Home Is Where the Movies Are

By Rowena Aquino

After a one-year hiatus, the Chanoma Film Festival resumed its presentation of “heart-warming” Japanese films to the Los Angeles public this past October. In the face of several Grudges, Rings and anime, “heart-warming” would perhaps not be one of the first words to describe the current Japanese film output that reaches Los Angeles theatres. But the Chanoma's raison d'etre is to counter this “one-dimensional” picture of Japan and the Japanese with a batch of films that reveal more nuances to life than the triad of horror, anime, and action genres allows. Sound ambitious? Or at the very least, suspicious? I thought so, and armored against any “heartwarming” vibes, I attended several of the films.  

Admittedly, these films are “feel-good” ones. I laughed with, smiled at, and was touched by the images. Of course, there were occasional moments of eyes rolling heavenward at the simplicity and literalness with which some issues were tackled, such as the phenomenon of the stop-at-home (hikikomori) – people, mostly young and even adolescents, who withdraw into their rooms and do not come out for years – in Stone Age (Shiratori Tetsu, 2005). The film is anchored in the Sunflower House, a rehabilitation center for stop-at-home, where Koga, a new staff member and who had been a stop-at-home himself, plunges headlong into helping other stop-at-homes re-enter society all the while still unsure of his own capabilities as a social being. Gradually, he grows up through a series of events that challenges his insecurities (helping a stop-at-home new to the center, dealing with a friend who develops cancer) and with the help of his colleagues, emerges a stronger person. If you were to look up the definition of “heartwarming,” this would fit the bill, followed by a parenthesis (trying too hard).  

But is it really a matter of “trying too hard” or is it that we have become so used to a certain way of watching and a certain type of content that we can so easily dismiss something that could, perish the thought, make us reflect upon the more glowing and even spiritual dimensions of our lives? Hard to argue against. But as Kathy Griffin once said about being positive, “I just don't have the time.” Apparently Chanoma wants people to make the time, especially with the end goal of presenting the “true essence of Japanese culture.” 

Despite such an alarming claim, Chanoma should be credited for bringing contemporary Japanese films that would probably never have reached the screens here otherwise, even on DVD, such as Stone Age, a film that touches upon an actual phenomenon that has been currently confronting the Japanese, especially after the bubble economy burst.  

A comical film of note is Hotel Hibiscus (Nakae Yuji, 2002). Reminiscent of the wacky but loveable family of Miike Takashi's The Happiness of the Katakuris (2001), the Nakasone family who owns the Hotel Hibiscus with its sole guest room breaks out in song and through linear plotlines on the island of Okinawa. Unlike the Katakuris, however, the Nakasones are multi-racial, reflecting the colonial/military history that has marked Okinawa as a space: Sachiko is half-white, half-Japanese, while her half-brother Kenji is half-Black, half-Japanese; the youngest is Mieko, who is Japanese. In other words, each child has a different father. Add Mieko's biological father and a young man whom Mieko and her friends take to the Hotel Hibiscus, and you have a “never say die” milieu to reckon with. The film's focus is the very active Mieko, who utters practically every line of dialogue as if she were in a yelling contest, and whose adventures with her friends and family take her across different parts of Okinawa. Without too much of the veneer of an after-school special that makes Stone Age's title far too appropriate, Hotel Hibiscus shuffles across racial, age, class, and gender lines in as disarming a way as possible without hammering these issues into your head – or even claiming to do so. The gorgeous backdrop of the beaches of Okinawa and the film's vibrant colours distract you enough to bear Mieko's yelling and share the seismic waves of emotions she experiences in her journey across Okinawa, including her encounter with the “kijimuna” (forest fairy). However, the “gorgeous backdrop” of Okinawa needs to be taken with a grain of salt: deafening sounds of aircraft landing/taking off, shellfire and the presence of American soldiers contrast sharply with the dialogue and songs in Japanese and Okinawan that remind you of the still marginal place Okinawa has in the Japanese consciousness and still strategic location of American military bases even after the 1972 handover to Japan. 

The film that closed Chanoma was the Grand Prix winner of the Tokyo International Film Festival 2005, What the Snow Brings (Yuki ni negau koto, 2005), directed by Negishi Kichitaro. The film is set in Okinawa's polar opposite, the island of Hokkaido in the northernmost point of Japan. The thickness of snow at any given time of the day is the crux of the film's ambiance and mood swings that you almost forget the characters. However, Yamazaki Tsutomu – known in part for his roles in Itami Juzo's films – as a rich and cynical gambler adds some colour beside the white of snow. Also, Iseya Yusuke, a familiar face for Kore-eda Hirokazu fans, is surprising in his intensity as Yazaki Manabu, a young CEO of a pharmaceutical company gone bankrupt who goes in hiding at his older brother's stable of horses during the winter racing season. Yazaki, like Koga in Stone Age, experiences a renewal of belief in himself as he is forced to start his life all over again as a stable hand. As with Koga at the Sunflower House, Yazaki is surrounded by a group of people – not to mention horses – who, though having their own personal problems, serves as a rah-rah chorus so after a certain moment, one is just waiting for the dramatic high point that resolves neatly everyone's problems. In this sense, the film doesn't disappoint. (So much for desiring disappointment.) 

Chanoma – which refers generally to the living-room hearth in Japanese – has set out to stitch together some kind of life-affirming coherence in the choice of its films, almost obsessively to the point of being an obstacle to its development as a film festival that wants to promote deeper understanding of different cultures vis-à-vis the Japanese culture. Eleven feature films and several shorts may not seem a lot, but if future Chanomas would consider documentaries and digital films alongside the very commercial fare that made up the 2006 lineup, there's a better chance that the festival can forsake “essential” claims for a more diverse cinematic vision. 
 

Chanoma Film Festival official site: http://www.chanomafilmfestival.org/ (http: //www.chanomafilmfestival.org/)