Moon and Cherry 月とチェリー (Tsuki to Cherry) aka Electric Button [2004] • Japan

Noriko Eguchi is one of my favorite actresses. She's had small parts in nearly fifty films in eight years. What's remarkable is that most of them have been reasonably high profile and critically well received, suggesting she has good intuition when it comes to selecting roles, and many of them are at the hands of Japan's best directors, suggesting they have good intuition when it comes to casting. She's not a box office draw, being much more a character actor than any idol-of-the-moment type, but she helps elevate every film she's in. Whenever she's onscreen she always appears smarter, stronger, deeper, and a little more enigmatic than everyone around her.

It's almost as if director Yuki Tanada wrote her first feature length film, Moon and Cherry, with Eguchi in mind. The film centers on the machinations of Mayama, played by Eguchi, as a member of a university erotic literature writing club. Mayama, its only female member, is the most talented and respected of the group because she's already been published, albeit under a male pseudonym. She's had sex with all but one of the other members of the group and uses the experiences as fodder for her writings. The film kicks into gear when a younger student, Tadokoro, joins the group. He immediately impresses the male members of the group with his knowledge of female anatomy, but just as he is swimming in their praise and accolades, Mayama walks in and says "Yeah, but you're a virgin." Experienced women can sense these things and Tadokoro is busted. Thus begins the intriguing gender role reversal story that is Moon and Cherry.

Mayama knows Tadokoro will make for good material so she takes him home to create some copy. The deflowering scene is controlled by Eguchi with aplomb, and in a moment of directorial panache, while Mayama is performing fellatio, we see Tadokoro biting his lip to the point of drawing blood. I don't need to spell out the brilliance of that metaphor. As soon as Mayama pops Tadokoro's cherry she jumps out of bed and starts writing. Tadokoro is befuddled but doesn't complain too much. As the relationship grows, Mayama sees Tadokoro's inexperience as an opportunity to try new things like sending an S&M dominatrix to his apartment and then demanding Tadokoro tell her all about it. She invites herself, followed by a pre-paid prostitute, to his place and then hides in his closet to watch the two of them go at it.

The only problem with completing this attempt at full on role reversal is the fact that Mayama is one of those women that men lose their minds over. There's no escaping that. Mayama has sex with Tadokoro in bed, on the floor, in the park, against a vending machine, but in between these events she disappears from his life. Tadokoro is torn but wants to make better use of his new found experience so he starts a relationship with a sweet and attractive co-worker, Akane, who serves as juxtaposition to Mayama. This sort of turns the film back on itself but I don't consider it a shortcoming at all.

Moon and Cherry is a very well-acted, creative and intelligent film that takes a different look at love, sex, and relationships. It's a low budget indie film shot on digital video as part of a Love Connections series of 2004 and it's a welcome opportunity to see the marvelous Noriko Eguchi star in a film. It's a smashing feature debut from writer/director Yuki Tanada who's gone on to script the female and visual extravaganza, Sakuran; write and direct Yû Aoi in One Million Yen and the Nigamushi Woman; and most recently write and direct the small masterpiece, Ain't No Tomorrows which I'll be reviewing soon.

A final shout out to newcomer Tasuku Nagaoka who plays Tadokoro with an awkwardly genuine sincerity. He's young and frail but never lets you think he won't make it, impressive in holding his own in scenes with the powerful Eguchi.

This could be a five star film but I don't think it wants to be. It wants to remain small and intimate. And independent. And even though it's one of the better films in recent memory, considered one of The Best of the Decade by a couple of the folks at Midnight Eye, I'm going to respect its wishes and give it four stars (with a stealth fifth star in the labels).

★★★★

Director: Yuki Tanada
Starring: Noriko Eguchi, Akira Emoto, Tasuku Nagaoka
Midnight Eye

Sakuran さくらん [2006] • Japan

Sure is colorful. There's a lot to write about when discussing this film but very little of it has to do with the story: In eighteenth-century Japan, a young girl is sold to a brothel by her mother; she's rebellious and tries to escape all the time; she's more talented and beautiful than all the other girls (suspension of disbelief required); she becomes an oiran (in the hierarchy of prostitutes, sort of like a four-star general in the army).

It's not that the story is bad or unimportant, it's that everything else about the film screams "Look at me! Look at me!" The sets and costuming, the soundtrack, and the casting of a mixed-race Polish/Japanese version of Courtney Love in the lead role all go against type. And one cannot help but notice that this is not Memoirs of a Geisha. Insight from the nearly sixty second montage of naked female breasts near the beginning of the film might be missed if one doesn't notice that the director Mika Ninagawa, the art director Namiko Iwashiro, the music director Ringo Shiina, the producer Chikako Nakabayashi, the scriptwriter Yuki Tanada, and the artist of the original manga Moyoco Anno are all women.

The film is beautiful to look at, if a little over-indulgent at times. No attempt is made to be true to the period. I don't speak Japanese, and subtitles are always deficient in nuance, but I'm sure the dialog is straight off the streets of contemporary Tokyo and not in any Edo period parlance. I'm not generally a fan of costume dramas or period pieces so on the one hand I was interested in seeing this modernized production, but on the other hand I felt a sense of incongruity while watching it. The bold colors of the sets and costumes didn't bother me but the soundtrack is a little odd. Not so much in the style—which swims through many modern genres of pop, rock, and jazz—as in the reverb. The music often doesn't sound like it is in the same size room as the action that is taking place. I like Ringo Shiina's music, have a few of her solo CDs and those of Tokyo Jihen, the band she also plays in. It's not that I think the music is bad, or that it is too terribly out of place. I think the sound design could have been better, and I think that some of the folks who find the soundtrack a little jarring would be less put off by it if more attention had been paid to the overall sound design.

Finally, I was not won over by Anna Tsuchiya in the lead role. I'm sure casting her was a well-thought out conscious decision by the director and I also, in theory, think she fits the package the director was trying to deliver. It's not that she doesn't look 'traditionally' Japanese, whatever that is. And it's not that she lacks a certain elegance I've come to expect of these types of characters, although I'm not surprised by the omission of her doing any of the arty things these pre-geisha geisha types were supposed to be fluent in like music, poetry, dancing, or witty conversation. It might be that she just isn't a very good actress. These rock star cum actress types often possess great charisma that passes itself off as good acting in the right context. I'm not sure this is one of them. I hope I haven't spoiled it for potential viewers by bringing up Courtney Love, but that's what it felt like to me, a little vulgar and somewhere between disappointing and distracting. Tsuchiya is a lot more attractive in her own musical environment than she is in this film. I just didn't buy her as a sophisticated beauty who rises to the top. Maybe I'm just upset that Yoshino Kimura is given short-shrift in the fake eyelash department or that the truly beautiful and engaging Miho Kanno is dispatched with too early in the film.

★★★

Director: Mika Ninagawa
Starring: Anna Tsuchiya, Yoshino Kimura, Miho Kanno, Kippei Shiina, Hiroki Narimiya, Masanobu Ando, Renji Ishibashi
IMDb
Asianmediawiki

One Million Yen and the Nigamushi Woman (Hyakuman-en to nigamushi onna) [2008] • Japan

This film will appeal to fans of Yû Aoi even though there isn't much range to her performance. What we get is exclusively the shy, sad, and awkward Yû Aoi with none of the radiant, confident, and smiling. She's on screen almost the entire two hour running time so the appeal may come from sheer quantity more than anything else, but she performs well and demonstrates she is capable of carrying a film on her own even if the value of that labor remains a question mark.

Yû Aoi's character has brought shame upon herself and her family by having a criminal record so she decides to run away, drift from town to town, staying in one place only long enough to earn one million yen and then move on. She wants to be anonymous, always one step ahead of any accusatory gaze that may be following her tortured soul. But what happens if she finds love? Will she reveal her ... true nature, that she's a criminal? No, that's not it. Her ... horrifying secret? No, that's not it either. The whole thing is kind of silly but I will grant the film some kudos for its final resolve even if it has little to do with illuminating its central conceit.

I'm no expert on Japanese culture but the basic premise of the film seems weak to me. Yû Aoi and a girlfriend agree to rent an apartment together so they can share costs and save money. They sign a lease and then Yû Aoi discovers that her girlfriend's boyfriend will be moving in as well. On move-in day only the boyfriend shows up and he informs Yû Aoi that his (and her!) girlfriend dumped him and will not be moving in. Fuck that. The guy turns out to be a total jerk, of course. Amongst many other idiotic attitudes, behaviors, and talking points, when Yû Aoi adopts a kitten and the guy doesn't like it, he throws it away, whatever that means, and we're gifted with a shot of a dead kitty on the road. In retaliation, Yû Aoi throws away every single piece of her roommate's property. The guy files charges and wins a criminal case against her, which she could have avoided by saying she had sex with the guy, even once, whether true or not, thereby making it a domestic issue and the police would've washed their hands of it. I'd proudly share that story at cocktail parties, but for Yû Aoi it's a scarlet letter.

The film's script has a number of weaknesses. One of them is Yû Aoi's little brother. He gets a subplot of being bullied by his peers. At first, he and Yû Aoi are at odds with one another. Then she leaves and massive love shows up. The little brother is only there to play on the heartstrings of unconditional blood love thriving in the face of a cruel world as it kicks brother and sister about. He's no good and his story is banal. Yû Aoi, and the film, would have been better served if she were cast out on her own, alone.

Yû Aoi's first stop in her search for anonymity finds her at a beach resort where everyone's hair is lighter than hers and their skin is darker. Oops. Her next stop is a rural mountain village where there are no young people left—let alone anyone as beautiful as Yû Aoi. Things get a little creepy and it's ironic that in this second stop the director achieves a nice symbiotic relationship between form and content but it only serves to bring the film to an unendurable lull. These rural village people are slow—in every way—and obstinate, and the film's pace follows suit.

Yû Aoi's final stop finds her in a semi-urban setting where she takes a job in a lawn and garden shop. This is where the "What if she finds love" card gets played, and we can only presume that deep down this is what Yû Aoi had been looking for all along because, even though she struggles against it at first, it's pretty hard to fathom any sane interest on her part in what she ends up with so she must be settling. The film does finish with a nice little kick, if not swift, and it's interesting that the reveal validates what you're hoping was the case, as unlikely as it may seem, but it promotes a dishonest sympathy through failure rather than disgust by virtue of assholeness. Had it gone any other way, though, the whole thing would have been a disaster.

All in all, a reasonably pleasant two hours spent with Yû Aoi as she weaves her way through a mostly mediocre film. There's nothing about the story which excites and other than Yû Aoi there are no characters worth paying attention to. The production values are good, though not remarkable in any way. If you are a fan of the actress, who does quite well in creating likable characters in the many smaller roles she takes on, One Million Yen and the Nigamushi Woman is worth seeing just to see her perform in a film that belongs entirely to her. But if you are a cinephile you'll probably walk away non-plussed.

★★★

Director: Yuki Tanada
Starring:Yu Aoi, Mirai Moriyama, Terunosuke Takezai

IMDb