Film: Norwegian Wood Year of production: 2010 UK Release date: 4th July 2011 Distributor: Soda Certificate: 15 Running time: 133 mins Director: Anh Hung Tran Starring: Rinko Kikuchi, Ken'ichi Matsuyama, Kiko Mizuhara, Tetsuji Tamayama, Kengo Kôra Genre: Drama/Romance Format: DVD Country of Production: Japan Language: Japanese
Review by: Patrick Gamble
Often cited as an un-filmable classic, Haruki Murakami’s much loved bestselling novel, Norwegian Wood, is now available to buy on DVD after a director was finally found who was willing to accept the challenge and adapt this poisoned ‘paperback’ chalice. Anh Hung Tran’s film provoked predictable whispers of discontent from Murakami’s considerable fan base upon its theatrical release, but does the film fair any better now the critical dust has settled or will its purported inability to convey the book’s deeply emotional subtext condemn it to the same cinematic wastelands as other failed adaptations of celebrated literary works? Set amongst all the social unrest, demonstrations and vandalism which occurred during the student riots of 1960s Tokyo, we join Watanabe (Ken’ichi Matsuyama), an undergraduate who despite his calm and peaceful exterior has an internal conflict gnawing away at his conscious. His heightened depression shares the same degree of amalgamated frustration and anger as the disenfranchised protestors causing chaos outside of his isolated existence, yet unlike his contemporaries, he seems unable to physically express himself in any noticeable way other than through his sullen appearance and self-imposed solitude.
He’s haunted by his past, which was devastated by a singular tragic incident. The suicide of his closest friend, whilst enough to affect any young man’s life, has left him emotionally tied to Naoko (Rinko Kikuchi), the deceased boy’s then girlfriend who, even numerous years after that fateful day, is still very much a fragile and troubled girl who never fully recovered from the death of her childhood sweetheart and the feelings of rejection which came with it.
The arrival of Midori (Kiko Mizuhara), a fun loving and free spirited university student, only exacerbates Watanabe’s complicated attachment to Naoko and leaves him with a moral decision to make as to whether he should continue to let this dependant relationship with Naoko stand in the way of a future with Midori. Either answer will undoubtedly result in some degree of heartbreak, but will Watanabe’s inner struggle afford him the courage to make such an emotionally monumental decision, or will he continue to torment himself with these feelings of guilt and misery?
As adaptations go, Norwegian Wood is surely one of the most difficult to attempt. The story is almost entirely told through 30-year-old Watanabe’s flashbacks, extended memories and internal monologue - a narrative technique that’s understandably difficult to convey on film whilst also maintaining an immersive sense of reality.
Tran’s translation of this multi-layered, poetic love story may well fail to capture the true extent of the characters’ existential struggles, but a film should always be able to stand alone and not purely be judged on the original source material which inspired it. Accurately recreating a novel is no mean feat, cuts need to be made to condense the story into an easily manageable format which encapsulates the feel of a story, a near impossible task as inevitably each reader has their own personal interpretations. However, Norwegian Wood’s failing is not how dismissive it is to the source material but rather how hard it strives to literally recreate the prose word for word.
The skilful cinematography of Mark Lee Ping Bin uses the strikingly beautiful Japanese countryside to create a dreamlike backdrop of intoxicating visual splendour, which only becomes amplified the instant Tan’s good looking cast become gloriously framed within it. There is little doubt that this painterly presented, hypnotic and visually alluring interpretation of Norwegian Wood is a cinematic equivalent of photographic art – like twenty four painstakingly hand drawn masterpieces being rushed in front of our eyes every second. Combine this with Johnny Greenwood’s captivating score and you have a technically accomplished piece of filmmaking which could easily be presented at any film art college as an example of how to use the medium to create something far removed from the drudgery of television or the formulaic approach of Hollywood.
However, a film must rely on more than just its ability to titillate the senses and also manage to affect us in deeper, less superficial ways. This introspective romance relies heavily on its sublime visuals to portray the emotions of its cast. It’s not to say the acting is poor (at times, it’s very accomplished), but rather a reflection of how the film has been far too strict with its use of dialogue, stripping the minimal conversational pieces out of the original book and failing to add anything else which may have helped communicate the film’s more subtle and personal moments.
Such a deceptively simple story really isn’t suited to a film which lasts over two hours. As a piece of literature, Norwegian Wood’s emotional story works perfectly. Each time the reader picks up the book, they feel like they’re following a diary of a man’s downward spiral into depression on a day by day basis. Some painful yet necessary cuts to the script would no doubt prevent the film from straying towards monotony. The frame narrative of Watanabe’s relationship with his wayward friend Kizuki (Kengo Kora), despite adding a comforting rest bite to an otherwise depressing story, could easily have been removed and acts as a prime example of where sacrifices could have been made. At the expense of the audience members unfamiliar with the book, Norwegian Wood’s attempts to appease its loyal fans has not just alienated those new to its desolate love story but, at the same time, angered those who hold its tenderly heartbreaking tale so close to their hearts.
Whilst this sumptuously bleak love story should rightly be heralded as a technically assured piece of filmmaking, its striking prominent visuals can only hold your attention for so long and the film’s repetitive and subdued approach will ultimately test the patience of even the most dedicated of art house fans. Perhaps not fully deserving of the clichéd responses from some critics who heralded it as a case in point for ‘style over substance’, however, the films atmosphere of resigned sadness and its melancholy facade of emotional numbness does become quite contagious towards the end.
Film: Norwegian Wood Release date: 11th March 2011 Certificate: 15 Running time: 133 mins Director: Tran Anh Hung Starring: Kenichi Matsuyama, Rinko Kikuchi, Kiko Mizuhara, Reika Kirishima, Kengo Kora Genre: Drama/Romance Studio: Soda Format: Cinema Country: Japan
More than twenty years after Haruki Murakami’s novel was released, Vietnamese director Tran Anh Hung has turned Norwegian Wood into a feature film. Long considered unfilmable due to its introspective nature and inner dialogues, it was a brave move for Tran to take it on – especially as Murakami (and his fans) are famously protective of his work. But after a long dialogue with the author, the movie was given the green light. Have Tran and his cast done justice to the source material? Set in 1960s Japan, Norwegian Wood focuses on 19-year-old Toru Watanabe and his relationships with two different women – the excitable, expressive Midori and the inward-looking, melancholic Naoko.
Naoko was Toru's best friend Kizuki's girlfriend, until Kizuki committed suicide at the age of 17. That tragedy that has led to Naoko suffering a breakdown: a depression which has led to her seeking refuge in a quiet country sanatorium.
Meanwhile, in Tokyo, Watanabe begins a flirtatious friendship with fellow student Midori, leaving him to negotiate his way through two complicated and contrasting relationships…
Opening with a quiet montage of Toru (Kenichi Matsuyama), Naoko (Rinko Kikuchi) and Kizuki (Kengo Kôra) playing pool and fooling around on a farm and eating an ice lolly, Tran quickly introduces the three central characters. That one of them will be almost entirely absent from the remainder of the movie, as Kizuki is seen committing a low-key and lonely suicide as he asphyxiates himself in his car (his presence permeates the action nonetheless). It’s an unusual way to begin a film, requiring little of the audience other than objective observation. With barely a hint of emotion expressed on screen, there is little opportunity to feel sympathy as might be expected. Instead, the audience is made immediately aware that the style of the film will be somewhat detached.
Central to the plot and style of the piece is Toru. He appears in almost every scene, yet barely seems to inhabit them. He’s something of a blank canvas, often expressionless and usually playing second fiddle to whichever other characters appear alongside him. It’s a strangely beguiling performance from Matsuyama, and he’s a likeable character despite doing very little in real terms. Instead, he provides the backdrop for the more intriguing performances which revolve around him.
The most interesting of these is Kiko Mizuhara as Midori. She’s certainly the most recognisably ‘normal’ character – lively, flirty and funny. Sadly, she’s underused and appears far too fleetingly. The same might also be said of Nagasawa (Tetsuji Tamayama). He’s enigmatic, interesting and amoral. Although his purpose is presumably to provide a moral barometer for Toru, the film would certainly have benefited by revealing more of him.
Although Toru’s relationships with Midori and Nagasawa are important, they play second fiddle to his dysfunctional friendship/courtship with Naoko. Following the suicide of Kizuki, Naoko has unravelled mentally. Following a tenderly filmed sex scene with Toru, she retreats into herself and eventually disappears to a country retreat where she lives a quiet life alongside roommate Reiko (Reika Kirishima). After a written correspondence with Toru, he eventually visits her to discuss where their future lies. The scenes between the two are beautifully shot, but ultimately hard to engage with. The dialogue is stiff, and the sense that there is any love between them is hard to believe given that it is only expressed vocally in very plain speech. Some explanation of their inner dialogues occurs by having them read out their letters as a voiceover, but a sense of true warmth and love between them still remains hard to swallow. It weakens the film enormously that the central relationship is so unbelievable.
What does work wonderfully well is the cinematography. Norwegian Wood is simply sumptuous to look at and has a clear artistic vision. Interior scenes are often shot in medium close-ups leading to a sense of claustrophobia – particularly in those scenes between Toru and Naoko. Tran also utilises very clear colour schemes, often bathing night time sets in just one colour – it’s unsubtle but beautiful. Interiors during daylight hours appear to be more naturally lit, utilising the daylight which streams in through the picturesque windows.
Exteriors are exquisitely shot. Wintry country scenes are framed fantastically and lush green countryside is displayed vibrantly. These beautiful vistas provide an instant and obvious contrast with the cluttered city sets of Tokyo. They are imbued, perhaps, with even more sadness as the camera lingers slowly and silently over vast expanses of emptiness. Such wonderful cinematography ensures that even in its more frustrating moments, Norwegian Wood remains extremely watchable.
Unfortunately, those frustrating moments occur too often. When translating a novel to the screen, one of the inherent dangers is that so much of what is written is not said (or at least said out loud). With Toru as the central character and commentator, Murakami’s novel has a depth and richness which is sadly lacking from Tran’s movie. It’s also a far more hurried version of the story with central characters marginalised to the point that their role in proceedings becomes puzzling – particularly Reiko’s surprising part in the story’s denouement.
Bringing Norwegian Wood to the silver screen was always likely to be challenging. And it’s a challenge which Tran Anh Hung only partially passed. His film is stylish and often visually stunning, yet lacks emotional depth despite some good acting performances. The plot moves inconsistently - too fast in parts, too slow in others - and ultimately characters’ motives are not as fully explored or explained as they might have been. Altogether, it’s an interesting yet flawed attempt. RW
Published in 1987 and since translated into 33 languages, Norwegian Wood is a story of loss and heartbreak in a time of global instability.
Haruki Murakami’s bestselling novel is brought to the screen by Tran Anh Hung (Golden Lion winner for Cyclo and Academy Award nominee for The Scent Of Green Papaya) and features Japanese rising star Kenichi Matsuyama (Death Note, Detroit Metal City) and Oscar nominee Rinko Kikuchi (BABEL), alongside newcomer Kiko Mizuhara.
Tokyo, the late 1960s. Students around the world are uniting to overthrow the establishment and Toru Watanabe’s personal life is similarly in tumult. At heart, he is deeply devoted to his first love, Naoko, a beautiful and introspective young woman. But their complex bond has been forged by the tragic death of their best friend years before.
Watanabe lives with the influence of death everywhere. That is, until Midori, a girl who is everything that Naoko is not – outgoing, vivacious, supremely self-confident – marches into his life and Watanabe must choose between his past and his future.
Film: Norwegian Wood Release date: 11th March 2011 Certificate: 15 Running time: 133 mins Director: Tran Anh Hung Starring: Kenichi Matsuyama, Rinko Kikuchi, Kiko Mizuhara, Reika Kirishima, Kengo Kora Genre: Drama/Romance Studio: Soda Format: Cinema Country: Japan
Film: Babel Release date: 21st May 2007 Certificate: 15 Running time: 138 mins Director: Alejandro González Iñárritu Starring: Gael García Bernal, Rinko Kikuchi, Brad Pitt, Cate Blanchett Genre: Drama Studio: Paramount Format: DVD Country: France/USA/Mexico
Multiple-language release, including English. Talented director Alejandro González Iñarritú and writer Guillermo Arriaga score a hat trick with Babel, the much anticipated follow-up to their blockbusters Amores Perros and 21 Grams. The Mexican duo continue with their now defining approach of using multiple characters, storylines and now multiple timeframes to make a point about humanity on a grand scale, partly reminiscent of 2005’s Oscar-winning, love-it-or-hate-it, Crash.
Brad Pitt and Cate Blanchett are on form, playing a distant couple who have come to Morocco for a make-or-break holiday when Blanchett’s character Susan, ironically oozing mistrust and contempt for the Moroccan people, ends up the casualty of the rifle shot fired by two young brothers (expertly played by Boubker Ait El Caid and Said Tarchini) leaving her little else to do but lie there, bleeding and crying.
The plot then deals with the rippling effects of that single rifle-shot across four countries (USA, Mexico, Japan and Morocco), linking all the characters...
The title - Babel - alludes to the story of the Tower of Babel in the Biblical book of Genesis, which was created by humankind so that they could reach the heavens. Angered at His creations’ pride and arrogance, God confused their languages so that they were no longer able to communicate, and scattered them across the face of the earth, grouped together according to their new mother tongues. This is how the world’s various races, cultures and languages were created.
Babel illustrates the supposed consequences of this event, which certainly aren’t sugar-coated. But, lo-and-behold, at a few select moments interspersed throughout, it also shows the hope and warmth that humankind can offer to others who are different to them. According to the film in general, however, language and culture seem to act as a barrier that serves to divide us rather than aid our understanding of one another. The despair created by these differences is cleverly depicted by Iñarritú.
Babel not only serves great testament to fantastic directing, but to superb, very touching acting. Pitt delivers a good performance as the grief-stricken, caring husband, who tends to his wife’s every need. Look out for a heart-warming moment, reminiscent of the calm after the storm, between Pitt and the Moroccan Tour Guide who helps him.
Iñarritú favourite Adriana Barraza delivers a fine performance as the warm, loving nanny of Pitt and Blanchett’s children back in the US, who, caught between her obligations to the children and those to her son on his wedding day, illegally takes the kids across the border to Mexico in a moment of madness. A smokin’ hot, bad-ass Gael García Bernal plays her crazy nephew, Santiago, who causes havoc on the journey back from Mexico and, perhaps most memorably, teaches the children how to best kill a chicken!
Elsewhere, Best Supporting Actress Rinko Kikuchi gives a stunning, emotionally intense performance as Chieko, a stroppy, deaf-mute Japanese teenager, struggling to come to terms with her mother’s death, not to mention her uncontrollable hormones. At one point, straight out of the blue, the affection-starved schoolgirl seductively licks her dentist’s face.
Chieko doesn’t hide her strained relationship with her constantly worried business-man father, who provides the link between this narrative and the others. An old hunting aficionado, he gave his now-infamous hunting rifle to his Moroccan tour guide as a present when he was leaving the country, and ends up being implicated in the shooting incident.
One scene that particularly stands out is when Chieko and her friends are in a nightclub after an alcohol and drug-fuelled day. The pounding beats of Michael Jackson’s Don’t Stop ‘Til You Get Enough suddenly come to a halt, allowing us to see and hear the world through her eyes – a very emotive scene, perfectly conveying Chieko’s sense of dislocation and loneliness in the big bad world.
The cinematography is breathtaking, mesmerising at times. The contrast of sweeping shots of the barren Moroccan desert with jolly Mariachis at a typically vivacious Mexican wedding and long shots of a bustling Tokyo by day is tremendous. BAFTA winner Gustavo Santaolalla also hits the nail on the head with the superb soundtrack, which perfectly reflects and makes you feel as if you are really part of each scene.
However, the interlocking narratives and time shifts between scenes may prove too much for some. Also, it does feel frustrating that there is no real conclusion to any of the narratives, but it seems that is as the director intended. It is an open-ended story that wants you to ponder life’s injustices.
Babel deals with so many different themes; some action-packed, some smile-worthy and some that can’t help but tug on your heart strings. The director deserves credit for the way he portrays the contrasting emotions and constantly keeps the viewer on their toes as to how the stories will develop. It is compulsive viewing, and is sure not to disappoint the procrastinators among us. JMN
