Akio et al | Japan | 2006 | 110min

Thur. Sept. 27 | 6:45pm | Empire Granville Theatre
Tue. Oct. 2 | 12:00pm | Empire Granville Theatre
Sun. Oct. 7 | 1:30pm | Pacific Cinematheque