Maborosi is an intriguing film to come to cold. Very few viewers will have this experience, but it is one I beseech you to bestow on others (you are already a lost cause by virtue of reading this review in this location). The deft hand Koreeda displays in directing actors, the core element of his later successes Nobody Knows and After Life, is seen here in the understated power of the performances from Asano, Esumi and Naito. Asano is especially well employed; given his superstar status, we expect him to hang around till the final reel. His early demise is jarring (remember, we are talking about a viewing of the film untainted by trailers, reviews or DVD case log-lines), not just because of who he is as a Japanese film icon, but because the husband-wife relationship is so finely drawn; two people who have clearly found their soul-mate and inhabit each other so completely. The suicide of Asano's character is unexpected but plausible, shocking but, with hindsight, foreshadowed.
After this point Koreeda becomes self-indulgent, and the powerful momentum of the first act then seeps out miserably as obsessive framing and composition strong-arm out any concern for narrative drive or dramatic tension. The comparisons to Ozu that some reviewers have made are ingenuous; Ozu would hold on a shot beyond a time that most western editors are comfortable with - but there was always a strong narrative justification for doing so. Koreeda does it to imbibe this work with a Japanese aesthetic purely for its own sake, or perhaps because he is so damn proud of his composition. By way of example I offer up the funeral procession that takes place at the end. At one point the mourners trek single file across a beach. Shot at Golden Hour, in extreme long shot, the mourners enter frame right and exit frame left. It takes over two minutes for these minuscule figures to snake across the frame. The procession adds nothing to the story, it reveals nothing about the characters. Watching these people make their way across the beach is an exercise in tedium. It precedes the climactic moment when Esumi reveals to Naito that she is obsessing over the suicide of her first husband. The dialog here is an excellent piece of writing, but the dramatic tension is punctured by shooting in extreme long shot, Esumi and Naito pinpoint silhouettes on the beach delivering what should be the films chief cathartic moment. Inexpicably a fire burns on the beach, as though a funeral pyre has taken place (no such custom exists in this region of Japan, or any region of Japan). The heavy-handed symbolism, the decision to eschew with close-ups for the actors, the ill-disciplined editing - all these elements gang up to sink Maboroshi in a sea of pretentiousness. Interestingly, all three are dispensed with in later works, though After Life would benefit from a 20-minute trim.
The most glaring missed beat is in the one scene of intimacy afforded to the newlyweds. Esumi and Naito sit against the bedroom wall in post-coital satiation. The scene is well-timed: just as we are wondering if the new couple are really getting along, we see that there is genuine intimacy between them. Except they both have their undies on. The sweat is still glistening on their bodies, they have ended up on the floor, and yet we are supposed to believe that they both reached over after the deed was done and pulled on their undies? Koreeda may as well have stuck a boom in the frame, it would have been a more subtle way of puncturing the suspension of disbelief. For a director who places so much stock by naturalistic composition and performances, it is a giggle-inducing miscalculation.
As many have pointed out, Maboroshi is very pleasing on the eye, but even in an art gallery you pause before the best paintings for only so long before moving on. Koreeda needed to move us on at a much brisker pace than he does here. Esumi's dilemma, when it is finally revealed, comes much too late and is far too predictable. The distance between camera and actor ultimately put a distance between me and the story - I couldn't get close to these people. I had this niggling feeling I was watching a director who didn't trust his actors. This is worth watching only for film buffs intrigued by Koreeda's career path - but allow your finger to hover over the fast-forward button...
After this point Koreeda becomes self-indulgent, and the powerful momentum of the first act then seeps out miserably as obsessive framing and composition strong-arm out any concern for narrative drive or dramatic tension. The comparisons to Ozu that some reviewers have made are ingenuous; Ozu would hold on a shot beyond a time that most western editors are comfortable with - but there was always a strong narrative justification for doing so. Koreeda does it to imbibe this work with a Japanese aesthetic purely for its own sake, or perhaps because he is so damn proud of his composition. By way of example I offer up the funeral procession that takes place at the end. At one point the mourners trek single file across a beach. Shot at Golden Hour, in extreme long shot, the mourners enter frame right and exit frame left. It takes over two minutes for these minuscule figures to snake across the frame. The procession adds nothing to the story, it reveals nothing about the characters. Watching these people make their way across the beach is an exercise in tedium. It precedes the climactic moment when Esumi reveals to Naito that she is obsessing over the suicide of her first husband. The dialog here is an excellent piece of writing, but the dramatic tension is punctured by shooting in extreme long shot, Esumi and Naito pinpoint silhouettes on the beach delivering what should be the films chief cathartic moment. Inexpicably a fire burns on the beach, as though a funeral pyre has taken place (no such custom exists in this region of Japan, or any region of Japan). The heavy-handed symbolism, the decision to eschew with close-ups for the actors, the ill-disciplined editing - all these elements gang up to sink Maboroshi in a sea of pretentiousness. Interestingly, all three are dispensed with in later works, though After Life would benefit from a 20-minute trim.
The most glaring missed beat is in the one scene of intimacy afforded to the newlyweds. Esumi and Naito sit against the bedroom wall in post-coital satiation. The scene is well-timed: just as we are wondering if the new couple are really getting along, we see that there is genuine intimacy between them. Except they both have their undies on. The sweat is still glistening on their bodies, they have ended up on the floor, and yet we are supposed to believe that they both reached over after the deed was done and pulled on their undies? Koreeda may as well have stuck a boom in the frame, it would have been a more subtle way of puncturing the suspension of disbelief. For a director who places so much stock by naturalistic composition and performances, it is a giggle-inducing miscalculation.
As many have pointed out, Maboroshi is very pleasing on the eye, but even in an art gallery you pause before the best paintings for only so long before moving on. Koreeda needed to move us on at a much brisker pace than he does here. Esumi's dilemma, when it is finally revealed, comes much too late and is far too predictable. The distance between camera and actor ultimately put a distance between me and the story - I couldn't get close to these people. I had this niggling feeling I was watching a director who didn't trust his actors. This is worth watching only for film buffs intrigued by Koreeda's career path - but allow your finger to hover over the fast-forward button...