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I think it’s easy to consider this thing a work of art. The animation is beautiful, the art direction is stunning, all of the character designs are incredibly inspired and imaginative, the music is wonderful, and the voice acting sells everything that’s happening on screen. When it comes to productions that work well to introduce people to the medium of anime, I think this is a solid option despite its extremely fantastical setting and premise. Everything here just works, and there’s really not much to criticize for what it sets out to achieve in my eyes. I think just about anyone could enjoy this film if they’re a bit more open minded to exploring different mediums and stories.

As for what’s going on in this film, there’s a lot. But I can still boil it down to a few sets of themes that stand out to me at least. An obvious one is supernaturalism, this tale is inspired by Japanese Shinto-Buddhist folklore, as showcased by the wide variety of spirits that Chihiro encounters, plenty of which I can pick out individually. The setting of the bathhouse is a pretty literal interpretation of solstice rituals, in which villagers would call forth various spirits and kami and invite them to their baths. Chihiro’s place in all of it is that of a child going through their rite of passage into adulthood. She’s somewhere between child and adult in this rather upsetting point in her life, and in this world of spirits she also stands outside of societal boundaries. The literal translation of the title reinforces this idea further, 千と千尋の神隠し (Sen to Chihiro no Kamkikakushi) or “Sen and Chihiro’s Spiriting Away” where 神隠し (kamikakushi) can also be read as hidden (kakushi) by gods (kami). In this way, I can see Chihiro passing through this world of spirits while moving on from her status as a child in her old home, to a more grown individual who’s embraced her past and accepted moving to a new home.

Other themes I can notice more now are ones that seem to be more critical of modern aspects of society, such as consumerism and environmentalism. Greed is a major motivation and pitfall for many characters in this movie, with varying obsessions over gold and food. I feel like this greed is mostly rooted in westernism, with Yubaba having a distinctly western-inspired dress and having much of her furnishings in her room look very European compared to the much more traditional Japanese styled architecture and furnishings of her workers. I think this ties into the influence the west had over Japan during the Meiji restoration, where in the process of modernization and “catching up” with the rest of the world, much of the traditional Japanese culture at the time may have been overwritten. Yubaba’s act of literally taking Chihiro’s name from her and turning it into Sen (which is the Japanese character for one thousand) can also be looked at as a commentary on employers’ fixation on sheer value even when it comes to living beings. Chihiro’s parents also turn into literal consumerist pigs, which is incredibly subtle and took me many viewings to understand this incredibly nuanced metaphor. Haku himself also gets his name stolen from him, albeit in a somewhat different manner from Chihiro. He exists as a manifestation of what was once a river in the human world, but the river was destroyed and had apartments built over its place, causing him to lose his home and his sense of self and identity. A pretty blunt commentary on both consumerism and the destruction of nature through urban expansion, which continues to be a concern for many in Japan to this day.

As far as Japanese cinema goes, I feel that animation should probably viewed from a separate perspective when comparing it to other films. The production is intense in its own ways, dealing with an almost entirely different set of hurdles under a pretty distinct medium, so comparing Spirited Away with other works that we’ve watched should be an interesting experience. While other Miyazaki films still win out for me, this viewing reminded me of how absolutely solid this movie is. A strong story with a lot of good commentary and a superb audiovisual experience makes it clear why this is considered by many to be the best animated film of all time.

Can’t beat Howl though, love that guy.

Initial thoughts:

This is probably my favorite film we have watched so far. The two simultaneous plotlines that meet in the end was really interesting to watch and I haven’t seen it too much in the movies I have seen. I do think that the beginning of the film was notably better than the latter half though. The first 40-50 min expertly used horror elements and pacing to where I was both intrigued and creeped out (which is hard because I don’t really find these things creepy or scary). I still enjoyed the second half a lot but the supernatural elements became a bit redundant for me. Additionally, I did have a bit of confusion regarding the disappearances, which I would like to note I liked that this ‘haunting’ was more than just the two protagonists and their friends but rather it was global. I was a little confused that some people like Junko, Yabe and Kawashima just turn into the black stains while others like Taguchi and Karasawa killed themselves before also becoming black stains. It just left me a bit confused on how exactly the ‘curse’ worked, though in the end I suppose all of them succumb to despair of some sort. 

Why it worked:

I think what made this more unnerving as a techno-horror film than ring for me, was that there was not an escape. With Ring, you could either not watch the tape or copy it after. But in this film, anyone with internet access (so everyone) it seemed would eventually be affected by the ghosts. It wasn’t just one ghost either, it was multiple different people who we saw were tormenting the characters, and eventually the ghosts aren’t what kill you, its yourself. I think your own mind turning against you, your own solitude and despair going beyond control is what is scary about it all.

My (maybe dark) take:

You can analyze this film more from the technological standpoint and speak on how this is a message of the corruption technology has had on people and how it has made us less human and deterred us from making true human connection. And go on about how we crave human connection and tha technology which was meant to connect us more than ever only pushed us apart. But I think this movie does more. I think it shows us we were ALWAYS like that, the presence of technology just exacerbated it. Karasawa spoke about something similar when she first went to Kawashima’s house, we are all lonely and afraid of solitude, yet we are fake in our connections. I think we all are so terrified of death because we think it will be even lonelier than what we are now so we cling so desperately to living without any real conviction. We are just afraid of the unknown and of being alone. But in truth, we are always alone. We are born alone, we die alone, and in death like in life we will be alone. And even with technology connecting us to every corner of the earth, to a point where almost every other person is only a click away. We are still alone. The machine with the dots really intrigued me as it showed this point visually. We are like little specs of dust that cross paths but don’t touch. I think this not only refers to our connections to other people but our connections between life and death.

But we are resilient, so we keep going and we try to make those connections that make everything seem like it meant anything. That’s why we humans are cool, and annoying 😊

Pulse is a 2001 techno-horror film directed by Kiyoshi Kurosawa. The film follows the perspectives of two individuals, plant shop employee Kudo Michi and Economics student Ryosuke Kawashima as ghosts begin to invade the world of the living via the internet.

Pulse is a very interesting film. Ironically, for a horror film what I found so fascinating about it was not so much why it was scary, but rather why it featured a distinct lack of horror. In order for me to understand and explain why I felt this way, I first need to unpack what I thought the film was attempting to say.

Pulse is a film about ghosts invading the world via the internet. Already, this sounds like a poorly concocted saturday-morning cartoon plot that couldn’t possibly be the basis for a whole 119 minute-long horror film. Indeed, when Kawashima encounters a graduate student who basically explains the whole plot, ghosts using the internet to invade the world of the living because they’ve run out of space in ghost-world, it seems more like a red-herring than a genuine explanation of what’s going on (maybe ghost-world was also affected by a crippling economic housing crisis). Yet, this is exactly what is going on, which leads me into the two primary reasons why I found Pulse to be underwhelming.

The first reason is its execution of horror and the characterization of its supernatural element. To me, a good horror “antagonist” is something that toes the line between being understandably identifiable and unknowingly incomprehensible. On the one hand of this spectrum, we have the villains of many iconic American slasher films. The likes of Freddy Kruger and Jason, while physically formidable, are easily identifiable. They have a name, a consistent appearance, and in some cases even a face. They are better for hunting down prey rather than instilling any real sense of dread or despair. Yet on the other side of things we have what can best be exemplified with zombie films. These films do not for a moment pretend as though they can genuinely frighten the viewer with undead shamblers or rotting corpses. The zombie is too impersonal, too faceless, to truly incite fear. A mass of walking dead on its own is no more terrifying than an invading army, and so horror films that feature zombies must rely on the characters, world, and atmosphere that go along with the apocalypse (a film like 28 Days Later is a personal favorite example of this). Pulse’s ghosts are far more similar to zombies than they are to what I would consider a proper horror monster. They are myriad and faceless, yet lack any distinctness that makes them terrifying. The film succeeds in using disturbing imagery, oppressive sound design and music, and immersive scenery to really nail what is on paper a terrifying other-worldy invasion, but upon closer inspection these appartions show up in predictable areas doing predictable things to fully-suspecting cast members that must perform purposefully thoughtless actions in order to move the plot forward. Despite the fact that the ghosts are shown to prey on peoples’ sense of lonliness, and in spite of the fact that at multiple points it is shown that red tape designates danger, cast members ignore these warnings or signs. There is no reason for this other than the character-driven aspect of the plot requires them to do so, or else they would have left the city half-way through the movie.

This leads into my second and more serious reason as to why I found the movie to be un-scary: its portrayal of the internet and the message it seems to hold regarding the prevalence of telecommunications and information technology. From what I gathered, the film posits that technology drives people apart. It isolates them and invites in a sense of loneliness that will permeate their lives; this is why the ghosts invade via the internet (”death is eternal loneliness”) and why their principle power is to rob people of their will to live by preying on their sense of loneliness. The internet is portrayed as a divisive force that causes people to become selfish or solitary. The only characters that are immune to this seems to be those who go out of their way to interact with others, who show genuine care and concern for their colleagues and peers. And it is true, there is a certain sense of solitude that has come about in the information age as a direct result of the internet. Things become less personal, and to obsess over or live entirely on the internet is a danger that cannot be understated. However, to accept this as the only product of the internet, or to even entertain the idea that it is the primary consequence of increasing permeation and advancment of information technology is, in my opinion, tantamount to willfully inviting a sense of ignorance as to the nature of the internet, how people use it, and the true dangers that it poses. In my opinion, the film barks up the wrong tree. Where it would acuse us of being driven to solitude, reality shows us that it is the opposite. People have become far too obsessed with others in a way. The barrage of information from sources like instant news or social media can be overwhelming, and in the thick of things the first thing people lose is themselves. Rather than becoming engrossed in their sense of individuality and solitude, they instead become absorbed in the happenings of others. Humans are naturally social, to suggest that they would suddenly abhor relationships and drown in their own solitude is ridiculous.

              Like the last film we watched, Swallowtail Butterfly explores how those who are different are treated poorly in Japanese society. The people of Yentown are not given the same rights as a Japanese citizen; when Feihong and Glico buy the Yentown Club, it is signed under someone else’s name. The people are also under constant police scrutiny and experience violence when under arrest. The Caucasian band members who were born in Japan, therefore Japanese citizens, also complain about their treatment.

              Though poor, the ragtag team of friends seem to have a good time. They are close-knit and seem to have fun doing whatever to earn money. However once enough money has been accrued, it drives the people apart. Glico, for such a central character, seems to go missing for a large chunk of the film once she becomes a pop star, which emphasizes how far removed she is from Ageha and Feihong now.

              The movie also seems to be shot mostly using handheld, which reminds me a lot of watching a music video or a recording of a live performance. Various colored lights are used to set the mood as well, the most apparent to me is how spotty light can be, like when a scene is shot under a swinging light or near a fan. It’s an interesting way to make the scene more cluttered to stress the messiness of the setting, like in Rashomon with its concept of justice.

              Since there are so many different cultures in Yentown, it makes sense that the characters speak multiple languages. I really like that the film does this, because I feel like it adds another layer to analyze. For example, at the end Ageha speaks Chinese to Ran and also tells him that she runs a shop with Glico. I interpreted this as a sign that Ageha has continued to practice Chinese, probably as a way to connect with Glico and honor Feihong, who initially teaches her the language. I also think that her speaking Chinese in combination with mentioning Glico is a way to hint that Ageha knows of Ran’s relation with Glico but chooses not to reunite them, maybe as a way to protect her since Feihong was killed after getting caught with the fake bill, which was a strategy invented by Ran. Switching between languages midsentence was a nice touch as well, however I wish the subtitles somehow indicated this. Watching this movie with the subtitles felt like I was watching a dubbed anime on Netflix with the subtitles; what the characters say do not always match the subtitles word for word but still meant about the same thing. It was also a little tiring to hear Chinese but read English. Sometimes the subs cut out completely too. While Mao Fu charged to attack right before his whole crew gets wiped out, he lets out a war cry of sorts. He is telling his opponent to basically “come at me bro,” but there were no subtitles in this short segment.

This film was certainly a 2 and a half hour rollercoaster ride. I was very impressed by the usage of 3 languages within the same film, I felt that this element added a lot to the discussion of nationality and origin within Japan, as well as addressing groups of chosen belonging. All in all, I rather liked this chaotic film. I doubt it will be one of my favorites but it was certainly entertaining. 

I liked the use of color in this film. Though it did not seem as orchestrated as some of the previous films we watched, it was still used for some of the more major characters and scenes throughout the film. One example is Glico’s red dress. While in theater, primary colors are often used to denote main characters - in this film they are used to show ties to either prostitution or gangs. 

I loved seeing the one druggie prostitute lady who would randomly appear and change the entire course of the film through her tiny actions. *cough* *cough* could it be the BUTTERFLY EFFECT?! Yes, more than likely, I think this woman’s whole purpose in the plot. 

I enjoyed the use of color correction on this film. The over-correction, leading to over saturation in many instances gave the film a vibrant touch that added to the aesthetics of the culture the people of Yentown had created for themselves. 

Those damn shades, pretty cool.

I really enjoyed viewing this one, and I think it’s the actual viewing experience that’s key here, rather than the narrative itself which felt mostly peripheral. What was really keeping my attention throughout the film was the atmosphere that was being established, very melancholic and almost surreal at times, certainly in its depiction of violence with the amount of blood getting thrown around. Some of the violence does feel a little absurd, like the amount of blood a guy spits up after a single kick to the face with no other visible bruising or scarring from it, or the jarring cuts from a lunge with chopsticks to the guy being stabbed with them in his eye. While I think it was a bit heavy handed, I’m thinking now that it may have been an intentional effect meant to really draw attention to the moments of violence and death, and these moments felt like they were mirrored by the splash of red paint on Horibe’s suicide painting, showing what all these moments of violence were building up towards. The violence stands in stark contrast to the moments of care and tenderness. Nishi is a main who is haunted by his past, but still feels no greater desire than to see his sick wife happy in her final days. The ways scenes are depicted show his mentality and resolve perfectly, minimal dialogue and obscurity, and all of the motivations are shown through actions rather than words.

As for the ending, I think this was the least ambiguous part of the film, and it’s obvious what actually happened here: Nishi and his wife end their own lives on their own terms. It’s heavily symbolized by Horibe’s last painting at the end of the film, which on one hand shows his abandonment of the desire to kill himself with the splashing of the red paint, while also showing what Nishi and Miyuki are about to do. There’s no point in Nishi continuing his struggles since his wife is already on death’s door, and the Yakuza are set on tracking him down while the police have him pinned for the robbery he committed. He was able to enjoy one last trip with the woman he loves, and the last thing he’s going to do is kill 2 people that still clearly care for his well being and have done nothing to wrong him or the people he cares for. It’s a somber ending, but ultimately one that left me at peace knowing that him and his wife could both see the end together in mutual happiness. I have to admit, the 2 lines from Miyuki really hit me like a truck, and my eyes got a bit misty in it all. I also want to mention that I think it’s pretty clever that a man who was painting surrealist art has his final painting of the film directly foreshadow the reality of the ending.

The film itself had a distinct rhythm that helped everything flow together, and this was all punctuated with a fantastic score, making what could have been otherwise dull scenes really mesmerizing for myself. A couple of things I read up on that I thought made this film much more personal for the director was that the pointillist paintings that Horibe made were made by Kitano himself in reality, in particular while he was recovering from a motorcycle accident that left his face partially paralyzed, and that Kitano’s own daughter shows up in the film as the girl flying the kite at the end.

Hana-bi was such an interesting film to watch. The cinematography was beautiful. The pace of the film was purposefully and artistically slow, but the plot was so intense with everything happening that the film didn't actually feel slow.

I'm a bit uncertain of how to analyze this film in the context of Japanese society, because it really felt like a film that examined the philosophy of life that is universal to anyone around the world. While Nishi was the main character, Horibe was constantly juxtaposed after scenes of Nishi, encouraging the audience to see comparisons between them. While Nishi went out on an adventure with his wife, Horibe was bound at home because of his paralysis. Horibe's adventures were presented through the ideas and feelings being expressed in his art.

I interpreted the flower faces Horibe came up with in his mind as the emptiness of the beauty he used to have in his life. His paralysis along with his wife and child leaving him has left depressed and empty as he said he's never known anything other than work. He thinks about them and having family but flowers are placed in the faces because they are no longer there in his life.

Fireworks to me seem like a beautiful grand explosion that is mesmerizing for a few seconds and disappears like nothing has ever been there before. I feel that Nishi chasing after adventures with his wife before she died was his way of setting a firework. Whereas Horibe's art is painting that is much more long-lasting, although it is not necessarily bringing him joy.

I also noticed that Nishi's wife never spoke until the end. It seems like she had really retreated from the world because of her illness and especially because of her child's death. Horibe mentioned at the beginning that she didn't say a word when he visited her at the hospital. However, I didn't realize that she wasn't speaking even to Nishi until close to the end. I liked that we got to know her through her games and places Nishi took her, because the silence allowed us to observe her and not focus on thinking about her illness or the fact that she is dying.

I can’t believe we finally made it to the 21st century. I finally understand at least some of the pop culture references.

Anyways, the rebellious youth theme instantly made me think of Cruel Story of Youth, especially after Sugihara says, “I thought hard about my futureless existence.” Sugihara’s youth was filled with violence, with many classmates challenging him to fight. I’m glad that Sugihara manages to find a goal, going to university, but I am sad that it was at the cost of Jong-Il’s death. Sugihara also refuses Tawake’s call for revenge, stating that it would not be something Jong-Il would want. I also wondered a lot if any of the violence portrayed was punished by the police. I wonder if Jong-Il’s killer was arrested, or if Mr. Kim faced any consequences for beating up a student. We only see the police arrest Sugihara and Tawake, which makes me think the director is pointing out how the Korean-Japanese were treated by the police differently compared to the Japanese.

The stuttering shots also reminded me of something, but I can’t quite remember what. I want to say Scott Pilgrim vs. the World. But a cooler scene was the spinning shot while Tawake and Sugihara kick a deflated soccer ball around, then transitions to Jong-Il and Sugihara talking. It conveyed time passing, like with Ugetsu and its shot where the wife appears one last time.

Additionally, Go starts with a Shakespeare quote, which I think outlines the main theme of the movie well. The quote basically says that the name of something does not really change what that something is, like how Sugihara and Sakurai not sharing their first-names does not change who they are as humans. The quote also shows that the labels given to the various characters do not define them. Sugihara may be Korean-Japanese but sharing this information with Sakurai does not change him as a person.

A smaller thing I noticed was that the film shows that every time the mom left, the dad punches a hole in the wall. The film focuses a little on the first two holes as they happen, but by the end there were like five holes. We see that after the dad was informed of his loss in business and loss of a brother, so I wonder if the holes indicated how upset the dad was over these losses or if the mom left another three times. I saw that Sakurai when she was introduced wore a lot of bright pinks, which foreshadowed her first name. This also made her stand out next to Sugihara, who wore dark blues. Furthermore, after Jong-Il’s funeral, Sugihara wore black while Sakurai wore a white dress. Obviously the dark clothing indicates grief, but I think Sakurai wore white to represent how Sugihara hopes that Sakurai can be a pillar of support after losing a good friend. That illusion is shattered though once the clothing came off. Finally, at the end Sakurai wore blue clothing, which I believe indicates how she understands Sugihara a little better and was willing to change the beliefs she was taught.

Isao Yukisada’s 2001 film Go tells the coming of age story of Sugihara, a young korean-japanese delinquent born and raised in Japan. The film follows Sugihara as he transitions through life from a junior-high student in a Korean school to a high-school student in a Japanese school and eventually into college all the while trying to come to terms with what he wants out of life. Sugihara fights, brawls, and sprints his way through life until he meets Sakurai, a young Japanese girl whom he starts dating. Through a series of events in his life including the death of his friend Jong Il, separating with Sakurai due to him being Korean, speaking with a Japanese police officer and having a brawl with his drunken father, Sugihara makes up his mind to go to college and study hard, giving up his delinquent ways and reuniting with Sakurai.

Go as a film is primarily concerned with labels, distinctions, and definitions. This is made evident from the very first scene where Sugihara’s basketball team gives him trouble for being Korean so he starts a fight. Later, his father tells Sugihara that he will be changing nationality from North Korean to South Korean in order to travel to Hawai’i. At the Korean school, students are prohibited from speaking Japanese and are punished with physical abuse, and Sugihara is labeled a “race traitor” when it is revealed that Sugihara will be moving to a Japanese school. Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet plays a minor role in the film through the line “What’s in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell just as sweet”, which, in the context of the play, disparages the use of labels as a means of dividing people. Later in the film, while eating dinner with Sakurai’s family, Sugihara points out that no one really knows what “Japan” means or really where the name comes from, and, even later when speaking to Jong Il, Sugihara mentions that, even for the people of Japan, if they traced their heritage far enough back they would find common ancestors, not a clear division. The dialogue about labels and definitions comes to a head when Jong Il is murdered by a Japanese student and Sugihara is once again called a “race traitor” by his old classmate and warned not to go to school the next day. Later, after confessing to Sakurai that he is half Korean, Sugihara is compelled to leave Sakurai after her strong negative reaction. It is on the way home from Sakurai’s that Sugihara meets a Japanese Police officer and knocks him out in fear that he will be arrested. Regretting his actions, Sugihara waits for the officer to regain consciousness and has a drink and a smoke with him. It is during this conversation that Sugihara is reminded that labels and definitions are pointless if they only exist to divide people, as he realizes he and the police officer are quite similar and even share similar misgivings about the labels that they have been assigned. Later, Sugihara has a fight with his dad that results in him getting beaten badly, but his father shares a final piece of wisdom with him, saying something along the lines of “it’s time for your generation to take the lead” Ultimately, the film concludes on the theme that the younger generation does not need to be constrained by the same distinctions and labels as previous generations, and instead should strive to live in a world beyond labels or as Sugihara puts it “a world without borders.”