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Series: Shikabane: Corpse Princess – Part One
UK Release date: 23rd May 2011
Distributor: Manga
Certificate: 18
Running time: 325 mins
Director: Masahiko Murata
Starring: Keiji Fujiwara, Nana Akiyama, Tatsuya Hasome
Genre: Anime
Format: DVD
Country of Production: Japan…
Language: Japanese
Review by: Nick Bain
Anyone who is familiar with Yoshiichi Akahito’s 2005 manga series of the same name will not be surprised to see the supernatural comic book adapted into a thirteen part anime series brimming with action and unsurprisingly, action heroines toting heavy weaponry of various kinds.
Shikabane: Corpse Princess follows the story of 15-year-old Ouri Kagami (voiced by Tatsuya Hasome), an orphaned schoolboy living within a Buddhist Temple, watched over by his adopted brother Keisei Tagami (Keiji Fujiwara). With a graveyard behind his house, Ouri doesn’t fear death, but he is soon to find out that he does not understand it.
One night in the temple, Ouri sees his brother lean over an apparently dead girl and bring her back to life. That girl is Makina, (Nana Akiyama) a Shikabane Hime who is dead, but remains in the world to do battle with the evil and numerous Shikabane – demons created by the torn souls of people who die with powerful regrets and wreck their anguished rage upon the local towns.
From that meeting, Ouri’s life and understanding of those he holds dearest is changed forever. He finds himself drawn inexorably into a dark, violent world where monks and undead warriors do battle with demons, summoned and controlled by a Traitor Monk with anarchic plans for the human world. Ouri’s fascination with Makina draws him ever deeper to a place where sacrifices must be made to save the world from ultimate destruction…
There is much that is predictable about Shiabane. The well-known archetype of the young boy who meets the superhuman femme fatale is an overpopulated genre of anime. But within this premise lies a story that is brave, compelling and not a little frightening. Early episodes in which the demons take root in young children are particularly harrowing and establish a confident tone that increases as the broader story unfolds.
The series breaks down into an episodic structure in which monsters rise and are vanquished in the space of a short episode. Fast paced, gun totting action is tempered by the political machinations of the order of monks who hold many of the secrets not just of the Shikabane monsters, but also of the Shikabane Hima, who are far from the simplistic demon slaying heroes one might expect.
Indeed, Shikabane does an excellent job of dealing in shades of grey. Aside from our young hero Ouri, all the other characters are in some way touched by death. Some carry this as physical scarring, but others, like Ouri’s brother Keisei, leader of the local order of monks and master of the beautiful but deadly Makina, feel this in the increasingly challenging duties they must carry out in the name of the order.
The series has an extremely effective antagonist in the form of traitorous red monk Akasha (Mitsuru Miyamoto) who, whilst being drawn evilly and sinisterly spoken, is far from the cut-out villain of many anime series. Akasha’s story and motives are every bit as complex as the dilemmas facing our heroes and, like Ouri, we, as an audience, can be seduced by his motivation and even his argument, if not his means of making it.
Unsurprisingly, given the young man meets super girl scenario, there is an expected frisson between the undead warrior girls and their master upon whom the Shikabane Hima are dependent to heal their wounds after the numerous battles, which are energetically and colourfully animated to give them real impact.
Great praise must go to the animation, particularly of the variety of Shikabane monsters who are rendered both graphically and with the same imagination as might the creatures in a Guillermo del Torro film. So good are the creatures, in fact, that some suspension of disbelief must be adopted when watching them vanquished by zombified Japanese schoolgirls.
The writing in the series is far from spectacular. Each episode is grounded by rather stilted expositional dialogue heavy explanations of a plot that we might have enjoyed puzzling out on our own. There is also very evident, poorly interwoven recapping of the plot within each episode, which may have been useful for those watching episode by episode on television, but gets quite tedious for those watching on DVD.
The plot is extremely strong and gets stronger as the series progresses but it is easy to be left with the feeling that the series creators didn’t have the confidence to let it unfold without constantly explaining what is going on. This is sad because the material is unquestionably brimming with potential.
Shikabane: Corpse Princess is a beautifully crafted, strongly plotted genre piece which anime fans will instantly connect with, and it does offer its fair share of surprises. But for a lack of subtlety in its telling, this would be an addictive and entirely rewarding way to enjoy high quality anime. NB
Film: The Living And The Dead
Release date: 21st February 2011
Certificate: 18
Running time: 87 mins
Director: Kristijan Milic
Starring: Filip Sovagovic, Velibor Topic, Slaven Knezovic, Marinko Prga, Borko Peric
Genre: Fantasy/War
Studio: Kaleidoscope
Format: DVD
Country: Croatia/Bosnia and Herzegovina
Two time periods, two groups of conscript soldiers, one haunted hillside that leads them to their destruction. Kristijan Milic’s The Living And The Dead paints a brutal, uncompromising portrait of these two bloody moments in the history of the Balkans as we see men separated by time but united by grim circumstance fight their way across the unchanging and blood-soaked lands of Serbia.
Both groups are on the run from superior forces and take shelter in a graveyard as their enemies close in around them and their final battles begin.
As their numbers inevitably start to dwindle, the men begin to question the value of their orders and, ultimately, their struggle, choosing instead to search for something of greater meaning.
The survivors are menaced by the ghostly images of their fallen comrades and struggle to come to terms with their visitations and the actions that each man has taken…
There is no specific plot as such. The film offers multiple viewpoints and no particular central character from whose point of view a story is told. Closest to this would be the duel characters of Tomo (1993) and Martin (1943), both played by Filip Sovagovic as grandfather and grandson. Martin, in particular, is the everyman moral compass of the piece and, in both time periods, he is surrounded by the usual cohort of two dimensional squaddies. One of these, Vielli (Velibor Topic), the brutal ex-boxer killing machine offers the only other true character perspective.
The rest of the troop is drawn from the war film staples: the cowardly young kid, the cynical weathered officer, the comic relief... From when the battles begin in the first thirty minutes, it is clear that the only real objective is survival. Thus the film transfers from the war genre into something much more akin to survival horror as, inevitably, the characters are picked off one by one, and the ghostly supernatural element begins to fully present itself.
Clearly aimed at a Croatian/Balkan audience, the film does little to disentangle the various factions at play. In the more modern story, the enemy is simply described as ‘The Serbs’ and ‘The Muslims’. In the past story, the enemy is the Serbian communists and our protagonists are drawn from the Croat State conscripts. This confusion, however, has very little bearing upon any enjoyment of the film, which carries as a statement nothing more complicated than “war is hell” and “we’re all going to die anyway.”
As the soldiers enter the graveyard area and the ghosts begin to appear, the film enters its strongest moments. The raw psychological effects of being alone and hunted in the dark are delivered compellingly by the ensemble cast who manage to retain the humanity of the soldier in the face of the paranormal twist. The simplicity of the ghosts who appear merely as people who the characters know are dead, staring uncompromisingly at their former comrades, allows us to retain the belief that their images are born as much of stress and combat fatigue as from any cursed patch of ground or ectoplasm. This marries with a film that is no gore-fest. The most harrowing scenes of corpses better resemble war correspondent footage than horror film gratuity.
As reflected in the numerous awards at the Pula Film Festival, including Best Film and Best Director, the film’s visuals merit the strongest praise. The Croatian location shooting contributes much to the film’s feel and style. A grey, brooding, empty desolate wasteland, helped only by minimal effects, adds to a sinister, windswept dread that makes soldier after soldier crack under its weight. Effective, too, is the choice of music that mirrors the triumphal martial dirges glorifying national pride. Played alongside the dire consequences of extreme nationalism, the irony is unmissable.
The film seems almost to go out of its way not to make sense either of the issues of the two wars or debate their rationale. Such exposition, as is offered, tends to be devoted to establishing our limited characters and including as many ethnic jibes as possible. This appears to be a deliberate tack, and expands upon the films message in presenting the senselessness of conflict regardless of the context. This is further indicated by the casual barbarity eschewed by some but jokingly tolerated by most. There is graveyard humour as items stolen from the slain are then handed on as the platoons are whittled down by enemy action and ghostly occurrences.
The film invites us to consider all its protagonists as dead from the moment they appear on screen with its opening text insert: "We are all dead, only buried sequentially." That being the case, it can be challenging to feel much beyond a general distaste for warfare as the protagonists begin their inevitable dwindling in number. The experience is greatly enhanced, however, by a rudimentary understanding of the conflicts it seeks to mirror. The film is perhaps guilty of not offering enough of grounding to non Balkans for whom much of its intricacy and allegory are lost.
The Living And The Dead might make for somewhat heavy going for the interested outsider. As evidenced by its winning reception at Pula, there is a great deal more to this film for those for whom the Bosnian conflict is both all too real and all too recent. For them, one suspects the ghosts take on a symbolism that a foreigner can never truly share. NB
Film: Betrayal
Release date: 17th January 2011
Certificate: 15
Running time: 93 mins
Director: Haakon Gundersen
Starring: Lene Nystrøm, Götz Otto, Kåre Conradi, Hare Prinz, Jørgen Langhelle
Genre: Action/History/War
Studio: Optimum
Format: DVD
Country: Norway
Audiences have long become accustomed to war film after war film set in occupied France during World War Two. As such, Haakon Gundersen’s Betrayal, which is based on true events, offers a rare opportunity to look into the lives, loves and loyalties of those in occupied Norway.
We begin in 1943, and the tide of war is turning in favour of the allies. Norwegian businessman Tor Lindblom (Fridtjov Saheim) has been aiding the Nazi occupiers under SS Major Kruger (Gotz Otto) by abetting and promoting their war and business interests. Both Lindblom and Kruger share the love and titular betrayal of lounge singer and undercover British agent Eva Karleson. (Lene Nystrom)
What follows is a dance of deception and intrigue as all the players balance their romantic aspirations, their desire to position themselves as best they can for the end of the war and their overt or covert patriotism. Things come to a head when the illicit dealings of Lindblom begin to attract unwanted attention in Berlin and the Gestapo close the net on all three protagonists.
It is then that the Norwegian Resistance, led by none other than Lindblom’s brother, Svein (Kåre Conradi), make their move, and through Eva’s connections to both men, attempt to smuggle vital plans out to the British to help them co-ordinate an aerial strike against German aluminium factories used to create the feared planes of the Luftwaffe. As events accelerate, Lindblom must choose between his love, his family, his business or his country before time runs out for all of them…
Cynics might look at the casting of this film and know what to expect. The heroine is played by the former lead singer of Europop group Aqua (of Barbie Girl fame). The villain is played by a former Bond henchman. To do so would be slightly unfair, as though slightly melodramatic, neither performance detracts from the piece. The same could not be said of the script, which ranges between predictable and utterly contrived, with clunky expository dialogue. “Do you know what today is?” “Why yes, it’s our six month anniversary!”
There is a vague notion of the story being related to a young relative from ‘present day America’, but no reason is given for its telling. Moments of sporadic voiceover add little to the story, and there seems to be no motive beyond teary-eyed reminiscence as the adoring American grand-daughter, who just popped in for a surprise visit, watches on obediently.
No attempt whatsoever is made to make occupied Norway look or feel any different to occupied France. We know the genre so well, better perhaps than Gundersen, who fails to avoid some of the more Allo Allo-esque clichés of ‘Nazi resistance’ films, right down to the Burlesque styled lounge bar, Nazi offices complete with expensive nude paintings and frustrated secretaries, and obscure references to what “London demands.”
Crucially, the film is treading sensitive ground that really deserved to be more carefully treated. Gundersen betrays flashes of a national shame at the collaboration of Norwegian businessmen with the Nazi regime, and its concluding text presents a righteous indignation at the fact that the many who profited from dealings with the Nazi machine were never prosecuted and retained the assets created by the slave labour of POWs.
It seems that the heart of the film would like to have been about dealing with this dark chapter of Norwegian history and, perhaps, finding some sort of new perspective upon it. Sadly, the story in its telling offers little but a late night raid on a World War Two prop box supported only by the most predictable clichés of the genre. Against this background, the cast perform as best they can.
Praise should go to Lene Nystrom who shows some moments of real empathy in her portrayal of Eva, and Fridtjov Saheim for his self consciously Bogart-like Lindblom. Both did well to mitigate the worst of the clunky two dimensionality of their characters. Praise should also go to director of photography Hans Kristian Riise who concocted some memorable images, particularly in the atmospheric night sequences.
Betrayal then, is a film that seems uncertain of its audience. It follows a well trodden path and as such, is far from unwatchable (there is a reason why certain trends are repeated in genre films). Watching it leaves the sense of a film that had something to say but fearing accusations of banality, heightened the camp war thriller aspects to carry its message and in doing so, clouded out the unique and interesting aspects of this true story with contrived, predictable melodrama.
The saddest thing about the piece is that it feels like a missed opportunity to say something meaningful about something important. Doubtless, this opportunity was there for the taking, but it seems that in an ironic echo of his subject matter, in pursuit of commerciality, Gundersen has shied away from the stand he was trying to make. NB
Series: Heimat 2: Chronicle Of A Generation
Release date: 21st June 2010
Certificate: 15
Running time: 1513 mins
Director: Edgar Reitz
Starring: Henry Arnold, Salome Kammer, Frank Roth, Noemi Steuer, Franziska Traub
Genre: Drama/War
Studio: Second Sight
Format: DVD
Country: Germany
Over twenty-five hours of material brings to life a world often unconsidered by Western audiences fed on typically two dimensional depictions of Germans in film. This generation is ideally epitomised through the character of Hermann Simon, whom we return to as grounding for the series’ meandering plot that incorporates thirteen episodes featuring twelve different character perspectives.
In 1960, we first meet Hermann, a brilliantly gifted musician, who, after a youthful romance is brutally cut short by his family, vows never again to give himself up to love. He leaves his small rural village and makes for the Bohemian Mecca of Munich where he is accepted to study piano and composition at the city’s renowned Conservatory. There, he discovers an enclave of talented, experimental young musicians, poets, filmmakers and thinkers, who are collectively trying to come to terms with the long shadow of the country’s all too recent Nazi past. In the grounds of their artists retreat house, this group take a decisive hand in shaping its future.
Hermann’s vow is put to the test by a cohort of liberated and talented women, but it is the quiet, inhibited but brilliant cellist Clarissa whom Hermann cannot seem to put from his mind.
The series then follows Hermann and his friends as the decade unwinds, tracking them through to the end, where the toughest decisions lie in wait for all of them…
Unsurprisingly given its length, the series often has more in common with a novel than a piece of cinema. Reitz’s direction creates a visual canvas that does much to present the shattered, post war beauty of Munich, and even more to present in smoke-filled, lingering detail, a lifestyle that will awake longing in anyone who professes to have an artistic soul. Heimat 2 portrays a world of improvised jamming sessions, revolutionary ideas, talent feeding on genius, and all with explosive and unpredictable results.
For those used to modern cinema and television, the scenes seem to barely move, so content is the director to allow his audience to soak up the atmosphere. It is a series of powerful contrasts that leaves its audience in little doubt that this generation of young German artists had far more to rebel against than their counterparts in the West. The freedom of expression and sexual liberation are movingly contrasted with characters so emotionally fragile that they are often unable to make good on the bounties their lifestyle offers them.
Each of the thirteen episodes offers a new perspective, and, through use of voiceover, allows for a searching, introspective style that creates characters of depth. As the audience reaches the conclusion of the series, there is an intimate familiarity born of having spent at least an hour-and-a-half inside the head of each character. As their initial youthful euphoria gives way to the far more recognisably adult word of professional jealousy and inadequacy, the characters come of age.
Hermann’s inspiration in writing a composition for Clarissa becomes steeped in envy when his experimental work propels her to stardom but he is left in the shadows. His multi-talented South American friend Juan goes from being a musical figure of near reverence to a bitter love rival. As the episodes progress, the intoxicating wide-eyed optimism of the early stories is replaced by something distinctly more dramatic, verging on melodrama, as debauchery, drugs and death pay the characters a visit.
One of the series’ main achievements is in the fact that we never question for one moment that these are highly gifted musicians. This is in equal parts a testament to the skills of the ensemble cast as well as clever, intricate filmmaking. Unfortunately, visually the quality of the series appears to have been greatly diminished in its transfer to DVD. This is particularly sad as the films share an almost decadent, languid visual style that incorporates use of monochrome amid the colour photography during scenes of high emotional poignancy. The slow pacing allows us to take in detail that we would certainly miss in modern, intercut film and television. Whilst some might view this visual style as dated, others will be seduced by it.
There is nothing dated about the performances, however. Henry Arnold leads the ensemble cast with a nuanced and, at times, unsettling portrayal of Hermann Simon, the young genius struggling to come to terms with the ruthless, clinical suppression of his human desires. He is ably supported by Salome Kammer playing frightened love interest Clarissa. The scenes between the two conjure the awkward, stumbling attempts at romance that many will empathise with, and they are handled with a grace and humour that belays their charged emotional context.
In what some might describe as brazenly attempting to ‘chronicle’ a period of the last century, Reitz unsurprisingly faced accusations of a somewhat selective approach to German history. Whilst his representation of ‘60s Munich is often idyllic, Reitz preserves a subtle sense of foreboding at the Nazi skeletons lurking in closets and attic spaces. Even the Foxhole, the Bohemian mansion paradise of the creative set once played host to leading Nazi figures, and the students must face the knowledge that the philanthropy that allows their artistic collective to flourish was preserved by their benefactor’s dealings with the Reich.
Heimat 2 is unquestionably and unflinchingly epic in scope. Its unhurried style may not suit all tastes but for those willing to invest the time demanded by the story’s length the rewards are considerable. In many ways, the best judgement on the film is passed by the film itself. In the opening episodes, Hermann is introduced to a team of young, Avant Garde film-makers brimming with revolutionary zeal. “The films of our fathers are dead,” they tell him, without a hint of mourning at their passing. Now, approaching twenty years since the filming of Heimat 2, there is little doubt that epic filmmaking of this kind has long passed into history, but history has preserved, albeit imperfectly, a near unique cinematic experience of great depth that will fully repay the time invested in watching it. NB
Film: Bodyguards And Assassins
Running time: 139 mins
Director: Teddy Chan
Starring: Donnie Yen, Leon Lai, Xueqi Wang, Tony Leung Ka Fai, Nicholas Tse
Genre: Action/Martial Arts/Drama
Country: China/Hong Kong
This film was screened in association with Asia House London at the Apollo Cinema, Piccadilly Circus on Thursday, 11th November 2010. The screening included a special introduction by Peter B Sun, grandson of Chinese revolutionary Sun Yat Sen.
When introducing Bodyguards And Assassins – a film based around the real life actions of his grandfather, Peter Sun was asked to comment on the historical accuracy of the film. A laugh went around the auditorium, perhaps filled with veterans of previous Donnie Yen films. Peter Sun laughed, too. Clearly, in bringing the film to the big screen, some embellishments had to be made. Bad news perhaps for scholars of Chinese political history, but great news for fans of martial arts cinema.
Though loosely drawn from the true story of Chinese political hero Sun Yat Sen, or Dr Sun, Bodyguards And Assassins keeps to the remit of its title, focusing not on the real life political figure, but on those who battle around him, and, in so doing, creates a captivating martial arts folktale.
In 1905, word reaches British controlled Hong Kong that renowned revolutionary Dr Sun is set to visit the country in order to plan the uprisings that will overthrow the corrupt ruling Qing Dynasty. The Qing Empress dispatches a group of deadly assassins, led by martial arts master Yan Xiaoguo, to kill Dr Sun before he can complete his mission. Dr Sun’s man in Hong Kong Chen Shaobai enlists the help of newspaper owner Li Yutang, whose overt support of the cause secures the aid of an unlikely team of bodyguards to protect Dr Sun when the day of his vital mission arrives…
The film echoes Seven Samurai in its formation of the unlikely band of warrior eccentrics, each with his or her own reason for protecting Dr Sun. In this case, a servant, a vagrant, a nameless giant, a gambler and a circus performer answer the call. This makes the film very much an ensemble piece with no heavy focus on any one single character. Even Donnie Yen’s gambler police officer goes about his business as a smoothly functioning part of the greater whole.
As the scene is painstakingly set in the opening thirty minutes, one could be forgiven for wondering if the film’s political machinations might have created a slow-burning thriller, but soon after, battle is joined in some style, and a poignant, elegant martial arts epic takes shape. Much of this poignancy is drawn from the film’s setting. A time of great change in China was not only seeing political evolution, but the rise of a new society no longer wedded to its ancient traditions. There is a strong sense that bodyguard and assassin alike are the last remnants of a way of life that is rendered obsolete by the new world of empires, steam and rifles. But, pleasingly, this does not mean the great martial artists are going without a fight.
Donnie Yen strengthens his claim to being the finest modern exponent of the craft. His unarmed work characterised by explosive speed and an elegance of movement that makes one pity those who stand against him. Reborn vagrant Liu Yubai played by Leon Lai, cleaned up and dressed in white gives a demonstration of Chinese Iron Fan that offers the strongest nostalgic echoes of the Chinese warrior past. NBA basketball star Wang Fuming delivers a comically imposing performance as exiled Buddhist monk Menke Bateer, which includes slam-dunking a melon into the head of a man on the third floor of a building. Whilst effectively choreographed, the fighting is not overly stylised. The sense that these are real human beings not superheroes is enhanced by some very effective, almost naturalistic wound makeup, and the use of the painful, gory, energy sapping chain whips employed by the assassins to drag the bodyguards down under weight of numbers. In this film, martial arts hurt.
Two acting performances stand out beside the martial artists. Wang Xueqi’s portrayal of Li Yutang, a businessman who gives everything: money, reputation and even his only son to the revolution. His performance deservedly won him the Best Actor award at the Fourth Asian Film Awards. Heartbreakingly loyal rickshaw servant A’si is played to great effect by Nicholas Tse, who won the Best Supporting Actor award at the same ceremony.
Amid the running battles, elegant Wushu demonstrations and desperate rickshaw chase sequences, the white helmeted figure of Dr Sun moves calmly to his places of meeting, showing no outward sign of the bloody sacrifice being made to allow him to succeed. The sheer scale of the brutality arrayed against Dr Sun and his defenders has one willing them to succeed in a mission that begins to take on the unmistakeable feeling of a one way ticket, as each defender is called upon to make still greater sacrifice.
As his introduction drew to an end, Peter Sun was asked if the film answered the question of “Who was Sun Yat Sen?”
“He was a person who worked so hard to build up China,” he began. “One hundred years after his death, you see his work. He never grew rich or took from the country. For him, the building of China was the most important thing. How many politicians can say that?”
In saying this, Peter Sun effectively conceded that Bodyguards And Assassins is not really a film about his grandfather. Dr Sun appears in the film only briefly. But through the skilled interweaving of political thriller and Chinese hero myth, the film succeeds in conveying his importance, in the willingness of ordinary and extra-ordinary people alike to sacrifice everything for his success. In that, Bodyguards And Assassins is not just a hugely watchable martial arts experience, but a surprisingly effective vehicle for a political subtext that echoes in China to this day. NB
Series: Sengoku Basara: Samurai Kings
Release date: 15th November 2010
Certificate: 15
Running time: 296 mins
Director: Itsuro Kawasaki
Starring: Kazuya Nakai, Norio Wakamoto, Souichiro Hoshi, Hiroki Shimowada, Kouji Tsujitani
Genre: Anime
Studio: Manga
Format: DVD & Blu-ray
Country: Japan
Those who have encountered the series of ‘hack and slash’ video games that shares the name of Itsuro Kawasaki’s anime will know exactly what to expect. Demigod heroes engaged in do or die battle for the future of a war-torn feudal Japan. That the game series has been created by Capcom (who gave the world the Street Fighter franchise) offers some clue to the uninitiated.
There will be fights aplenty but the tone is set by the introductory credits in which a military line up dances eccentrically to the Jrock theme tune, conveying a series which does not take itself too seriously.
Sengoku Basara lives up to this reputation, though the story is undoubtedly more vivid and complicated than expectation might suggest. We follow our two contrasting heroes: Date Masamune, the one-eyed dragon who wields six katanas at the same time; and Sandana Yukimura, fiercely loyal young spear fighter and servant of the rival Takeda clan. Our two heroes cross swords right from the word go and forge a bond of mutual respect, one that must culminate in them facing each other in honourable single combat.
Unfortunately for them, fate seems to have other ideas, as the many warring factions enter a shifting series of battles and allegiances as the fight for the country, based in part on actual Japanese history, intensifies.
Soon the warring clans, led by their samurai lords, are forced to try and unite in the face of a new and even greater threat – that of the titular Devil King Nobunaga whose ambition for ‘warrior rule’ of the country can be equated to covering the lands in darkness and indiscriminately butchering their inhabitants.
Masamune and Yukimura are forced to set aside their personal struggle and unite behind their lords as they try to push back Nobunaga’s marauders…
Whilst the many different clans and protagonists may leave some struggling to keep up, the series follows simple rules. Each clan is headed by a samurai hero of superhuman power. Each lord has his almost as powerful second, who is sworn to protect the life of their leader and offer candid counsel. Each clan also seems to enlist the services of a ninja - stealthy mercenaries who hurry through the shadows at the bidding of their masters, stopping long enough to shake their heads wryly in amusement at the antics of their lords.
As anyone familiar with the genre might imagine, there are indeed plenty of battles, from huge army set pieces to deadly single combat between fighters of superhuman strength. What is surprising about Sengoku Basara is the intensity of character definition, and, for lack of a better word, the amount of love on display. Aside from the complicated, touching romances woven through the series, the loyalty the characters display for one another is touching and, in places, moving - rarely more so than in the relationship between Yukimura and his master Takeda, who good naturedly pummel each other whilst debating strategy and philosophy. Or that of impossibly attired female ninja Kosuga and her unrequited love for her master, Uesugi Kenshin, whom she was sent to kill. Similarly, the loyalties of the common soldiers, whom one always felt for as they are eliminated fifty at a time by the superhuman commanders of their opponents.
A scene between the one-eyed dragon Masamune and his second-in-command Kojuro is particularly poignant. Kojuro must fight his own master to stop him going into battle in his weakened state, and uses Masamune’s blind spot to defeat him.
There are some interesting touches in the series. The evil enemies are conspicuously armed with Western weapons, and sentimentalisation of the sword is in evidence, echoing the forced opening of Japan to the West in the 1850s. The series places its emphasis on bonds of loyalty, honour, duty and love but is never simplified for doing so.
Whilst the final battle and ultimate confrontation are over rather quickly, there is plenty to see as a basis for a follow up series due next year. Arguably it might prove even more interesting as the complicated rivalries between characters were put on hold to defeat the self-evidently evil Nobunaga. It is reasonable to assume, therefore, that series two might contain rather more shades of grey.
The DVD does not contain special features as such, save for the bonus episode further explaining maverick Maida Keiji’s travels with his monkey. The visuals are what you would expect, colourfully rendered in good detail. The sound configuration on the Japanese version is such that the ambient noise and music can drown out the dialogue, though the subtitles are clear and consistent, if not terribly elegant in their translation.
This series is addictively watchable, funny and packs an emotional punch every bit as powerful as the many physical ones doled out through the thirteen short episodes that pass in a flurry of battles, betrayals and seductions that belay Sengoku Basara’s video game roots. NB
Film: The Lives Of Others
Release date: 17th September 2007
Certificate: 15
Running time: 137 mins
Director: Florian Henckel von Donnersmarck
Starring: Martina Gedeck, Sebastian Koch, Ulrich Tukur, Hans Bauer, Ulrich Mühe
Genre: Thriller/Drama
Studio: Lionsgate
Format: DVD
Country: Germany
With an Oscar to its credit, Florian Henckel von Donnersmarck’s 2007 German film drama of life in Stasi East Germany enjoyed perhaps the best possible critical reception. With von Donnersmarck’s next offering, The 28th Amendment due in cinemas next year, it is a timely moment to consider the film that brought this director to international prominence.
The story follows grim and efficient Stasi secret police captain Wiesler in his task of spying on controversial playwright, Dreyman, and his beautiful actress lover, Christa-Maria. At first, Wiesler sees this work as an opportunity to impress his superiors by exposing Dreyman and his artists’ clique as subversive enemies of the State, thereby securing his position amongst the Stasi’s elite.
Soon, however, the maelstrom of passions, ideas and music he hears through the regime’s hidden listening devices lead Wiesler to see that such things are missing from his own life, and that the harsh efficiency of the State is cold comfort.
A man used to following orders, Wiesler begins to question his role, and to doubt the moralities of a system he is a part of. He becomes almost intoxicated with his subjects to the point that he will risk everything to save them…
The film is very effective in encouraging its audience to enter into the voyeuristic world of its protagonist. Like Ulrich Mühe’s Weisler, it seduces the viewer through the glimpses of glamour and passion for creativity that burns all the brighter amid the sterile setting of 1980s East Germany. Iron curtain Germany is portrayed as a paranoid, militarised state – functional and unjust in equal measure. This gives the film a more timeless narrative feel akin to the patient taut build up of a Polanski classic than a modern commercialised studio beast.
Quickly, we learn that the cold apparatus of State control is still subject to the all too human whims of those in power. Sebastian Koch’s writer Dreyman is put under surveillance by a corrupt official seeking to have his way with the glamorous Christa-Maria. It is perhaps fitting, then, that the seductive passion of their lives soon becomes the only thing that can save them, as Wiesler’s training, and even his loyalty begin to buckle under the strain of the freedom of thought, expression and desire emanating from his crackling headphones.
In contrast, the artists too are portrayed almost childlike - flawed yet romanticised individuals unable to contain the passions that threaten to destroy them. They are powerless, yet possessed of more powerful tools to shape human thought than the near Orwellian ‘thought police’ could ever hope to master.
In spite of such emotive and powerful conflict - a clash of artistic abandon and political, doctrinal constraint - the film’s greatest achievement is the unfussy simplicity with which it conveys the story.
Much praise for this belongs to the cast. Ulrich Mühe’s quiet, dignified and, at times, unsettling portrayal of Wiesler allows for the film to unfold at a steady, metronomic pace that lends much to the tension that builds to a climax in the final third. Sebastian Koch is utterly believable as a writer struggling to strike a balance between the revolutionary ideas of his friends and the cosy idyllic domestic bliss of his romance. Martina Gedeck lends a cornered vulnerability to Christa-Maria, making her own agonising choices painfully clear without recourse to melodrama.
This understated choice is reinforced by von Donnersmarck’s tightly written script - arresting, contemplative, visual direction - and Gabriel Yared and Stephane Moucha’s subtle score, which are, in combination, suggestive without being overtly manipulative.
Some of the film’s most poignant moments are born out of its context within history. Set in 1985, the Stasi officers’ belief in the unfailing continuity of their regime is never questioned even by the revolutionary artists. Whilst there is both despair and resignation in the face of the actions of the State, no-one ever suggests that it might end just four short years later, and the fall of the Berlin Wall, when it arrives in the film, is greeted most prevailingly with surprise.
Perhaps the most enduring suggestion made by the film’s villainous Minister Bruno Hempfh is that artists secretly revel in, and long for the days of creative limitation and political constraint because these are the moments in which art is truly powerful, or perhaps more tellingly, the moments in which artists are feared by those in power. History tells us that this fear is justified, and The Lives Of Others, through the story of Wiesler, the small man, the cog in the machine and his lonely, draughty enlightenment through the stolen whisperings and embraces of two flawed idealists, captures this to perfection. In doing so, it justifies the critical reward the film has ultimately and deservedly gained.
Whilst modern masterpiece is a phrase that is coined all too often, The Lives Of Others is a genuine contender for such a label. A great story, subtle, artful filmmaking, and characters that leave an enduring impression upon an audience make this everything one could ask for from a cinematic experience. NB
