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Film: Azumi
Year of production: 2003
UK Release date: 2nd August 2004
Distributor: Optimum
Certificate: 18
Running time: 123 mins
Director: Ryûhei Kitamura
Starring: Aya Ueto, Kenji Kohashi, Hiroki Narimiya, Takatoshi Kaneko, Yûma Ishigaki
Genre: Action/Adventure/Drama/Fantasy/Thriller
Format: DVD
Country of Production: Japan
Language: Japanese
Review by: Anastasia Catris
Based on the popular Japanese manga series by Yū Koyama, Azumi has been adapted into two feature films, a video game and even a stage play. The first film, Azumi, directed by Ryuhei Kitamura, has proved popular amongst audiences at home and abroad, having received the Audience Award at the Philadelphia Film Festival in 2004 and the Popularity Award at the Japanese Academy Awards in 2003. Kitamura is best known in Japan for his work on the TV drama Sky High, as well as branching into cut scene direction for the popular video game series Metal Gear Solid.
The film centres on the title character, Azumi (Aya Ueto), a female assassin raised and trained by her idealist master, Gessai (Yoshio Harada), in the isolation of the Japanese mountains. She is one of ten young assassins being trained to fulfil Gessai’s ‘mission’ to eradicate war through the assassination of war mongers and warlords. The ten assassins are whittled down to five: Hyûga (Kenji Kohashi), Nagara (Yûma Ishigaki), Ukiha (Hiroki Narimiya), Amagi (Takatoshi Kaneko) and Azumi in the opening of the film, and they proceed on their mission alongside their master.
As they pick off their enemies one by one, morals are brought into question and we follow Azumi as she begins to debate her role as a woman, an assassin and a murderer. The remaining warlord, Kato, dispatches a number of mercenaries to stop the assassins, including Saru (the ‘monkey face’) and a group of three inept brothers. The young assassins stop in a small village and befriend a troupe of acrobats, including the beautiful Yae who Hyuga falls for.
When the travelling performers leave the village they are met along the way by the gang of three brothers, who mistake them for the assassins and attack them, leaving Yae alone. After the three brothers fail to kill the young assassins, Saru is saddled with the task of negotiating with an insane and notorious criminal, Bijomaru (Jô Odagiri) to eradicate Azumi and her compatriots. Upon escorting Yae back to the main road, Hyuga is attacked by Bijomaru and Yae is once again left alone.
Meanwhile, the master, Nagara and Ukiha set off to kill Kato and the master is captured in the process. The mission shifts as the remaining assassins set off to rescue their master. Yae joins Azumi and acts as a feminine influence on her as Azumi has never known female companionship. After attempting to feminize Azumi through dressing her in a kimono and make up, Yae and Azumi are once again attacked by thugs on the road. Azumi realizes that she can never escape violence and returns to help Nagara and Ukiha save their master. The film reaches its climax as Azumi faces off against Bijomaru, Saru and an entire army of mercenaries and soldiers, to rescue her master…
As we join Azumi and her associates, it is striking that the costume and make-up seem modern and stylised. From the short, colourful tunics to the ‘Tokyo Pop’ hairstyles of the young men, it is evident that this is an action film for a younger audience. This is not surprising given that the source material is a popular manga series.
Many of the performances are heightened and melodramatic, especially Odagiri’s Bijomaru, who dons long black hair, a white kimono, red and pink eye make-up, and the prop of a single red rose. Utilising manga tropes, exaggeration and costuming may be accurate to the source material but does not seem to translate well to live action. Instead, the performances become comic and pantomimic. This is notable in scenes such as the rogue brothers’ attack on the acrobats. Due to their ‘over-the-top’ performances, their attack becomes comedic and unthreatening. Despite the horrific ways they treat the acrobat troupe - especially the female performers - we remain unaffected by their actions. Such performances make it difficult for an audience to connect to the characters and their activities.
Contrary to this, we have the performances of Aya Ueto and her young co-stars. Their characterization is far more subtle and emotional, allowing us to follow their journey more carefully. The direct opposition of the subtlety of the heroes and the melodrama of the villains creates an obvious directorial intention: to de-humanise the villains and allow us to empathize with the heroes, who are still essentially murderers themselves. At times, this opposition acts against the ‘heroes’, however, whose low-key performances get lost amongst the colour and harshness of the supporting cast.
The battle scenes are beautifully choreographed and dynamically shot with some standout stunt performances. It is the opening scene, however, which stands out the most. Azumi and her friends must face an emotionally and morally difficult decision in order to continue their mission alongside their master. Character direction aside, it is evident from the opening sequences that these young actors are friends and enjoy each other’s company. Such friendship makes the opening scene heart-wrenching after only a minimal amount of character development and screen time.
Sadly, the film degrades into a sensationalist display of choreography and stunts after this early moment of sensitivity, and the performances are lost to poor dialogue, as well as black-and-white character roles. We are led to believe that Azumi is battling with the moral quandary of murder over killing for a cause, yet this is washed over by the large performances around her, masking the subtlety of her emotion.
Overall, the feel of this film is cartoon-like with its exaggerated performances and simplistic oppositions. By relying on live-action human performances, the director is asking us to familiarise more with the characters, however, this is not achieved. We are distanced from the emotion of the protagonists and the actions of the antagonists through the animated and melodramatic performances, which begs the question whether or not Azumi would be better presented as an animation rather than a live action film.
Despite its positive reception, Azumi remains a hollow film. Largely style over substance, it relies on the popularity and modern appeal of its young cast to reel in a young audience, ignoring the difficult themes and moral debates of its source material. ANC
Film: The Little Norse Prince
Release date: 17th October 2005
Certificate: U
Running time: 82 mins
Director: Isao Takahata
Starring: Yukari Asai, Mikijiro Hira, Etsuko Ichihara, Masao Mishima, Hisako Ohkata
Genre: Anime
Studio: Optimum
Format: DVD
Country: Japan
One of the great advantages to the success of Studio Ghibli films such as Spirited Away and Howl’s Moving Castle is that it has ignited Western interest in many of Hayao Miyazaki’s earlier films and that of his colleague, Isao Takahata (Grave Of The Fireflies). The Little Norse Prince (or Hols: Prince Of The Sun) was Takahata’s directorial debut in 1968 and follows the folk tale style of its later ancestors.
The Little Norse Prince is set in Iron Age Scandinavia and follows the quests of Horus (or Hols in alternative translations). The story begins as Horus (Hisako Ohkata) fights off a pack of silver wolves with a small hatchet. During this battle, he accidentally wakes a stone giant named Mogue who is bothered by a ‘thorn’ in his shoulder. Upon offering to extract the ‘thorn’, Horus discovers that it is in fact the ancient ‘Sword of the Sun’. The giant tells Horus that should he re-forge the battered blade he will forever be known as the ‘Prince of the Sun’.
Horus is soon summoned by his friend, Coro (Yukari Asai), a small talking bear, who tells him that his father is on his death bed. Upon returning to his father, Horus is told of how they used to live in a sea-side village which was attacked by a wicked sorcerer known as Grunwald and that the fisherman and his son were the only survivors. Before his death, Horus’ father urges him to return to the village and avenge its devastation.
On his journey to find civilisation, Horus encounters Grunwald (Mikijiro Hira) who urges him to serve him as his ‘younger brother’. On refusing, Horus is pushed from a cliff, but survives and is rescued by the villagers of a local fishing community.
Horus soon becomes renowned among the villagers when he destroys a large pike that had been afflicting the local fishing supply. It turns out that the pike was a ploy of Grunwald’s to starve the village and, in his rage at the pike’s death, he sends a pack of silver wolves to attack the village. Whilst chasing the wolves, Horus comes across a mysterious girl named Hilda (Etsuko Ichihara) who lives in a deserted village and sings haunting songs whilst playing her harp. Horus returns to the fishing village with Hilda and she is welcomed. However, the chieftain of the village, urged on by his deputy Drago, grows jealous of Horus’ popularity. Drago conspires with Hilda, who is actually Grunwald’s sister, to destroy Horus’ reputation and together they frame him for the attempted murder of the chief.
After his consequent banishment from the village, Horus and Hilda confront one another and Horus is plunged into an enchanted forest from which there is apparently no escape. Meanwhile Grunwald attacks the village with the spectral silver wolves and a giant icy mammoth, which brings frost and snow to the land. During this time, Horus receives visions of his father and the villagers and soon realises the only way that he can escape the wood is if he re-forges his sword and becomes the ‘Prince of the Sun’…
Despite its age, The Little Norse Prince still holds much of the charm and beauty of modern Japanese animation. The background detailing and painterly landscapes are forerunners of the Oscar nominated films we see from Studio Ghibli today. Miyazaki, who worked on this film as an animator, was obviously inspired by the mixtures of the classic realism of natural scapes and the stylized cartoon of the manga human figure.
The Scandinavian influence is well portrayed, from the language of the names, e.g. ‘Grunwald’ (from the German for ‘green forest’); to the artwork of Mogue, who resembles a Scandinavian troll or Earth Spirit with his large nose, obscured eyes and mound of foliage for hair. The colours are fresh blues and greens, depicting the cold environment of its setting, often acting as juxtaposition to the reds and blacks of the evil sorcerer’s spells and manifestations. The juxtaposition between the ‘Prince of the Sun’ hero and the sorcerer of ice and snow likens it to a traditional folktale of summer versus winter with ancient elements such as the warrior; feats of bravery; the bardic element of Hilda and legendary weaponry.
Even with its simple plot of a young hero versus an evil sorcerer, the film is rich with character. This is most notable in Hilda, who struggles with her desire to live forever through the evil power of her brother or to live a mortal, human existence. During a scene where the women of the village are preparing for a wedding, Hilda is affected by the importance they lay upon one day, having no concept of love or living for every moment. Due to her immortality, she cannot see the importance that humans place on the little things in life, such as children playing, making a beautiful piece of craft or celebrating a wedding, as she does not need to live every day as if it is her last. This is beautifully highlighted when the village is attacked by rats and the injured bride requests that her husband take her to their marital home so that she can at least see her final moments as a wife.
Despite its fast paced and dynamic opening scene, many of the action sequences in this film are muted by the fact that they are portrayed through montage. The rats attacking the village, as well as other battle scenes, are shown through a series of stills which jars the flow of the film and disconnects the audience from the action. Although the stills themselves are beautifully drawn, it can seem a shock to a first time watcher when the beautiful flow of the film is interrupted in such a way. The final action sequence, however, is breathtaking. The animation of Grunwald’s ice mammoth, as well as the addition of Mogue to the battle, adds an epic scale to the final scene.
Many of Takahata’s later full-length animations, such as Grave Of The Fireflies, Pom Poko and My Neighbours The Yamadas, deal very much with Japanese life, tradition and folktales. The Little Norse Prince, however, seems to compare more to Miyazaki’s forays into cinema, which take elements from other country’s lore and history to create a world that is essentially his own.
Despite the fact that the animation may seem old fashioned to some, this is a beautifully crafted film with a surprising amount of depth and character. Though it may be perceived as a children’s story, the action and themes are universal and thoroughly entertaining with a mature edge that makes it enjoyable for adults whilst not patronizing children. ANC
Film: Eden Log
Release date: 28th July 2008
Certificate: 15
Running time: 97 mins
Director: Franck Vestiel
Starring: Clovis Cornillac, Vimala Pons, Zohar Wexler, Sifan Shao, Arben Bajraktaraj
Genre: Horror/Mystery/Sci-Fi/Thriller
Studio: Momentum
Format: DVD
Country: France
Opening to mixed reviews at the Toronto International Film Festival in 2008, Eden Log marks Franck Vestiel’s directorial debut. Dealing with the classic argument between nature and machine through his gritty vision of a dystopic future; Vestiel is influenced by his previous work in intense French horror alongside directors such as Moreau and Palud.
Eden Log follows the amnesiac Tolbiac (Clovis Cornillac) as he tries to piece together the fragments of his past. After waking, naked, disoriented and drenched in grime in a dark underground structure next to a dead man; we follow him as he delves into the complex network of tunnels and laboratories surrounding him.
As he confronts other survivors, including the last botanist (Vimalla Pons), in this underground organization, he also confronts the bestial transformation which haunts him and contaminates his mind.
Pursued my mutated creatures and haunting, fractured memories, Tolbiac battles to discover the reason for his amnesia, whilst unearthing the dark mystery behind the plant that threatens to destroy everyone trapped beneath its roots…
The opening scene of Eden Log perfectly forewarns us of the journey we are about to undertake. It is dark, disoriented and fragmented. We see the world through Tolbiac’s eyes as he awakes in darkness, cold and naked, surrounded by death. This stark reality is maintained throughout the film to a wonderfully uncomfortable effect. Vestiel’s use of hand-held cameras, as well as his choice to film primarily in underground locations, creates a tense, primordial experience which is relentless in its claustrophobic approach. The colour scheme is monochromatic, using a blue tint, creating a cold atmosphere that plays off against the minimal lighting and mud-soaked costume and set.
Unlike a lot of science fiction cinema, Vestiel manages to avoid the sterile, medical view of the future as clean and white, instead presenting us with a grungy mess of manual labour and physical battle between nature and mechanics. Although the ecological message in this film is clear, it is not overly didactic in its approach until the final moments. The main tension of the film is actually created by the character of Tolbiac, whose confrontation with the bestial nature within him leads us through the film with a deep sense of unnerving.
After cutting his teeth as an assistant director to David Moreau and Xavier Palud on Ils (Them) in 2006, it is no wonder that Eden Log is a formidable example of French horror. Yet, much like Ils, it is the human aspect of this film that creates the most disturbing visions of horror. Cornillac’s performance is commendable, shifting menacingly between hero and villain with an uncanny physicality. But it is Vimala Pons who truly stands out as the last botanist. Her urge for survival overshadows her logic as she takes Tolbiac on as an ally to tragic consequence. Her final scene is both moving and filled with raw emotion as she realises her fate and the reason behind it. The theme of mistrust and infection, both from a human and botanical perspective, allows for a brilliant psychological tension reminiscent of films such as The Thing and 28 Days Later.
The script is minimal and often falls upon the plot device of ‘blacking out’, as Tolbiac loses consciousness and wakes up in another location. This is later explained by the bestial possessions that Tolbiac experiences due to his exposure to the plant, but still seems forced directorially. The influence of video games as a genre may be to blame for such a plot device, as is also evident through the linear structure, resourceful anti-hero and ‘point-and-click’ ingenuity of Tolbiac’s discoveries. Indeed, many of the sound effects, both in the film and DVD menu, are easily identifiable from science fiction video games, implying that this is perhaps an intentional comparison.
Despite its gritty journey through the undergrowth, in its final moments, Eden Log emerges disappointing, as we are confronted with the clichéd final scene. This is the first time, as an audience, that we see true colour, as an idyllic conclusion is made. This hardly seems in keeping with the reality that Vestiel has created for us, and instead seems an obligatory ecological message given the obvious themes of man destroying nature and contamination.
Eden Log, however, remains a hard hitting piece of French horror. Its science fiction aspects are delicately dealt with so that we do not feel out of place in this grimy future that we have been forced into. Futuristic equipment is kept to a minimum and technology understandable. Vestial manages to present us with a dark and disgusting view of an infected future which is second to his exploration of humanity and brutal animal urges.
An engaging and disturbing film with a simple premise, dealt with in a complex way. Overall it is 97 minutes of tense exploration and discovery, both of the plot and of the character behind it. ANC
