Ciné-Zine

Littlerock (小さな岩)
Mike Ott, USA
with Atsuko Okatsuka, Corey Zacharia, Rintaro Sawamoto

This story of a pair of japanese siblings stranded in a little desert town on their way to visit the Manzanar prison camps quietly but surely made its way around the international film circuit. Therefore, it is with some anticipation that I sat down for its screening.

It would be easy to label Littlerock as a movie about culture shock. It some regards, it is. However, it feels much more as being about adaptation. How quickly can you feel at ease in a new environment? It is even possible that you fit in better that you ever did at home, even if you can’t understand what’s being said to you?

For Atsuko, it seems like it could be as she easily hangs around with her new friends. Rintaro, on the other hand, can’t wait to get back on track with their trip.

It is with little words that Atsuko slowly slips into daily life in Littlerock, knowing that her stay is probably temporary. There, she witnesses the rituals and worries of its inhabitants (which both usually involves a lot of partying).

By nicely incorporating sunsets, neglected shacks and other desert charms throughout the movie, Mike Ott sums all the things that might make Atsuko feel welcomed in the middle of nowhere.

We will probably (or hopefully) see more of Atsuko Okatsuka, who also took part in writing the script, in the future. There is something about her I can’t quite put my finger on that seems to be very promising. The attitude she is able to convey with so little words is both surprising and refreshing. In constrast, it makes the rest of the cast look somewhat uneven but still match up to the expectations of an independant film.

Littlerock deservedly picked up a special mention jury award at FNC and is still making small waves on the festival circuit. It is currently nominated for an award called “Best Film Not Playing at a Theater Near You.” but that could change very soon.

Links: official site / FNC awards
Availability: probably next year

We Don’t Care About Music Anyway
Cédric Dupire/Gaspard Kuentz, France
avec Otomo Yoshihide, Sakamoto Hiromichi et Shimazaki Tomoko

C’est avec quelque peu de retard que j’entreprends cette série de retours sur le FNC. Cela permettra de faire durer le plaisir et espérons-le raviver l’intérêt de certains films afin qu’ils puissent y trouver une vie après le festival.

C’est dans le bruit que le festival s’est amorcé pour nous avec ce documentaire sur la scène noise japonaise. Les acteurs en présence ne me sont pas totalement inconnus, mais je vais laisser d’autres beaucoup plus compétents que moi vous les présenter et discuter de leur oeuvre afin de me concentrer sur le film lui-même.

Premier constat: Les oreilles sensibles ne sont pas mis constamment à l’épreuve. Grâce à des choix très judicieux des réalisateurs et une balance de son remarquable, la présence continuelle du bruit ne cause que très rarement un malaise auditif.

Sur le plan structurel. le documentaire enchaine les séquences de performance et celles de discussion. C’est sous une forme de table ronde, en noir et blanc, que les différents bruiteurs discutent ensemble de leur parcours artistique, la scène locale et la société d’où ils vivent plûtot en marge. On n’y révolutionne rien ni sur le plan cinématographique, ni sur le plan informatif, mais le ton et le propos saura plaire à ceux qui s’intéressent au sujet.

C’est dans les performances que le film émerveille. Dans une formule qui n’est pas sans rappeler les concerts à emporter de la Blogothèque, les sonorités qui, sur disque, pourraient paraître sans substance prennent alors tout leur sens.

On y voit l’artiste récupérer ses instruments dans ce qui semble un dépotoir aménagé à même son atelier, le battement de coeur devenir la fondation du rythme et le violoncelle en tant que possible arme du crime dans une version future de Clue.

Une autre scène évoque vaguement le mythique Eli Eli Lema Sabachtani d’Aoyama Shinji où les bruitistes perfectionnent leurs créations à l’extérieur afin de combattre un virus inconnu causant le syndrome du lemming.

Aussi improbable que l’idée peut sembler au départ, Cédric Dupire, Gaspard Kuentz et leurs sujets ont réussi à produire un documentaire sur le noise qui s’adresse à tous et parvient à transmettre la beauté du son. Ne serait-ce que pour cela, We Don’t Care About Music Anyway est une réussite indiscutable.

Liens: Site Officiel
Disponibilité: Aucune sortie annoncée pour l’instant

YOICHI TAKABAYASHI’S ”Irezumi – Spirit of Tattoo” (”Sekka Tomurai Zashi”) is a romantically deceptive Japanese film about a young Tokyo secretary who, to please her middle- age lover, spends two years of her life having her back elaborately tattooed. A tattoo, like a diamond, is forever, but it can’t be hocked.

In ”Irezumi” it represents a number of things, including fidelity and the total submission of the tattooed woman to her lover, who can, of course, change his mind while she cannot.

”Irezumi” is not an easy movie to respond to initially. It has its share of what are crudely called ”howlers,” especially in its subtitles. It’s also difficult to fathom the extraordinary passivity of the beautiful Akane to her lover, a mild-mannered librarian who wears conservative business suits and a Burberry scarf, and in all ways is utterly ordinary except for his passion for tattooed skin.

Yet, as ”Irezumi” goes on, the film becomes increasingly involving and erotic until, finally, we accept its ellipses and rather large chunks of exposition that explain what happened before the movie started.

Next to Akane, the most important character in the film is Kyogoro, the elderly Kyoto tattooist who agrees to come out of retirement to execute one last work of art. As a psychiatrist might examine someone who wants a sex-change operation, the old man questions Akane at length about her motives, repeatedly making the point that the tattoo can’t guarantee happiness and may possibly ruin her life.

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