Berlinale 2015, Day 8 (Otouto)

What the Queen wrote as a placeholder:

Placeholder for the only movie that 6451 and Pixelmatsch saw at different time slots, but I didn’t even though I wanted to. Weirdest thing ever.

Due to some weird reasons back in 2010 that I don’t remember anymore, I never finished the Berlinale post for Yamada Yoji’s remake of this movie. Of course, I had to watch the original this year!

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Ototo (Her Brother)
Japan 1960, Ichikawa Kon, 93′

Gen can be described with one word: sacrifice. Due to her stepmother’s rheumatism she manages the household while also attending school. Her younger brother Hekiro is a drifter, with no aim and no ambitions he walks through life carelessly, getting into trouble all the time. Every time Gen is there to bail him out, to protect him, to comfort him when no one else will. The mother is caricature of a Christian; influenced by a judgemental church lady she estranges herself more and more from this “weird” family in an attempt to exculpate herself. The father, a writer, has no interest in anything other than his work, offering no help to anyone. Only when Hekiro becomes seriously ill after his many escapades the family somehow pulls together.

Gen oozes sacrifice. It seeps off the screen into the audience! Hekiro is rage-inducing with his aimless drifter and seemingly complete disregard for the trouble and hurt he causes for the only person in the world that unconditionally loves him. One of the issues of the movie is that you never find out why Gen loves Hekiro so much: he has no redeeming qualities and there is no scene to explain why circumstances may have turned her so protective of her younger brother. What does work however is the portrayal of their relationship. Keiko Kishi wonderfully plays her role, as much as she oozes sacrifice, Gen’s love for her brother is tangible. Her little moment when she’s playfully upset about him are wonderfully cute and though you never understand why Gen has not abandoned her brother yet, you can easily feel the love she has for that worthless punk. In fact, Hiroshi Kawaguchi is just as proficient at being rage-inducing. His performance near the end, when he’s gravely ill and finally realises what his life has amounted to up until then is also very nice.

While the original had the better actors, the remake felt more relatable to me. Probably because the brother was less troublesome and the values and circumstances were less archaic. If you can somehow get over disagreeing with the values of the people and society the story is set in, you can enjoy some really strong performances from the main actors.

Berlinale 2015, Day 8 (Ode to my Father)

This year, the Berlinale was barely showing any Korean films. Originally I thought that “End of Winter” sounded more interesting than the pathos-laden “Ode to my Father” (which it really was), so I only scheduled for the former. Then my plan was to see the previous Golden Bear winning short films which would have run right after “Ode to my Father” at the International, and there was nothing in this time slot so I decided to add it in. After getting sick, I kicked the short films out of my schedule because I didn’t want to stay up too late, and finally I ended up just seeing “Ode to my Father”. But since it was a very memorable experience (so much so that I revisit the film in my head again and again), it turned out very well this way.

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Ode to my Father
South Korea 2014, Youn Je-kyun, 126′

While trying to flee from the Chinese troops, Duksoo loses his sister which makes his father go back to look for her. With only his mother and two younger siblings left, he promises his father to take care of his family. Instead of pursuing his dream of becoming a ship captain, Duksoo goes to Germany to work in coal mines, takes over his aunt’s store on Gukje Market, marries a girl he met in Germany and goes abroad again, this time right into the Vietnam War. In the 80s, he finds his sister through a television program. In a timeline told from today’s perspective, Duksoo reminisces about these times and finally comes to terms with the fact that he will never find his father anymore.

I should have known that the film would be intriguing for me. Just like I adore evil women, love triangles and adultery in film, I love stories spanning an entire lifetime (or almost a lifetime). It’s the reason why I like “Huo zhe” so much, and why I was so deeply in love with Capek’s “An Ordinary Life” which I just finished reading. Interestingly, the fictionary lives in all three examples are parables; they are not exactly realistic or individual, but these people’s lives are the product of their time. They are designed to be mirrors of society and everything major in history had an impact on their lives (the Cultural Revolution, the Korean War, World War I respectively). At the same time, there are strong personal influences going into these protagonists: Capek has similar parents as his nameless character’s (especially the overbearing mother), Youn even gave his main characters the names of his own parents. While these three works are ultimately not comparable at all (and I feel a little ashamed for mentioning Capek and “Ode to my father” in the same sentence), the similarities are still striking and oh, I love these stories for that aspect.

At the beginning of the film, I wasn’t so sure I would like it. It starts off with an unbearably sappy scene in which Duk-soo’s family flees which is basically a “Lord of the Rings”-sized epic tearjerker. You are supposed to feel oh so sorry for these poor people running for their lives, and of course I did, except that I was rolling my eyes constantly and actively kept myself up from succumbing to the sappiness. Soon after, Duksoo’s accident in the coal mines in Germany were not much better. The scene in which Youngja kneels down in front of these very Nazi-looking Germans, pleading “These poor Koreans came all the way from their country to work for you!” Oh God, that line is so bad on so many levels that just thinking of it makes me cringe. At least they saved that scene a little bit by not allowing the Germans to suddenly have a heart, but the Koreans staged a nice little revolt which made the whole thing a tiny little bit more realistic. The whole first part of the film was about having mercy for those poor Koreans, it was simply embarrassing.

Afterwards, however, “Ode to my father” became one of those few films for me which actually turns better rather than worse towards the second half. While saving the sister of a little Vietnamese boy was way too blatantly reminiscent of Duksoo losing his own sister, I thought that most other callbacks to previous elements of his life were pretty lovely. The movie actually expects you to have some sort of memory while watching the film, you will find the old Duksoo say “I told you before” about how he wanted to be a ship captain and then some half an hour later, we see Duksoo on his first date with Youngja many years before, telling her about his dreams for his future. The film walks the fine line between overly pathetic and painfully touching, and for the second part of the film I was just crying non-stop. The KBS show in which families found each other hit a nerve somewhere, and after I had a stuffy nose the entire day, it was finally emptied out through a 20 minute long constant stream of tears. It was so darn touching! Oh and the end was wonderfully beautiful. I thought it was utterly satisfying yet bittersweet because, really, Duksoo’s father would have been so proud seeing his son uphold his family traditions, however pointlessly conservative they may be. I was touched by how he achieved everything in his life that his father could not do, and yet remained lonely and misunderstood even by his wife.

There was one scene which I found especially memorable, much like Sasha’s horse from “Under Electric Clouds”, which is that Vietnamese boy who saved Duksoo from an attack just because he gave him chocolate before. To me there was something so simple and touching about it, much more so than some of the other aforementioned tearjerker scenes. I think the movie does well in these details, apart from the obligatory humorous tidbits (which of course must be done well since this is a big blockbuster after all).

Somehow Korean movies manage to hit my heart’s weaknesses like Chinese or Japanese movies never do. “JSA” makes me cry every time I see the film, “Silmido” completely broke my heart (shudder), and the movie whose touching story comes closest to “Ode to my father” is “Welcome to Dongmakgol”, another wonderful story with many weaknesses. Bottom line: I don’t care about the naysayers of this movie, for me it was actually an awesome experience.

Berlinale 2015, Day 8 (Leave her to Heaven)

O is back to being energetic and healthy, but most recently the Berlinale blogging got a little hiccup mostly because I am in a writer’s slump. On the one hand, I feel my energy draining out of me now that it’s almost done (not entirely, but close), on the other hand, I had trouble with “Leave her to heaven” specifically because my thoughts kept wandering to “Ode to my father”. In good news, Pixelmatsch has been filling in the films he has seen – yay yay! Thinking about it makes me look forward to my meta postings at the end: Films we have missed, afterthoughts and statistics and rankings.

Just like last year, my Saturday was pretty short. We got a bunch of tickets (4 films) for Sunday, and by this time, both O and I were sick and after 3 days of getting at home after midnight, I really didn’t want to watch any late night screenings anymore. As a result, my choices fell on an afternoon film and one evening film so I could spend most of the day with O but without passing out by the end of the day. It was my most balanced day of the Berlinale, with two very nice, solid films but which did not blow my mind.

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Leave her to Heaven
USA 1945, John M. Stahl, 110′

Successful writer falls in love with a beautiful, strong-willed but slightly strange girl who turns out to be maniacally possessive to the point of murdering people just to have her beloved to herself. Starting out as a love story, it then turns into a murder story and then a courthouse drama.

I had no idea what I was getting into with this film (who is John M. Stahl anyways?), instead I was just taking my chances since I wanted to see a Gene Tierney movie. I was intrigued by her even before I ever saw “Laura” (becauseI thought she looked strange in a good way and because she dated Kennedy hahaha). Strangely enough, I didn’t think she was that great as “Laura”, a beautiful lady who is ultimately just innocent nice damsel in distress. But oh, she is absolutely gorgeous as Ellen who is just as evil as her bitchface suggests. The beautiful, charming, headstrong, but also crazy woman is simply perfect for Gene Tierney, and I absolutely adore her in this role. I have to admit that I am a big fan of these kinds of characters, and Tierney plays her in a shockingly convincing manner. I was also impressed by the styling of this film: When Ellen’s craziness gets overboard, her hair is done up in an utterly frumpy manner to indicate how out of control she has gotten. But when commits one of her worst crimes, she opens up her hair and is styled beautifully to give her the appearance of the victim. This subtly shows how purposefully she acts, and makes her so much more interesting than someone who is just mentally ill and not herself.

By the way, I was also quite smitten with the actress of Ruth, who is styled so cutely ever since the beginning that I had a hunch her and the protagonist must get together. Nevertheless, she never goes beyond ‘cute’ of course, and I suspect Gene Tierney would not have allowed her to steal her spotlight (she doesn’t).

Even though this is a Technicolor film, They shoot pictures don’t they lists the film as one of the 100 quintessential noir films (which are the most referenced and cited for the genre), indicated by that 100-icon. I am not surprised, Ellen Berent is perhaps my favorite femme fatale of all, and she is perhaps one of the most radical too, much like the protagonist of “Angel Face”. There are no gangsters in this film, it’s ultimately a family drama, but the characterization of its protagonist and its immensely beautiful style are very noir-like, so you can probably tell that I enjoyed the film very much.

Berlinale 2015, Day 8 (Der Geldkomplex)

Lukas Förster liked the movie, and Loris liked aspects of the movie. In that respect, I am glad I saw the film because it’s the kind which you probably can never get your hands on ever again. I instantly took interest in the description on the Berlinale website, and the adaptation of an old novela sounds intriguing (in the case of “The Painted Veil”, the slightly romanticized film adaptation is actually awesome). Sadly, it ended up being one of those “What the heck did I just see?” kind of movies in which I also – unfortunately – fell asleep to. Considering how short the movie is, missing some 15 minutes or so felt like a lot. It reminded me of this very stressful day in which I slept through almost the entirety of Rossini’s “Il Turco in Italia”. Until today, I feel like my impression of the opera is inadequate since I missed so much (and I would like to see it again especially now that 6451 told me he liked it). I have similar feelings about “Der Geldkomplex”, though I have no particular desire to see the film again.

By the way, this was one of the few times where I sat upstairs in the Delphi theater. We had seats in the very front, so the view was much better than most places downstairs. It’s definitely something to keep in mind when faced with an almost filled-up theater. Afterwards, we didn’t stay for very long. A good Q&A would have helped a lot, where the filmmaker could have explained some of the background of this pretty confusing movie he has made. Shockingly, in this case the Q&A just made it worse. The director essentially said “Oh I didn’t want to write my own script so I stumbled upon this story and randomly decided to adapt it” (which honestly is quite offending to Reventlow’s possibly good book), then went on to say a lot of confusing things including how nobody really knew anything and they just sat together to develop the characters at random. It totally sounds like the entire movie was made on drugs, and there was no structure or intent anywhere.

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Der Geldkomplex (El complejo de dinero)
Spain 2015, Juan Rodrigáñez, 76′

As I mentioned before, I simply have no idea what the whole story is about. I liked its first scene and some later scenes, but I am unable to put them together to an actual story. I never read zu Reventlow’s epistolary novela the whole thing is supposed to be based on, so I have no idea whether the original story is just as confusing. Maybe the film actually is supposed to be some kind of mumblecore thing in which nothing happens and people just talk, but then how is it a literary adaptation? Other than that, I actually liked the concept of the film: A bunch of people hang out in a serene, beautiful place, doing nothing but talk about life, themselves and so on. It could have been fantastic, if only I knew what it was all about.

Taken out of context, however, the film did have a few moments which I thought were interesting. I thought the first scene, in which one of the guys is being coached to ask for 3 million euros – sofort! (hahaha) – was quite amusing, but the greatest scene was definitely the paella one, in which we see nothing but the paella pot from bird’s view and a few guys arguing about whether shrimp (or something else) goes into paella. It made me hungry and the repetitive humour of the scene gave me a glimpse of what the film could have been. Finally, I liked how they all ended up breaking into song, even though it’s a cliché (and I am ultimately glad that Star Trek DS9 did not have a musical episode).

The good thing about this year’s Berlinale was that there was no movie which I perceived as a waste of time (unlike last year, where some movies were saved only through the grace of Stephen Horne’s accompaniment), but “Der Geldkomplex” came pretty close.

Berlinale 2015, Day 7 (Ten no Chasuke)

I have never actually been to a premiere in the Berlinale Palast. Before this, I have only seen specials and repetitions of competition films here, and while I think that it’s a decent venue, there is something I simply don’t like about it. This time, at least I got to know that the personnel here is very nice and competent. I’ve always wanted to experience a premiere of a competition film at the Berlinale, only to realize with “Ten no Chasuke” that it’s quite pointless unless you are really into someone in the cast and even then you might only get a glimpse of them. Compared to that, the Panorama and Generation premieres I have seen so far have always been amazing, followed by an interesting Q&A. Oh well.

Also, it’s the last day of February and I still have a long way to go to blog the Berlinale. Seriously, my February is always entirely dominated by the Berlinale, though that is also somewhat awesome.

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Ten no Chasuke
Japan/France 2014, Sabu, 106′

Chasuke is a tea boy in heaven, where heavenly scriptwriters write the stories of everybody’s lives. While serving tea to them, Chasuke reads various people’s stories and especially falls in love with one girl, who is going to die soon. Since Chasuke’s actions are not dictated by any script, the girl’s scriptwriter sends Chasuke to earth to save her.

How should I put it – “Ten no Chasuke” was panned by critics and unlike “Under Electric Clouds” it was rightfully so. To me the film was an example of how movies should not be made: Incoherent storytelling, wasted side characters, overly melodramatic ending, absolutely absolutely horrible directing and cinematography (you may disagree, but this is how I see it). The first indication that the movie might not fulfill my expectations was the moment when they showed how the actress of the female protagonist was walking on the red carpet and tons of otaku were having her sign her gravure shots. This does not bode well. There is nothing wrong with a gravure idol becoming an actress, heck I love Sibel Kekilli to pieces, but I got the feeling that she was foremost a bikini model and indeed it was. She had a mute role (thank goodness) and she barely had to act.

To be honest, the complaints of “Ten no Chasuke” have no end. The story made no sense, it completely lost its suspense after Chasuke managed to save the girl’s life (and thus fulfilled the job he had to do in the first place) and towards the second part, I wasn’t even sure what the whole point of the film was anymore. His problems with the yakuza seemed totally unresolved and the whole “Chasuke heals people’s illnesses” plotline was utterly unsatisfying too. I already mentioned the ending, but its badness can barely be put into words (they both randomly get revived and she randomly regains her voice? hello?) and the “we can take our future into our own hands” makes no sense whatsoever within this setting, where people’s lives are being foretold by heavenly scriptwriters. For a premise so interesting and cool, “Ten no Chasuke” is probably the biggest disappointment in years.

Nevertheless, I enjoyed the film as curious as it may sound. Sure the last 30 minutes were a complete waste, but it started off incredibly strong. I almost laughed out loud a few times, and I am in love with all the side characters (oh and how awesome is Chasuke’s sister?), I just wished they had gotten an actual purpose in the story. More than anything, I enjoy how the film shows a somewhat alternative Japan – one which is not serene like an Ozu movie but actually loud and lively. On my only trip to Japan (which was before “Tamako Market” aired), I was fascinated by the covered arcades. Unlike the ones in Paris, the ones in Japan are really ugly but there is so much culture and life in them that I am surprised why you don’t see more of them. I liked how “Ten no Chasuke” took place almost entirely in one of these arcades, and how the entire story is a product of this setting (albeit a bad one).

I doubt I will ever watch another Sabu movie in my life, it’s totally not like Hirokazu Koreeda who is actually a good filmmaker.

Berlinale 2015, Day 7 (Que horas ela volta?)

For some reason one of my minor fascinations is Brazil. It’s the reason why I watched the marvelous Tropa de Elite and what made me check out the Brazilian films at every Berlinale since then. This one looked promising so it had to be watched. Turns out it was a good idea, it even won the Panorama audience award!

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Que horas ela volta?
Brazil 2015, Anna Muylaert, 111′

Val has been working as a maid in a rich family’s house in São Paulo since more than ten years. She’s irreplaceable help for the parents and a loving nanny and basically second mother for the 17 year old Fabinho whose actual mother is not at home too often. Things change when her actual daughter Jessica announces her visit after being apart for more than ten years because she wants to apply to university in São Paulo. Her confident demeanor shakes up the whole household starting with using the guest room of the house that’s 5 times the size of Val’s room because after all she’s an invited guest.

As Berlin is basically a town of left-wing extremists, with a few rich people, Nazis and old people at the fringes, the movie was a riot for the audience!

The topic of the movie, class relations between the rich and the lower classes and the new-found pride and self-confidence of the latter, is very modern. Jessica and Val are from a working lower-middle class family from the rural north. While Val is deferential, calling the Patrons Dona and Doctor, making sure not to cross invisible lines, always eating the cheap ice cream, Jessica doesn’t care: She’s a guest so of course she takes the guest room, of course she calls the Patrons by their names, of course she walks around the house, of course she eats the good jam and ice cream when it’s offered. She knows what she’s worth and while she’s never rude, this clashes with her mother’s ways and the Patrons’ habit of being the undisputed higher class. While they treat Val with respect and trust they nonetheless see her as someone lower in ranking. Dona Barbara feels threatened as she has been hiding her jealousy of the close bond between Val and Fabinho while her husband and Fabinho are fascinated by this, strange, prideful creature, which of course creates even more tension. In the end, Val and Jessica manage to overcome their differences and estrangement and begin a new part of life together on a very hopeful note.

Berlinale 2015, Day 7 (Cuatro contra el mundo)

I love going to Berlinale screenings that nobody else goes to. Actually I don’t think that has happened very often, though last year there were a few Retrospective screenings with less people. (Perhaps this is the reason why they completely kicked out silent films this year, and had a Retrospective topic that easily pleases a greater number of people.) For “Cuatro contra el mundo”, the Arsenal was at most half-filled which is surprising even for a mid-day weekday screening. During the second part of the screening, it got even worse. People started leaving and the ones who were left started laughing at how bad the movie was. I am not joking. I didn’t actually think it was that bad, but when the badness was so in my face at the end of the film that I couldn’t ignore the laughter anymore, I also laughed along.

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Cuatro contra el mundo
Mexico 1950, Alejandro Galindo, 99′

In essence, the film depicts the downfall of a 5-man gang after they pull of a successful heist, almost like “Reservoir Dogs”. One died during the heist, one is on the verge of dying, the rest of them fall in love with the same woman, who is panicking pretty much just like them and, of course, must also desperately fall in love herself.

Since this year’s Berlinale was so terribly lacking in old films (or at least so it seemed to me), I was mesmerized by this Mexican film noir that nobody has really heard of. “Cuatro contra el mundo” is beautifully obscure, it’s not even listed on They shoot pictures, don’t they though this does not surprise me too much. Generally the entire internet has very few to offer on the film, it doesn’t seem to exist anywhere and if you google it, Spanish websites appear on the first page of results. Sure, the movie is pretty terrible, but amongst the myriads of US film noir films, only a handful can possibly be as great as “Out of the Past” or “Laura”. If I had to take a guess, the majority of them may be worse than “Cuatro contra el mundo”.

Nevertheless, this movie is an exercise in how not to make movies. It nails the style (though Leticia Palma’s wardrobe goes from stunningly beautiful to really silly within a second) and the atmosphere of a film noir, but after a very promising, well-done start, the film starts to become silly when the love triangle-quarangle comes into play. The film was fine when it started out as a suspense story (though the camera work is sometimes not helping much with the suspense), but then delved into mediocrity when it tried to do psychological melodrama. Unfortunately all the actors are pretty terrible, especially the main couple there. Their sudden love confessions came off as terribly pathetic, and Paco’s tragic past sounded utterly unbelievable simply by the amateurish way he delivered it. It’s a shame that this film, which originally had an interesting idea and a generally good script, got destroyed by clumsy directing and, most of all, horrible acting.

Of course I still enjoyed it. I haven’t seen a film noir in forever and was absolutely in the right mood for the film. Maybe the Berlinale is inspiring me to revisit genre cinema more – Western, nouvelle vague, film noir, science-fiction, musicals – it’s been quite awhile since I have seriously studied various genres.

Berlinale 2015, Day 6 (Aferim!)

Our viewing of “Aferim!” (same timeslot as for “Under Electric Clouds”, same cinema, same announcer) started out as a disaster. I was in a terrible mood, the guy announced the film as “a fun road movie without much deeper meaning” (which really irked me and I was happy to see that he was utterly wrong) and, worst of all, they started playing “Under Electric Clouds”. After I yelled into the audience “You are showing the wrong movie!”, it took a precious 6 minutes from the start till they got the right movie going. This is important because I needed to catch the last train back home! At least my sickness has slightly improved and I was immensely glad to be able to go to sleep shortly after 1am.

This film also ended my long-ish streak of great movies the last few days, but that is alright, it’s simply part of the Berlinale to see a few less good ones.

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Aferim!
Romania/Bulgaria/Czech Republic 2015, Radu Jude, 108′

The gendarm Costadin takes his son on a quest to find a runaway Roma slave, Carfin. While looking for him, they meet a variety of people, some tell them lots about their views on the world and its people, some get into arguments and conflicts with them, some help them with their quest (for the right fee, of course). After finding Carfin, things get even more complicated. It turns out Carfin was not wanted for theft but for having had an affair with his master’s wife, and he is afraid that his master will kill him for it.

I don’t think I have heard so many racist comments in a movie and laughed at them so much. Because the whole thing is set in a different time, I tend to brush it off as a product of its time and therefore as something funny. But like I hinted before, there is a deeper message hidden here. “Aferim!” is a subtle history lesson, but it’s so subtle that I didn’t quite get the whole picture. I had no idea what was going on in Wallachia in the year of 1835 (apparently it was under Turkish control), heck I don’t even know where Wallachia is. I have no idea how the Ottoman Empire evolved over the years, and I know even less about any of those countries east of Austria and south of the Czech Republic. The only Romanian film I saw was “4 months, 3 weeks, 2 days” which is foremost a small-scale human drama. It’s embarrassing, but I didn’t think much about its politics until I saw the film, and the film had to teach me everything about its times. In that respect the movie did an amazing job despite its subtlety. Loris noted how amused he was at the nobleman’s head gear, and it seems that costumes play an important role in showing the hierarchies and relationships between people.

While I only was able to get a glimpse of the politics at hand, the film is full of interesting human interactions, especially with the Roma population. Most of all, I think the movie is actually trying to understand where all the problems with the Roma and Sinti today are coming from, how less than 200 years ago these people were slaves without a shred a human dignity left to them, and how it is inevitable that they cannot easily escape this kind of cultural burden. Behind that veil of humorous fun, the way people speak about the Roma population is quite atrocious and it’s ultimately only slightly better today. I think “Aferim!” does a wonderful job at getting this point across, heck its title is pure ironic greatness. The Ottoman Turkish term apparently means “bravo!” with a hint of irony, which is exactly how it is meant when it appears several times in the film. I didn’t know that when seeing the film, but now it makes me want to revisit those scenes again.

Back in the day, “4 months, 3 weeks, 2 days” came out during a time when Romanian cinema was really hot. The fad seems to have died out, but apparently Romania still produces great movies, just like South Korea does after the “Oldboy” mania faded. I remember how much I suffered seeing these late night screenings while being down with an almost feverish cold, but both “Under Electric Clouds” and “Aferim!” were totally worth it. For my top 30 films of all times, I have this rule that I only include films which taught me something about the human condition. Even though “Aferim!” will not make it into the list, it definitely passed that criterion.

Berlinale 2015, Day 6 (Enjo)

One of the nicer things about this year’s Berlinale is the high amount of Ichikawa’s movies.

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Enjo (Conflagration, ??)
Japan 1958, Ichikawa Kon, 99′

Based on Yukio Mishima’s “The Temple of the Golden Pavillon” the movie tells the descent into madness of Goichi, a young Buddhist acolyte, who arrives from his dysfunctional family in the countryside to a famous Kyoto temple after his father, head monk of a small village temple, dies. Goichi with his shyness and stuttering issues is entranced by the Golden Pavillon of Shukaku Temple (a blatant ripoff of the real-life Kinkaku-ji), the most beautiful sight in the world according to his father. He’s shaken due to his father’s early death, caused by his learning of Goichi’s mother’s chronic unfaithfulness. Soon after his arrival, his psychologically abusive mother follows, only to accelerate his demise that ends in the Golden Pavillon burning down.

Just now, there was no spoiler regarding the end, as the movie is told as an elaborate flashback revealed during the police investigation. The camera is quite rigid most of the time, together with the simple lighting it’s quite efficient at evoking the rigid atmosphere of a temple. While the lack of colour is a challenge, the choice of shots makes up for it, showing the simple elegance of the temple grounds and the intricate beauty of the pavillon. The story paces itself very well through a number of flashbacks, telling Goichi’s story from his arrival shortly after his father’s death, through all the events that make him doubt the purity of those surrounding the temple, be it the head monk with his mistress, the cynical fellow monk who makes him aware of all the sinful behaviour around him or the tourists streaming in after the war, drowning the temple in money, making it even more corrupt. While the ultimate result and the sheer purity of Goichi’s madness may be hard to follow, the journey up to this point is clear and deliberately told, one can easily empathise with the troubled, pure young man losing belief in mankind and turning to fire as a cleansing agent.

Berlinale 2015, Day 6 (Nuclear Nation II)

As you will be able to tell, days 5 and 6 were by far my best Berlinale days. One could say that the Berlinale started out OK, then became really great, then took a dip and finally ended with a few nice but not overwhelming days.

The greatest thing about watching “Nuclear Nation II” at the Berlinale was the Q&A, actually the best one we had this year. Funahashi has this very charming way of cleverly ignoring questions by basically answering a similar question or by responding to the question with one sentence but then subtly changing the subject and moving on to hold a speech on whatever he wants to say. The Q&A is just a decoy for Funahashi to voice his agenda, but I absolutely agree with his agenda, and I am in awe of his perfect English, his charming way of speaking and asking for help for the victims. He’s the perfect activist who carefully avoids any strong words (such as “activism”), accusations towards his audience (he only accuses the Japanese government) and exaggerated pathos. He is also adding a dose of humility to it even though you can easily tell that he is a very confident person: When asked about how he made such a beautiful movie, he essentially said “I listen to people and they inspire me”. (When that question was raised, I told Pixelmatsch that I think the right answer for these kinds of things should always be “Because I’m a genius”.) The Fukushima disaster is lucky to have a spokesperson like him, although of course he can only do so much as a filmmaker.

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Nuclear Nation II (Futaba kara toku hanarete dainibu)
Japan 2014, Atsushi Funahashi, 114′

Pixelmatsch discovered Funahashi back in 2008 (or 2009?), and then proceeded to watch every single film by him showing at the Berlinale. Of course he also saw “Nuclear Nation” so the continuation was a must-watch. I had an alternative for this time slot, “Alice in den Städten”, but I figured I would never actually watch “Nuclear Nation” outside of the Berlinale. But this time, I was strangely curious about this director that Pixelmatsch has been raving about for years, so I decided to come along. Luckily, it’s a documentary so there is no plot per se, and I didn’t exactly miss anything by not watching the first part. “Nuclear Nation” is basically Fukushima from 2011 to 2012 right after the disaster, and “Nuclear Nation II” is the aftermath Fukushima from 2013 to 2014, mostly focusing on the refugees from Futaba who are living cramped up in an empty school and then on the remaining traces of the lives they have left behind.

I am totally not a fan of documentaries, that is for sure. There have been a number of mixed-form fiction-documentaries which I have enjoyed (like “My Winnipeg”), but I have always had my reservations about actual documentaries. They have never felt real to me (somehow doing fiction-documentaries just seems more honest to me), and I always thought you don’t really learn the truth from it. “Nuclear Nation II” may be a big exception for me: Its message is a political one, and it is one which I find very easy to agree with. When Funahashi said that the big problem with nuclear energy is that it allows people to not see other people’s suffering, I agree that he pretty much nails the problem of all of human condition to its core. The movie made my aircon-loving self feel quite guilty for sure!

Aside from the sympathetic message, I was in awe of how he filmed everything. There is no sentimental beauty or anything, but the cinematography and the cutting makes you feel close to the people, characters are being revisited in a coherent manner and soft music is fittingly inserted. While making a documentary, Funahashi tells stories and puts them together in a clever narrative structure. Needless to say I liked how he shoots the people and especially the places they have left behind. He tells those stories in an engaging manner but without rushing, while lingering on some shots just like the people linger on their previous lives, while getting his political points across in a clear but not blatant manner.

Speaking of the music, I was surprised that Ryuichi Sakamoto wrote a title song for the film, because the movie is such a low-budget, crowd-funded thing. But then I saw it was titled “for futaba” so I figured Sakamoto wrote the song for free to help. (And indeed, his Wikipedia indicates that he is part of an anti-nuclear-energy group.) This is probably the best music I have heard in an indie production ever since “Hoshi no Koe”, so kudos to everyone involved in that.

All in all, you can probably tell that I was pleasantly surprised at the sheer competence with which “Nuclear Nation” was made. For someone who only mildly cared for the Fukushima disaster back in the day, I am glad to see that there is someone capable who follows these people so closely and so persistently.