Kiyoshi Kurosawa is a director with depth. Here in the West he gained notoriety with two films (Kyua and Kairo) which happily hitched a ride on the Asian suspense wave (and to date there are still some people who primarily consider him a Japanese horror icon), but in reality Kurosawa's reach is a lot broader. He has worked in lots of genres, under wildly different circumstances and with a rich selection of prime Japanese actors at his disposal.

Even when he started out in the AV business (Kanda-gawa Inran Senso, Do-re-mi-fa-Musume no Chi Wa Sawagu) Kurosawa never really kept to the boundaries of the genre he was working in. The man likes to play around with genre tropes while fiddling with more complex and interesting themes right below the surface. It doesn't always result in great films, but it left him with a wildly interesting and varied body of films.

It's not easy recommending specific movies as it all depends on what you prefer. If you are into stilted dramas Oinaru Gen'ei is a good starting point, if you prefer the absurd eco-horror Karisuma is a saef bet. I personally like Kurosawa's Rofuto best when picking from his horror work, while Akarui Mirai is arguably his best drama. But he's an avid crime filmer too, with films like Kumu no Hitomi and the Katte ni Shiyagare!! series as prime examples. Whatever film you pick to start with though, don't give up too soon as there's a lot to discover in Kurosawa's oeuvre. Not everything will work for you, nor will everything be easy to find, but I assure it's worth the effort to dig deep in this man's work.

Best film: Kumo no Hitomi (Eyes of the Spider) (4.0*)
Worst film: Kanda-gawa Inran Senso (Kandagawa Wars) (0.5*)
Reviewed films: Eyes of the Spider

Noboru Iguchi is without a doubt one of the liveliest directors of modern Japanese cinema. And he's not just famous for his weird, outrageous and outlandish films, his appearances on film festivals too are quite remarkable and entertaining. Iguchi's most famous film is also a pretty important one, as The Machine Girl kick-started the entire Sushi Typhoon (Japanese splatter) rage, a runaway (and unexpected) international success formula.

Like many others in Japan, Iguchi started off his career as an AV director. It was only around the turn of the century that he started directing more mainstream films (though mainstream is a stretch - Iguchi is for the bigger part a true niche director). His first attempts were pretty shabby (Oira Sukeban, Madara no Shojo) but with The Machine Girl he finally hit a good balance between cheaply-produced pulp horror and intensely insane comedy. Even though his films often borrow a lot from the horror menu (Zombie Ass, Dead Sushi, Mutant Girls Squad), the only true straight-faced horror flick Iguchi directed is Tomie: Unlimited, one of the better entries in the series. In the end, Iguchi seems more interested in pulpish charm and comedy, which resulted in his biggest budget film to date: Denjin Zaboga: Gekijo-Ban.

Iguchi earned his stripes, rightly landing him an entry in the prestigious The ABCs of Death anthology. Even though I find his partner in crime Yoshihiro Nishimura and fellow Sushi Typhoon director Yudai Yamaguchi to be better overall directors, Iguchi's films are always worth a peek, if only for the slew of demented, creative and original ideas that flourish in his work.

Best film: Sento Shojo: Chi no Tekkamen Densetsu (Mutant Girls Squad) (4.5*)
Worst film: Oira Sukeban (Sukeban Boy) (1.0*)
Reviewed films: Mutant Girls Squad, The Machine Girl

Noboru Iguchi (Mutant Girls Squad) unleashed a very special kind of cinema onto the world when he made The Machine Girl. He has been struggling to repeat that success and has since been bested by his Sushi Typhoon buddies. With his latest film Iguchi seems to have finally settled into an even smaller niche though. Zombie Ass must be one of the most outrageously embarrassing films currently out there, and for that reason alone it should be worth a small gamble.

Even though Zombie Ass isn't part of the official Sushi Typhoon catalogue, it's very much in line with other Sushi Typhoon releases. Bad CG, horrible actors and a pretty amateurish finish are all part of the deal, but in return you get some of the weirdest, sickest and funniest moments ever caught on film. If there ever was a "so bad it is good" flick, this one is definitely it.

Iguchi expands on the short he entered in the ABCs of Death anthology (F is for Fart). Never before has a director explored the CG fart in such devastating depths and with such great conviction. Ironically the longer running time actually plays in Iguchi's favor here, as the ever-increasing sense of embarrassment really adds to the fun. Not that the entire film is about farts, there are also a bunch on toilet zombies and a group of anal tentacles to balance out the narrative. Great art this is not, but if you're looking for 90 minutes of mind-blowing weirdness, Zombie Ass is a must see.

Benny Chan is the median of Hong Kong action cinema. He never really excels, but if you need quality genre filler he has some of the better films on offer. It's a small miracle that (like many of his peers) he never attempted to make the jump to Hollywood, then again that's probably for the best. The closest Chan ever got to Hollywood was when he directed Connected, a remake of Cellular.

Chan is somewhat of a film series man. He started the A Moment of Romance series (first two parts), made Gen-X and Gen-Y Cops and took over the Police Story series from Jacky Chan. He's worked with many of the greats of modern Hong Kong cinema (Andy Lau, Tony Leung, Jacky Chan, Nicolas Tse and Shawn Yue, to name a few) and considering the popularity of his films I don't think he's ever had to worry about working on a shoe-string budget. The mainstream character of his films also has a downside though. They never really differ from the norm and they tend to blend in with the millions of other Hong Kong action films out there.

Still, if you're yearning for a good action flick and you're running out of established masterpieces, Benny Chan's films are a pretty good option. Solid is the keyword here.

Best film: Bo Chi Tung Wah (Connected) (3.5*)
Worst film: Tian Ruo You Qing (A Moment of Romance) (2.0*)

Director Kei'ichi Sato (of Karas fame) returns with Asura. The film is an adaptation of a 70s manga that sparked quite a controversy when it was first released, due to some rather graphic cannibalistic content. Don't expect an average tentacles and gore horror anime though, as the story of Asura is surprisingly timid and humane.

Asura is young kid, part man, part beast. Left behind in the Kyoto wastelands at a very young age, he has learned to survive under barren conditions. He is an outcast of society and doesn't hesitate for a moment when all there is to eat is a passing fellow human being. Until one day he runs into Wakasa, a young girl who is the first to treat him like a real human. Asura has trouble leaving the beast in him behind though.

To be honest, the story is of the yada-yada variation. The film lacks emotional strength and even though it doesn't outstay its welcome with only 72 minutes on the clock, it does drag a little in places. You'll be wanting to see this film because of the awesome art style and the stunning blend of CG and traditional animation though. Sato created another technical marvel, there are a few moments where the CG is just a tad too apparent but otherwise the blend is pretty much perfect and makes for a very moody and grim atmosphere.

It's a shame the film itself isn't as slick as its visuals, but Asura is definitely worth a look if you like your animation a little different.

Takashi Miike (Gozu, 46 Okunen No Koi, Zebraman 2, Crows Zero 2, Crows Zero, Sun Scarred, Nintama Rantaro, Ace Attorney, Visitor Q) is known for making extravagantly weird films, but when he released Izo he went beyond the expectations of many of his fans. So much in fact that many of them caved in under the weight of the film's pretensions. Truth be told, Izo isn't an easy film and even though it's an impressively realized project, this is not a film for everyone.

The funny thing is that you could cut at least ten 2-minute trailers, each of them using unique footage of the film, that would make it look like a real hoot. Izo is filled to the brim with uncompromising genre fare, there's enough in here to fill up five regular genre films and still have leftover footage lying around. But that's just the surface, Miike didn't set out to make a great popcorn movie, instead he's using these scenes to set up a mental beating that will either break you or leave you gasping for air.

For a 128-minute film, there is surprisingly little plot to go around. For the greater part, Izo is a continuous repetition of mayhem and slaughter. The twist here is that it doesn't really add up to anything. Even though Izo has a goal he wants to complete, there is no clear path towards it. There isn't a simple bad guy he needs to beat up, nor is there a person he needs to save. Izo's quest is a futile one, which make his actions all the more vile and meaningless.

Izo is a samurai who was tortured and beheaded before he turned into a vengeful spirit. No matter how many times he seeks out revenge, the lives he takes aren't enough to make him forget the way he was treated. And so he sets out to kill the rulers of the universe, a guild of aristocrats who live secluded from the world they built. Unsure where to find them, Izo travels through time and space in order to locate them, killing everyone who crosses his path.

While Izo features some pretty cool camera work (Izo's entrance at the wedding is pretty spectacular), some scenes do look a little sloppy from up close. There are plenty of stand-out scenes, but the ones in between appear to be a little rushed. The lair of the aristocrats for example is a bit lacking in visual richness. Maybe it was a budget problem (it couldn't have been easy to finance this film, even though Miike was at his international peak when he made it), but the shifts in quality between scenes is a tad disappointing regardless.

For the soundtrack Miike made heavy use of folk-singer Kazuki Tomokawa (who also scored Landscapes The Boy Saw). Like him or not, but his unique and peculiar style defines the films he scores. His raw voice, strange rhythms and less than slick guitar work is instantly recognizable. I would never listen to his work outside film, but as part of a soundtrack he makes a strong impression and Izo benefits greatly from it.

Miike could count on a slew of famous actors to fill in all the roles, ranging from superstars like Takeshi Kitano and Ryuhei Matsuda to a long list of Miike regulars and even some international celebrities like Bob Sapp (not the biggest name in the film business, but still). They're all just secondary characters though, hardly lasting a couple of minutes (if that long) before their heads are cut off. The cutting is done almost exclusively by Kazuya Nakayama who no doubt played the defining role of his career.

Izo plays like a never-ending sequence of killing sprees. When Izo finishes one battle field he is simply transported to the next one, where he takes on the following batch of adversaries. Sometimes he fights samurai, sometimes police squads, but he could just as well appear in classroom and murder a whole hallway of schoolgirls. After a while the fun evaporates and all that is left is a vile succession of mean and evil-spirited murders. There are two times when Miike interrupts this structure. Once in the middle of the film when Izo is given a little background story, a second time near the end when Izo finally reaches the aristocrats.

Needless to say, this turns Izo into a pretty tough experience. As the minutes pass and the bodies pile up, the film starts to weigh on its audience. Some people won't appreciate this, others will thank Miike for an exhilarating experience that is rarely found in commercial cinema. I've seen Izo three times now and the film keeps impressing me, it's a superb mix of genre film making and arthouse cinema, an unlikely mix that we might never see again in this form.

It was just a week or two ago when I reviewed Stephen Fung's Tai Chi Zero, the first film in a fun and sprawling attempt to revive Hong Kong's 90s martial arts genre. In a unique twist, the second part of the trilogy followed almost immediately, upholding a strong momentum. The question is of course whether Fung would be able to keep the strengths of Tai Chi Zero alive while further evolving the saga in Tai Chi Hero.

Fung wouldn't be able to just pull the same tricks as he did with Zero. What came off as fresh and novel in the first film would feel like mere repetition and utter lack of creativity this time around, ultimately bearing down on the quality of the entire series. Fung obviously realized this and while there are still some references to some of the quirkier details of Zero (like the on-screen character introductions), Hero takes a slightly different route.

While Hero features less in-your-face gimmickry, it has the advantage that it can skip all the introductions and dive right into the action. Hero might be a bit more traditional in style, it makes up for that with a selection of awesome action scenes and stunning set pieces. The story starts with a quick recap and blasts off where it ended in part 1. There is no noteworthy time skip, just the logical continuation of the story.

Yang finds himself married to the Niang, the village elder's daughter. This grants him the right to stay in the village and learn the family's peculiar style of martial arts, but the village people are still weary of Yang and consider him an outsider. Things get even worse when Niang's long lost brother returns to the village, eager to upset the village peace. Yang is a perfect target for his plans and by revitalizing the believe in an age old curse laid upon the villagers he is able to upset the entire population.

Visually little has changed. The visual trickery is not as outspoken or outright flashy compared to the first film, instead Fung used his budget to create more steampunk machinery and bigger and more detailed set pieces. As a result the film looks stunning, featuring slick special effects, great sequences of destruction and impeccable looking wire-fu fights. Fung's agile and sometimes quirky camera further helps in leaving a strong visual impression.

Sadly the tone of the soundtrack remained virtually unchanged. The score is once again dominated by a selection of somewhat uneasy rock tracks that fail to ignite a real sense of adrenaline. The lacking score isn't a real issue as there are plenty of other things to focus on while watching the film, but it's still a missed opportunity to make the action sequences that little extra special. I guess Fung isn't going to change his approach for the third and final installment, but one can always hope of course.

The main cast is back in full force, Xiaochao is visibly more at ease in front of the camera, Tony Leung Ka Fai is having the time of his life and Angelababy once again shoulders the more dramatic moments in Tai Chi Hero. Feng Shaofeng joins the cast and brings with him a little extra intrigue, while Daniel Wu and Nikki Hsieh (Make Up, One Day, Honey PuPu) make noteworthy cameos. No award-winning performances, but the film consist of a very solid cast nonetheless.

Tai Chi Hero ends with a classic finale, somewhat reminiscent of the Iron Monkey end fight. While most action scenes in Tai Chi Hero are quite big in scale, the finale is a simple yet terrificly orchestrated one-on-one fight sequence, flawlessly executed. Once again Fung is helped by a more than generous budget but he handles the money well and delivers one of the best fight scenes in recent memory. If that wasn't enough, he also teases with one of the craziest-looking steampunk contraptions I have every seen. An iconic ending shot that will definitely keep me warm until the final episode arrives.

Tai Chi Hero tones down the gimmickry from the first film just a little, replacing it with more and bigger action scenes. It's a smart move that avoids too much repetition while still keeping a fresh and playful atmosphere. The production values are high, the acting is the right kind of tongue-in-cheek and the action scenes sparkle. Fung created a perfect sequel that leaves you begging for the final act. If you liked the Zero then I'm quite sure this film won't disappoint you in the least.

Nagai Sanpo is a modest Japanese drama that passed the West by virtually unnoticed, much like Okuda's other films. Okuda is a well-known face for people familiar with Japanese film, but his directorial efforts appear much harder to sell across the border. Not sure why though, if you look at the popularity of films like Koreeda's Dare Mo Shiranai and Aruitemo Aruitemo it's clear there is a solid market for these type of films.

Nagai Sanpo isn't my first Okuda, a couple of years ago I watched Shôjo and was pleasantly surprised by the most natural and non-dismissive way in which Okuda approached a rather touchy subject. Nagai Sanpo is comparable in the way that Okuda once again tackles a subject where he reverses the reigning moral code, pleading for more understanding and respect towards people and situations we as a society don't fully understand.

The film begins with Matsutaro abandoning his own house after his wife has died. Matsutaro's relationship with his family is sour and even though he leaves the house to his daughter, she isn't willing to forgive him that easily. Matsutaro rents a small, barren apartment, ready to whither away all by himself. His new neighbors aren't going to let him live his final years in peace though, as their rows, arguments and fights travel through the thin walls, keeping Matsutaro wide awake at night.

His neighbors also have a young daughter (Sachi) which they both neglect. Matsutaro pities the child and he suddenly sees his chance to atone for his past sins. When his attempts to get close to Sachi fail, he kidnaps the girl hoping to heal both himself and Sachi by organizing an extensive road trip for the both of them. In a sense, Nagai Sanpo is Okuda's Kikujiro no Natsu, only written from a more dramatic perspective.

Visually Nagai Sanpo matches the looks of a very decent, solid and traditional Japanese drama. The start of the film looks a little depressing at times, but once the road trip starts and the rural Japanese landscapes make their entry there are quite some beautiful shots to admire. The editing is not unlike Takeshi Kitano's, often cutting to static shots showing motionless characters in between more traditionally filmed scenes. All in all it's a pleasant film to look at, but there's little you haven't seen before.

The soundtrack too is textbook material. Expect violins, piano tunes and some heavy-handed J-Pop to cover most of the film's musical adventures. It's a solid score no doubt, it never comes off as too sentimental and it never feels as if you're tricked into feeling certain emotions, but if you've seen your share of Japanese dramas it may feel a little too familiar at times.

Films with debatable moral codes often rely heavily on their actors to convey the moral dilemma and so it was essential to the success of Nagai Sanpo that Okuda picked two very strong leads. I don't think I've seen Ken Ogata in a lead role before but he handles it with considerable ease, portraying a broken man that plans to do well in his life even when the law doesn't permit him to do so. Hana Sugiura also deserves her share of praise, it's never easy to work with children but she is absolutely perfect as the young Sachi. It's weird to see that she never played in a film again after this role. The secondary cast is equally strong, with Saki Takaoka deserving extra credit for taking on her less than sympathetic character.

While Nagai Sanpo has a couple of very powerful and emotional dramatic scenes, I feel that Okuda did have a little trouble keeping a good balance between all the dramatic elements. At times he pushes his luck a bit too much, introducing extra dramatic tension where the film didn't really need any. There are some scenes that could've been left out (also bringing the running time down a little) without the film losing any of its dramatic power and while these moments are rare, they do make you wonder why Okuda included them in the first place.

That said, the film left me with a very contented and warm feeling. These hesitant moments are quickly forgotten when Nagai Sanpo closes in on its dramatic climax and strings together a couple of most impressive scenes. Once again Okuda succeeds in delivering a slightly uncomfortable drama which doesn't really stray from the beaten path while still providing enough food for thought. A smart combination that only strengthens the question of why this film didn't receive broader international attention and appreciation.

Welcome back Mr. Ki-duk (Bi-Mong, Soom). The once so prolific Sout-Korean director disappeared from the scene four years ago, but has now returned with a new full-length feature. His comeback hasn't gone by unnoticed as Pieta won the top prize in Venice (although the victory was somewhat contested). After having watched the film myself I can only confirm that honor was justified as Pieta sees Ki-duk returning to form (though a little different from his old self) .

To say that Ki-duk disappeared completely would be incorrect. In 2011 he actually released two separate projects. First there was Amen, a shorter venture that led to Ki-duk's mental collapse, which was soon followed by Arirang, Ki-duk's documentary that retraced the steps leading to his own depression. Both projects received minimal international attention though and getting a hold of them is a rather daunting task. With that in mind, I think it's fair to say that Pieta is Ki-duk's first true release ever since he made Bi-Mong.

But Pieta doesn't just continue where Bi-Mong left off. Throughout his career Ki-duk has been fine-tuning his own particular style which ultimately resulted in a more dreamy, less edgy overall atmosphere. Not that he was mass-producing mushy dramas by the time he finished with Bi-Mong, but films like Bi-Mong and Soom did lack that dramatic "shock" value that characterized his earlier films. Even though many people often criticized Ki-duk for making films that are too similar to each other, comparing his first film with Soom shows you exactly how much Ki-duk changed his trademark style over the years. It may have been a gradual process, but the difference is clearly there. Pieta sets off to combine elements of both periods in his career. It has that gritty, unforgiving dramatic undertone of his older films, while coupled with a more stylish audiovisual approach.

The film starts with an average day in the life of Gang-do, a ruthless loan shark who does his own dirty work. He forces people to sign insurance policies and cripples them if they are unable to pay him back, running off with the money himself. Gang-do lives a solitary life, until one day a woman arrives on his doorstep. She claims to be his mother, the woman who abandoned him at birth. Gang-do isn't ready to accept her back in his life, but as it turns out she is quite persistent and she practically forces Gang-do to let her back in.

Pieta is visually grittier when compared to his previous films, but it's far from the random ugliness that defined his first few works. Ki-duk has a keen eye for color and composition and while he doesn't waste time to revel in visual beauty, the film presents a beautiful kind of ugly with enough attention to the color palette and framing. It's a nice balance that supports the drama while also leaving room for more cinematic delights.

The soundtrack is a true pleasure. Ki-duk chooses a more ethereal selection of tracks that contrast with the gritty visuals, but extract additional beauty from the dramatic bottom line. Even though there is plenty of pain and torment in Pieta, the soundtrack eases the blow just a little in between, though never during the film's more crucial scenes. A smart choice that helps to retain the balance between Ki-duk's older and more recent work.

The third pillar of Pieta is its extremely strong cast. Jeong-jin Lee excels as Gang-do and transforms into a character that is tough and merciless, yet still allows the audience to feel a slice of pity for his situation. But it's Min-soo Jo (Gang-do's mother) who takes the crown. Though not a true newcomer, her experience with starring in feature length films was minimal before she joined the cast of Pieta. Ki-duk is famed for forcing extremely intense performances from the lesser gods of acting and he affirms that status once again.

Even though Pieta is filled to the brim with Christian symbolism and the film emits a strong poetic beauty, it isn't exactly an easy watch for moderate arthouse frequenters. There are some genuinely shocking scenes and Ki-duk's characters are more than once found on the floor, screaming in agony. It's a film that hurts while you're watching, then again I believe that's one of Ki-duk's prime strengths that should be cherished.

I haven't read too many other Pieta reviews so far, so I'm not sure if the misogyny card has surfaced already, but I still would like to say a word or two about this (because Pieta sure has the potential). Indeed there is unmistakable violence directed at women in this film. Gang-do mistreats his mother in some of the worst imaginable ways possible, but in the end he does so because he's weak and powerless. Min-soo Jo is the only powerful individual in this film, headstrong and even more relentless in her own way. If anything, she symbolizes the strength and utter conviction that women have in them, more so than men who rely on that strength to survive.

Pieta is a pretty complete package. The film looks great, has a superb soundtrack, two extremely impressive leads and a boatload of symbolism for those who enjoy that kind of thing. On top of that it's an intriguing drama built on top of two enigmatic characters. It's everything I wish for in a Ki-duk film, which made me realize just how much I missed the guy these past four years. Here's to a great continuation of his career.

Party 7 was the second full-length feature film release for Katsuhito Ishii (Smuggler, Cha No Aji, My Darling Of The Mountains), following the success of Shark Skin Man & Peach Hip Girl. It's a film that helped Ishii hone his skills, combining witty yet pointless dialogues with absurd and outlandish events and characters. The result is pretty crazy, a zany film delivered with a near-deadpan sense of humor that is sure to alienate a good portion of its viewers.

There are many reasons why someone seeks out a film. A cool poster, a nifty trailer, peer pressure, commercial buzz or simply the name of the director pulling you towards the film. I first watched Party 7 because I noticed it featured a character named Captain Banana. How bad can a film like that truly be? That and the fact that the opening credits are animated by Takeshi Koike (Redline), one of the most gifted animators/directors working in the field of animation today (actual directing credits for the opening sequence go to Peter Chung though).

Party 7 is a film split in two separate universes which only collide momentarily near the end of the film. While these two universes are only a window apart from each other, the tone and feel of both segments is quite different. The film alternates between them quite often, as a result the comedy in both segments is saved from outliving its welcome, allowing the film to remain fresh throughout while avoiding a lagging middle part.

The first story is a typical Yakuza heist. On of the low-ranking yakuzas stole a pile of cash and is now being hunted by the chief in command. To make things worse, his ex girlfriend is tailing him for money too. The whole bunch of them end up in a hotel room where they try to figure out who gets what. What they don't know is that they are being watched by two perverts from behind a wall, descendants of a clan of peepers who built the hotel especially for spying on their guests.

Visually Party 7 is a pretty slick film. Ishii doesn't experiment too much but manages to keep an interesting level of visual trickery. While the peeping room looks pretty amazing, the hotel room is a little dull in comparison. Luckily the funky costumes help to brighten up the setting. There are some cool slomo's (the moment when Gashuin barges into the room) and some nifty camera work, making it a pretty pleasurable experience to watch overall.

The soundtrack is pretty much on par with the visuals. Not overly great or exciting, but it does contain a couple of fun and interesting tracks that help to establish and maintain the atmosphere. For a more subdued film like this the soundtrack may be a little over the top (lots of dnb-inspired dance-like music that's quite tap-worthy), but in the end it works well and it gives the film that extra bit of cool.

Party 7 is a film that relies heavily on humor, so it's a good thing Ishii gathered a slew of superb actors to make sure the elongated dialogues and scenes work out. It's one of those rare films that feature both Tadanobu Asano and Masatoshi Nagase, two of my absolute favorite Japanese actors. They both do a great job and each of them fuels one of the respective universes. They get help from a strong secondary cast (Morishita Ren Osugi, Kobayashi) and of course the film features hors category actor Gashuin in a somewhat small yet hilarious role. Extra special praise goes to Yoshio Harada who shines as Captain Banana, certainly one of the more memorable characters I've ever come across.

While deadpan isn't really the right word to describe the flavor of humor in Party 7, it sure is a more muted and subdued style when contrasted with its weird and freaky characters. It's not nearly as insane or over the top as you'd expect based on the screenshots or trailer, but that doesn't make it any less fun. All of this leads to a hilarious finale where Ishii finally brings his two universes together, which maximum comedic effect.

Party 7 is a weird mix of slightly perverted comedy and more typical crime/comedy antics, shaped by a range of weird characters and their absurd, lingering dialogues (make sure to sit through the end credits). The film looks good, sounds great, sports an incredible opening animation sequence and boasts a list of superb actors. The comedy is a little off-center though, so even if you appreciated Ishii's Cha No Aji you aren't fully guaranteed that Party 7 will suit your needs. Then again, Party 7 has plenty to offer, so if you're a Katsuhito Ishii fan you owe it to yourself to at least give the film a fair chance.

Hong Kong isn't planning on letting its martial arts heritage go to waste. The past few years we've seen a few interesting projects keeping the spirit of the golden years of martial arts alive (think the A Chinese Fairy Tale remake, 14 Blades or Tracing Shadows), now Stephen Fung is doing his part by releasing an entire trilogy of films. Tai Chi Zero is the first of the bunch and sets the stage for two more films of inspired and high octane fun.

First of all, Fung (or maybe the film's producers, not quite sure) deserves credit for the planned release schedule of this trilogy. Even though the film was broken down into three separate entries, you won't have to wait another year to catch the sequel. In fact, there was only 1 month in between the release of Tai Chi Zero and second installment (Tai Chi Hero), meaning you can watch them back to back by now. A smart move that won't drag out the hype of these films, I just hope other people in the industry are taking notice.

When I watched Fung's House Of Fury it left me quite unimpressed, so when this project was first announced I wasn't all that excited. Still, Tai Chi Zero promised to be the first steampunk/martial arts crossover and as the film seemed to be enjoying the benefit of a decent budget, I did keep one eye on where this was going. Having watched it, I must admit that Fung exceeded my expectations by a serious stretch.

Tai Chi Zero combines the lighthearted banter of the popular 90s martial arts films (Green Snake) with a more modern video game/comic aesthetic and a lovely injection of steampunk. Some people have been eager to point out the similarities between this film and Scott Pilgrim and while the comparison does make sense, I think it's one of those things that only clicks after having watched the film but would set the wrong expectations up front, so don't go in expecting too much from it.

It's clear that Stephen Fung had a sizable budget to work with. Steampunk isn't the easiest genre to bring to life, luckily he didn't let all that money go to waste here. The machinery looks damn detailed and impressive and cogwheels, handles and steam are omnipresent whenever something electrical whizzes across the screen. But maybe even more notable are the game and comic book-like additions that pop up left and right. Health meters, location indicators, KO signs, special move trackers ... add some animated sequences, mini biographies whenever a cameo flashes by and some slick and modern camera work and you have a film that plays like a visual rush.

The soundtrack hardly compares, featuring a set of rather lame and uninspired action-themed rock tracks. I'll admit that they aren't too bad while featured in the film, but it's hardly the score you would've wished a film like this to have. Also worth noting (for those watching the American trailer), even though these used some random dubstep track to liven up the trailer that particular piece of music is nowhere to be found within the actual film. Hopefully Fung makes some better music choices for the other two installments.

The film assembles an interesting mix of well-known actors and trained athletes to bring the story to life. Between names like Tony Leung Ka Fai and Angelababy in the bigger parts and Andrew Lau and Shu Qi in quick cameos, Fung still finds plenty of room to cast some true medal-winning martial artists. The lead role is reserved for Yuan Xiaochao, a 2008 champion who may lack acting experience, but more than makes up for that whenever things get rough. It's a fun and varied cast that isn't set out to win any acting prizes, but goes through great lengths to make it an enjoyable ride.

Tai Chi Zero is not high art, its intentions are purely focused on providing top-notch entertainment and that's what the film does best. It's been a while since I watched such an entertaining big budget production, which makes Fung's accomplishment all the more praise-worthy. The ending is satisfactory too, while teasing heavily for the upcoming sequel. It's a type of excitement that I haven't felt in a long, long time.

The release schedule, the economic running time, the use of superb athletes, the visual imagination and the overall first-grade production values make Tai Chi Zero one of the more entertaining films of 2012. Fung goes to great lengths to reinvent the 90s martial arts cinema and hits the sweet spot. I'm already pretty excited to watch the second intallment of the series, hopefully Fung can keep the momentum going. If he could only improve the soundtrack a little, this could turn out to be a landmark production.

Most Japanese comedies tend to be either extremely over the top (Milocrorze, Donju) or extremely dry and deadpan (Kofuku no Kane). Sutekina Kanashibari (also known as Once In A Blue Moon or A Ghost Of A Chance) aims for a more balanced combination of these two stretches and somehow gets away with it. The result is a witty, sparkling, amusing and at times slightly disturbing film that charms like there's no tomorrow.

After watching Miike's Ace Attorney earlier, Sutekina Kanashibari marks the second oddball court comedy I've seen this year. Even though both film have quite a lot in common, Mitani doesn't share Miike's anime/manga aesthetics and chases a different kind of funny. While still extremely rooted in Japanese culture, the comedy here is a lot warmer and aims to charm rather than go full-force for freaking people out.

Sutekina Kanashibari is characterized by a unique "laissez-faire" style of humor. All said and done there is plenty of weird stuff happening throughout the film, but somehow the characters are quick to accept these oddities, acting either mildly amused or severely interested in whatever they are told to believe. Because of that, it's much easier to go along with the weird story twists, which makes for a very different experience compared to other Japanese comedies.

The film follows the adventures of Emi Hosho, a failed lawyer who is just given her very last chance to prove her worth. It's a tricky case she's handling though, as the defendant's only alibi is a wandering ghost who held him hostage on the moment of his wife's murder. Realizing the ghost is her only chance of winning the case, Emi drags him along to court. While the judges don't seem to mind the appearance of a ghost as a witness, the plaintiff is eager to do everything in his might to invalidate Emi's case.

While not overly flashy or in your face, Sutekina Kanashibari is a very pleasant film to look at. It's a very colorful and delicately shot film that doesn't really experiment but still manages to one-up its competitors with some fancy camera tricks and smart visual touch-ups. There's even some CG and while not truly remarkable, these scenes are not just some cheaply tagged on computer animation inserts either.

The soundtrack is cute and often resembles that of classic cartoons. It's a collection of up-tempo, lighthearted music with some funny accents left and right that compliment the comedy moments on screen. It's not a very recognizable or unique score, I can't really imagine listening to it as a standalone piece of music, but within the film it definitely does the job and it enhances the already solid atmosphere, which in the end is all that truly matters.

If there is one stand-out performance in Sutekina Kanashibari it's Toshiyuki Nishida's role as the wandering ghost warrior. He is great as the gullible but slightly mischievous ghost with a golden heart. The rest of the cast is basically there to support him (Eri Fukatsu) or to provide some unrelated comedic relief (Tadanobu Asano). Hiroshi Abe puts in a commendable performance and Dolls fans are sure to recognize Kyoko Fukada in a small but important role. But my favorite character here is without a doubt the judge, who kickstarts most of the stand-out funny moments.

Even though the film lasts a whopping 140 minutes (which is stretching it with the material at hand), the film never drags or wears thin. The comedy remains at a constant level throughout the film, there's no change of tone to allow for a more serious and/or dramatic ending and there are still plenty of quality laughs during the final hour. There may not be too many laugh out loud scenes, but you're sure to spend the majority of the running length with a contented smile on your face, eagerly waiting to see whatever happens next.

The combination of strange plot twists and original turn of events with a warm but deadpan sense of humor is the true winner here. The rest of the film is tailored to maintain this tricky balance and Mitani handles it like a pro. There are no notable dips, no boring subplots or sentimental pressure to take away from the overall charming atmosphere. To be honest, I didn't expect too much when I sat down to watch this film, but it turns out to be one of those films that I would even recommend to people who're not really into Japanese cinema.

If Hong Kong's early 90's action flicks were dominated by flashy, speed-driven wire-fu, the early 00's introduced a more refined vision on the Chinese martial arts. Every consecutive year a slew of films were announced that promised to be bigger and better than the previous ones, but very few actually succeeded. Until Xiaogang Feng took a stab and raised the bar to a level that none of its peers would ever dream to match. To date, Ye Yan is still the finest film the genre brought forward.

Even though Ang Lee's Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon probably deserves most credit for launching this particular sub genre across the world, it wasn't until Yimou Zhang made Hero that I started to take notice. The combination of hyper-stylized action sequences with superbly rich and lush settings was something quite novel at the time and people were obviously loving it. Others jumped onto the bandwagon, but no-one (not even Yimou himself) was quite able to match the success of Hero.

When Feng made Ye Yan (The Banquet/Legend Of The Black Scorpion - depending where you live) international interest had already dwindled, which sadly hampered the global success of the film. But that's not the only thing that stood in the way of garnering wide recognition. A small word of warning is needed when recommending Ye Yan, as it is not a true action film. Many people often refer to the action sequences in this type of film as ballet-like, Ye Yan actually treats them (quite literally) as dances. It makes for some extremely refined fight sequences, but it does take away from the action itself.

Ye Yan is an adaptation of Shakespeare's Hamlet and Ibsen's Ghosts, but since I'm not familiar with either of them I can't really judge how close Feng stayed to the source material. The story is a rather compact and highly theatrical throne room drama, where deceit, betrayal and romance all end up in a accelerating spiral towards a tragic ending. Nothing out of the ordinary I guess, just don't expect anything too epic as the film's amin focus is mostly confined to one single palace and its internal affairs.

The first time I watched Ye Yan the visuals blew me out of my chair. Having watched it again just now, I can safely say that time left the initial wonder intact. There is little CG involved and the little there is only has a very small effect on the film's overall visual look (apart from some CG blood everything looked like old-fashioned wire-fu to me). The film's settings are beautiful beyond description, from the scenery to the interior decorations and the costumes of the actors. The camera work is stylish and controlled, the slow-motion sequences some of the most impressive I've ever seen. There is not a single scene or even shot in the film that doesn't know to wow.

The soundtrack is a bit more traditional in nature, even incorporating some Western influences. But ultimately it goes well with the tragedy happening on screen. It gives the scenes a certain weight and accentuates the tragic moments without overstating them. There is plenty of melodrama present and getting that across with the right amount of pathos can be a little tricky at times, but Feng steers the soundtrack pretty well, avoiding some nasty pitfalls in the process and even scoring a few points along the way.

As for the actors, Daniel Wu (the main character) is probably the weakest link. He isn't even half-bad though, it's just that the rest of the cast easily outclasses him. Ge You is superb as the back-stabbing brother-in-law/emperor, Ziyi Zhang and Xun Zhou take proper care of the two female leads. This trio of actors is ideal to take on the more dramatic scenes in the film. There is also an extra saving grace for Wu, which is the fact that in many scenes he is required to act with a mask on, effectively hiding some of his acting imperfections.

Ye Yan arguably contains some of my favorite fighting sequences, but comparing them to more steroid-driven action sequences is pretty much impossible. There's no way that you can put Tony Jaa's work next to Woo-ping Yuen's ultra-stylized fight-dances and pick a winner. Ye Yan does offer some of the most gorgeously shot wire-fu sequences in the history of martial arts cinema though and compared to its direct peers I can't see any film that would hope to match Feng's masterpiece.

If you can stomach the classic tragedy that houses in the film's story, a world of unmatched cinematographic beauty opens itself and provides one of the most stunningly beautiful action films ever released. Just don't sit down hoping to be dazzled by a continuous stream of fighting sequences, there is quite a lot of dialogue here and a strong focus on the dramatic events that drive the four main characters. That said, Ye Yan is by far my favorite of all the wuxia films out there, even leaving Yimou's Hero to gravel in the dust.

Daisuke Tengan's Sekai De Ichiban Utsukushi Yoru (The Most Beautiful Night In The World) is one of those typical Japan-only films. A certain breed of absurd comedy and down-to-earth drama that no other country seems to be able to produce. It's a rather lengthy film that demands a little effort from its audience, but Tengan keeps a tight grip on the script and does everything in his power to make it worth your while.

Even though Daisuke Tengan isn't too famous a director, he's quite notorious for writing a couple of well-known screenplays. He penned 13 Assassins, Audition and Imprint for Takashi Miike and wrote the screenplay for Shohei Imamura's The Eel and Dr Akagi. Tengan doesn't shun the absurd and as a director he is able to fully explore the weirdness in his writing. It may not be as all-out insane as Miike's most infamous films, but be sure to run into some very odd twists and turns along the way.

Tengan's Sekai reminded me a little of Nakashima's Memories Of Matsuko. On the surface you'll find a bright and fun film, but underlying all the joy is an unmistakable undercurrent of darkness. When all is said and done Sekai is a true comedy though, only using the darker segments as a diversion rather than the other way around. The finale in particular is one of the most effective feel-good moments I've encountered in a long, long time.

The film starts with the arrival of Kazuya in Kaname, a rather backwards and rural village in Japan. Kazuya was forced to join the local Kaname newspaper, which functions as a refuge for journalists who fucked up their career in Tokyo. Bored out of his wits, Kazuya starts wandering around town in the hope that there is something interesting to report about. It doesn't take him long to realize that this village has its own share of secrets, but uncovering them is a lot harder than he expected.

The mix of playful, absurd comedy and drama is perfectly reflected in the film's visual style. There are several sequences setting the actors to collage-like animated backgrounds, mostly to reveal some background story or just helping out with parts that would've been pretty difficult to film in real life. It's a pretty smart way to avoid sketchy CG while at the same time giving the film its own unique identity. The dramatic sequences are more traditional, sporting solid camera work and slightly murkier colors.

The soundtrack is a collection of up-beat and fun background tracks mixed with local folk, at times vaguely reminiscent of a typical Wes Anderson soundtrack. It's not a truly great or memorable selection of tracks, but it does help to give the film it's own particular atmosphere while further strengthening that typical backwards town feeling. The soundtrack doesn't make a lasting impression, but it does work very well within the confines of the film.

Taking up the lead role is Tomorow Taguchi (of Tetsuo fame). One of Japan's most under-appreciated actors, he has a keen eye for interesting films (with notable appearances in Hiroki Ryuichi's films like M, It's Only Talk and Keibetsu) and has been working hard on his career these past couple of years. The secondary roles are equally capable, with Tsukifune and Ryo Ishibashi in strong supporting roles and Yoshiyuki Morishita in another great cameo. All in all a very strong cast that knows how to work around the weirdness while building up a set of earnest, believable characters.

Tengan's Sekai is the kind of film that throws the notion of suspension of disbelieve completely out of the window.By deemphasizing the weirdness Tengan creates a very unique and wonderful universe without losing too much time trying to explain everything. When halfway through the film Kazuya turns into a snake it is simply announced by a short voice over monologue. From that point on the film just seems to accept this weird turn of events and the audience is asked to do the same.

Even though the film isn't overly erotic, do take note that sexuality is the film's core theme and it goes together with a rather surprising amount of nudity. Never in a very erotic setting, but this is definitely nsfw material, even when the film in its entirety plays like a sweet, subtle and feel-good piece of comedy. It's nothing to worry about really, unless you're a prude who doesn't take this kind of nudity very well.

Tengan's Sekia is a little gem. While at first the different segments of the film may appear to be a bit detached, the second half of the film does an excellent job of bringing everything together into an amazingly feel-good finale. Don't expect to make sense of everything happening in the film, just accept Tengan's universe as it passes you by and enjoy the wonders that stem from it. With 160 minutes it's a pretty long film, but the investment is more than worth it.

After what seems like an entire decade, Katsuhito Ishii resurfaces with Smuggler, his latest feature length film based on the popular manga going by the same name. Gone is the lighter, melancholic tone of Ishii's hit films, instead he reaches back to his earlier films, mixing and matching a series of freaky characters into a dark crime setting. The result is every bit as fun and outlandish as his earlier work, proving Ishii hasn't lost his touch over the years.

Most people first ran into the work of Katsuhito Ishii when they heard of Cha No Aji, toss My Darling Of The Mountains into the mix and it's no surprise that Ishii's latest caused quite a few raised eyebrows amongst unsuspecting festival attendants. But if you've seen Ishii's Shark Skin Man & Peach Hip Girl or Party 7 you won't really fall off your chair when watching Smuggler, though I must admit that this is probably the darkest film he's made so far.

Gone is the explicit humor (safe a few stand-out moments), but there is still plenty to smirk about (the insane cast of characters makes sure of that). Instead the film focuses a lot more on the darker parts of the story. There are some pretty cool and stylish action sequences, combined with a little gore and torture. Not enough for gore hounds to satisfy their urges, but sensitive viewers have been complaining left and right about a couple of explicitly gruesome scenes.

The film is split in four distinct sequences. First we get to know Ryosuke, a leech who has no aspirations to make something out of his life. He gets suckered by a Chinese gang and ends up with a 3 million yen debt. To pay off his debt he becomes a "mover of goods" (no questions asked). The second part introduces two Chinese killers who are being set up by their gang boss. Several different stories intertwine, intrigue rears its ugly head ... you should know the drill by now.

Visually everything looks mighty slick. The film appears to wear a dark veil that mutes all colors, even during the day scenes. It adds plenty to the ominous atmosphere running throughout the film. Other definite highlights are the action sequences that make great use of slow-motion trickery, the action choreography is also spot on. Sharply edited and beautifully shot, Smuggler may well be Ishii's best-looking film to date.

The soundtrack is probably the weakest part of the film. A simple selection of background tracks that does little to spark a real interest. It's okay in the sense that as long as you don't pay too much attention to it, it does the job fairly well. But once you start to notice the flat tunes and arrangements you can't help but wonder why Ishii didn't put a bit more effort into the soundtrack. It would've given Smuggler that extra bit of polish.

The cast on the other hand is truly sublime. Masatoshi Nagase is always a pleasure to behold (he does look surprisingly old in this film), though I believe it's Masanobu Ando that makes the biggest impression as Vertebrae, one of the Chinese killers. Littered with tattoos and scars and sporting an ash-white hairdo, his actual presence is as impressive as his performance. There are quite a few notable cameos too. Ren Osugi and Susumu Terajima make a great surprise appearance, Ishii favorite Tatsuya Gashuin (the one with the eyebrows) takes on a slighter bigger part (though he's a bit difficult to recognize apart from his distinctive voice).

Smuggler is an extremely entertaining slice of dark entertainment. Littered with weird and freaky characters, the four chapters play out well and make for an interesting finale. There are no deeper motives, no hidden themes or overarching analogies though, Ishii fully commits himself to the entertainment value and that's actually a plus here. No muddled attempts at anything bigger or more, just two hours of old-fashioned fun.

Most Katsuhito Ishii films will feel right at home when watching Smuggler, those who only know Ishii's lighter work and consider Bambi to be borderline acceptable for a Disney film should take note that Smuggler is quite a bit darker than his other films. Still, the fun factor of Smuggler remains incredibly high and coupled with the tight finish of the film it belongs right up there with the best of Ishii's work. A testament that there is still some life left in Japanese cinema.

Even though Takashi Miike (46 Okunen No Koi, Zebraman 2, Crows Zero 2, Crows Zero, Sun Scarred) is going through a more kid-friendly phase of his career (Nintama Rantaro, Ace Attorney), he is still fondly remember for the wacky and crazy stuff (Visitor Q) he made 10-15 years ago. Gozu is a genuine relic of that particular time and without a doubt one of the highlights of that period. Even by modern standards some scenes are still jaw-droppingly insane.

Even though Gozu was also dubbed Yakuza Horror Theater, it's not that simple to categorize the film (then again, that goes probably for most of Miike's films) as a straight-up horror flick. Gozu does have its fair share of tense and freaky moments, but underlying the horror is a constant stream of absurd humor. Gozu never cashes in on gore, creeps or scares, instead it uses its dark and outlandish setting to draw some awkward and stunned laughs from its audience.

The challenge of Gozu is to appreciate its two distinct sides. There are some genuinely funny, dry and understated scenes littered throughout the film, but they tend to be overshadowed by the bat-shit crazy moments that Miike flaunts so generously in order to brighten up the film. By comparison the rest of the scenes may appear to be a little dull, but that's just by contrast. If you look a little closer you'll find that the in-between scenes have their one unique flair and contain plenty of laughs too.

The film starts off when low-ranking yazuka Minami is ordered to kill his own boss, Ozaki. Ozaki has lost his mind and he's become a liability to the entire clan, so Minami and Ozaki are sent on a trip to a remote village where Minami is supposed to take care of the killing. While Minaki is reluctant to follow up his orders, he is helped by faith when Ozaki suddenly dies beyond Minami's own control. But then Ozaki's body disappears and the people of the village turn out to be a real freak show, unable to help him locate Ozaki's remains.

Visually it's typical oldskool Miike, although there aren't too many ultra-budget effects on display here. The image quality is quite grainy, but the desolate and detailed settings do provide some surprisingly atmospheric visuals. The warm red and brown colors that run throughout the film help to further establish the dark and intense atmosphere. Not everything is up to par, some scenes do look a little pale in comparison to others, but overall Gozu is a visually pleasing film.

The soundtrack too has its moments. From the eerie jazzy interludes to the Gozu theme song, Miike has a few interesting musical tricks up his sleeve. As a whole the soundtrack may lack some coherence and it it does come across as quite fragmented, but within individual scenes it proves itself to be an asset to the overall atmosphere of the film.

Sone takes up the lead role as Minami, but when all is said and done this is really Sho Aikawa's film. He really owns his Ozaki character, bringing a surprising likability to an otherwise weird and insane character. Aikawa is a great actor, one of Japan's underestimates gems if you ask me, and he truly thrives when featured in a Miike film. The films also features some very good performances of Keiko Tomita and Renji Ishibashi in secondary roles and a nice cameo of Ken'ichi Endo, making for a fun and varied cast that is not afraid to get a little freaky.

As good as the film is in its entirety, Gozu will always be remember for a couple of glorious, stand-alone "wtf" moments. The film opens with the by now infamous yakuza killer dog scene and goes on to surprise and revolt with the human milk farm, the yakuza skin collection, the worst death scene ever and the cow scene. But it all pales in comparison to one of the most epic endings ever filmed, five minutes of pure Miike genius that couldn't have made a better finale. A scene that Miike even knows to surpass with what is probably the oddest, driest ending quote ever.

Even though these scenes tend to pull all the attention towards them, there is still plenty to enjoy in between. Miike's sense of dry and absurd humor is impeccable throughout the film, Minami's trip is as weird, awkward and disturbing as they come and Aikawa puts in one of the best performances of his life. Just don't expect a typical horror/mystery flick (despite many claims of Lynch-like scenes), Gozu is a superb comedy meant for people who like their slice of cinema a little different.

Watching your absolute favorite film is never a really comfortable experience. There's always that lingering fear that time may have taken away from the initial experience you loved so much. You watch the film knowing it can't really get any better and a status quo is truly the best you can hope for. So you can imagine it was quite a relief when I discovered Mamoru Oshii's Avalon had lost none of its former glory, it is still by far my favorite film ever made.

When Avalon was first released it was widely believed to be Mamoru Oshii (Kokaku Kidotai, Innocence, Patlabor 2, Sky Crawlers, Tachiguishi Retsuden, Tenshi no Tamago) his first live action film. Back then Talking Head, Jigoku no Banken and Akai Megane were virtually unknown in the West, then again the mastership that Oshii put on display here could hardly be a first-timer's attempt. Oshii learned a lot from his earlier trio of live action films, knowledge he put to good use when finally settling down to make Avalon.

Back in the day every other reviewer compared this film to The Matrix. Ten years later the connection seems incredibly fickle, but back then the fake reality theme was so ever-present (and inevitably linked to that green cyberbeast) that it seemed to make sense for some people. If anything, it attracted an audience that entered the film with some very distorted expectations. While there are some similarities between both film, the lack of action, dialogue and rapid plot progression puts Avalon in arthouse territory rather than making it a loud blockbuster rival.

The film follows Ash, a lone gamer making her way through Avalon. The game is her escape from a grim reality where only her dog gives her some kind of comfort. While most gamers are tackling Avalon as a team, Ash is a lone ranger that takes help from no one. Until she runs into a bishop player, who slowly starts feeding her information about a Special Class hidden deep inside the game. The only way to get there is by killing a ghost, and for that you need a bishop in your party.

Oshii is an animator by nature, which becomes very clear when you see the amount of detail and (maybe even more telling) the amount of control that went into sculpting the film's visuals. Most of the film is dominated by washed-out, sepia colors, but it's not just some simple filter superposed on the original shots. Oshii locked himself up with his film to get every color variation just right. If you compare the shots of several scenes you'll start to notice the difference in color effects, something that further highlights the film's attention to detail.

Apart from the sepia look the camera work is also painstakingly accurate. There are some very nifty and complex shots in here, but everything is tailored to perfection. The film relies heavily on special effects and while that may be a problem as the film ages, most of them have enough artistic merit to avoid the kitschy pitfall that most similar films fall into as time passes by. The sepia filters also help, as the monochrome look effectively hides lesser textures. Even by modern standards, Avalon looks absolutely stunning,

Leaving nothing to chance, Oshii employed Kenji Kawai once more to make a fitting soundtrack. It's difficult picking a favorite Kawai/Oshii collaboration but I think it's safe to say that the Avalon score is one of Kawai's masterpieces. A unique combination of opera and ambient that lingers long after the credits have faded from view. Oshii was clearly aware of this and even dedicated a full sequence to the main theme. There is no film out there that does a better job combining audio and visuals to create such an intense and mesmerizing experience.

The acting is a different story though. Oshii worked with an all-Polish cast (as the film was shot in Poland) and there's clearly a cultural gap there. Malgorzata Foremniak does a good enough job, though she is somewhat helped by her uncanny resemblance to Matoko Kusanagi (the wig helps of course). The Bishop and some of the secondary cast aren't too bad either, but the two guys playing Stunner and Murphy are in dire need of some acting lessons. It's not something that bothered me a lot, but I'd be lying if I said they were doing just fine.

Do make sure you watch the film in its original dub though. The Polish language works a lot better with the film's setting. Even though it's kinda nifty to recognize the voice actors for Batou and Togusa in the Japanese dub, it doesn't feel as authentic as the original dub.

Avalon is a film that questions the need for an answer on some of life's most lingering and unanswerable questions. To do that it makes a pretty big u-turn right before the grand finale. It's a very daring decision that works well within the story and concept of the film, but it does force you out of the trance that the first hour built up so delicately. After multiple viewings I'm still not sure whether I would've preferred the ending to be different, but I do know that I'm quite pleased with how it turned out in the final version of the film.

Avalon also features my all-time favorite scene, though it's a bit hard to explain exactly why it's such a stand-out moment. It's the scene when Ash makes dinner for her dog, only to find that suddenly the animal is gone. While it sounds like simple filler, it's one of the only moments in the film when some color seeps through the sepia layers, underlining Ash's feelings for the one creature in the world she cares about. Add the superb score of Kawai and what you have is a very warm and emotional scene that resonates through the rest of the film.

Avalon is a single series of impressive scenes. There's no dip or boring moment to be found anywhere in the film, while enjoying one scene I'm already looking forward to the next, and the next, and the one after that ... It's the ultimate live action film made by an animator, a director who understand the power of an all-enveloping atmosphere. It's a modern arthouse classic, a film with plenty of geek-affirming material but presented in a much more stylish and classy way than usually the case. It's not entirely without faults, but it's as close to perfection as anyone has ever come. My absolute favorite.

Back in the day Takeshi Kitano (Takeshis', Achilles To Kame, Kantoku: Banzai!) was almost exclusively known for his Yakuza films (think Hana-bi) in the West. He tried to break with that image when he released Kikujiro No Natsu but apparently the shift wasn't near brutal enough to convince his fans. So Kitano pushed a little further and came up with Dolls, which then turned out to be my undisputed favorite film in Kitano's oeuvre.

Dolls wasn't just a reaction aimed at the people who were wondering if Kitano could do anything else than directing Yakuza films though. Critics had also been asking aloud whether Kitano would ever be able to direct a more colorful film in terms of actual color palette. I guess he showed them with Dolls, which even by today's standards is still one of the most stunningly colorful films I've ever come across. Between the use of the most colorful bits of the Japanese landscape and hiring Yohji Yamamoto to do the costumes, Kitano went all the way with his colorful tragedy.

The film is set around three different stories that intersect occasionally but never really come together. For better or for worse, these three stories play like three short stories, though they all share a common theme. Each short tells a tragic love story. There's the Yakuza boss that discovers his first girlfriend has been showing up in the park they used to meet to share lunch with him and there's the story of the pop idol fan who mutilates himself to join the pain of his idol.

But the central piece of this film is without a doubt the story of the bound beggars. After Matsumoto ditched Sawako to marry his boss's daughter, he repents right before walking up to the altar and sets off to find Sawako. He finds out that a failed suicide attempt left her an empty shell, but Matsumoto is determined to save his relationship with Sawako and the both of them set out to mend their broken hearts.

When Kitano said he was going to make a colorful film he really wasn't kidding. Colors fly off the screen, following the patterns of the four seasons. From the beautiful sakura-filled orchards in spring to the multicolored tree leafs in autumn, each season brings a wealth of magnificent shots. The scenery plays a vital part in this film, but Kitano's editing and keen eye are just as crucial to Dolls' overwhelming beauty. The only point of critique I found with this latest viewing is that some camera movements appear to be a little over-constructed, but that's really a minor irk considering the abundance of landmark shots in here.

The soundtrack too is of exceptional beauty. Once again it is scored by Joe Hisaishi (like so many early Kitano films) and it's without a doubt the best score he ever made. Hisaishi only needs a couple of notes to create such an overpowering and inviting atmosphere that it's almost impossible to not give in to all the beauty that's laid before you. The score works miracles with the images, combining into a perfect foundation for the tragic love stories.

Can't really fault the acting either. Kitano himself doesn't appear in front of the camera this time around (he even left many of his regulars out), but with stellar performances of Nishijima, Mihashi and Miho Kanno he isn't really missed. Nishijima and Kanno in particular are perfect in their roles. Without any dialogue they make the most of their story, relying solely on body language to get their emotions across. If you're not a fan of the faux-stoic style of Japanese acting you might miss out though.

Dolls is a near-perfect emotional trip combined with near-perfect styling. Apart from all the trickery and foolery though, the film has a warm heart that surfaces in many of its key scenes. Especially the ones with Kanno and Nishijima, many which instantly became a part of my ready-to-be-quoted collection. The scene with the pink toy is otherworldly, so is the one with the wind toys, but it's the moment when Kanno finally remembers (shifting her facial expression from blank to happy to sad) that gets to me every time. One of the most beautiful scenes ever put on film.

Dolls isn't so much about the actual plot lines, it's about the tragedy that stems from them. This tragedy is wrapped in a very stylish and atmospheric cocoon that allows the audience to let themselves be swamped by that sadness, without letting go off the beauty that surrounds it. It's not a very depressing film, even though there are definitely some heart-breaking scenes. Dolls is clearly a film that Kitano needed to make in order to proceed as a director. For me it's the best thing he ever did, which puts it right up there with my favorite films ever. A definite must-see.

If the name Little Fish, Strange Pond doesn't ring a bell, it may be because you've crossed the film in stores as Frenemy, its more commonly used alternative title. Gregory Dark's dark comedy is generally available but it's not a film for the masses. Raw, unfocused and bitter, it's a comedy that thrives on wry smiles and surprise rather than lame jokes and running gags. The result is a refreshing mix of dark and absurd humor and one of the best American comedies I've come across.

Little Fish, Strange Pond has some of the most deceptive marketing tools I've ever come across. Its new title (Frenemy) coupled with the Zach Galifianakis dominated cover say it all really. When I came across it in stores I expected a pretty typical (Hangover-like) comedy headed by the hairy man. It turns out that Galifianakis is only 10 minutes in there, the real focus lies on the two little guys in the background and isn't nearly as SFW as your average American comedy. Then again, considering the difficult time you'd have trying to market a film like this, why not shamelessly sucker the masses into buying it by making the film look a lot friendlier than it really is?

Instead of some silly Galifianakis antics, the film is all about Sweet Stephen and Mr Jack. Sweet Stephen is the younger of the two and looks at Mr Jack as his mentor in life. Mr Jack likes to speak in accents and is the one with all the answers. Two weird characters who love to lose themselves in Tarantino-like dialogues, though with a bit more depth to them. They talk life, death, chance, faith and other such puzzling topics.

The beginning of the film goes literally nowhere. Between the conversations you get some unrelated scenes featuring a TV-show host and a police guy. There is no real plot, no obvious hook to pull you in. The film goes scene by scene and relies on the individual scenes to keep you occupied. It works as long as you trust the film to take you to a place where everything comes together. It turns out you have to wait a good hour to get anywhere close to that, so be warned.

Even though the film is built around the dialogues, Dark makes sure Little Fish, Strange Pond remains visually challenging. There are some very cool tracking shots, an impressive 360, some nice filter trickery and a couple of scenes that make good use of lighting to create a dense and uncomfortable atmosphere. It's not a film you watch for the visuals, but if you pay close attention you'll see that there is actually quite a lot to enjoy.

The soundtrack on the other hand is extremely forgettable. Even a single day after watching this film I have forgotten all about the music that was featured here. It's probably not such a bad thing either, considering the way the film really focuses on dialogues and wouldn't really benefit from an overbearing score to muffle the things that are being said. Then again, it couldn't have been that difficult to find a couple of tracks to enforce the atmosphere without detracting too much from the rest.

If you are watching this film because you are a Galifianakis fan, be aware that he only appears for about 10 minutes in the beginning of the film. After that you won't see him again. I didn't really mind because Modine and Blue are the real stars of this film and carry it with flair. While they have strong dialogues to work with, their timing and presence are impeccable and they both bring a lot of extra energy to the film.

All things considered, Little Fish, Strange Pond is a pretty grim and dreary film. There is plenty to laugh at, ranging from juvenile to more clever and witty humor, but the film has a way of spinning the mood around whenever it becomes too comfortable. One moment you're watching a pretty uplifting conversation between Jack and Stephen lying in bed, the next your looking at a female corpse spread out on the floor.

Do not expect to watch an everyday comedy when you sit down for this one, because I assure you, you will be disappointed. Instead try to get acquainted with the two main characters and let yourself be swept away by their demented view on reality. The film can be crass and grim at times, but at least it never backs down from what it aims to be. This American no-concessions comedy deserves a little more praise then it's been getting, so don't miss it when you get the chance.

A few weeks ago I was lucky enough to catch Christoffer Boe's new film Beast, right before it's big iTunes release. Things got even better when I had the chance to ask Mr Boe a couple of questions about his latest film, making this my first proper and official interview ever! So if you want to hear the man talk about horror, film music and why thinking Bond is gay is not such a bad thing after all ... do read on.

Niels Matthijs: I noticed that your films used to have it easier finding international distribution. Offscreen was only just released here in Belgium, where Reconstruction and Allegro had more timely releases. No word about Everything Will Be Fine so far and I'm not sure we'll ever see Spies & Glistrup in stores here. Are services like iTunes helping smaller films to reach bigger audiences once again or is it still difficult to get your films out there?

Christoffer Boe: I think everybody in the Art Cinema sphere of movie making hopes that the new online services will help reconnect the movies with an audience! But I think it's a little too early to say if it's just dream wishes or if this reconfiguring of the structure of distribution will actually change something significantly. So status right now is that making Art House movies is not the most profitable business. And while we all know that money isn't everything - the �no-money� situation is unfortunately a very direct reflection of the fact that nobody watches the movies. And THAT is not a very desirable situation. Even for an Art House director.

With Beast you seem to take a similar approach as with Reconstruction and Allegro. A very classical drama at the core, enriched by secondary and more modern genre influences. Is this an approach you take knowingly or does it come naturally to you?

Can it be both? It reflects a style of storytelling that I like and that I've spent sometime - too much time - thinking about. But on the other hand it also comes very naturally to me - so my movies come out this way unless I very consciously try NOT to make them do so. Basically I love genres and how they shape, evolve and transform cinema into something very precise. But I also think it's important to have a very personal relationship with genres and conventions. You need to define your own way into the forest of movie making. You could call my credo: Conservative Anarchism.

After watching Beast the prospect of marriage might not seem all that appealing to people. Still you say the film also shows a positive side of marriage. Can you elaborate on that because apart from the beginning I have some trouble seeing what you mean with "positive"?

Bruno will go the extreme to hold on to his wife. He loves her - maybe more than life itself. There seems to be almost nothing he won't do to keep her. If that's not love then what is? Sure - most of us wouldn't want to be in that kind of relationship. But that's not really the goal of this movie - nor should it be of any movie: so be a guidebook to a happy relationship. What I wanted was to look at the mechanism - the love, obsession, hatred and jealousy - of a relationship and but under close examination. And in the end I think its positive because marriage is such a strong bond between people - it's really the place where the most extreme emotions can evolve. Marriage is like the rainforest for emotions. It's the place where the most extreme things evolve because the forces are so strong.

I saw a video where you gave new filmmakers the advice to watch lots of films and use them as an influence in their own work. I'm wondering if there are any films that directly influenced Beast?

There were a few masterworks we all watched - just too make sure we would fail: Possession (Zulawski), Rosemary�s Baby (Polanski), The Girlfriend Experience (Soderbergh)

Seeing as Beast borrows from the horror genre, do you have favorite horror films or are you just interested in some particular elements the genre has to offer?

I love how different genres tap into different aspects of existence. To me Horror is all about body identity, the fear of the self, and the abyss of one's own imagination/psyche/dreams. In other words: the perfect setting to look into the hidden realities of relationship between man & wife.

Beast is the fifth time you cooperated with Nicolas Bro (not counting your latest), you've worked with Nikolaj Lie Kaas and Marijana Jankovic before too. Can it be difficult for newcomers to feel at home when they join your crew, seeing you already have a strong bond with other members?

Maybe. But we're pretty friendly towards new comers so it hasn't been a problem yet. Seriously: I work with people I respect and that keep pushing themselves and myself to keep looking further. For this movie I worked with a very young film crew whom I had never worked with before and they were all extremely passionate and skilled at what they did.

The soundtrack always feels like a very important part of your films. I remember a particular scene in Beast where the music suddenly cuts from more classical pieces to darker ambient drones. How do you usually choose the music you want for a particular scene?

I have worked with Morten Green (sound designer) since film school - and he is really a master at mixing music and sound design in order to create a very specific filmic atmosphere. I was also lucky enough to work with Sylvain Chauveau again and we share a great love for Georges Delerue and we wanted to create something thick and emotional. So it's really a question of the 3 of us trying to push the movie somewhere where it feels right.

Do you feel that most other directors underestimate the part music plays in a film? I always get the impression that many directors see a soundtrack as a necessary evil rather than an opportunity to improve their films.

I really don't know. But the ones that really know how to use music stick out: Godard, Paul Thomas Anderson, and Kubrick. They have a wonderful personal, idiosyncratic and distinct way of using music that makes their movies stand apart even more.

The films I've seen from you are not all that straightforward. There's always a layer of symbolism in there and Beast is no different. When you incorporate these symbols, do you think them through thoroughly (as in: is there a logical/direct explanation for each symbol in your film) or is it more emotional and are these symbols just things that you think "feel right" without the need for a direct explanation?

This could turn into a very long explanation - so I will state this very shortly: I think its a great shame that modern cinema is so focused on "meaning" - which is really not meaning at all but just comprehensibility. Images are not always directly comprehensible - but that doesn't mean they don't have meaning. You have to let the images in - have to wait - have to work for it. Not to say that it's a goal to make incomprehensible movies - any idiot can do that. What it means is this: movies can be made in such a way that the texture of the image, the feeling of the sound and the look of an eye actually carries meaning - without in any straight forward way being comprehensible. But when done right these elements will work with the movie - and evolve with the movie as you as a spectator watches it with different assumptions. Good movies are not the same for all people. They are great movies in many different ways - depending on how you view them.
This does NOT imply that Beast is a great movie - but that I wanted to make one last movie within a tradition of movie making where the image & the feeling were more important than comprehensibility.

These days you can't even make a new Bond film without people thinking they saw something that hints at Bond being gay. How do you handle far-fetched theories people have about your films. Do you welcome them, do you find them amusing or do you think people should spend their time on more constructive things in life?

I love them. Bring 'em on. Theories reconnect us with movies because they make us look at things in new ways - often even if they are blatantly wrong.

If you ever consider sitting down to watch Gus Van Sant's Gerry, make sure you pick the right time. Gerry is cinematic minimalism in its purest form, trading a (comprehensible) plot and character development for experience and atmosphere. The result is captivating and impressive, but if Van Sant's vision misses target it could just as well turn out to be one of the most boring film experiences you've ever had in your life.

After 2000 Gus Van Sant set out to reinvent himself. Before he directed Gerry, Van Sant evolved from indie to Hollywood over the course of six films, culminating in the much-lauded and rather pleasant Good Will Hunting. With Gerry he went back to the days of Mala Noche, ditching the restrictions of popular cinema and starting a series of films that would hold the power to greatly divide audiences, but at least could claim purity and a non-compromised vision.

Gerry was the first (and best) of that series. Van Sant stripped the film of everything that could distract viewers from the core experience, leaving only the bare necessities to create one of the most mesmerizing cinematic experiences out there. While open to many interpretations, the film features little else than two dudes walking. They're both called Gerry and they are on their way to "a thing". There's your story.

Along the way they stray from the beaten path, getting themselves lost in a wild and barren wilderness. The more they try to escape from their predicament, the further they distance themselves from civilization, having only each other to depend upon. Without food and water they soon start to hallucinate and with no help in sight, their fate is pretty much set in stone. Then again, nothing is what it seems in this film.

Van Sant leans heavily on the visuals to create his cinematic trip. The film consists of a series of long takes, alternated by time lapses of the scenery. It's not just a technical experiment though, Van Sant is also out to capture particular moments in time. The most beautiful scene of the film finds our two main characters walking sluggishly in the dark, five minutes later the sun has risen to reveal yet another lifeless horizon. While a little dated when it comes to lighting and coloring, Gerry remains a visual feast.

The soundtrack is mostly absent, apart from two stunning Arvo Part tracks. The slow, sedated pace of the music really fits the film's atmosphere, further fueling the trance-like feeling that Van Sant strives for. The only problem with Arvo Part is that it's quite popular film music (Spiegel Im Spiegel was also used in This Must Be The Place, among others), so even though the music really works well within the film, it never feels like it's truly a part of Gerry.

It's pretty rare for a film like this to land a real big actor like Matt Damon, then again Van Sant worked with Damon on Good Will Hunting which no doubt helped to convince him to do this project. The other Gerry is played by Casey Affleck (Ben's little brother) who does a pretty commendable job keeping up with Damon. They form a pretty interesting duo, freewheeling through the improvised dialogues as they go along. As for secondary actors, there are literary none.

Gerry is a pretty fragmented journey. It's a selection of stand-alone scenes, sometimes defined by technical trickery (like the awesome 360), sometimes by references (Van Sant's nod to Bela Tarr's bobbing heads) and sometimes by the capturing of unique moments (like the sunrise). It's the ever degenerating state of the two Gerry characters that binds these scenes together, molding them into a pretty coherent, mesmerizing trip.

It's best to leave all hope of a decent storyline behind when you want to watch this film. Gerry is all about the experience, ignoring the rest and foregoing all compromises. Instead you get a pure and focused journey that, if everything falls into place, puts you in a very pleasant and meandering trance. The film has visually aged a little ever since its initial release, but apart from that it's still a very unique and worthwhile experiment and the start of Van Sant's most interesting period in his career. It may be a bit hard to recommend, but if you feel up to the task Gerry proves to be one of the purest, minimalistic films out there.

Irréversible is an absolute classic in the making. Even though it received mixed reviews upon its initial release, the importance of the film is taking definite forms and I believe it's fair to say that Gaspar Noé (Enter The Void) made one of the landmark films of the past decade. The best thing is that the film has lost almost none, if any, of its original impact. It's still one of the purest, most stylish and visceral shockers out there and deserves to be watched at least once.

Categorizing Irréversible is a bit tricky. Because of its two most infamous scenes the film is often regarded as a horror film, but it shares very little of the genre's typical elements. Sure there's is one revolting gore scene and the rape scene halfway through is rightfully regarded one of the most shocking moments in cinematic history, but Irréversible is essentially a revenge drama that just happens to repulse beyond the means of most horror films out there. If you go in expecting a typical horror film you're bound to be disappointed.

Another one of the film's selling points is its reverse nature. The film starts with the ending (you'll see the credits of the film running backwards) and scene by scene works its way to the beginning of the story. The concept is not new and is of course reminiscent of Nolan's Memento, but the intended effect is completely different. Where Memento is a simple puzzle, a brain tease, Irréversible uses its reverse structure to mess up the viewer's emotional state, making "the good guys" look bad and giving the supposedly happy end an extremely wry aftertaste.

The film starts when Marcus and Pierre barge into an underground gay club. They rough their way through the bar looking for a guy called The Tapeworm. When they finally catch up with him Pierre flips out and beats the guy's face (literally) to a pulp. From there on each new scene warps back in time, retelling the story of how Marcus and Pierre ended up in the club. While at first Marcus and Pierre appear to be real assholes, the story behind their aggressive assault clears up a lot and slowly but surely we start to identify with them.

Irréersible was shot by the brilliant Benoît Debie (Vinyan, Calvaire). The cinematography is conceptually strong, starting off as a manic flurry of rotating camera movements, slowly evolving and quieting down, eventually halting completely during the key scene of the film. The film is edited in such a way that all the separate scenes (all 8-to-10 minute long-takes) merge into one continuous shot, including some very nifty camera tricks from time to time (like going through windows or tumbling out of buildings).

The soundtrack too is tailored to perfection. The film was scored by Thomas Bangalter, 50% of Daft Punk. The music here is a lot darker than his usual Daft Punk output though, starting off with a track specifically made to make the audience feel nauseous. There is a strong selection of memorable tracks that define the film and the entire score provides a superb baseline for the film's visuals to flourish. Together they present one of the most impressive (yet unrelenting) audiovisual assaults produced in the past decade.

I can't find anything bad to say about the acting either. You may notice that there was a lot of improv and freewheeling when it came to the dialogues, but it ultimately makes for a very real and natural atmosphere. Vincent Cassel and Monica Bellucci are the perfect couple (it probably helped that back then they were a real-life couple too), which goes a long way to help succeed the later scenes in the film. There is something so extraordinary real about their characters that it helps you to forget there is hardly any actual depth given to their characters. Albert Dupontel too is strong and I don't think I've ever seen him in such a daring role before, playing the perfect third wheel.

Noé's Irréversible is no easy film to watch. From the nightmarish descent into the gay club to the excruciating harsh rape scene, there is a constant sense of unapologetic and dry reality that makes it so much nastier than the worst horror film out there. Even when the air clears up during the later scenes, knowing what is about the come (ie the scenes you just watched) will leave a very wry and uncomfortable feeling. Still, Noé shows that he is perfectly capable of shooting beautiful and peaceful moments too. The scene were Cassel and Bellucci wake up is without a doubt one of the most natural and pleasant ones I've ever seen in any film out there.

Look beyond Irréversible's most infamous scenes and you'll find a conceptually perfect film, an audiovisual tour de force that leaves a strong emotional fingerprint on all those watching it. It's not a fun film to watch, but it's so damn powerful that I consider it one of the most impressive films I've ever seen. It's true horror, a film that comes a little too close to reality to be watched as a mere genre film. Gaspar Noé is one of the most interesting directors working in film today and Irréversible should have been his ultimate masterpiece, only I think he outdid himself with Enter The Void. Apart from that, an absolute must see.

Better brace yourself, because Japan is unleashing another bat crazy comedy upon the unsuspecting masses. Milocrorze fits right in with the likes of Donju or Survive Style 5+ and is sure to appeal to the same crowd that took a liking to these extremely colorful, overly weird and almost random comedies. It may not be up there with the very best the genre has to offer, but it sure is a great way to spend 90 minutes of your time.

Milocrorze equals chaos. The film consists of three almost unrelated stories, but Ishibashi never really bothers to explain the film's structure to the audience. These three stories are basically stand-alone parts within the film, though they have no clear boundary to set them apart. The individual stories are also pretty fragmented, making it even harder to keep track of what the hell is going on. Then again, this film isn't really about dramatic arcs or plot lines, playing more like a collection of themed sketches (think Yaji And Kita).

The first story follows the romantic adventures of Ovreneli Vreneligare (who's name is repeated constantly throughout his segment), a little boy leading a pretty dull and uneventful life. Until one day, when he runs into Milocrorze and immediately falls in love with her. They hook up (even though Milocrorze is an adult) but their relationship isn't made to last. When they part ways again, this segment of the film is put on ice until the very end.

We switch to the tale of Besson Kumagai, a rather rude and pushy hotline clerk who likes to help nerdy boys get the woman they desire. There's some dancing and three individual sketches to keep us amused, until one day Kumagai runs over a group of weirdos trying to kill a samurai. This samurai is Tamon, a timid guy eying a local girl (Yuri) who runs a small flower shop. When Yuri is kidnapped by an evil gang Tamon transforms into a one-eyed samurai and starts his epic trip in order to save her from a famous brothel. Like I said, forget all hopes of a coherent storyline because you'll be left behind empty-handed.

Even though Ishibashi can't entirely hide the film's low-budget roots he goes through great lengths to keep it visually interesting. The result is a film that isn't technically perfect, but shows terrific potential. From the extremely colorful opening scenes to the poppy interludes and some animation-driven effects, there's always something of interest happening on-screen. The piece the resistance is definitely the 300-esque fighting scene inside the brothel taking up a dazzling 6 minutes.

The music is just as eclectic but fails to really engage. While the soundtrack definitely has its moments, it never really cooperates with the images to give the film that little extra. You can't fault Ishibashi for not trying, he really picked an upbeat, fresh and original selection of tracks, but the overall result is simply a bit disappointing. Maybe tighter coupling with the visuals could've helped the soundtrack to flourish, but as it stands now Ishibashi needs to hone his skills in the sound department.

The acting is quite tongue-in-cheek and over-the-top, as you'd expect for a film of this tone and setting. Takayuki Yamada's comic role was somewhat of a surprise but he handles the part with convincing charm. The rest of the cast is similarly amusing and they fit their parts, but it's clearly no award material. Make sure you don't miss the cameo of Seijun Suzuki though, somehow I always cheer up when I see him on screen, no matter how small his role may be.

If anything, Milocrorze is Ishibashi's way to show the world he's a talented man who deserves to work on a bigger budget. Milocrorze is not just some wacky comedy, it's a showreel of Ishibashi's talent disguised as a feature-length film. In Ishibashi's defense, the result is tons of fun and the variety of elements make it stand out from the rest. As long as you don't expect something that makes a whole lot of sense, Milocrorze is one hell of roller coaster.

Milocrorze may not be as polished or technically proficient as Survive Style 5+, Ishibashi's film is way more ambitious than any of its peers. The different visual styles, the attention to detail and the quick succession of gags is sure to entertain if you can let go of the need to watch a coherent film. There simply aren't enough films like this and Ishibashi could very well becomes one of the strongholds of the genre. I'm already looking forward to his next project.

Colombia is not the most telling country when it comes to producing films. Before yesterday I hadn't even seen or heard of a Colombian film, but in light of Halloween Volver A Morir looked like a pretty good choice. And a good choice it was, Urrutia's first turned out to be a very pleasant surprise, mixing horror and mystery into a high-quality mind twister. So don't let the production country scare you out of seeing Volver A Morir, this is no cheesy b-flick.

Volver A Morir is a typical low-budget concept film. A film that originated from the director's mind and was handled by him all the way until the end. Apart from writing and directing the film, Urrutia also holds editing credits and helped with a camera work. That last bit comes as no surprise considering he's a trained cinematographer. Volver A Morir is a typical work of love that only betrays its budgetary restraints by its daring, single-focus approach, something not quite possible when working for larger studios.

If you read up on this film you'll find that people are prone to compare Volver A Morir to Groundhog Day. While the concept is pretty much the same, Groundhog Day is far from the only (not even the first) film to feature a repetition of a particular event or day. Then again, it is probably the most well-known film to have featured this concept, so if you forget everything else about both films I guess the comparison makes sense.

The film starts with Camilla and Dario waking up next to each other. Camilla can't remember anything about arriving at Dario's place and feels slightly ashamed for having shared a bed with an unknown man. She doesn't feel too comfortable around him, but little by little she gives in to the adventure. When the two end up in bed again, Dario starts to flip out and he suddenly kills Camilla. The film rewinds to the point when they both woke up, rebooting the story with only Camilla remembering what had just happened.

Having a cinematographer as a director has some very interesting advantages. For one, you're pretty sure you'll end up with a beautiful-looking film. Volver A Morir certainly delivers. For a film that pretty much plays within the confines of a single house it looks absolutely stunning. The camera work is strong, the editing snappy and precise and the lighting is just perfect. It all helps to build a pretty menacing, claustrophobic atmosphere.

The soundtrack is another definite strong point. Even though pretty repetitive (putting on music - Bach's Air - is one of the first things Dario does when waking up so which each new story loop we are treated to the same song), the way the music is torn apart whenever Dario starts to flip is simply impressive. Bach's Air morphs into a mad, electronic-based derivative that sounds as if it was remixed by a group of asylum inmates. It brings great contrast and greatly enforces the emotional state of the characters.

The acting is quite solid too. The film is carried by Andrea Montenegro and Luis Fernando Bohorquez, beyond them there aren't any other actors of importance. 99% of all the action happens between the two of them so it's quite assuring that they rise above the usual horror fodder. Not an easy task if you consider that for most of the film they are both completely in the nude, definitely not the most comfortable way to act. As for the secondary cast, there simply is none except one guy with two lines of dialog.

For all intents and purposes, Volver A Morir should really be seen as a psychological thriller that borrowed a couple of influences from the horror genre. It's an important distinction because the film is quite slow and repetitive in nature and the changes between each loop can be pretty subtle. This is not a bad thing, but if you go in expecting a true horror flick you're bound to be disappointed by the pacing and lack of climaxes.

Instead the film leans heavily on the learning process, which goes well beyond the simple A/B testing you'd expect from a concept like this. Coupled with the intense atmosphere, strong acting and solid concept you have a captivating film with the wits to avoid any factual explanations of the story. A great first film for Urrutia which is hopefully the start of a successful career as a director.

With two of his films in my all-time top 100, I guess it's no secret that I'm a pretty big Christoffer Boe (Reconstruction, Allegro) fan. Sadly getting a hold of his later films has been a real challenge so far, but with iTunes slowly turning into a solid film platform things might be looking up once again. I was lucky enough to catch Beast, his latest film and it seems that Boe hasn't lost much of his magical touch through the years.

If you think of Reconstruction as Boe's shot at mystery and Allegro as his shot at science fiction, Beast is definitely Boe's take on the horror genre. I wouldn't really call it a true horror film though, as at the very core of Beast still lies a pretty classical drama, but the genre-influences are unmistakably there. There's blood, gore and a selection of menacing ambient tracks to intensify the atmosphere, only they are used to underline the dramatic elements of the film rather than exploit the fear present in the audience.

Beast is really a relationship drama, highlighting the highs and lows of a couple's marriage. At the very beginning of the film Bruno and Maxine meet up, starting off their relationship in high spirits. Since Boe cut out most of the smooth sailings of marriage, the film hops around a lot during the first fifteen minutes or so, focusing mostly on the fights and mishaps that drive Bruno and Maxine apart. Pretty soon Maxine feels that her marriage is leaving her unsatisfied while Bruno is at a loss how to fix the situation.

As an ultimate test, Bruno sets up a meeting in a hotel room between Maxine and Valdemar, a common friend of theirs. Bruno's fears become reality when the two hook up and a vile evil starts to develop inside of him. The more Bruno tries to oppress his feelings, the harder it becomes to control the madness growing inside his body. Maxine too is affected by the changes in Bruno and the two head towards a very rough period in their relationship.

I read somewhere that Beast is a low-budget film, but you'd never think it when looking at the film's exterior. Visually it's up to par with Boe's high standard, showcasing several extremely stylish technical shots (like the stilted snow scenes) and strong, close-up camera work. It's equally obvious that a lot of attention went into the lighting of the scenes, featuring neat coloring tricks and beautiful lens flares. Overall Beast is a visual feast that stands high above the competition.

As always in Boe's films the soundtrack is as much part of the styling as the visuals. The music brings a lot of extra depth and emotion to the images and it dares to be bold. The film features several scene where Boe creates a tension between the more soothing classical pieces and some darker, grittier ambient drones, underlining the emotional battle of the characters. It's always great to see a director who fully understands the impact a soundtrack can have on a film and with Beast Boe reaffirms that status.

Boe adepts will of course recognize Nicolas Bro in the lead role. Bro has appeared in every Boe film so far and has grown into an overpowering presence. Whatever Boe lays in front of Bro, he accepts the challenge full-heartedly and submits himself to his character without any form of compromise. He is the ultimate trump card of Beast as he gives the film a true heart. Marijana Jankovic sometimes has trouble keeping up with Bro but she too gives her all in what is a pretty difficult and daring role. The secondary cast is solid too, Nikolaj Lie Kaas being the obvious stand-out as Valdemar.

Beast may carry many of the traits of a typical horror film, but it never really delivers as a horror. Instead the horror elements are used to reinforce the character's emotions. It's not really a critique as this creates a very interesting tension in the film, but it's something that horror fans might want to know so they can adjust their expectations before watching this. Beast is about marriage and the individual struggles of the people who entered this sacred bond, not about monsters and gruesome killings.

Beast is a very worthy addition to the oeuvre of Boe. As a whole the film may not be up to par with Reconstruction or Allegro, but that's probably because these two films rank incredibly high on my list of favorites. What you get is a powerful drama, enriched with strong horror elements, perfectly visualized, scored to perfection and fleshed out by a selection of first-class actors. It's another highlight of European cinema that deserves to be cherished.

While definitely the most popular anime studio out there, Ghibli isn't really known for innovation or taking risks. When it wants to experiment with new styles and techniques it usually limits itself to short films or music videos, Hohokekyo Tonari No Yamada-kun is a very welcome exception to this rule. Don't fool yourself by the film's exterior simplicity, Yamada-kun is a wildly different film coming from Ghibli's co-founder Isao Takahata (Hotaru no Haka).

Admittedly, Miyazaki (Tonari no Totoro), Ponyo) is probably the main reason why many Ghibli films appear to be quite similar in tone and style. Takahata's range is broader and he usually signs for the more daring films coming from the Ghibli studios. Not only is Yamada-kun weird and unusual for Ghibli's norms, it was also the first Ghibli film that was made completely digital. Ironically it's also the Ghibli film that looks the most hand-drawn of them all.

Yamada-kun is based on the Nono-chan manga, which mostly consisted of 4-panel gags. The film somewhat mimics the structure of its source material by forgoing a typical storyline, completely leaving out a dramatic arc and focusing more on individual vignettes. Yamada-kun plays like a selection of slice-of-life sketches, some funny, some endearing and the best ones combining these two sentiments.

The film is basically one big encounter with the Yamada family. Takashi and Matsuko are the stronghold of the family, Shige is Matsuko's old mother and acts a bit funny from time to time. Then there are Noburo and and Nonoko, the kids of Takashi and Matsuko. The five of them each have their individual quirks, their ups and downs, but mostly the Yamada family is pretty happy living together, casting off a warm and recognizable feel-good vibe.

On a visual level Yamada-kun is a tough nut to crack. At first glance the style looks simplistic, even boring maybe. But soon you start to fall for this simplicity and you can't help but notice the superb detail that went into the drawings and animation. Especially the latter is of unseen quality. While the family members often consist of 10 strokes max, the details of their movements appear to be more human than most advanced CG created animation puppets ever could manage. Definitely one of Takahata's strong points. The watercolor style remains consistent throughout the film, although from time to time Takahata plays with the amount of detail to create some richer images. If you ask me this is still Ghibli's visual masterpiece, no matter how rich and detailed Miyazaki's later films may be.

The soundtrack too is lovely and fitting. A collection of upbeat, peaceful and quirky songs lighting up the atmosphere. From the sing-a-long Japanese version of Que Sera, Sera to the incredibly catchy humming track, the score is as much part of the film as its stand-out visuals and even persists to invade your brain long after the film has ended. Voice acting too is top notch. The voices really fit their characters and together with the detailed animation they flesh out the simple drawings into a real family.

Yamada-kun delivers two hours of perfect, feel-good entertainment. But it's not just some quick laughs, the film harbors a warm, generous and complementing heart that celebrates the ups and downs of family life. It's filled with recognizable moments and situations which will make you smile just because they are so familiar and life-like. The Yamadas have all the peculiarities and weird quirks that make them like every other (normal) family out there. Just don't go in expecting a fully fledged storyline because you'll be disappointed to find there is just nothing there.

Hohokekyo Tonari No Yamada-kun is a film often overlooked by Ghibli fans (and anime fans in general) just because a simple screen shot cannot capture the amount of love and detail that this film harbors. The animation is exceptional, the music a blast and the film consists of one big succession of memorable moments. It's my favorite Takahata and Ghibli film and one that I can watch again and again without it losing any of its initial charm. A true recommendation for animation fans everywhere.

Shinya Tsukamoto (Tetsuo, Tetsuo: Bullet Man, Nightmare Detective 2, Tokyo Ken) is back. For his latest film, Kotoko, he revisits the style he started to explore in Vital, mixes it up with the finale of Haze and the scare tactics of the first Nightmare Detective film and throws things around by putting a very strong focus on drama. The result is an all-round Tsukamoto affair up there with the best he ever produced, but noticeably different from his earlier work.

Tsukamoto adepts be warned, because at Kotoko's core lies an actual full-fletched drama. Not that drama is a new thing in Tsukamoto's oeuvre, but before Kotoko the drama always came second to more genre-specific elements. This time he's turning the balance around. Even though the film is still overflowing with typical Tsukamoto weirdness, the drama takes center stage. On paper the difference may sounds negligible but you really feel the shift in focus while watching Kotoko.

This shift challenges quite a few drama-clichés. Subtlety and room for interpretation are two things people always push forward to describe good drama films, but there's really none of that in Kotoko (at least not superficially). Tsukamoto's style is still intact which means the camera work can get just as nasty and hectic as in his earliest films. Even the soundtrack contributes as one of the most hellish ones Tsukamoto ever used for one of his films. If you sit down expecting a regular drama, expect to be seriously disappointed.

Kotoko is a young mother battling some very serious mental issues. At the start of the film she is just suffering from a weird affliction that makes her see people twice. She may act a little weird but she is mostly harmless to her surroundings. Soon enough her condition becomes worse and she is deemed a hazard to the health of her baby boy. The baby ends up with Kotoko's sister, further increasing Kotoko's misery, but when she finally meets up with a new man her mental issues appear to subside little by little.

Visually Tsukamoto goes all-out digital, no concessions made. He applies a hand-held style that puts the Dogme movement to shame (well, not really because it's so stylized it couldn't be counted as a Dogme films) but it's clear that there is still some kind of control behind all the visual madness. It's not just random hectic camera work, it really helps with bringing out the mental state of Kotoko. In between Tsukamoto still finds room for more classically stylized shots but while I still consider this film as visually intense as his other films, the entire look is far rawer and more unpolished.

The soundtrack goes even beyond. Loud and noisy, it's the exact opposite of what you'd expect from a soundtrack composed for a film like this. At times the music is just noise and distortion with some enlarged sound effects, really underlining the fragile state Kotoko is in. Tsukamoto alternates with a couple of songs sung by Kotoko, and even though they appear more delicate and subtle, they never really put the viewer at ease. Definitely one of the strongest soundtracks I've ever encountered in a Tsukamoto film (and he's had quite a track record so far).

The acting too is intense. Cocco (a real-life Japanese artist) was the inspiration for the Kotoko character which does make things a little easier for her, then again it's the first time she acted in a live-action feature and her role was far from a breeze. She really carries the film though, throwing herself completely at her character and covering her emotions with passion. Tsukamoto himself turns up around the halfway mark of the film but only fulfills a smaller role. The rest of the secondary cast is hardly noticeable but they do a pretty decent job nonetheless.

The middle part of Kotoko is a bit calmer for a typical Tsukamoto film, but the start and finish are every bit as manic and intense as you'd hope them to be. There are some very insane and original scenes tucked away in here, most notably a very simple cooking scene which Tsukamoto turns into a regular task from hell. The intensity of that scene is so overpowering that you can't help but think Tsukamoto is really onto something here. It's these moments that really set the film apart and turn it into a truly unique experience.

Kotoko is another work of love. Tsukamoto did almost everything himself, though he also credited Cocco for more than just the acting (she also gets production design credits and she served as the film's main inspiration). The result is a very powerful and gut-wrenching drama that lacks subtlety but makes up for that with sheer emotional punch. Tsukamoto fans should brace themselves for a slight but far-stretching change in tone, though it hardly affects the overall quality of the film, instead it only shows that Tsukamoto can retain his style with success even when he sidesteps to new genres.

When Hiroshi Ishikawa released Tokyo.sora he proved to the world that directors of advertisements are capable of more than just a few flashy climaxes. For those who still considered his first film a lucky coincidence Ishikawa made Su-ki-da, the definite proof that the man is a master of minimal cinema. As a relentless love story of two people who have a hard time expressing their emotions, Su-ki-da defines the core of the Japanese drama genre.

Minimalism is often considered one of the hardest styles to pull off. While I think it isn't necessarily more difficult than any other style or genres, the risk of failing is much greater. When going for a minimalist style a director has very little to fall back on. All parts of the film have to work perfectly together to get the emotions across. When even just one of these elements fails the film crumbles and all that's left is a sense of tediousness and boredom.

Su-ki-da offers the viewer very little in the sense of amusement. Ishikawa follows two characters and their exploration of the feelings they have for each other. The first part of the film tracks them down when they are still in high school, the second part of the film plays 17 years later when they are finally reunited. The focus of the film is very narrow, with very few secondary characters and many of the film's core scenes documenting what happens when the two lovers are together.

The failure to communicate is one of the big themes of the film. It's clear that both characters feel something for each other, but they fail to express their true feelings. The longer they wait, the harder it gets to reach out and slowly they are pushing themselves away from each other. This leads to some tough and awkward moments which fans of Japanese drama cinema are sure to recognize. No director handles this as delicately as Ishikawa though.

Su-ki-da is masterfully shot. The visuals are absolutely stunning, never overly spectacular or in your face but framed so well that each new shot is another marvel. The camera work is precise and delicate too. Even though it's more agile and closer to the characters than many other films of its kind, it still holds a supreme emotional depth that helps with translating the character's inner feelings. Add to that a beautiful and consistent color palette and you know you're bound to be spoiled.

The soundtrack too is perfection. As for the music, the film relies heavily on a central theme tune that resurfaces in several different versions. Ishikawa once again relied on Yoko Kanno to compose the music and like most of her movie work she does a great job. But just as important are the environment sounds and the way Ishikawa plays with them. Sometimes they are heightened, sometimes the sounds just drop altogether. This makes for some very powerful and engaging moments and it lifts the soundtrack to an overall higher level.

As for the acting ... not a single complaint either. Miyazaki and her adult counterpart Nagasaku are sublime, Eita and Nishijima complement the girls really well. I must warn people who have trouble with the typically Japanese introverted style of acting though, as it's taken to its extreme here. Personally I have no trouble identifying with the characters but if you depend on outgoing emotions you might find their actions a bit hard to understand at times. The secondary cast is almost non-existent, but when they are featured they do a pretty decent job too.

Even though the second part of the film is just a tiny bit more plot-driven, the strength of Su-ki-da comes from it's emotional depth. Whether you can identify with this depends on how well you cope with the audiovisual elements and the style of acting, but if you're already a fan of Japanese dramas this is a definite must see. When comparing it to Tokyo.sora it's pretty difficult to pick a favorite, though overall I think I prefer the broader focus of Ishikawa's first. Both films are pretty consistent in quality though and fans of either should definitely check out Ishikawa's entire oeuvre.

Su-ki-da is probably not the best entry-level film for people wanting to broaden their horizons, but if you like minimal cinema or you are a fan of Japanese dramas you simply owe it to yourself to track this film down. It's beautiful, heart-warming and extremely delicate. It's a film that puts you at ease and even prolongs that state of mind until long after the credits stopped rolling. One of the dearest and most delicate love stories ever told.

After disappointing many of his fans (not me though, but I'm not really a fan) with Dark Shadows, Tim Burton is back with a vintage Burton project. Frankenweenie sees Burton return to the world of stop-motion animation and the result is more than spectacular. Frankenweenie is a delicately crafted film, made with absolute love and care and meant to charm the people who share Burton's particular interest in monster movies. It's Burton's baby and by far his best feature-length film so far.

Though I appreciate some of Burton's work (Alice In Wonderland), many of his films leave me with an uneasy emptiness as a direct result of unfulfilled potential. Even though he and I share the love for stop-motion animation (Panique Au Village, Fantastic Mr Fox, Mary And Max), I often felt that in the past Burton was trumped by partner in crime Henry Selick (Coraline). Frankenweenie is the first feature-length film where Burton truly convinced me of his stop-motion capabilities.

I say feature-length because I've been a long-time fan of Burton's early short film Vincent. Also shot in black and white, it held a wonderful charm that always made me wonder why he couldn't reproduce that in his feature-length work. I even think that Vincent is part of the reason why I could never get fully engaged in Burton's later work. Frankenweenie too is based on an old Burton short-film, though the original was shot in live action rather than stop-motion. The transition is definitely one for the better.

Frankenweenie is an ode to the monster films of yonder. Not really a surprise for people who've seen Burton's Ed Wood, but Frankenweenie takes a more intelligent approach. While Burton pays proper respect to his influences, he also creates a modern addition to the genre that stands well on its own. For someone who isn't completely versed in the subject there are plenty of easy to understand references, while some of the more obscure ones (props for picking Gamera over Gojira!) also managed to reach me.

The choice to shoot this film in black and white may not be the most commercial one, but it is a brilliant move nonetheless. Not only is it a direct reference to the old monster films, it also masks some of the limitations of stop-motion and it gives the film an overall darker tone. Burton's use of black and white is neigh perfect too, with several very moody and atmospheric set pieces stealing the show. The detail to the characters is astounding while some of the effects are truly impressive. Character design are fun and expressive, another big plus. It's clear that Burton had an above-average budget to play with (certainly for stop-motion norms) and he really made the most of it.

More surprisingly is the fact that for the first time I could actually appreciate the 3D effect used in a film. So far I'd considered 3D a farce, a gimmick that detracted from the experience and one that was only used to make us pay more for less (yes, even in Avatar). While the 3D here is still far from perfect (there is still too much blur when characters are moving fast), it really gives the characters an extra dimension. It's as if you're flying through the set with the models yourself. The effect may break the illusion of film a little, but it adds so much more to the charm of stop-motion that it's definitely worth the investment. Not that I've suddenly turned into an avid defender of 3D, but for black and white stop-motion projects it's a very nice addition.

For the soundtrack Burton relied on long-time collaborator Danny Elfman (no surprises there). Elfman's music is perfect, creating a score of fantasy-like music with a dramatic monster twist. It's a theme that fits Elfman's typical style and it's clear that he felt right at home with the project. The voice acting is surprisingly mature. No big stars paid just so their names can be featured on the poster, but a selection of strong voices that lend their characters some extra panache.

The premise of the film is simple and plot and story remain pretty bare-bones throughout. Judged by these factors Frankenweenie is a typical film aimed at kids. But the many references, the oddball characters and the very particular style will be harder to sell to a younger audience. Because of this Frankenweenie is a difficult film to market, which is clear when you look at the current theater programmings. The film didn't open that wide here in Belgium (and The Netherlands), some theaters only play it during the evening screenings. It's a challenge Disney clearly wasn't able to overcome, though I'm very glad they went ahead with the release because it's a film that deserves to be seen in cinemas.

Everything about Frankenweenie shows that this a film made with lots of passion and dedication. Its lush production values are betrayed by the enormous detail featured in the final product, but they never seemed to hinder Burton in producing the film he wanted to make. A pretty bold move, especially for Disney who are known to be quite conservative, but one I'm sure every Burton fan will appreciate. Frankenweenie is a pretty exceptional film and my favorite Burton so far, it's also the first film that made me less skeptical about the use of 3D in film, so make sure you catch this one in a theater near you.

When looking at the films I've reviewed so far it might not appear to be that obvious, but I'm a pretty avid Shunji Iwai fan. The thing is that after releasing Hana To Arisu Iwai almost entirely disappeared from the full-length feature scene, leaving me with little to no options to put his work in the spotlight. I'm eagerly waiting for Vampire to leave the festival circuit, until then I can count on films like Hana To Arisu to ease the wait a little.

It's not that Iwai fled the film scene entirely, in between he directed two documentaries and popped up in the New York, I Love You anthology, but the availability of those project (especially the documentaries) is less than encouraging. I do understand Iwai's sudden change of interest though as most of his films all share a very common basis, so I wouldn't be too surprised if he was craving for a new challenge. Iwai may not have the most varied oeuvre, but what he does he does with style.

Hana To Arisu is a very kind, sweet and upbeat film. It's also very naive, but in a comfortable and recognizable way. Iwai focuses his attention on two young girls and the way growing up affects their childhood friendship. Arisu is the quiet, self-assured type while Hana is the bold yet insecure type. Their relationship is heavily tested when they both fall for the same boy.

When said boy (Miyamoto) bumps his head and falls down unconscious, Hana tricks him into believing that they are a couple and that Miyamoto has some form of partial memory loss. Things get really hairy when Miyamoto starts showing a bigger interest in Arisu, which prompts Hana to make up an entire past involving the three of them. Arisu in her turn also starts to develop some feelings for Miyamoto, completing the love triangle. Needless to say, this situation becomes incredibly taxing on Hana and Arisu's friendship.

Visually speaking Hana To Arisu is vintage Iwai and by extension vintage Japanese drama, only maybe a bit dreamier in style. Natural camera work, an eye for atmospheric lighting and some landmark shots in between are the key aspects you can expect from Iwai. The film looks beautiful and knows how to peak at certain times, the ballet scene near the end of the film in particular is of extraordinary beauty and leaves me stunned time and time again.

The soundtrack is a bit more pop-oriented than the ones you'll find in most Japanese dramas, but the film's setting warrants the choice of music. On top of that, considering the genre Iwai has a pretty good feel for what works in his films. Even though the J-Pop influences are definitely there, the soundtrack never ends up sounding too cheap or commercial. Add some classical drama pieces (mostly piano-based) and you know what to expect.

Hana To Arisu is partly carried by its two main actresses. Aoi and Suzuki are both perfect for their roles, carrying a very natural flair while going slightly over the top where needed. The chemistry between the two feels real and even though the story is a little far-fetched, the acting irons out any lingering doubts. The secondary cast is decent enough but they fail to get noticed whenever one of the two main actresses are present.

While there is some drama, don't expect anything but a feel-good film. Iwai keeps the drama light and never allows his film to become too depressive. Together with the setting and its characters it gives the film a warm, naive and familiar atmosphere, reminiscent of a time when one's responsibilities reached as far as getting your homework done on time. Capturing this slightly melancholic yet upbeat feeling is definitely one of Iwai's main perks and none of his films get closer than Hana To Arisu.

Hana To Arisu is a film for fans of Japanese drama. It may seem a bit slow and uneventful to some, others might be annoyed by some slightly exaggerated moments, but all in all it's a very sweet, very natural and naive little film that has charm aplenty and feels particularly short for a film that runs well past the 120 minute barrier. Here's to hoping Iwai can manage a successful come-back to the world of feature-length films.

The 5th anniversary of onderhond.com is only a month away. I've always considered this site a combination of personal content and professional playground, so to celebrate this special birthday I've planned a couple of updates, most of which will hopefully have made it by the end of the year. This little update will give you a taste of what is to come (and a small warning that some things might break in the process though I'm aiming to keep the site running as smoothly as possible).

Fans of Dead Leaves and Redline, rejoice. From out of nowhere Madhouse releases Heruzu Enjueruzu (Hells Angel), a wicked, manic and no-boundaries anime that may feel like a Studio 4°C project but has its roots firmly in the Madhouse foundation. The result is a completely unique and over-the-top, two-hour spanning climax with a surprisingly smart background story (at least, if you take the absurd animifications for granted).

Heruzu Enjueruzu was a very troubled project. First introduced in 2005, the film surfaced in its current incarnation in 2008 (festival run) and 2009 (a small theatrical run). After that ... radio silence, a complete void. Until Madhouse realized they were simply losing money by not releasing it, which eventually led to the 2012 Blu-Ray release (English subtitles included!). Looking at the film it's easy to see how Madhouse failed to wrap their heads around a proper release strategy as this is clearly one of those films that's almost impossible to market. It's just way too specific and unique to target even to a niche audience.

The story starts off normal enough (for this type of anime at least). Linne is a young girl on her way to her first day of school. When trying to save a cat from a couple of young delinquents she gets hit by a car and she ends up in hell. Unaware of her predicament at first, Linne soon realizes that she didn't end up in her regular school. The first thirty minutes of Heruzu Enjueruzu are spend on introducing the setting and the characters and are, by comparison, still pretty standard.

Then the film twists and we get some sort of weird, highly exaggerated anime-version of the Old Testament. Linne ends up caught in a feud between Cain and Abel and as the film progresses the story (and the battle between the two brothers) becomes more and more grotesque. The final 90 minutes feel like a drawn out version of the Akira finale, layer upon layer of baffling story progression, though with a certain stroke of underlying genius that sets itself apart from many other anime stories.

Heruzu Enjueruzu has a very definitive, strong visual style. The animation is at times a little poor for a film of this magnitude, but the various art styles, the awesome camera angles and the crazy editing more than make up for that. The character design is absolutely superb, as are the constant switches between the different (but related) art styles. There is always something new to admire, always something that leaves an impression. It's a shame that the budget couldn't carry the enthusiasm of the crew in its entirety, but they definitely made the most of it with the means at hand.

The music is what you can expect from a film like this. High-octane and loud, anything but subtle, mostly guitar-based but good fun and definitely suitable to the overall atmosphere. It's clearly not as bold or as daring as the visual styling, but in a sense it keeps the focus concentrated on the outlandish art style. Outside the context of the film the score may be pretty bland, but within the film it definitely works. The voice acting on the other hand is pretty much perfect. It's a Japanese release so there is no English dub (hooray!), but the Japanese dub is every bit as insane and over-the-top as you would've hoped. The voices really complement the characters and bring an extra level of depth to some of them, while providing more thrills and laughs for others.

Heruzu Enjueruzu is a film that keeps the wtf-levels in the red at all times. There is virtually no limit to the weirdness that is thrown at the viewer. At the same time there is a certain depth and consistency to the background story that's quite unique for an anime of this type. It makes for a very special, slightly tiring but overall gratifying experience that knows no equal. I figure that if they had somehow waited 2000 years to write the bible and they'd outsourced the job to Japan, this could've been the result.

The film asks a lot from its audience. You have to be able to keep with the outlandish art style, the high levels of comedy and absurdity mixed with a well-considered (how implausible as it might be) storyline and the constant assault on the senses. In return you get one of the most uniquely satisfying animes ever released. A film that can only be compared with a very concise selection of otherwise incomparable animation projects. Heruzu Enjueruzu is a true delight if you appreciate your films a little different, if not it's probably best to stay away from it as far as possible.

Mizu no Onna (also known as Woman of Water), a film that took me (and just about everybody else) by surprise. It's a film that is very difficult to compare to other films out there, a unique experience that leaves you begging for more. It's often cataloged as a Japanese drama, but the categorization doesn't really do the film justice as its mystery roots run deep. Mizu no Onna is a weird genre-mix, a real beauty, definitely worth seeking out.

Hidenori Sugimori is one of those unsolved mysteries of cinema (think Charles Laughton's Night Of The Hunter). A director that garnered a lot of interest with his first film, only to completely disappear from the world of cinema after that. Granted, Mizu no Onna isn't the world's most accessible film, but Sugimori shows such a strong sense of dedication and direction that it's difficult to believe he was unable to get his second film funded.

Mizu no Onna revolves around Ryo, a pretty normal, everyday woman. The only peculiar thing about Ryo is that whenever she experiences something important in her life rain starts to pour, to the point where it actually becomes a forebode of important things to come. One fatal afternoon the rain starts pouring again, soon after Ryo gets a message that her fiancé and soon to be husband just died in a car crash.

Ryo's life is turned upside down and she decides to sell the bath house she operates in order to get her life back on track. But before she can go through with her plan she runs into Yusaku, a shy and introverted young man who is sneakily camping out in her bath house. Yusaku is a pyromaniac running from the police, but Ryo finds comfort in his presence. The water and fire metaphor isn't exactly subtle of course, the execution on the other hand is.

Visually the film has a lot to offer. Sugimori has a very unique, intriguing style that mostly surfaces in short but intense bursts. For the most part the film's styling remains close to that of other Japanese dramas (meandering camera movements and subtle editing), only to surprise the audience with a magnificent camera angle or quick edit when Sugimori switches gears. The color scheme is near perfect too, dominated by dark blues and grays and only to be disturbed by warm reds when Yusaku is around.

The soundtrack too adds a lot to the atmosphere of the film. Anime enthusiasts might (and definitely should) recognize Yoko Kanno's name as the composer of the soundtrack (though in all honesty, I feel she made her best work for live action films - Tokyo.sora), who delivers one of her best works to date. Often mysterious and fantastical, the music is a essential to the cross-genre mix that defines this film.

While reading other people's opinions it surprised me how many commented on Ua's lead role. I feel she does a terrific job as Ryo, convincingly coming off as a normal woman who has learned to deal with her particular predicament. Even though she faces yet another strong performance of Tadanobu Asano, Ua holds her own and the two of them carry the film in equal measures. Secondary roles are scarce but well-casted too.

Mizu no Onna is a strange little film. Parts of it feel very familiar, other parts feel alien and unique, as if two different people composed the final version of this film. This tension never comprises the overall atmosphere though. Sugimori can be a bit vague when explaining certain events and multiple viewings might be required to get all the details in order, but I think people will be more put off by the peculiar (and often slow) pacing.

Mizu no Onna is film that stayed with me ever since the first viewing. The combination of drama and mystery is brilliant in its execution. The symbolism might lack subtlety, but Sugimori goes a long way in compensating that with strong imagery that will burn itself deep in your mind. An audiovisual masterpiece bearing a strong dramatic undercurrent, it's a real shame that Sugimori hasn't made anything new ever since releasing this film.

Following the success of Ruang Rak Noi Nid Mahasan, Pen-Ek Ratanaruang released his arthouse/crime blend Invisible Waves, a film that reiterates some of the successful choices of his previous film while venturing into an entirely new direction. I feel Invisible Waves is the actually the more accomplished film of the two, public opinion was less enthusiastic and Ratanaruang slipped back into international anonymity after releasing this film. A real shame if you ask me.

Ratanaruang (Ruang Talok 69, Nymph, Ruang Rak Noi Nid Mahasan) made some bold choices when he started work on Invisible Waves. He kept the international cast, the pacing and the tone of Ruang Rak Noi Nid Mahasan, but he switched the genre from romance to crime. A lot harder to sell to arthouse audiences and near impossible to sell to hardcore genre fanatics. On top of that the pacing made sure that mainstream audiences would feel ill at ease while watching Invisible Waves. The result is a unique experiment that completely failed to find an appreciative audience.

Admittedly, it does take a little while to get into the film. Even though RRNNM had some minor crime-influences, the romance was the absolute center of the film and the combination of romance and slow pace is a much more familiar one for fans of Asian cinema. Invisible Waves really puts the focus on its crime story and especially at the start of the film there isn't that much to tell. We follow Kyoji as he is sent to Thailand after killing a woman, but that's about it. Kyoji's boss sets him on a boat, but the journey is quite uneventful.

Kyoji does meet up with some peculiar characters on his little trip, but as far as tension and story arcs are concerned nothing major is happening to pull the audience into the film. Only when Kyoji arrives in Thailand does the intrigue pick up and is the audience allowed to be entertained by the story. A very risky choice that is sure to deter a lot of people, then again it's nice to see directors take such bold risks instead of trying to cater to the general opinion.

For the visuals Ratanaruang once again relied on the skills of the much-loved cinematographer Christopher Doyle. Doyle also shot RRNNM and he has clearly grown in his collaboration with Ratanaruang. The styling and camera work are top notch, especially the use of color is nothing less than spectacular. The film bathes in muted greens and blues, appearing very dark at murky. Perfectly in line with Ratanaruang's overarching vision.

Once again it's the soundtrack that deserves the most credit though. It is almost entirely composed of very subtle ambient, ever present and highly influential to the overall atmosphere. It pops up everywhere, halfway through the vibe becomes very familiar and by the end of the film it feels as if the entire film was carried by the music. It's the way a soundtrack is supposed to be and Ratanaruang earned a lot of my respect for realizing this.

The acting is pretty stellar too, with Tadanobu Asano starring in the lead. I don't think there is anyone more suited to play the part of Kyoji, though you could also argue that Asano actually sculpted Kyoji's character. He's a rather silent, somewhat asocial but fair and agreeable guy who is guided by the people and events that he finds on his way. Secondary roles are also impeccable with a nice little cameo of Eric Tsang to boot.

The first half of Invisible Waves is extremely slow, subtle and muted. Not at all what you'd expect from a crime flick. During the second part the story gains momentum and you slowly start to connect the dots while the story fleshes itself out. By then most people will surely have lost interest in the film, but for those who appreciate Ratanaruang peculiar mix of genre and arthouse Invisible Waves is really one of a kind and a worthwhile investment.

Compared to RRNNM just about everything is more polished. The visuals look tastier, the soundtrack is even more profoundly present and the acting is just about perfect. The only thing that's challenging is the combination of the genre and the pacing and it is sure to put people off. If you like a good challenge though, but sure to try out Invisible Waves as it's one of Thailand's many hidden pearls and my favorite Ratanaruang.

Say hi to the 60s and 70s sci-fi revival. Director Panos Cosmatos infused Beyond The Black Rainbow, his first-born, with nods to the sci-fi classics of eras past, but also made sure his film isn't just a rehash of former glory. The result is a challenging trip that wears its influences on its sleeve while equally coming off as modern and original. It's a film you simply cannot ignore if you like your films a little different, but beware as you may not appreciate the film's total lack of coherent storyline.

When reading reviews of Beyond The Black Rainbow you are bound to run into some 2001 references. Even though I'm not a big 2001 fan myself I do see the connection, especially when singling out the finale of Kubrick's film (the scenes within the mansion). While watching Beyond The Black Rainbow I was more reminded of Cronenberg's first film Stereo though. Cosmatos film emits a very similar vibe (the extremely clinical research center with its off-center researchers) though the styling of both films couldn't be more different from one another.

Beyond The Black Rainbow has a very strong focus on atmosphere. In the process it inevitably loses a lot when it comes to coherence and storyline. If you want to have a clear understanding of what is going on in this film, multiple viewing will be necessary and even then some plot points will surely remain a blur. It's a harsh trade-off, but I believe that Cosmatos was fully conscious of this when he made his decision (and if you ask me, it's a trade-off more directors should have the guts to make).

The basic premise of the film is simple enough. Elena is a mysterious young girl locked up in a research facility. Elena possesses some weird powers, though it never becomes clear what the exact reason behind her imprisonment is. Her doctor is a pretty creepy man who observes her every day. Elena isn't very talkative or responsive, until one day when she finds a way to escape the research facility.

Beyond The Black Rainbow is first and foremost a visual experience. Based on the trailers I wasn't too excited about the film's look, but during the course of the film the visual style really comes to fruition. The color scheme has a very distinct 70s vibe, but the editing and camera work are definitely more modern. Every single frame went through heavy post-processing, the resulting imagery is absolutely stunning. Once the film ventures outside the walls of the facility Cosmatos has a lot more trouble maintaining the visual qualities, but luckily that's only a small portion of the film.

The soundtrack is a bit trickier to judge. Cosmatos clearly paid a lot of attention to the sound design and it integrates flawlessly with the film, but when compared with the visual audacity of Beyond The Black Rainbow it's a bit lame and definitely on the safe side. Not just the choice to go for an ambient/soundscape-filled soundtrack, but also the execution which often borders on Boards of Canada-like analogue mellowness. It tends to blend in well with the visual look, but it lacks the modern touch. I feel a sharper, more experimental and cut up soundtrack would've worked much better here, then again I should probably be happy that at least a measurable amount of time and dedication went to integrating the music with the visuals.

The acting is pretty basic, the few actors present don't have all that much to work with as their characters are pretty basic stereotypes with little in the way of interaction. On the other hand they do a pretty good job, never falling into the trap of overacting. Eva Allen makes a pretty enigmatic Elena, but it's Michael Rogers that leaves the biggest impression as the creepy and slightly insane Doctor Nyle. No prize-winning performances, but above par for a production of this type.

The first 90 minutes of this film are pretty much perfect, save the lack of a more ballsy soundtrack. Sadly Cosmatos doesn't really know how to end his film, completely turning around the vibe of the finale and gracelessly failing to go out on a high note. I'm not really sure what happened there, I understand that without the ending the film could've been accused of taking itself too seriously, still Cosmatos should never have allowed the film to leave the premise of the facility.

If the film had stopped 20 minutes earlier I would've given it a full score, now I feel Beyond The Black Rainbow fails to fulfill its true potential. It's not that the final 20 minutes are extremely bad or inappropriate, it's just that they can't meet the film's own superb quality standards set during the first 90 minutes. It's a shame because apart from a slightly disappointing soundtrack the films is a true delight. Wildly original, visually overpowering and genuinely mysterious, it's bound to become one of the best releases of 2012 and a film to treasure for years to come.

It's difficult to imagine a time when Takashi Miike (Nintama Rantaro, Visitor Q, 46 Okunen No Koi, Zebraman 2, Crows Zero 2, Crows Zero, Sun Scarred) won't be making films anymore. Every year Miike has a couple of new projects lined up, so when I say I'll be reviewing his latest know that Miike already has a new film touring the festivals and that there's even a trailer for Miike's upcoming film doing the rounds. For now though, let's focus on Ace Attorney and why you should make sure not to miss it.

I'm certain Miike keeps a list of genres and sub genres he hasn't tackled yet. With Ace Attorney Miike can finally scratch the courthouse drama off of this list (game adaptation too, though he already covered that earlier with Like A Dragon). It's about the least likely genre for Miike to be working in (that and high school musicals, which incidentally is the genre of Miike's next film), but he makes good use of the series' game background to make the film's events a lot more interesting and entertaining.

Ace Attorney is based on the popular Nintendo DS franchise Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney. I've never played the game so it's hard to really distinguish between the game's influence and Miike's own input, but it's safe to say that this isn't your regular courthouse drama. Apparently to keep up with the rising crime rate Japanese courts decided to introduce a new system of justice. Lawyers have three days time to convince the judge of the innocence/guilt of their defendant. Once the judge is convinced he immediately passes judgment and moves to the next case.

Ace Attorney follows the adventures of a young and inexperienced lawyer called Ryuichi Naruhodo. With a little bit of luck he wins his first case against Keisuke, an experienced lawyer and former classmate of Ryuichi. Not soon after this surprising victory Keisuke becomes a defendant himself. Ryuichi, remembering the days they spent in school together, vows to prove the innocence of Keisuke while clearing up a 25-year old case in the process.

There was a time that Miike's films looked (sometimes more than a little) rushed and rough around the edges. Even though he didn't really slow down his pace, those days are long gone. Ace Attorney looks slick and stylish, with much attention being paid to the camera work and the editing. Even the CG looks surprisingly polished. Surely budget and target audience play a big part in this film's looks, but there is definitely a lot of eye candy present.

The soundtrack is less exciting. Random tension-raising music without any recognizable hooks. It works during the film, but afterwards you'll be hard-pressed to remember anything about the score. Ace Attorney isn't really a film that needs a unique score and it survives perfectly well without it, but as someone who appreciates a defining choice of music I think Miike should've done more with the material at hand.

The acting really fits the bill though. The actors looks as if they materialized right out of a manga, so expect weird hairstyles, over-the-top clothing and some pretty expressive moves. No doubt it won't be to everyone's liking, but if you can't handle even that you probably won't appreciate what Miike did with the rest of the film. Narimiya does a pretty decent job as Ryuichi, but it's Ryo Ishibashi who's the real star here. It's always great to see older actors take on these roles with such great enthusiasm.

Before I sat down in front of Ace Attorney I feared the length of the film, not in the least because I absolutely hate courthouse dramas. Even classics like Witness For The Prosecution or Judgement At Nuremburg never got me the least bit interested in what they had to offer. Miike turns the boredom upside down, he focuses less on the endless details and subtleties and just goes 100% for entertainment value. The story is a bit more chaotic because of that, but at least there is something happening that goes beyond tireless dialogues between the same two or three people.

Ace Attorney is a Miike blockbuster. The weirdness is kept to a minimum, but the entertainment value is high and the film definitely has its moments of brilliance. Don't expect anything too serious, just sit back and enjoy the overall fluffiness of Miike's latest production. Peaky hairstyles, holographic evidence, confetti and expressive characters ... all you need to revive a boring genre and turn it into something truly amusing.

Baober In Love is a lost relic that could be regarded as the kick-start of the current Chinese cinematic revolution. A film that truly deviated from the norm, leaving heavy-handed arthouse aesthetic lovers and poverty porn enthusiasts in the dark, instead opting to conjure a modern-day fairytale. The result is a slightly uneven yet magnificent film, who's negatives are greatly outweighed by the shear joy and pleasure it emits.

Shaohong Li's Baober In Love can be considered the spiritual forefather of films like Lee's Adventure, Honey PuPu and pk.com.cn. The film dares to embrace the urban and technical revolution China underwent during the last ten years, translating that sentiment in a more genre-based approach while edging away from activist and moralist film making and betting on entertainment. It's a lot lighter than earlier Chinese films, without being particularly feel-good or a downright comedy.

The film follows the adventures of Baober, a young and naive Chinese girl who one day stumbles upon a trashed VHS tape. She reconstructs the tape and discovers a confession of Liu on the tape. Liu is a young man who's bored with his life and his current relationship. Baober falls immediately for the charms of Liu and she is determined to find him, even when all she has to go on is a VHS.

Seeking out Liu ends up being the easy part of her mission though. Once she meets up with Liu she pulls him into her dreamworld, tearing him away from his former girlfriend and claiming him all for herself. The both of them shack up in an abandoned warehouse, but living together proves more difficult that they had first imagined. It turns out that Baober has some well-hidden secrets that put some serious strain on their relationship. By that time Liu is so into Baober that he can't imagine losing her and so he fights to keep the relationship going.

Visually Baober In Love is a dream. Li pulls out all the stops to make this film look as nice as possible. Weird camera angles, experimental editing techniques, magnificent camera work and some slight mixed media experiments are all aided by lush sets and superb use of color and lighting. The film's visual language is so rich that it almost feels like a first-timer's film, though that's hardly the case. Even though Baober In Love is almost 10 years old already, it's still one of the prettiest Chinese films to date.

The soundtrack is pretty awesome too. An almost entirely electronic/dance-driven soundtrack which further fuels the modern feel of the film. The soundtrack is by no means too extreme or inaccessible, but the effect is still very refreshing. There are some very smart and atmospheric tracks that I wouldn't even mind owning on a CD. Again, I know of no Chinese film that preceded Baober on this, hell, even contemporary Western films are still struggling with electronic music..

Jue Huang is pretty decent as Liu but it's Xun Zhou that carries the film with a very strong performance as Baober. While Zhou's choice in films has been on the safe side these past couple of years, this is definitely one of those films that helped to sculpt her career. It's an edgy role that allows her to display her full range of talent. The supporting actors are decent too but all things considered this is really a one-(wo)man show.

While the film starts off as a very sweet and endearing story, bearing a small resemblance to Jeunet's Amé even, there is definitely a darker side to Baober In Love. This side takes over the film during the second part and while Li struggles a little during the transition between the two opposed parts it gives Baober In Love an interesting spin that helps it from turning too mellow and mushy. In the end the contrast between the two parts made it a better film, only the transition is a little rough.

Fans of modern cinema should find themselves right at home with this film. It's a bit uneven during the middle part when Li tries to connect both sides of the story, but superb acting, a stellar soundtrack and eye-popping cinematography more than make up for that. Brace yourself for a sweet romance with a nasty sting and you'll be hard-pressed to think bad of this little gem that would turn out to be the start of a new Chinese cinematic movement. Actually getting a chance to see Baober In Love with English subtitles will be the real challenge though as the film sadly lacks an English-friendly home release.

Back in 2003 Pen-ek Ratanaruang (Ruang Talok 69, Nymph) put Thailand on the map when he released Ruang Rak Noi Nid Mahasan (Last Life In The Universe), a cross-Asian romance fueled by a criminal subplot and a selection of fairly odd characters. People flocked to see the film because it starred Japanese mega star Tadanobu Asano, but they stayed to fall in love with Ratanaruang's awesome style of directing.

Even though Ratanaruang's Ruang Talok 69 had everything in it to become an international success, it wasn't until Ratanaruang imported a couple of famous Japanese stars that his films would be recognized outside the Thai borders. I admit that initially I searched out this film simply because it featured Asano. but Ruang Rak Noi Nid Mahasan has way more to offer than just a fine selection of Japanese actors and ever since I watched Ratanaruang's little masterpiece I've been a big fan of his work.

The film revolves around Kenji, a runaway yakuza with an interesting selection of odd characteristics. For one Kenji wants to commit suicide, though he doesn't really have a good reason for doing so. Needless to say, without the proper conviction it proves pretty impossible to end his life. Kenji's also quite the neat freak, obsessively so. Then one day, during one of his many fruitless suicide attempts, Kenji runs into Nid and Noi.

A fatal encounter, but not for Kenji. Instead Noi's sister Nid is hit by a car and dies on the spot. Kenji and Noi hook up, somewhat reluctantly at first, but as it turns out it's a decision that will turn both their lives upside down. Noi is pretty much the opposite of Kenji. She doesn't clean the house, she smokes, she litters her cigarette ashes everywhere and she sometimes overstresses her laid back attitude. Obviously the two of them need some time to adjust to each other, but without realizing it they are exactly what they needed to move on with their lives.

With Christopher Doyle on board Ratanaruang didn't have to worry much about the visual side of things. Even though I actually prefer their second collaboration (Invisible Waves) there is no lack of stylish, lingering shots and beautiful, soothing camera work here. Add some minor effect shots that insert some extra magic and you have a very pretty film to look at.

The main attraction is the soundtrack though. A superb collection of melodic ambient, constantly hiding underneath each and every scene but lingering long after the final frame has left the screen. Even after the film is finished you'll find yourself uncontrollably humming the melodies, sustaining the rhythm of the film beyond its own time frame. One of the most powerful soundtracks I've ever encountered in any kind of film, not because it's so outspoken but because it puts you in a trance and sucks you right in.

With Tadanobu Asano in the lead you are assured a quality performance, but Sinitta Boonyasak is equally powerful as Noi. The two of them form a very intriguing couple and effectively carry the dramatic side of the film. While their parts are actually pretty black and white, they still bring a lot of depth to their characters. Ratanaruang also landed a couple of interesting cameos, fans of Takashi Miike should definitely pay attention during the last 15 minutes of the film.

The first fifteen minutes of the film will probably be the toughest. They are extremely stylized (in line with Kenji's character) and without the familiarity of the subtle soundtrack you might feel a little lost at first. But when Kenji and Noi hook up the film shifts gears as you witness the start of a very special relationship. Make sure you get the original dub though (there's also an all-Thai dub) as the mix of languages does bring something extra to the table.

Ruang Rak Noi Nid Mahasan is a film that sneaks up on you. For a long time you may wonder what the fuss is all about, but when the end credits start to roll you suddenly realize how wonderful Ratanaruang's film really is. It's not his best film, I still have a small preference for Invisible Waves, but if you like an off-beat Asian crime romance you definitely owe it to yourself to check this out.

Shozin Fukui (964 Pinocchio) may not be the most prolific filmmaker alive, but when he does release a feature-length film he makes sure it counts. Rubber's Lover is Fukui's second outing, one that found itself a pretty respectable cult following in the West. It's a film with a fair few particularities (which are certain to divide audiences), but if you're into Japanese cyberpunk you owe it to yourself to check this one out.

Japanese cyberpunk isn't a very broad and/or richly populated genre, so it's always great to see a film that goes all out. I'm pretty sure that if I made a little checklist of elements that I'd hope to find in a Japanese cyberpunk film, they would all be included in Rubber's Lover. Grizzly black and white photography? Check. Mad screaming people? Check. Extreme close-ups? Check. Sweaty people? Check. Fetish photography? Check.

If you hear around a little, this film will generally be referred to as the one with the crazy, loud-screaming and madly grunting actors. It's somewhat of a trademark for Fukui and Rubber's Lover takes it even beyond the levels found in 964 Pinocchio. At times the screaming is just grating, it weighs on you and makes certain parts of the film quite difficult to watch. It's enough to break a large portion of the audience, for those able to withstand all the noise it only adds to the intensity of the film. No room for compromise.

The story is hardly worth mentioning, but here's a short summary anyway. Two scientists are doing some underground (but funded) research. One of them is injecting people with ether, the other one created a weird spirit-breaking helmet. The results are mediocre and when the funding is finally cut off the scientists take matters into their own hands. The new experiment goes horribly wrong (or right, depending on how you look at it) and chaos ensues. That, and a lot of screaming of course.

Visually Rubber's Lover is a big step forward from 964 Pinocchio. The film is shot in lovely, high-contrast, grainy black and white and looks simply gorgeous. Fukui keeps his camera close to his subjects, often giving close-ups of whatever object he thinks deserves some extra attention. This ranges from extreme character close-ups to metal, tubes and all sorts of tech equipment. The editing is snappy and well-timed, the only thing that could've used more work is the setting, which can feel a bit cheap and empty at times.

The soundtrack is superb too. A magnificent range of electronic tracks, pumping and grinding away. Industrial is the preferred genre for Japanese cyberpunk, but Fukui takes it a couple of steps beyond its predecessors. One (slightly) annoying thing is that Fukui loves to build up the tension, but never allows a release. Many tracks are basically musical build-ups, without the explosive release afterwards. This again keeps the tension high, but it can be infuriating at times.

As for the acting, it's all a matter of taste. The actors are far from believable, over-acting is an understatement and most of the time the actors are either screaming, twitching or doing both at the same time. Then again, you're not watching a realistic drama here and the style of acting does fit in with the other stylistic choices. It's chaotic, loud and in your face, constantly bombarding you with sensory impulses. I for one wouldn't have wanted it any other way, but opinions differ.

Rubber's Lover is a pretty simple film. You either like the madness, or you hate it. There's very little middle ground as everything in the film is made to be as intense, loud and explosive as possible. There is no great storyline to fall back on, no stylistic variation and no poignant realizations later on in the film. It's just 90 minutes of grating screams and flashy black and white fetish shots, set to a pounding score, take it or leave it.

Still, the feeling remains that at times Rubber's Lover could've been just that little bit more insane. It's hard to fault the film at individual points, but when compared to films like Tetsuo or Electric Dragon 80000V it falls short. Not being able to compete with the absolute best is hardly a critique though, so fans of the Japanese cyberpunk genre should do well add this film to their collection. It's a blast from start to finish.

The Tall Man is Pascal Laugier's long-awaited new feature. After Laugier unleashed Martyrs onto the world, people were aching to see where he would go from there. The result will no doubt be a big disappointment to many, as The Tall Man became a very different film altogether. Then again, if you look closely the typical Laugier elements are definitely there and judged on its own merits Laugier's latest is a very strong and convincing film.

When looking back now, one may wonder whether the recent French wave of extreme horror wasn't just a lucky coincidence. Either that or its main contributors (Laugier's Martyrs, Bustillo & Maury's À l'Intérieur and Xavier Gens' Frontière(s)) realized they weren't going to top their famed shockers. So they split, each of them going in a new direction. Gens would seek out sci-fi territory for The Divide, Bustillo & Maury fled into the baroque horror scene to come up with Livide and Laugier headed to America to make a faux urban legend horror.

People who know Laugier from before Martyrs (in other words, those who also watched Saint Ange) know that Laugier isn't just defined by gruesome and cold imagery. Instead he lives on ambiguous endings, story reversals and some food for thought afterwards. Horror is mere filling for his films and it can take on whatever form that's suitable for the story he wants to tell. In this case, the legend of a huge man kidnapping children.

The Tall Man is the story of Cold Rock, a barren village left for dead by the closing of a nearby mine, its only real source of income. The people of Cold Rock are suffering and to make things worse one by one the children of the village are taken from their homes, never to be seen again. It doesn't take long before the kidnappings are coupled to the local urban legend of the Tall Man, but when Julia's son is kidnapped the true nature of the kidnappings will be revealed.

Visually Laugier has everything under control, though the result is far for remarkable. There are a couple of nice shots, but the eerie night scenes would've benefited from some more inventive lighting. The editing too feels a little rushed. Some of the nicer shots aren't fully explored, which is a shame. The film doesn't look bad or anything, it's just that it doesn't really stand out from many other like-minded films.

The same could be said about the soundtrack. Sure enough it suffices, but at times I felt the music might even have worked better outside the context of the film, which doesn't really speak in favor of the way it was incorporated. There are some genuinely nice tracks here, but from time to time they fail to correspond to the images on screen in order to tighten the atmosphere. A waste of potential, especially for a horror flick.

The acting on the other hand is strong and effective. Biel plays her part very well, ranging between her different states with believable flair. Ferland (who reminded me a little of a female version of Joseph Gordon-Levitt) too is perfect for her role. The rest of the cast plays a smaller part, but still makes a solid impression. Usually films like these benefit very little from a strong cast, but Laugier really needed his actors to pull off the film's ending in style.

As a straight-up horror film The Tall Man falls a little short. There are some decent moments, but the film never becomes as tense or thrilling as you would've hoped. Instead Laugier puts more focus on the mystery, which manages to keep the interest of the viewer until the very end. Biel's ambiguous role is the key to the success of The Tall Man, Ferland's final monologue the cherry on the cake. The Tall Man ends with a blow to the overprotective attitude towards children, stemming from all-American family values. The film puts reason above emotion and wonders out loud whether this wouldn't benefit society as a whole, which is a truly refreshing take on the subject.

While this isn't the first time Laugier "surprises" his audience with a blow of morality, I feel this one is definitely the strongest. It's not as out-there or ethereal as compared to his previous movies, instead it's about very real and grounded issue that could use some thought. Not that I would instantly agree with Laugier's suggestion, it's just that I believe there's definitely a layer of truth in there.

The Tall Man holds his punches until the very end, where it finally reveals itself as a film that cares very little about the Tall Man legend, instead focusing on more pressing and serious issues. The horror part of the film could've used some extra polish, definitely when compared to Laugier's previous films, but the finale shows Laugier at his very best. The Tall Man is a very interesting and worth-while film, one that deserves to be judged on its own terms.

Nowadays welcoming a new Sion Sono film is quite the event. Over the past few years Sono worked really hard to establish his name, with great success I should add. His films are welcomed on the biggest film festivals of the world, urging him to produce new projects to keep the momentum going. Himizu is his latest film to appear on DVD and it's clear from the start that Sono won't be running out of fresh ideas very soon.

People first noticed Sono (Cold Fish, Love Exposure, Ekusute) when he released Suicide Club (riding the Japanese suspense wave), but his real break-through came with Love Exposure, his megalithic, pompous and schizophrenic masterpiece. It's not my personal favorite, but it's clear that a man who can pull off such a stunt has talent to spare.

Himizu contains clear, left-over traces of Love Exposure's impact, but it's a different type of film altogether. Himizu is gritty, dark and often mean-spirited, but delivered with a surprisingly light-hearted tone of voice. If Gaspar Noé (Enter The Void) and Tim Burton (Alice In Wonderland) would ever agree to adapt a manga together (the original Himizu manga was penned by Minoru Furuya), the result might be thrown in the same corner as Himizu. Chances are quite slim this will ever happen though, so it's a good thing that Sono is filling this gaping void.

The events of Himizu take place right after the fatal tsunami that hit Japan last year. The 14-year old Sumida lives alone with his mother in a run-down shack, surrounded by a group of homeless people who stranded in the neighborhood. Left behind by his father right after the disaster, it doesn't take long before Sumida's mother takes off as well, leaving Sumida to take care of himself. It's simply too much for a young boy to cope with, so even though the people around him are willing enough to help out, Sumida slowly starts his descent into a painful and destructive depression.

Visually Sono is making good progress. While the camera work is far from strict and obsessively controlling, it's clearly not a quick handycam job either. Every once in a while Sono throws in a couple of beautiful static shots, alternated with an agile and dynamic yet captivating camera. There's is plenty of attention for lighting too, making for some very moody and atmospheric scenes.

The soundtrack is impressive, to say the least. There is a selection of well-known classical songs (Barber's Adagio For Strings) and some more pop-oriented film music, but it's the bits of distorted, raging noize that really make an impression. Whenever Sumida boils inside the soundtrack goes in the red, making his feelings tangible. Subtle it ain't, but it's stunningly effective nonetheless. The soundtrack as a whole is a bit chaotic, but the same could be said about the film (which, to be very clear, I never experienced as something negative).

The acting too is nigh perfect. The actors faced the difficult challenge to transfer the dramatic and dark impact of the film while at the same time keeping the light-hearted tone of voice. The result is a combination of strong dramatic scenes mixed with some serious overacting. It's a peculiar effect that is sure to deter some people, but it's essential to the overarching feel of the film. Sometani and Nakaido deliver performances that are sure to be remembered while the secondary cast doesn't lag far behind.

Himizu is a very uneven film, but by design. Sono banned any form of subtlety completely, resulting in a bold and loud film with no intention to back down. Couple that to the stark contrast between dark subject matter and an almost comical atmosphere and you have something quite unique. Clearly not everyone is going to accept this, so if you prefer soft caresses to harsh blows you might think twice before getting started on this one. Then again, if you appreciate Sono's strong-willed lack of conformity you're in for another two hours of pure cinematic pleasure.

The first fifteen minutes where a little though, but once Sumida starts his descent into madness the film never back down. Strong visual language, a superb soundtrack and quality acting make Himizu into a memorable experience. All these things add up to another unique and career-defining film for Sion Sono. Sono fans shouldn't hesitate to go out and see Himizu, others might do well to watch the trailer first in order to determine whether they can stomach Sono's unique style. Now on to Sono's new film.

Hiroki fans rejoice, because the Gods of Cinema just blessed us with an English-friendly DVD release of one of Ryuichi Hiroki's latest gems. Keibetsu (or The Egoists if you prefer the English title) is once again quality output, highlighting Hiroki's strengths but also challenging his own clichés. The result is familiar territory (especially for those who've seen a couple of Hiroki's films) with some subtle yet smart touches to keep things interesting.

Ryuichi Hiroki (Love On Sunday - Last Words, Kimi no Tomodachi, New Type, Girlfriend: Please Stop The World) is known featuring strong yet often troubled female leads in his films. He is one of the few male directors who can portray a women with life-like depth. Keibetsu deviates a little from this fixed structure as Hiroki shifts his focus to the worries of a young couple rather than a single woman, though the female lead by herself still greatly resembles the women from his previous films.

A couple of years ago Hiroki revealed he was ready to take on different genres, which I guess makes Keibetsu his take on the Yakuza genre. Not that you can expect a straight-up crime flick, but all the important motives and plot points are clearly there. The film starts when young boy Kazu is thrown out of a Yakuza gang. Before he flees back home he raids a bar and takes off with lead dancer Machiko.

Even though Kazu and Machiko are clearly in love, they both want very different things in life, making their relationship impossible to sustain. Machiko feels trapped in Kazu's rural home tome while Kazu has trouble keeping a steady job to maintain his newly founded family. They separate ways, but before long they realize that they can't really live without each other either. When the Yakuza finally catches up with Kazu, things take a turn for the worse and Kazu puts up one final fight the win Machiko for him.

Visually Hiroki is getting better with each film. He keeps true to his favored HD look, but distances himself a little from the hand-held aesthetic and sneaks in more and more beautiful shots, often playing to great effect with light and scenery. While not spectacular, Keibetsu is still a very beautiful film to look at. Hiroki may be a slow grower, but you can't help but notice how he improves his technique with each successive film.

The soundtrack is a very nice mix of subtle and soothing music, not overly intrusive but still featuring some unique and differentiating touches. By itself the individual songs might not be all that remarkable, but they do tend to make themselves heard and as a whole the soundtrack leaves a very contented and comfortable feeling. A very nice bonus as many Japanese dramas tend to deliver almost identical soundtracks.

Hiroki is great with actors and once again it pays. Kengo Kora is perfect as the young and inexperienced Kazu, but it's Anne Suzuki that probably deserves the most credit. Once known as the somewhat chubby girl who only took on cute roles, she completely reinvents herself for this film and takes on a most daring and difficult part, yet pulling it off with surprising ease. The secondary roles are solid too, with Hiroki regulars Tomorowo Taguchi and Nao Omori putting in some very good performances.

Don't go in expecting a Yakuza film. Even though there are some very familiar Yakuza stereotypes, some oldskool criminal behavior and a couple of retributions, Keibetsu is first of foremost a true Hiroki drama, focusing on the characters and their ways of dealing with the problems they are presented. People craving for something completely different will no doubt feel a tinge of disappointment, but Hiroki adepts will feel right at home with his latest film.

Keibetsu turns out to be another strong addition to Hiroki's oeuvre. It's not his best film to date, but it's nice to see him try out new stuff, even when it's not all that radical. Hiroki keeps improving himself with each new film, polishing his skills and fine-tuning his processes, making sure his films can maintain the high standard he set out for himself. If you're not familiar with Hiroki it might be better to start somewhere else, but fans can rest assured that Keibetsu will appeal to them.

RIP Satoshi Kon. I realize I'm a bit late (tomorrow it will be exactly two years since the man died from pancreatic cancer), but since then I haven't really found a chance to pay proper tribute to one of the most notable anime directors in recent history. And what better way to commemorate his awesome talent than to review his very first feature-length film, Perfect Blue. A film that still stands proud even by today's standards.

Perfect Blue is a landmark film, it's as simple as that. It's a film that showed the world that animation is not limited to certain genres or topics. While many people openly wondered "why do this as an animated film?", Perfect Blue returned that question with a simple "Why not?". Why would animation be bound to visualizing the unfilmable when it is just a layer of abstraction that could just as well work with any type of subject?

True enough, a film like Hotaru no Haka precedes Perfect Blue, but as part of the Ghibli oeuvre that film enjoyed certain special fan privileges. Perfect Blue is a straight-up psychological thriller, without any supernatural or fantastical elements or any other specific oddities where animation could or would be preferred. A type of film that nobody would have considered developing as an animated film, but Kon didn't mind what others were saying. He went ahead and showed the world that there were no limits to what you could do with the medium.

Perfect Blue is an adaptation of the same-titled novel written by Yoshikazu Takeuchi. The novel includes some strong social commentary, which Kon made sure transferred to the film without losing any of its power. The story tells about Mima, a young pop idol who is pushed to make the jump to acting. Even though Mima prefers to sing, there is more money to be made in the acting business. It doesn't take long before she is pressured into doing some tacky scenes and pink photography in order to shake off her pop idol image. A sad reality that is all too real for many young girls wanting to make it in the entertainment business.

While Mima tries to cope with all the changes in her life, one of her long-time fans simply cannot deal with the fact that Mima fled the pop idol scene. He starts to stalk Mima and puts up a website where he creates an alternate life for Mima that still features her as a pop idol. Little by little reality starts to mix with the stalker's utopia and the plot of the TV series Mima is featured on, to the point where she finds herself in a constant daze, unable to separate reality from fiction.

The art style of Perfect Blue is starting to show its age. The animation is far from fluid and the colors can appear a bit muted and stale. The animation style is pretty detailed though, with the characters moving around in a very realistic way. The camera work tries to mimic that of live action films, which results in some surprising shots throughout, but it's the editing that really sets this film apart. Kon's use of scene transitions is superb, effectively mixing reality and fantasy in such ways that keeps the audience guessing.

The soundtrack is another strong point of the film. Maybe not as outspoken as Kon's other films (then again, it's virtually impossible to top Millennium Actress' soundtrack), but it has a very strong presence that strengthens the atmosphere of the key scenes. It's also well integrated with the editing, creating a tightly nit audio-visual experience. Even the J-Pop songs are actually quite catchy. As for the voice acting, make sure you watch the film with the Japanese voice track. The English voice track is bland and lacks emotion, whereas the Japanese track really bares Mima's emotional state.

The final half hour of Perfect Blue approximates the perfect mind-bender. Fantasy and reality mix in ingenious ways, blending and retaking different scenes with slightly altered dialogues that shed a whole new light on what preceded. Typically all you need to do is wait for the final twist of course, but Perfect Blue is truly engaging, even halfway through. But the real magic lies in the fact that even after multiple viewings the strength of these scenes remains intact. Many similar films suffer on second and third viewings because the big twist was already revealed the first time around, Perfect Blue sidesteps this trap by making sure that the actual execution of the twists is intriguing enough.

Even though Perfect Blue is a book adaptation, the success of the film can be fully attributed to Kon's awesome direction. If you're not convinced it suffices to watch Sato's live action adaptation (Yume Nara Samete), based on the same novel but lacking the tight and edgy translation of the original story. Perfect Blue is still one of the better animes out there, a film that combines strong social commentary with a terrific sense of paranoia, leading you on with each successive twist but scoring purely on execution rather than surprise effect.

Here's to hoping we'll ever see Kon's final film (Dream Machine) completed.

The past 10-15 years Chinese cinema got a major overhaul. It used to be a playground for hardcore arthouse directors and poverty porn enthusiasts, with only a few exceptions made for martial arts fare. But nowadays there's a movement of young directors that feel little to no constraint when it comes to genre specifications and overall atmosphere. Hence the release of films like Han Yan's First Time, a sprawling and colorful romance.

Apart from the setting, First Time could've been a Taiwanese film. It borrows a lot from recent efforts (Tom Lin's Starry Starry Night or Juliets, to name just two) and it emits a very similar vibe. Not too serious, not too sentimental, while still harboring a lot of heart and warmth. The characters and setting on the other hand help to ground it as a mainland Chinese film.

First Time starts off as a rather typical romance. Two old friends (Shi and Gong) run into each other by accident, old feelings resurface and the two start hanging out together. What sets this film apart the first 30 minutes is the fact that Shi suffers from a very rare disease. Shi cannot exert herself as it could lead to instant death, while the pills she takes to help her cope with her disease greatly affect her memory. Gong helps Shi to appreciate her life beyond the limitations of her disease, but two young people in love can find it a little hard to restrain themselves.

Around the 30-minute mark things start bordering on the cheesy and sentimental, but right at that point Yan turns the whole thing around. Revealing anything about the rest of the film would be too much of a spoiler, but it's safe to say that Yan has a couple of surprises up his sleeve that turn First Time into more than just a mushy, melodramatic romance flick. He never lets the drama dwarf the romance though, so the light-hearted and feel-good atmosphere is allowed to reign throughout the entire film.

If you know that the cinematography is handled by Charlie Lam (a href="http://www.onderhond.com/blog/onderhond/isabella-review-ho-cheung-pang">Isabella) you know that you can expect a looker, but Lam really outdid himself with this film. The attention to detail is stupendous. The warmth and vibrancy of the colors is absolutely stunning, the camera work equally wonderful and the overall effect is just baffling. Add to that some lovely visual effects (a lot of hand-drawn animations are blended into the live-action footage, to great effect) and you have one of the best-looking films of 2012. The images simply radiate romance and become a crucial factor in the experience of the film.

The soundtrack is not up to par, but it suffices. Gong is part of a rock/punk band so you can expect some rather mellow Chinese pop/rock music, not really my thing I'm afraid. The remainder of the soundtrack consists of nice but predictable romantic music. Cue some piano tracks and other light-hearted pieces to set the mood. Overall it's not too bad, but the soundtrack could've used something to set it apart from its peers.

Luckily the actors don't let the film down. Mark Chao is strong as the somewhat ambivalent Gong, Angelababy (she should've stuck with her real name, but alas) is perfect for the role and the chemistry between the two of them feels quite real at times. They keep a nice balance between the romance and the more dramatic scenes in between, never letting either one dominate the other. The secondary cast is pretty capable too, in particular Jiang Shan who puts in a very strong performance as Shi's mother.

If you think the first half hour is a little too sentimental to your taste, persevere for a little while longer and you'll find out that not everything is as it seems. While seen in its entirety First Time is clearly a full-blown romance film, but it also has a more dramatic edge to it than you might suspect at first. The ending may be a small downer for some, but I feel it fitted well with the rest of the film and I believe that any other ending would've turned out feeling a little forced.

First Time is a superb example of how to do romance right, without necessarily ending up in arthouse territory. Yan made a very sweet film, added the right amount of drama and made sure that the visuals alone could carry the film. While a very close neighbor to the current Taiwanese wave, First Time is a typical mainland China film that could do a lot of good to the image of Chinese cinema for a broader range of film fans.

Dear mister Gen Sekiguchi, where the hell did you disappear to? More than 8 years ago you gave us a film that ranks as one of the best Japanese comedies ever produced. Not only that, it's also one of the lushest and vibrant productions to have ever graced a screen. After that ... nothing (apart from a sub par entry in the Quirky Guys And Gals anthology). What a waste of potential, but at least we'll always have Survive Style 5+ to keep us warm.

Sekiguchi comes from an advertising background and it shows. While people like Hiroshi Ishikawa (Tokyo.sora) prefer to mask their commercial occupation, Sekiguchi flaunts it all over the place. Just like one of the characters in this movie Sekiguchi collected a massive amount of left-over ideas while directing ads, all of which he tried to cram in his first feature-length movie. The result is a film that knows little to no creative boundaries, spilling over with cool details and ideas and effectively warranting its 120 minute running time.

Survive Style 5+ is a collection of five separate stories that somehow intertwine along the road. These stories do not lead up to the usual major climax (where all the different arcs would come together), instead the characters from different stories just cross each other's paths during the course of the film. None of these individual stories make much sense, combined they make even less sense, but as a whole they do work together in some strange and almost inexplicable way.

The main arc (or at least the most popular one) is about a man that wants to kill his spouse. Even though he is quite successful, she keeps returning to their home whenever he buries her. Other arcs include the story of an ad director, a successful hypnotizing session turning a man into a bird (permanently), a serial killer asking people about their purpose in life and the adventures of a couple of gay thieves. Like I said before, making sense is clearly not the film's first priority.

Visually speaking Survive Style 5+ is one of the most colorful and detailed films I've ever seen. It is somewhat reminiscent of Wes Anderson's latest projects, though Sekiguchi takes things a lot further. From furniture to clothing and lighting, everything is tailored to perfection. Even the color of the drinks are made to match or contrast with the background. Camera work, lighting and editing are of extremely high quality too, add to that some genuinely creative and well-executed special effects (like the animated horse on a painting that whizzes by) and you have two hours of pure visual splendor.

The soundtrack consists of a selection of tracks I wouldn't give a second listen outside the context of this film, but Sekiguchi incorporates them perfectly well. The music is funny, upbeat and tap-worthy, quite effectively enhancing the light-hearted atmosphere of the film. The "gay" tune and the "headbanging" track are two great examples of how to use music as a defining factor rather than a supporting factor in your film.

The cast too is absolutely stellar. Tadanobu Asano appears in one his best roles to date, flanked by Reika Hashimoto (also his real-life wife). They are assisted by the likes of Hiroshi Abe, Ittoku Kishibe (believe me, it will take a while before you can see him in another film), YosiYosi Arakawa, Sonny Chiba and even Vinnie Jones. But stealing the show is Yoshiyuki Morishita in one of his biggest and boldest parts so far. Casting him as a gay dude is just impossible but Sekiguchi went ahead and did just that. The effect is borderline creepy but also immensely funny.

Survive Style 5+ is a wacky film and for some it may be a little bit too random at times. But even then there is always something that catches the eye. Be it a visual gag, a wonderfully realized setting or a funny idea. The film never drags and the finale is simply perfect, however weird it may be. It's a comedy that works on many levels and most surprisingly even on an artistic level, no matter how goofy some parts may be.

What Sekiguchi realized with Survive Style 5+ is extraordinary. Even though the film lasts 120 minutes it is packed to the brim with little bits of pure genius. A normal director would've spread the material at hand across two or maybe even three films, but Sekiguchi crams everything in one film and manages to keep a good balance throughout. It's a film that gets better with each successive viewing and it ranks as one of my favorites comedies ever.

Ho-cheung Pang (Isabella, Dream Home, Love In A Puff, Exodus), definitely one of the current Hong Kong greats and one of the few directors that seem almost unable to disappoint. Love In The Buff is the follow-up to his own surprise hit Love In The Puff and while Pang was forced to throw some elements from the original overboard, Buff turned out to be a very worthy sequel, possibly even better than its predecessor.

Love In A Puff was never meant to be a (modest) hit. Originally it was little more than a diversion for Ho-cheung Pang, a project he set up to keep busy while waiting for Dream Home to free itself from release limbo. But fans liked his film, centered around a series of short smoke breaks bringing two people together. So much in fact that Pang decided to make a sequel.

The biggest problem for Pang was that he didn't want to part from his main characters. At the end of the first film the two protagonists decided that they were going to quit smoking, which is a little tricky when the entire concept of your film is centered around a series of smoke breaks. So Pang ditched the whole smoking thing, instead he focused more on the comfortable, enjoyable and open atmosphere that helped to define the first film.

Soon after the events of the first film Jimmy and Cherie break up. Jimmy moves to Beijing while Cherie stays behind in Hong Kong. The break-up isn't too clean and in order to forget about Cherie Jimmy quickly loses himself in a new relationship. But 6 months later an opportunity presents itself for Cherie and she too ends up in Beijing. It doesn't take long before the two bump into each other, making it immediately clear that not all the feelings they held for each other have subsided.

On a visual level, it's pretty amazing to see that Pang is still making progress. He combines lavish and ultra-stylish cinematography with more playfull and dynamic camerawork to create something that is quite unique. The film is filled to the brim with well-considered, lusly lighted and perfectly executed shots, but at the same time it never feels cold and/or calculated, instead the camerawork gives off a veru cozy, warm and comfortable vibe. Love In The Buff is without a doubt one of Pang's greatest visual accomplishments.

The soundtrack is a bit poppier than I expected, but it does fit the more informal atmosphere of the film. There are of course some more typical, often piano-based tracks to go with the stylish visuals, while the poppy music helps to ground the characters, giving them a fleshier and more human touch. The selection of music is strong across the board though, so no complaints there.

With Shawn Yue leading the pack you can be sure that the quality of the acting won't lag too far behind. Even though I'm still not quite fond of Miriam Yeung she does a pretty good job, though obviously helped by the people around her. Mini Yang and Zheng Xu are strong secondary characters, on top of that Pang has a couple of very funny and surprising cameos to compliment to cast.

Love In The Buff is not a very complex film, though it is recommended to watch Love In A Puff first. While it is possible to watch this as a separate film, you'll miss out on a lot of the finer points that play between Jimmy and Cherie. The film presents a nice mix of romance and comedy and even though the final half hour has trouble keeping a good balance between these two elements, the film never becomes too cheesy or sentimental.

Love In The Buff is a very worthy sequel. It's hard to say which film is the better one of the two, for that I should probably watch them once more, back to back. Pang is definitely on a winning streak here, seemingly unable to produce bad films anymore. None of his recent efforts match the genius of Isabella, but that's about the only complaint I have. Love In The Buff turned out to be a very funny, enjoyable and comfortable film, maybe even warranting a third and final return to happenings between Jimmy and Cherie.

The 80s had Tsukamoto's Tetsuo, the 90s brought us Aronofsky's Pi and you could say the past decade gave us Ishii's Electric Dragon 80000V. This obscure series actually found its origin during the 70s, when David Lynch released Eraserhead upon the world. A cult film with a capital C and a film that changed many people's vision on film. Years later Eraserhead still stands proud amongst its contemporary competitors, though 35 years of cinematic progress did leave a small mark.

Together with Tetsuo, Eraserhead was a film that helped to shape my love for movies. Before I watched these two films I was easily satisfied with a challenging storyline, a couple of twists near the end and some famous actors to draw me in. I watched one or two films a week and that was fine. Everything changed when these two films landed in my lap (horrible VHS copies, but that was all we had back then). Suddenly film was something that could provoke unseen worlds and feelings, detached from simple plot devices and actors. Film became something that could be about experience, not just about understanding.

Eraserhead is Lynch's directorial full-length feature debut. He made several shorts before this film, his particular style already blossoming (The Grandma in particular is very Eraserhead-like), but Eraserhead brought everything together in 85 minutes of alienating madness. While there are vague traces of some kind of plot, it makes very little sense and it's almost useless to try and keep track of it. Instead you're better off immersing yourself in the experience that Lynch provides.

Henry Spencer is a young man living alone in a nameless, decaying city. Suddenly he is contacted by Mary (his ex-girlfriend) who invites him to dinner. Spencer accepts the invite, but gets cornered by the girl's parents, who adopt Henry as the father of her recently-born child. Not just any baby mind, but a horrendous little monster without arms and legs, completely helpless and reliant on the care of others. When Mary breaks down she packs her bags and leaves the baby in Henry's care, who is quite unfit to take care of the child by himself.

Eraserhead is shot in gritty, high-contrast black and white. The decaying urban setting is rich in darkness, with only a couple of lights providing a very nightmarish atmosphere. One thing that still baffles me are the film's visual effects. For a 70s film the baby looks a little too life-like at times, which definitely helps to uphold a very creepy vibe. Camera work and editing on the other hand are strangely lacking. It's something I noticed even in more recent Lynch film, where the timing just seems a little off. It gives the film a sloppy finish which is a shame considering all the work that went into the visual styling.

The soundtrack on the other hand is top notch. Superb industrial-like noises, sharply stitched together to create a very uncomfortable and dark experience. It's not so much a collection of tracks as it is a collection of sounds, but as true noize-adepts will know this is hardly a negative thing. It gives the film a very dark and surreal atmosphere that lingers even when the film is over.

The acting is pretty basic, it's more about presence and image than actual acting talent. Jack Nance is an awesome Henry Spencer though, whose film cover image has become iconic over the years, if only because of his crazy hairdo. The rest of the actors all have minor roles that contribute very little, the best actor here is probably the baby, who isn't even human. Then again, the distant and detached acting style probably only contributes to the overall atmosphere, so this is hardly a critique.

Eraserhead remains a wonderfully alienating experience, just don't expect things to make sense. Even though there's actually a whole sequence explaining the title of the film, it bears no relation to the other scenes, nor does it contribute much to those trying to understand what Eraserhead is all about. In the end the film plays a lot like a nightmare and I believe it's best experienced that way. It's a dark, brooding and weird film that still manages to out-gross some modern horror flicks, even when it feels weird describing Eraserhead as a straight-up horror film. Instead it feels more like a fore-runner of the industrial/(cyber)punk movement that helped to feed the underground film scene these past 30+ years.

It's hard to ignore the toll that time has taken on this film. While static shots still look awesome and the special effects are more than sufficient, the sloppy editing takes a little away from the experience. It's only a small defect though and while it does impact the film there is still plenty to enjoy here. Eraserhead is definitely a film worth seeing, if only to experience a kind of film that doesn't rely on plot to deliver its message.

Hotaru no Haka is a very depressing film. So much in fact that Ghibli made an entirely new film (Tonari no Totoro to cushion the blow upon its release. They even packaged it as a double bill to make sure people walked out of the theater with a smile rather than a tear. Your mileage may vary of course but I think that Ghibli definitely had a point there, so beware when you sit down in the hope of enjoying an nice evening of cinematic escapism.

I honestly believe that Hotaru no Haka is one of the most important anime films ever produced. Sure enough, films like Akira and Kokaku Kidotai made anime popular in the West, but those films catered to a very specific (techy/nerdy) niche. Hotaru no Haka definitely transcended the niche market and rose up to become the anime fan's ultimate defense against popular criticism that anime is only for kids/geeks/whatever other minority group. With a little help from film critic Roger Ebert the film reached out to an audience that didn't care for animation and in that way it helped to broaden the mind of many film fans out there.

Isao Takahata (co-founder of Ghibli) has always worked in the shadow of Miyazaki, which is a shame because I think he's definitely the better director of the two. More versatile, less moralistic and always able to lend his films a remarkable humanistic and natural touch. Together with Okiura's Jin-Ro Takahata's films are probably the only ones that qualify as truly mature cinematic works.

Hotaru no Haka is an adaptation of a semi-autobiographical novel by Akiyuki Nosaka, going by the same name. The film follows Seita and Setsuko, two war orphans who are left in the care of their aunt. But times are harsh and as the two contribute little or nothing to the family they are somewhat ignored. Too proud to submit to the unequal treatment Seita and Setsuko take off on their own, confident in their chances of survival.

The artstyle betrays the film's age. It's definitely starting to look a bit outdated, but the quality of the animation is so staggeringly beautiful that it's hardly an issue. It's not so much the frame rate that awes, but the subtle details that nail some of the character's movements. The way Setsuko moves when she takes out her small wallet, the way she behaves when she feels something is wrong without knowing exactly what is going on. This is definitely Takahata at his very best.

The music is beautiful, striking a chord even outside the context of the film. Whenever I hear the theme song I get a little tingly, as it accompanies some of the more emotional scenes in this film. Maybe Takahata could've used the soundtrack a bit more sparingly throughout, the music isn't always as subtle as it could've been either, but the result is captivating and underlines the emotional moments of the film.

I actually watched part of this film in English once, I advise you never to do the same. The Japanese actors are way better, putting more love and emotion into their characters. Especially the voice of Setsuko is spot on, little girl lisp and everything. The English track is a lot harsher and gives off a very cold and unpleasant vibe, so be sure to stay clear of it.

If you look around you'll find some comments of people who consider the film over-sentimental. While in fact there are some very depressing scenes, accompanied by sad music and aimed to crush the heart of the audience, there is also a darker and harsher undercurrent of self-critique that sets it apart from typical tearjerkers. The writer of the novel is actually present in the form of Seiko, who is directly responsible for the demise of Setsuko. His pride and inability to cope with the treatment they get from their aunt (which, considering the situation they were in, wasn't exactly strange) is exactly the reason why things turned out the way they did. Nosaka atones for his childhood sins through the novel, his fictional destiny being the best indication of his own feelings of guilt. Takahata does a very good job transferring those feelings into the film, though many people still seem to miss that aspect of Hotaru no Haka.

Hotaru no Haka is one of the best anti-war movies out there, even though there's hardly a glimpse of all the fighting involved. Instead it focuses on the people who are left behind, families torn apart and children turned orphans. There are some agonizing scenes hidden away in this film so it's probably best to avoid showing this to very young children, but anyone else should take the time to sit down and watch this. It's not the ideal film for a fun evening on the couch, but it reaches well beyond the boundaries of traditional animation films and delivers an experience you'll be hard-pressed to find anywhere else.

Densen Uta (Suicide Song) is one of those films that is bound to attract the wrong audience. The film is often categorized as a regular J-Horror, case in point the many reviews trying to fault it for not being something it didn't set out to be. Go in with a blank mind though, and you'll find a pretty exciting little cross-genre breed that knows to excite and surprise. Then again, Masato Harada is that kind of director so I should've known.

The similarities between Densen Uta and Jisatsu Sakuru (Sion Sono - Cold Fish, Love Exposure, Ekusute) are almost uncanny, to the point where I actually started to believe this was some kind of unofficial sequel. It turns out both films are unrelated, but the main theme, the erratic blend of genres and the level of weirdness still link the two films together. Not to mention the fact that Jisatsu Sakuru had the same preconceptions to battle upon its release back in 2001. At times Densen Uta even feels as if it belongs in Sono's oeuvre, somewhere lodged in between Jisatsu Sakuru and Love Exposure.

Densen Uta tells about a song that drives people to suicide. Once you sing along to this infamous song (which is called Gloomy Sunday, based on an actual urban legend), you are bound to end up killing yourself. It sounds like a trillion other Ringu rip-offs, but apart from this typical J-Horror setup the film has very little in common with the reigning genre clichés attached to the J-Horror label. Instead, Harada tries to find his own way, blending genres and different vibes along the way.

The suicides are picked up by the staff of an alternative magazine, who set out to uncover the truth about this alleged suicide song. The closer they get to the truth though, the more they are pulled into the myth, which turns out to be a bit more lethal than they had anticipated. When people start dying left and right, they seek the help of a local exorcist in the hope she can release them from their curse.

Harada is a pretty capable director, visually speaking. Those who've seen Inugami should already be convinced of his skills, with Densen Uta he shows he can also handle more eclectic styles. There are some superb camera moves and some pretty surprising editing tricks, the use of lighting is stylish and the film has its fair share of interesting visual setups (like the mirror scene). Harada was clearly free to experiment, which certainly helps to keep the film exciting.

The soundtrack is a bit more traditional, though it still features a rather broad selection of styles to go with the different genres mixed within the film. There's the dark and brooding horror stuff, the more upbeat comedy melodies and of course some gentle pop songs to accommodate the dramatic scenes. None of it is exceptional, but it does the job without ever becoming annoying or irritating, which accounts for something.

Luckily Harada surrounded himself with a group of talented actors. Ryuhei Matsuda takes the lead, Yusuke Iseya is a very interesting companion (though only through the first half of the film). Two young talents who are capable of carrying a film by themselves, so it's a true joy to see them playing next to each other on screen. We're also treated to a short but fun cameo of Hiroshi Abe, the rest of the cast is less familiar (unless you're into AKB48 apparently), though just as solid as the star cast.

Densen Uta is a strange little film. The mood can change quickly between different scenes (sometimes even within a single scene), there is little to no stylistic conformity (though the film is stylish throughout) and it takes a while before you realize where the film is headed, story-wise. If you were hoping to enjoy a couple of quick scares this film is bound to disappoint, if on the other hand you cherish the film's mood swings you're in for two hours of quality film making.

I actually expected very little from this film because it was labeled as J-Horror, so I was pleasantly surprised to find a very accomplished yet eclectic film hiding underneath the cover of ghosts and suicides. The acting is top notch, the film look great and sports an interesting blend of genres. There's a pretty classic horror tale hidden underneath all of this, but you won't get the time to be bored by it. Definitely worth your time if you happen to stumble upon it.

Some people firmly believe Rocky is the best boxing film out there, others swear by Scorsese's Raging Bull. If you ask me, there hasn't been any film that could match the sheer adrenaline springing from Tsukamoto's boxing hands. Tokyo Ken combines the boxing clichés with Tsuka's raging camera work and a fair share of body mutilations to create something quite unlike anything else out there in the boxing genre.

Apart from a very early studio film, Shinya Tsukamoto (Tetsuo, Tetsuo: Bullet Man, Vital, Nightmare Detective 2) has pretty much been making his own kind of films. Even his second studio feature (the Rampo-inspired Soseji) is far from normal studio fare. So if a man like Tsukamoto tackles a boxing flick, you know it's not just going to be just any kind of rise and fall story with a couple of boxing matches thrown in for good measure.

Tokyo Ken is the story of Tsuda, a pretty run of the mill salary man who relishes his relationship with his soon to be wife, Hizuru. While Hizuru lives a pleasant and comfortable life, she is more than a little disappointed by the plain and boring repetition of her everyday existence. When Kojima, an old friend of Tsuda suddenly turns up on their doorstep, both their lives will be changed forever.

Kojima lusts after Hizuru. Even though at first she holds Kojima at a distance she is clearly turned on by Kojima's wild streak, slowly allowing herself to break apart her own boring routines. She starts to experiment with piercings and tattoos, soon after she leaves Tsuda and moves in with Kojima. Tsuda has a hard time coping with Hizuru's sudden switch and takes up boxing lessons to beat Kojima at his own game. While all of that still sounds pretty acceptable, the execution is clearly something else.

Tokyo Ken is Tsukamoto's first film where he demonstrates that his films work just as well in color. Tetsuo 2 and Hiroku The Goblin weren't as visually satisfying as his previous films, Tokyo Ken on the other hand is a celebration of superb camera angles, beautiful monochrome pictures and some totally rad editing skills. The film looks lush from start to finish, a true testament to Tsukamoto's visual style.

The soundtrack too is exceptional. A combination of high octane tracks, slightly exaggerated sound effects and a bunch of moody ambient songs that highlight the urban feel of the film. Tsukamoto seems well aware that madly edited visuals don't just work by themselves and benefit greatly from a soundtrack that enforces this madness. The result in an audiovisual experience that carries the film almost by itself.

To add to the insanity Tsukamoto chose to stick with his hyperactive, highly intense acting style. It's not as manic as in Tetsuo, but it sure as hell ain't normal human behavior either. It's an acquired taste, but I feel that it works great in films like these. Kaori Fujii and Koji Tsukamoto (his younger brother) fair well as actors too, apart from these three you'll find notable cameos of Naoto Takenaka and Tomorowo Taguchi.

Once Tsuda starts with his boxing training all the usual Tsukamoto elements start to surface. Suddenly there are mashed up faces, Hizuru starts putting metal bars through her skin and blood spurts from bodies by the gallon. Tokyo Ken is a true body horror, only disguised as a drama/boxing film. People hoping to see a traditional boxing film will surely be disappointed by the course this film takes, but Tsukamoto films are sure to rejoice.

Tokyo Ken is somewhat of a forgotten Tsukamoto film, which is weird considering its many qualities. It's an exceptional audiovisual experience, a worthwhile drama and a lesson in how to properly film a boxing match. It's a pretty short film that packs quite a punch and doesn't outstay its welcome. Fans of Tsukamoto owe it to themselves to watch this one, because it's up there as one of the best films he ever made.

Oren "Paranormal Activity" Peli returns to the big screen after wrapping up his short and rather underwhelming series The River, finally abandoning the found footage fare for a more traditional horror setup. The result is Chernobyl Diaries, a film that takes you on a trip to experience the aftermath of one of the most gruesome disasters of the past century, exploring the wasteland that was left behind by the nuclear disaster in Chernobyl, Ukraine.

Doing a film like Chernobyl Diaries is tricky. It's a 100% genre film which means that it forsakes originality and puts all its money on execution. Different people have different tastes though, so it's really all about how you are going to experience the smallest of details. Reviews have been quite devastating, tearing the film down with typical horror criticism like plot holes, easy scares and an abundance of clichés. Welcome to the bright world of genre cinema.

First of all, let's make it clear that Chernobyl Diaries has very little in common with the PA films. There is no forced "oh yeah, we came up with some very scripted reasons to film it" antics, there is no "we can't act our way out of a kid's party but that only adds to the realism" amateurishness and thank God we are treated to a bit more than the less is very little concept of "did that door just move or is it my eyes that are starting to water after ogling the same screen for more than a minute". Parker makes sure that there's no way you'll confuse realism with bad direction, which at least for me made it a lot more bearable than the PA films.

Chernobyl Diaries does borrow the setup and aesthetic of similar found footage films though (think The Tunnel or Evidence), but uses its cinematic power to lift itself above the competition. The films starts with a group of kids subscribing to a little tour of extreme tourism, promising them the time of their life in Pripyat, the nearby city that was abandoned overnight the day the reactor melted. What follows is hardly surprising but like I said before, originality isn't exactly what this film aims to deliver.

There are several ways to add to the effectiveness of a straight-up horror film, but a strong plot clearly isn't one of them. Instead you aim for atmosphere, a pleasant cast and a strong build-up towards a hellish climax. Get your audience involved enough and they won't care much about some alleged plot holes or unlikely actions of the cast (though one can just as well question much of the couch logic that is brought up in reviews). Again, whether you succeed depends on how people react to certain details, but I'll happily admit that I haven't felt as tense watching a horror film in theaters ever since I watched the first [rec].

Parker starts with a careful selection of protagonists. Sure they aren't the smartest bunch, but at least the slut-level of the crew is acceptable enough to withstand their sometimes silly behavior. The six actually have a nice dynamic going, add to that the walking cliché of a russian ex-military tour guide and you have a group of seven that serves as perfect bait for what lies waiting.

A lot of appeal comes from the setting. The idea of entering a radio-active wasteland is exciting in itself, so even though the first part of the film is somewhat uneventful there is a constant tension brought on by an eerie soundtrack and a strong sense of something lurking in the shadows (remember Blinky from The Simpsons ?). There are a few scares left and right, but nothing out of the ordinary. The slow build-up prohibits any real revelations early on, so most of the scares are of the loud noise variety.

Then there is the presentation. Visually the film still holds true to the "right there" aesthetic, but does so in a more cinematic way. Parker attracted cinematographer Morten Søborg (Valhalla Rising, Pusher, Susanne Bier's films) to blend the hand-held aesthetic with some proper camera work. The result is a more than satisfying mix that brings out the creepiness of the surroundings while making sure you still feel like you're part of the group exploring the area around Chernobyl. The soundtrack too is of high quality. Parker dares to play with silence, contrasts it with loud scares and fills the moments in between with rather brooding illbient sounds. He creates a very tense and uneasy atmosphere that sips through even in the scenes were nothing much is happening.

Chernobyl Diaries slowly works towards its climax, with the last half hour serving as a perfect descent into madness. As the group starts to unravel they get scattered throughout the desolate city, ready to be picked off one by one. The "danger" never really makes it full focus into the audience's frame of vision, adding to the mystery of the threat and further heightening the overall tension. While the film falls just a little short of the absolute best, it comes very close and delivers 90 minutes of purely visceral horror fun. Changes are you may experience the film differently, prompting you to complain about weird Geiger counters and some stupid decisions of the main crew, but know that it's more likely to be the result of the film's failure rather than a direct motive.

Parker does everything to make sure that all the things are there for a good night of tense and thrilling horror fun, whether it will actually work depends on how you like your horror films served. Make sure to give this film a chance though, because it's quite rare to see this much talent go into a horror flick.

Whenever the word hebi (snake) pops up in Japanese film titles chances are you can expect something situated in the margins of society. Notorious examples are Shinya Tsukamoto's Rokugatsu No Hebi and Takashi Ishii's Hana To Hebi (beware!). Compared to these two films Hebi Ni Piasu is actually quite tame, though unsuspecting film fans may still be surprised by what they find behind the warm exteriors of this unusual drama.

Yukio Ninagawa never backed away from adding some controversial themes to his films. His comeback title Ao No Hono-o treaded around some delicate issues, Hebi Ni Piasu takes a very similar road. The difference is that the setting of Hebi Ni Piasu may alienate people enough to ease the blow a little. By society's standards the film's protagonists are all freaks, which makes it easier to assume they're suffering from some kind of social illness rather than fighting their own demons. Ninagawa, obviously realizing this, countered by planting a big, pulsating and all-enveloping heart in the middle of his film.

The film follows the life of Lui, who one day runs into a punk fan called Ama. Lui is intrigued by Ama's appearance, especially his split tongue. The two start dating and slowly Ama's influence starts to rub off on Lui. Ama takes her to his favorite tattoo parlor, where she is introduced to a series of different body decorations and modifications. That's where she meets Shiva, a tattoo specialist and self-proclaimed sadist.

Behind Ama's back Lui and Shiva start their own little perverted relationship. It's not so much that Lui feels let down by Ama, but Shiva's perverse tendencies are apparently intriguing enough to risk her current relationship. This weird little triangle goes on for a while, until the moment when Ama suddenly disappears. Lui tumbles down a black hole, clinging to whatever reminds her of Ama.

Even though the subject matter is often harsh and impenetrable, Ninagawa gives the film a rather warm and inviting shine. Most scenes are shot indoors, where the proper lighting makes for often cosy and atmospheric settings. The camera work is straight-forward but controlled and well-executed, the intro in particular is of extraordinary beauty. A long tracking shot through the Tokyo crowds, following Ama into the nightclub where he'll meet up with Lui for the first time.

The soundtrack too is a little different. From the by earbuds-muted intro (a great detail) to the incredibly atmospheric piano and ambient music later on, it blesses the film with an alien yet comfortable vibe. It's nice to see that Ninagawa opted for something different, because the basic Japanese drama score just wouldn't have cut it here.

Between all the sadism, sadomasochism and various forms of body mutilation, there are three actors who lend the film a proper heart. Kengo Kora and Shun Oguri are superb as the two male leads, Yoriko Yoshitaka transforms into Lui, a pretty daring role to take on. These three actors really carry the film, making sure the film isn't just about the ever declining morals in youth culture, but about three individuals who do their best to overcome their own limitations.

So yeah, there's people with piercings and red hair, there's a fascination for tattoos and some perverse sexual scenes, but these are put in sharp contrast with the warm and humane vibe coming from Hebi Ni Piasu. This is not a film about some out of control young kids, which by itself is quite a feat already. Ninagawa shows the proper respect for his subjects and because of that the trip down the self-mutilation road in an intriguing one to take.

Hebi Ni Piasu still bares traces from the typical Japanese drama, but because of its setting and subject matter it differentiates itself from the countless others that are released year in, year out. It's a beautiful film, sometimes alienating, sometimes weird and impenetrable, but always humane and warm, embracing its characters rather than discarding them as outcasts.

As film fans we all love to hate remakes, especially when they appear too close to the original film. So chances are that people are going to dismiss Silent House as anything worthwhile simply because it didn't take "the Americans" more than a year to churn out this remake of La Casa Muda, taking away the spotlight from this little Uruguayan horror film. Once in a while though the result isn't actually half bad and Silent House is such a notable exception.

It may have helped that I didn't see the original prior to this remake, but getting your hands on Uruguayan films just isn't all that easy around here. Many of the striking elements of Silent House appear to be lifted straight from the original, though films like Quarantine are the ultimate proof that this is still no guarantee for success. Judged on its own merits though, Silent House is a superbly tense and thrilling little horror film, a film that gives some new shine to the less is more principle and clings to the dark basics of the horror film.

One of the film's defining characteristics (and the main point of promotion of the original) is the fact that it's a one-take film (or at least, it's edited like a one-take affair). From the very first shot until the final image, the camera is fixated on Sarah, a young girl helping her dad out fixing up an old summer house, getting it ready to be sold. Even though she is a little introverted, Sarah seems like a nice enough girl who treasures the time she spends with her dad.

Originality isn't one of the film's main selling points, so if the different plot elements sound familiar it's probably because you've seen and experienced them countless times before. From the awkward meeting with a former play mate to the sudden disappearance of certain characters and the obligatory twist ending, Silent House makes it clear that it values atmosphere higher than a good, original plot. This being a straight-forward horror film, I actually feel like that wasn't such a bad choice.

Apart from the fact that scenes are edited seamlessly together, there are some other bold visual choices. First of all you'll notice that the darkness is ever present in this film. Some shots are clearly too dark to make out anything substantial, but because the rhythm and timing of the camera work is spot on this only adds to the creepy atmosphere. Another interesting choice is to have the camera focus on Sarah at all times. Many of tense scenes are experienced through the facial expressions of Sarah, rather than the actual events happening in front of Sarah. The camera often doesn't register the actual scares, rather it shows the effect these events have on Sarah. It helps to keep the audience even more in the dark.

As you can probably guess, the soundtrack is pretty minimalistic. Most of the time there isn't even any noticeable music in the background, just ambient noises. The scarce moments that do feature sonic build-ups are excellent though, adding a lot of tension to these climaxes. I'm pretty sure that tweaking the ambient noises a bit more wouldn't have hurt the film, which could've added even more tension to the overall atmosphere. Beyond that there really isn't any reason to complain about the Silent House soundtrack.

With the camera constantly aimed at Sarah, I'm glad Kentis and Lau found a talented actress to convey Sarah's experiences and emotions. Most of the time I care very little for the acting talent of horror film casts, but as we often only have Sarah's body language to rely on this film really needed an actress beyond the dumb bimbos that usually litter horror films. Elisabeth Olsen (Martha Marcy May Marlene) does an excellent job and even though it feels like her character lies very close to the one she played in MMMM, she is an essential part in this film's success. The rest of the cast (5 others) are barely seen or heard.

Silent House is a very minimalistic film. There is little else happening beyond Sarah running through an old, dark and empty house, apart from the short (yet somewhat predictable) twist ending of course. It's a film that will leave you completely cold if you don't enjoy this basic setup or if you don't feel the tension that comes from the unknown. But if it does strike a chord it's one of the most creepy and atmospheric horror films released in 2012.

I'm not sure just how much it differs from the original and as is the case with all remakes, I assume it's best to leave some time between watching this and La Casa Muda. But if you can set aside your preconceptions about remakes you might just find a very enjoyable horror film. Adequately shot, novel in its execution and tense in just the right places, Silent House is a neat little gem that deserves an unbiased audience.

Back when the Japanese horror scene was dominated by black-haired, female ghosts draped in long white gowns, ever fueling the regressing less is more aesthetic, there was one project that rose from the stale ashes left by hundreds of rip-offs and wannabes. Rampo Jigoku (Rampo Noir) revitalized the Japanese horror genre and showed the world there was more than glitchy apparitions and cheap setups to scare and out-gross audiences.

Rampo Jigoku is an anthology film based around the work of famous Japanese writer Edogawa Rampo. The man was a big fan of Edgar Allan Poe (and if you look closely, Edogawa Rampo is merely a Japanese re-pronunciation of Poe's name), his influence ever present in Rampo's work. Rampo's stories are a mix of the obscene, the perverse and the obscure, framed in stylish and well-composed settings. His stories are never about random killings or evil monsters, but about the deepest and darkest corners of the human mind which manifest itself in obsessive and creepy behavior, though often not ill-intended.

The film starts with the shortest (but probably most impressive) segment of the four. Mars Canal (Takeuchi Suguru) is a silent, narrative-less affair featuring the physical struggles of a man and woman. Those of you who are familiar with Chris Cunningham's video installation Flex will definitely recognize the setup, as this short is clearly inspired by Cunningham's work. There are also obvious differences though. Mars Canal is completely silent for the bigger part of its running time, which creates a very uneasy tension when you see the naked bodies writhing across the screen. Until the very end that is, when an ever growing wave of noise starts washing over the film. A very emotive and impressive form of audiovisual trickery that immediately sets the tone.

The second short (Mirror Hell by Akio Jissoji) is the most traditional of the anthology. A very classic Japanese tale of horror (think Orochi) told in a very restrained and stylish way, even when the subject matter becomes quite gruesome at certain points. Mirror Hell is superbly shot, set in between an endless array of mirrors and reflecting surfaces. I don't think there is even a single shot that doesn't play with reflections. Tadanobu Asano and Hiroki Narimiya take up the lead roles, secondary support comes in the form of Susumu Terajima. Clearly there is no shortage of acting talent present here. A very nice introduction into the world of Rampo and a very stylish one to boot.

Hisayasu Sato tackles Rampo's Caterpillar (in 2010 Koji Wakamatsu made his own version of this tale). A sick and twisted story about a man with no legs and arms, held captive by his loving wife who basks in the glory of her husband's war efforts. Hanae Kan and Ryuhei Matsuda grace the screen with their presence, Ryuhei in particular is always a worthwhile addition to a film's cast. Caterpillar is easily the most disturbing and direct short of the anthology, resulting in some very disturbing and full-out gross imagery. Coupled with the expressive visual style this short is sure to leave quite an impression.

Finally there is Atsushi Kaneko's Crawling Bugs, a more cartoonesque short about the perverse obsession of a fan for a stage actress. Asano (once again) lands the job of his dreams when he is hired as his favorite actress' chauffeur. He develops an unhealthy fascination for the woman though and start to stalk her. The result is anything but pretty (not quite unlike Fabrice du Welz' short film A Wonderful Love) but quite a sight for horror enthusiasts. A wonderfully visualized short, brimming with energy and vision, leaving you with a fair few images burning on your retina when the credits finally close down this final act.

Rampo Jigoku is a daring project, bringing together a team of varied directors (two first-timers and two classics) and giving them carte blanche to adapt one of Rampo's stories. The result is an amazing collection of short films, brought to life by a range of superb actors and featuring strong yet very individual visual styles. A true sight to behold and without a doubt one of the best horror projects to have come out of Japan. Forget about the Ringus and Ju-ons of this world, Rampo Jigoku will show you the disturbing depths of the human mind enhanced with some rather plastic visions of human decay.

If the name Takehiko Shinjo doesn't ring a bell, it's because the man usually limits himself to a type of film that has a hard time establishing itself outside of Japan. Romance isn't the most challenging genre to begin with and it gets especially flaky when dramatic arcs are replaced by cutesy feel-good. And yet, when done with as much conviction as here, these films can be pretty charming in their own right. Tada, Kimi Wo Aishiteru (Heavenly Forest) is clearly one of the better entries in the genre.

For a country that cherishes "Kawai~~~" as one of its most recognizable key phrases, it's not too surprising to find a whole genre of films infused with cuddly cuteness. Many of these films fail to land international attention and are probably better off because of it, but some films are actually worth checking out. Be prepared though and leave all your cynical and critical thinking behind because when you enter the sugarcoated world of the Japanese feel-good romance there is only room for the sweet, the cute and the naive.

The film follows Makoto, a young boy caught between the blossoming love of two women. The first girl is Miyuki, Makoto's classmate and longtime crush. To his surprise Miyuki invites him to join her table, effectively introducing him into her circle of friends. The second girl is Shizuru, a somewhat peculiar girl who has no friends and spends most of the time by herself. When one day Makoto helps her out she clings to him, determined to keep him as close to her as humanly possible.

Even though Makoto is ecstatic to finally join Miyuki and her friends, he also develops a close and personal connection with Shizuru. Things get more and more complicated, especially when Shizuru elopes from her home and moves in with Makoto. The typical romantic struggles pop up and for a while it feels as if you've all seen it before, until the film twists around and the love triangle is suddenly falling apart, leaving the trio unsure of how to proceed.

Visually there is plenty to be excited about. As a small part of the film is set in America, it's fun to see a different perspective on the typical American urban settings. The biggest part of the film is set in Japan though, where the titular forest takes up most of the visual credit. Extremely idyllic and the perfect location for what ends up to be the key scene of this film. The camera work and the editing are typically soft and controlled, making sure that there is no jerkiness whatsoever to break the film's perfect little wold.

The soundtrack is exactly what you may expect from a film like this. Littered with soft-natured piano tunes, never taking any risks and always wary of alienating the viewer. Add some J-Pop closure and all the clichés are accounted for. It's not very challenging, but nonetheless it's a decent soundtrack that's quite successful in its mission.

Part of why this film works so well is Miyazaki's terrific performance. Hiroshi Tamaki and Meisa Kuroki are both pretty decent, but never really convince as a screen couple. It's clear that the both of them aren't very gifted actors and get by mostly on looks. Miyazaki plays the most difficult part, but she makes it appear as if it's all terribly easy. It's her character that lifts you through the film, keeping the feel-good from turning into bad-tempered sentiment and adding immensely to the overall cuteness-level of Tada, Kimi Wo Aishiteru.

While the final act of the film takes a more dramatic turn, it hardly effects the easy feel-good nature of the film. Sure there is some room for tears if you're into that, but Tada, Kimi Wo Aishiteru is never hard to stomach or depressing, instead it highlight the preferred Japanese way of handing drama by coming to terms with certain regrettable events. It makes for a beautiful (though somewhat unhealthy if judged by realistic standards) ending.

Tada, Kimi Wo Aishiteru is a sweet, cute, good-natured and hopelessly naive little film. If you can't stomach that it's best to avoid it altogether, as Shinjo is determined not to let anything spoil the film's good mood. If you want a feel-good breather though, it's the perfect film for some light and uplifting entertainment. Skillfully executed, charming and overdosing on the idealistic, it's not the biggest master piece ever made, but a damn sweet and fun film nonetheless.

Chances are you know Hideaki Anno only from his involvement in Evangelion. The man rose to fame when his series aired 15 years ago. It marked the start for a series of sequels, reboots, manga adaptations and an unlimited slew of marketing potential. But Hideaki Anno is more than just Evangelion, he also made a couple of live action film of which Shiki-Jitsu is by far the most accomplished one. A ravishing look into the mind of an exceptional (and exceptionally distraught) woman, brought to life the way only an animation expert could.

Hideaki Anno may be one of the most famous anime directors out there (Evangelion being one of the most critically acclaimed animation series), but very few people seems to care for his live action work. A major problem that Asian cinema in general has been facing for the past decade. You can successfully market an Asian film in the West, but marketing an Asian director is neigh impossible. Even the big guys (like Takeshi Kitano, Takeshi Miike or Kim Ki-duk) failed to land proper (global) releases for their latest films. Hell, even Yimou Zhang's Flowers Of War passed us by without so much of a splash, and that film had Christian Bale in the lead. A sad state of affairs but it seems very difficult to counter.

It's a real shame, because it's often the films that don't make it to the West that are the most interesting ones. I'm not really big on Evangelion, but Shiki-Jitsu stands firmly as one of my all-time favorite films ever. Luckily the nice folks of Ghibli released an English-friendly DVD back when, allowing the West at least a small (yet expensive) opportunity to sample Anno's live action work. Rest assured though that the film is well worth the investment.

Shiki-Jitsu is an adaptation of Ayako Fujitani's novel Touhimu, a book based on the feelings she experienced when she lived in Los Angeles. While this makes it sound a bit like the reversed version of Lost In Translation, Shiki-Jitsu is not so much a film about cultural differences as it is a film about the inability of a young girl to process certain events in her life. Instead she retreats in her own mind, locking herself in a perpetual dream world, ruled by a series of daily rituals. This world is turned upside down when she bumps into a director experiencing a serious case of writer's block. He decides to follow her out of boredom, but becomes slowly transfixed by this strange and unusual woman.

Having an animation director direct a live action film is not a guarantee for strong visuals (Otomo's World Apartment Horror was somewhat of a disappointment), but it certainly seems to help (personally I assume it's because they are used to starting from a blank page and building the entire visualization from scratch). Whatever the case, Shiki-Jitsu looks absolutely stunning. Ayako's house is a visual paradise, the outside scenes are framed with a minute sense of detail and Anno's use of light and color is simply impeccable. Save some weird CG/train sequences this film is a true visual delight.

The soundtrack is a little less adventurous, yet it's one of the best of its kind. Subtle yet captivating piano music alternated by a select few Japanese pop songs. Usually these can quickly ruin the mood, but it seems Anno has a keen ear for quality music. The end credits song serves as the perfect example. It's not really a soundtrack that will blow you away as it exists mainly in the background, but it provides a perfect base for the subtle and touching atmosphere that flows from the film.

One of the major strengths of Shiki-Jitsu is the casting. Ayako herself takes up the lead role, which clearly helped in establishing her role. Ayako's character is quite complex, but as she's really just playing herself she has little trouble hitting the right marks. Right across her she finds Shunji Iwai (director of Hana and Alice) who is the exact opposite of Ayako's manic and fickle persona. Iwai is calm, controlled and patient, though the relationship between the both of them remains fragile. There are hardly any secondary characters, most of the time is spent following Ayako and Iwai. Somewhat of a gamble, but both actors put in such strong performances that it hardly seems to matter. On the contrary even, when other characters appear on screen it almost feels like an unwelcome intrusion.

Shiki-Jitsu is one of the few character studies that combines profound emotions with strong styling without becoming too abstract or distant. Ayako's pain is tangible throughout the entire film in a very real and direct way, but this never stands in the way of the film's luscious exterior. A rare combination that makes this film all the more worthwhile.

Shiki-Jitsu is rather long, running a little over two hours, especially when you consider the fact that the characters you'll be spending your time with aren't all that charming or lovable. They are extremely intriguing though and while Anno delves into their personas you slowly familiarize with them, without the need to find any actual similarities between you and the characters. Shiki-Jitsu is by far Anno's most accomplished film and it supersedes all his other efforts with gratifying ease. It's one of the most unique dramas I've ever seen, keeping me interesting from start to finish without even the hint of a glitch of boredom. Make sure you don't miss out on this one.

What a weekend it was, a little more than 8 years ago. Probably my favorite film-related weekend ever, with Vital, Cha No Aji and Survive Style 5+ on the menu. All three films ended up in my personal top 100 and while Cha No Aji is ranked the lowest of the three, Katsuhito Ishii (My Darling Of The Mountains) his film remains one of the absolute highlights of the Japanese comedy. A true delight that elevates feel-good cinema to a whole new level and charms from start to finish.

Cha No Aji was somewhat of a surprise. I was already familiar with Ishii's work, having watched Party 7 and Shark Skin Man & Peach Hip Girl prior to this one. On top of that, I was well aware of Ishii's involvement in Trava Fist Planet, so I figured it was fair to expect a weird, zany and high-octane comedy. Cha No Aji is almost the complete opposite though. It's not that Ishii shied away from his extravagant antics, but the dosage here is completely different. Cha No Aji is a chill, relaxing film that only serves smalls chunks of weird and awkward for greater effect.

Like Ishii's other films Cha No Aji is an ensemble film, this time focusing on the members of a common, everyday family. Each of them have their own quirks and troubles, which are amply examined during the course of the film. Ishii keeps a very light-hearted tone, never letting the minor dramatic touches influence the laid-back and feel-good atmosphere of the film. There is room for a little drama once in a while, but it never becomes too sentimental or too intrusive.

The family is a varied, slightly weird yet very lovable bunch. There's Sachiko, the youngest of the family who's constantly being watched by a giant version of herself. Then there's Hajime, a young boy who has a crush on the new girl in school. Both parents are pretty normal, though mom turns out to be a pretty rad animator. Ayano is the laid-back uncle living in and Akira is the bonkers grandfather, definitely the star of the film.

Ishii toned down his trademark visual style for this film, but that doesn't mean Cha No Aji isn't a pretty film to look at. Set in rural Japan, various shades of deep, lively greens dominate this film. Add some blue skies and pretty sunsets and you get an idea of the visual vibe. The scenes outside are truly magnificent, emitting a sense of calm that is seemingly inherent to this type of Japanese film. There is some CG from time to time, mostly functional (and fun), though the quality varies. Luckily it never intrudes or takes away from the experience.

The soundtrack is subtle and sweet. A cute collection of laid-back, easy-going tracks that enhance the atmosphere. It's not so much the music as the ambient sound effects that leave a lasting impression though. Simple sounds that are used to great effect throughout the film, like the slamming of a small shed window (during one of the first scenes). On top of that, Cha No Aji features some absolutely brilliant songs, mostly performed by grandpa Akira. Not really sure why, but from time to time the Mountain Song just slips into my mind and takes it hostage for a short while, always bringing an unmistakable smile to my face.

The acting is top notch too. Maya Banno shines as the young Sachiko, yet her performance is completely eclipsed by the presence of Tatsuya Gashuin. He already left a lasting impression in Shark Skin Man & Peach Hip Girl, with Cha No Aji he made himself truly immortal. Grandpa Akira is without a doubt one of the funniest, craziest and most lovable characters that ever graced the world of film. If that wasn't enough, secondary roles are handled by the likes of Susumu Terajima and Tadanobu Asano (still my number one favorite actor out there). With a cast like that, it's pretty difficult to make a bad film.

Cha No Aji lacks coherency, which could be fatal for a film that lasts 143 minutes. But the sketches and plot-evasive scenes are so much fun that it hardly seems to matter. As we drift from character to character the film keeps fortifying its feel-good atmosphere, to the point where I stopped caring for a plot line or dramatic arc, instead relishing the warm blanket of loveliness that Ishii spread for all the enjoy.

Cha No Aji is a lovingly executed ode to laziness, boredom and feeling at ease. Sometimes its characters do little else but loitering on the porch, enjoying the fact that they have nothing else to do but sit and enjoy the moment. Ishii livens things up with some absurd events, but never to the extent of his previous films. Cha No Aji is without a doubt Ishii's best film so far, a true masterpiece and a joy to watch again from time to time. A film that knows no weak points, which is quite amazing for a film that lasts more than two hours.

It may sound a bit weird, but straight-up, modern action flicks aren't all that common in Japan. Usually Japanese action films are coupled to (and eclipsed by) other genres (like sci-fi, kaiju, martial arts or samurai), leaving only a few exceptions to the rule for fans of extended gunfights and tough, ass-kicking, masculine violence. Wild 7 is such a notable exception, and it makes you wonder why exactly Japan isn't producing more of these.

As much as I love Japanese entertainment, I never heard of Wild 7 before. Which is pretty weird considering there's a whole line of anime and TV serie adaptations of the original manga. Born in the late '60s, Wild 7 takes a spin on the post-war, political situation of Japan and brings together 7 convicted criminals to form an alliance of mercenaries operating outside of the law. This team is contacted whenever regular forces can't handle their jobs, but some higher-ups consider this team a serious threat and want to dismantle the project.

While the Wild 7 live action adaptation is a pretty simple (but good) action flick, there are a surprisingly high amount of Oshii references to be found in this film. The team for example is not quite unlike Kokaku Kidotai's Section 9, the zeppelin incident is taken right out of Patlabor 2 and the post-ending bit resembles one of the other terrorist attacks in Patlabor 2. Then there is the rampant political corruption, one of Oshii's beloved themes (think Jin-Ro). And while all of these things could somehow be traced back to the original setup of Wild 7, you simply cannot look past Kenji Kawai's soundtrack where one track in particular sounds an awful lot like an Avalon left-over. Clearly the original Wild 7 material pre-dates any of Oshii's stuff I mentioned above, but I'm pretty confident that there's some kind of homage going on here.

Wild 7's story is pretty straight-forward. The group finds itself in an existential crisis, caught between the wrath of their superiors and the will to do something worthwhile, trying to redeem their past mistakes. They cut themselves loose from their command and try to blast their way to the one person controlling all the political puppets. There are some extra dramatical bits and pieces, but those are mostly introduced to fill the space between the action scenes.

Hasumi applies a pretty nice visual style, appropriate for this kind of film. Gunfights can become tedious very fast when not shot well, Hasami avoids this trap by inserting some very stylish bullet ballets. The use of lighting in particular makes for some very spectacular scenes. The film as a whole looks modern and slick, nicely edited and timed well, exactly the way a good action flick should look. And there's little to no shaky-cam action, which should comfort a lot of people.

The soundtrack is clearly the work of Kenji Kawai. The choice in instruments and motives is very reminiscent of the work Kawai usually prepares for Oshii's films. It lends Wild 7 a rather unique and differentiating atmosphere, especially for a film like this. It's definitely not Kawai's strongest work and the film itself doesn't leave the soundtrack with much opportunities to truly shine, but even then it's a pretty strong and worthwhile selection of atmospheric tracks that helps to set the film apart.

The acting is without a doubt the weakest point of the film. It's not overly bad, but the team of 7 has too many Japanese pretty boy members to be a convincing bad-ass killing squad. Notable exceptions are Takashi Ukaji (as the yakuza boss) and Minoru Matsumoto, who you might recognize as one of the crazy yakuzas from Versus. Not the most talented of actors, but at least he has plenty of charisma to compensate.

Wild 7 reminded me a little of Yamakazi's Returner, which has a similar vibe running through it. Don't expect too much substantial material or serious plot points, everything is tailored so the action can take center stage. It's not as action-packed as recent crowd-pleasure The Raid, then again Wild 7 tries to deliver a more stylized/poser kind of action, alternated with ear-deafening gun clatter.

If you don't mind a mindless (stylized) action flick once in a while you could do much worse, the action scenes are pretty kick-ass and the styling is slick and sexy. Fans of Oshii can warm themselves on a string of interesting homages and references while enjoying some mindless thrills in the meantime. Wild 7 isn't truly exceptional, but it's a damn cool and entertaining piece of escapism, the kind I would like to see more of.

It was almost two years ago that I first watched and reviewed Hu Guan's Cow, one of the weirdest animal/buddy mash-ups I've ever encountered. While a great film, it never reached much of an audience and so I didn't have too much confidence in ever hearing from Guan again. But here we are, two years later and Guan has a new film ready. It's not about animals this time around, but the setting and feel of the film are clearly reminiscent of Guan's previous effort. Fans rejoice!

When I sat down to watch Design Of Death I hadn't even realized that I was going to be a Hu Guan film. It didn't take more than five minutes before the first connections between this film and Cow started to surface though. It wasn't just the setting (a rundown, rural mountain village) or Bo Huang's (the main character) appearance, it was Guan's typical style and tone of voice that truly links these two films together.

Design Of Death is the story of Niu Jie Shi, a young boy growing up in a secluded mountain village. While Niu has a certain charm, he is also one hell of bastard, constantly annoying the villagers with his nasty little tricks. Niu wasn't born in the village which immediately creates a natural schism between him and the villagers, further driven to extremes by Niu's bratty behavior. When Niu finally crosses the line of the acceptable, the villagers come together and devise a plan to get rid of Niu.

All of this is told through a series of flashbacks. The film starts off with the investigation of Yi Sheng, a doctor who was ordered to check out the village. He finds Niu dead besides the road and becomes intrigued by the events that happened one year earlier, leading up to Niu's unfortunate death. Through these flashbacks (or actually, the interpretations of Sheng) the film tries to reconstruct the final days of Niu's life.

As for the visual side of things, I think it's safe to say that Design Of Death looks truly spectacular. From the inventive camera angles and beautiful use of color to the mad and manic camera work and editing, this film is a real sight to behold. The visual clash of the run-down village with Guan's contemporary film techniques is pretty interesting as it creates a unique and distinct atmosphere. Guan clearly knows how to shoot a pretty film.

The soundtrack too is pretty interesting. It does feature some more traditional Chinese music, but this often serves as direct contrast for the more jarring and upbeat selection of tracks. Design Of Death is a comedy at heart and while not always apparent from the story itself, the film uses its soundtrack to remove all remaining doubts. On top of that, it also features some truly spectacular music, especially near the end of the film. It nice to see some Chinese directors finally breaking free from safe and traditional soundtracks.

Even though the visuals and soundtrack are great, Guan didn't just stop there. He made it extra hard on himself by featuring a main character that isn't all that likable. And yet, Bo Huang has a certain charm that easily captures the audience. It's tricky because at times his character can appear to be a real asshole, yet Guan makes sure we never stop caring for him. Other notable performances come from Nan Yu (as Niu's love interest) and Simon Yam (as the investigating doctor). Acting performances are top notch across the line. <:p>

Design Of Death plays like a mix of Jiang's Let The Bullets Fly and Chan's Wu Xia. There's a definite mystery element at play here, as we slowly learn about the events that preceded Niu's death, while at the same time Design Of Death has that same "anything goes" feel that's popular in Chinese comedy films nowadays. The result is a true pleasure to behold.

It's definitely not the easiest of films, the first hour is filled with unsympathetic characters doing ugly things to each other. But the actors carry a disarming charm, the humor is actually funny and the film as a whole is a worthwhile audiovisual experience. Add to that an interesting plot and a superb finale and I can only conclude that Hu Guan outdid himself with this film. Design Of Death is an awesome film and definitely worth your time. Let's hope this film manages to land a bigger audience than Guan's previous effort, because it at least deserves the change to please a wider audience.

When Christoffer Boe made Allegro, he was faced with the almost impossible task to follow up Reconstruction with a film that would meet, preferably even exceed people's expectations. Allegro doesn't quite cut it, but man does it come close. It's a different film altogether and it's difficult to compare it directly to Reconstruction, but Boe's signature is clearly present, making it into another cinematic spectacle.

For whatever reason, Allegro (much like the rest of Boe's oeuvre) never made the same splash as Reconstruction did. By now you have to look far and hard to even catch a glimpse of a possible English-friendly DVD release, which is a real shame because Boe is one of Europe's biggest talents. That said, Allegro is quite hard on its audience, all too ready to alienate them from what is a beautiful and emotional film.

Allegro is a very harsh mix of traditional arthouse cinema injected with an overdose of modern film making. The setting is as classic as they come though. The main protagonist is Zetterstrøm, a talented piano player, moving around inside a realm of very decent and high-class people. But that's just how it all starts off. After a disastrous romance Zetterstrøm literally locks up his memories and emotions in a box. The box explodes, blows up into its own micro universe and takes over a part of Stockholm.

Scientists are at odds with the phenomenon, unable to find a proper explanation for what has happened. They label the place "The Zone" (there's your Stalker link) and leave it as is, since nothing bad seems to be happening (apart from the fact that a small part of Stockholm has now completely been shut off from the rest of the world). In the meantime, Zetterstrøm goes on living his life, continuously improving himself as a piano player. That is, until he gets an invitation to return to Stockholm and to visit The Zone. Not your typical arthouse story, now is it?

Visually Allegro is nothing less than stunning. Boe finds the perfect balance between nervous, edgy camera work and lavishly stylized visuals. Boe's zooms, pans, jerky shots and noisy image quality may sound like a recipe for ugly realism, but Allegro is filled with superb images that linger throughout the film (a style that Von Trier managed to copy really well in Antichrist). As for the CG, it is surprisingly effective. There isn't all that much, but it's more than just some functional bit processing, even adding to the overall stylistic impression of the film.

The soundtrack is probably the most traditional part of Allegro. It is a selection of piano tunes, very much in line with the subject of course, but not very daring. That said, it's a quality selection of musical pieces and Boe dares to stray from the beaten path, at times incorporating darker, more ambient-like pieces into his film. It's not as exciting as I'd hoped it would be, but Boe clearly knows how to incorporate music into his films.

The acting is overall strong too. Ulrich Thomsen takes up the role of Zetterstrøm and does so with great conviction. He brings a lot of pain and depth to his character, without making him too sad or whiny. Christensen is solid as Zetterstrøm's romantic interest (though no contest for Reconstruction's Bonnevie), Moritzen and Nicolas Bro (a Boe regular) both have strong secondary roles.

At its core, Allegro is a deceptively simple story about loss and romance, wrapped in a strange, allegoric sci-fi/fantasy setup. The result is refreshing and works well on both accounts. The drama is strong and convincing while the fantasy aspect is novel and exciting. It's a great combination of elements, but it could deter more traditionally inclined film fans who could find it difficult to accept both worlds in one single film.

I think Reconstruction still comes out as the winner when comparing both films to each other, but the difference in quality is ever so slight and the way Boe confirms his status with Allegro is simply amazing. The result is a strong, unique and captivating film that draws a few parallels to older classics, but stands well on its own. A true delight, sadly looked over by most people. It's a shame that people lost track of Boe because the man is one of the most visionary directors of modern cinema and deserves to be recognized.

Tonari no Totoro is Hayao Miyazaki (Ponyo) at his very best. Subtlety is clearly Miyazaki's friend, even though Totoro presents a typical mix of his eco motives and fantastical creatures the film feels light as a feather. It's the ideal children's film (it even works when they can't understand a single word that's being said) and a pleasure for everyone else with a soft spot for feel-good. A true lesson in fantasy film making and definitely my favorite Miyazaki film so far.

Tonari no Totoro was originally released as part of a double bill, bearing the impossible task to lighten up the mood after people were subjected to Isao Takahata's Hotaru no Haka. While I prefer Takahata's work over Miyazaki's, Totoro is a film that stole my heart the first time I watched it and never declined in quality with each successive viewing. Even though the simplicity of the film might seem a bit hollow to some, it's definitely its strongest selling point and the thing that really sets it apart from its peers.

The film lacks almost any form of a dramatic story arc. There is a short bit featured near the end, 10-15 minutes tops, where a quick injection of drama takes over, but the rest of the film is just little kids running around in the Japanese country-side, being their merry selves. They do exciting stuff like exploring their new home, visiting trees or waiting for their dad at the local bus stop. It's not really the stuff dreams are made off, but even then these moments are good for some warm and heart-felt smiles.

The film is all about Totoro though. He may not have too much screen time, but his presence is always felt. While not a very complex creature, he is fun and captivating. Apart from this big, cuddly (yet sometimes deceptively scary-looking) teddy bear there are a few other fantastical creatures, though they mostly fill in the gaps between scenes where Totoro himself is absent. Fans of Spirited Away might recognize the dust bunnies and besides those you'll also be treated to the infamous cat bus.

Tonari no Totoro is colorful, bursting with all kinds of greens to bring the Japanese countryside to life. Ghibli's usual traits are present, meaning you can expect strong and delicate character animation, a clean and clear artstyle, beautifully drawn skies and a couple of scenes that highlights their skills in fast motion animation. The film still stands proud, even when it lacks all the horse power that fuels modern animation films. The only complaint I have about Ghibli's trademark style is that it remained a bit too consistent over the years, but clearly that's not the fault of this film.

The music too is extremely bright and joyful. It's one of my favorite Ghibli - Hisaishi collaborations with a couple of very memorable tracks. The song that accompanies the opening sequence alone is enough to recommend this film. As for voice acting, opinions differ. I can't stand American dubs, but I can relate to people who find the two main characters a bit too loud at times. Mei and Setsuka are both very young girls and while they do act their age, they can get a little screamy and over-excited at times. It never bothered me as such, but I can imagine that not everyone is going to appreciate the high-pitched craziness.

Tonari no Totoro is fluff, but it's the best kind of fluff you can find. There is little to no drama (until the very end, when Mei disappears from view for a short while), Miyazaki only has eye for the beauty in life (and more particularly, the care-free world of children growing up in the countryside). Right there you'll find Miyazaki's critique on how we raise our kids today, depriving them of the same joys Mei and Setsuko experience in this film. But luckily it never takes over the film itself, as this could've easily killed the atmosphere. To see the kids go about their business is just wonderful, the addition of Totoro and his gang makes the picture complete.

While clearly a film aimed at young kids, Tonari no Totoro has the power to enchant both young and old. It's a sweet, soft-hearted and imaginative film. The fantastical elements are pure perfection, the attention to detail is simply stunning. It's a very pure film, one that every kid should have the chance to experience.

In case you haven't noticed, I have a thing for Takashi Miike films (Visitor Q, 46 Okunen No Koi, Zebraman 2, Crows Zero 2, Crows Zero, Sun Scarred). It's not easy to keep up with his work as often only the more decent, arthouse-safe releases are finding their way over here, but there are a couple of worthwhile exceptions. Nintama Rantaro (Ninja Kids) is one of the best Miike films to have graced our screens in the past couple of years, though chances are slim that it will win him many new fans, safe a few bewildered children.

If you've seen enough of his work you know it's impossible to pinpoint any typical trademarks. Miike keeps reinventing himself with each new film, honing his skills and perfecting his experience with each new try. Then again, if you've seen enough of his film you'll start noticing that Miike borrows a lot from his earlier work too. Nintama Rantaro owes a lot to Miike's own Yokai Daisenso remake, a film targeted at a younger audience but with enough weirdness to keep us adults (ugh, that sounded awful) entertained.

Nintama Rantaro is a manga/anime adaptation that borrows a lot from the original material. I've never been fully exposed to the manga and/or anime so I'm not sure where exactly Miike's weird mind comes in, but it's clear enough that this is not just a straight adaptation of the original work. The film follows Rantaro, a young boy who enlists in Ninja school. One can never start too young when training to become a master ninja and his farming parents are more than willing to help the boy in his quest to achieve greatness. Together with his classmates Rantaro sets off to learn the tricks of the trade.

The first half of the film is mostly made up of sight gags and comedic sketches, the second half incorporates a short story arc about a ninja race between Rantaro's clan and a competing ninja school, where Rantaro tries to reclaim the freedom of a couple of recluse ninja hairdressers. Yup, you read it right. It's safe to say that you don't need to take this film too seriously.

Nintama Rantaro is an extremely bright and colorful film. Rather than rely too much on CG, Miike goes all fake plastic and grime. It is executed quite efficiently though, so you won't get any 80s Shaw Bros flashbacks, although the odd sweeping mop is used to fake someone's hairdo. Whatever CG there is, is functional and actually quite classy. It's clearly not a cheap film, though I'm equally confident that Miike is one of the best directors out there when it comes to putting a budget to good use.

The soundtrack truly betrays the film's target audience. It's filled with fun and positive tracks, though as a whole it's a pretty forgettable affair. The music is there to highlight the playful, feel-good atmosphere of the film and nothing more. It's pretty easy to ignore though and Nintama Rantaro is not the kind of film that would benefit from a complex or demanding soundtrack.

The acting, as you would expect, is way over the top. The kids are fun and look damn cute in their tiny ninja outfits while the adults are wearing too much make-up for their own good. Still, it's a total blast. Seeing Susumu Terajima as one of the head masters is hilarious, especially as he seems to be carrying his old yakuza attitude with him. Those familiar with Japanese cinema will find many funny cameos scattered throughout the film, the greatest one comes from personal favorite Naoto Takenaka. It's always a joy to see him pop up, even when it's just a small cameo part.

If you're hoping for a decent storyline you're bang out of luck. Nintama Rantaro is all about fun and games. The film is an everlasting string of jokes, sight gags and overall weirdness, and that it does marvelously. With this many jokes not all of them are funny, but a surprisingly big amount is, providing almost continuous laughs from start to finish. Miike's tone of voice is just spot on, making for the most cinematic fun I've had in weeks.

Nintama Rantaro is the perfect example of demented Japanese kids entertainment that's weird enough to appeal to adults, at least those with some memories of their lost childhood. Miike proves once again that he's versed in as many different genres as you can throw at him, at the same time demonstrating he's always keen to perfect his skills while incorporating previous experiences. Nintama Rantaro is a barrel of fun, virtually unmatched by any other 2011/2012 film out there. It's a prime Miike film, though probably a bit too Japanese to appeal to a big audience. Still, if you're into Miike's weirdness this is a definite must-see.

I'm not really the biggest Anh Hung Tran fan, but I do follow his work from a distance. While not truly spectacular, I appreciated the soft-natured atmosphere of Mua He Chieu Thang Dung, Xich Lo on the other hand was somewhat of a disappointment. But when I heard Tran was going to adapt a book of Murakami, I was pretty excited to see how he would blend his Vietnamese roots with the Japanese setting. The result is nothing short of amazing.

Norwegian Wood is a well-known novel by Japanese author Haruki Murakami, one of the few Japanese writers who actually managed to acquire an avid following in the West. The book itself took its name from a lesser known Beatles song. I haven't read the book myself, which is actually an advantage when watching a film adaptation as it doesn't set any false expectations. People in the know told me that Tran changed some things around though, so be warned that it's not a word-for-word adaptation.

What the film lacks in depth of secondary characters, it regains by focusing quite heavily on the main love triangle. We follow Toru as he travels through the harder parts of puberty. Toru falls in love with Naoko, who has a hard time dealing with the suicide of her former lover (who just happened to be Toru's best friend). Even though Toru and Naoko are quite intimate, Naoko disappears from view as she moves to a recovery clinic in the hills. Toru feels responsible for Naoko, but long distance relationships are hard at such a young age, especially with someone who has serious mental issues.

Toru also meets up with Midori, a young, somewhat extravagant girl who flirts with him even though she's in a relationship herself. Toru is torn between these two women, unable to balance his feelings of romance and responsibility. Student protests from the background of Toru's emotional struggle, though they appear mostly during the beginning of the film, around halfway through Tran keeps a very rigid focus on his main characters and he doesn't let go until the very end of the film.

Visually Norwegian Wood is almost impeccable. It's great to see Tran's own style blend with Japanese traditions. The outdoor locations are truly stunning, camera work and lighting are stellar too. But it's the way Tran uses short, often unrelated scenes to express the character's emotions which is truly captivating. There is one scene in particular that stayed with me long after the film, Naoko and Toru facing the wind, huddling together for protection. No dialog is needed to bring out their deepest emotions, a supreme example of visual storytelling.

The soundtrack too is great. Of course there are some classic hits to help with building up the whole 60s atmosphere, but it's the original score that really sets it apart from traditional Japanese dramas. It's not as subtle, often dictating the atmosphere of a scene, but never too sentimental or cheap. The best piece is near the end of the film, completely unsettling and quite difficult to sit through, but definitely worth the challenge. The soft-voiced dialogs on the other hand make for a warmer atmosphere and contrast well with the soundtrack.

Taking up the role of Toru is Ken'ichi Matsuyama (Usagi Drop). Even though I wasn't a very big fan of him before, he is really cut out for sweet, delicate characters and he manages to carry the film with deceptive ease. Naoko is played by Rinko Kikuchi (Babel), Midori by newcomer Kiko Mizuhara. Both of them are superb too, making for a young and remarkably strong cast.

Norwegian Wood holds a delicate balance of drama and romance. Even though the film can get quite heavy at times, there is always a silver lining to keep the warm atmosphere alive. The ending may be a bit easy, wrapping everything up a bit too comfortably as to leave the viewer with a contented feeling, but apart from that little glitch (and I must admit, it did feel good) there is little wrong with this film.

Norwegian Wood is the first Tran film I truly loved. It's beautifully shot, wonderfully scored and aptly acted. It scores well in just about every department, showcasing the progress Tran has made as a director. With this in mind I'm really looking forward to Tran's next film and I'll probably catch up with his previous film I Come With The Rain too. Norwegian Wood is perfect material for fans of Japanese drama films who are looking for a different spin on the genre, it's very Japanese but clearly made by a non-Japanese director. This often results in an uneasy mix of two very different worlds, but in this case it works out extremely well.

It's been a while since Hsiao-hsien Hou made anything substantial. Safe a quick short film (as part of the 10+10 anthology project) little has been heard from him ever since he released Le Voyage Du Ballon Rouge. At one point rumors whispered he was going to direct a martial arts epic starring Tadanobu Asano, but that's about it. So it's a relief the man left us with a magnificent oeuvre to cover the distance between now and what will hopefully become his future set of films, because his work is definitely one of a kind.

Zui Hao De Shi Guang (or Three Times as it's known in the West) is a good starting point if you're interested in Hou's work. It's an anthology project, covering three (elaborated) short films, though all directed by Hou himself. Each short features the same two actors (Shu Qi - May and Chen Chang - Chen), set in different time periods and following their trials and hardships when falling in love.

The first short is A Time For Love, which takes us back to the 60s. It's Hou's take on pure and delicate love and it's probably the short that lies closest to Hou's older films. May works as a hostess in a table pool bar where Chen visits her on a regular basis. Until Chen is called to join the army. When Chen returns it turns out that May moved on, leaving him very little to track her down. Chen is not ready to give up on May though and uses every little bit of info to try and locate her again.

A Time For Love is slow and subtle. This is not your typical Western romance, where people fall in each other's arms and kiss wildly when they are finally reunited. The romantic highpoint appears when May and Chen hold hands for the first time ... and that's about the hottest thing that happens. Then again, Hou films it in a way that really needs no further explanation: these two people love each other. The music is a selection of popular 60s tracks, and while I'm not too fond of them outside the context of this film, they really work wonders here. The Definitely the most beautiful of the three shorts.

A Time For Freedom is without a doubt the most difficult and impenetrable of the three films. It's a silent short, set in 1911. If you thought holding hands was a pretty rudimentary form of romance, you'll be amazed at how things turn out here. This short is probably best compared to Hou's own Flowers Of Shanghai, only A Time For Freedom is even more subdued and stoic.

May and Chen talk with each other and that's about it. Clearly they appreciate each other's company, but protocol prohibits them from truly exposing their feelings. Dialog is shared through intertitles (in line with classic silent films, though it was rumored that it's also somewhat of a hack because Qi and Chan had a lot of trouble with the dialect), further highlighting the icy social behavior of May and Chen. The score is comprised of beautiful piano music, mixed with traditional Chinese vocal music (another thing that will put off Western audiences). Many people might not even feel or understand the romance, but if you're familiar with hardcore Asian dramas you'll know what to look for in both actors, as their body language clearly reveals the love both share for each other.

A Time For Youth is the contemporary short of the anthology. May is a bar singer, Chen acts as her photographer. The both of them are seeing other people but they are clearly drawn to each other. A Time For Youth is the least naive of the three short films, treating romance and love almost as a throw-away commodity. Still the love between May and Chen feels real enough, though definitely not as cute and deep compared to the two other shorts.

Many people cited the final short as the least accomplished one, but I think that's just the traditional expectations of romance speaking. A Time For Youth is an essential part of this mini-trilogy and people who are partial to Hou's Millennium Mambo will definitely appreciate the feel and pacing of this short.

Three Times is a slow burner. Even though the film is split in three different parts, there isn't much in the way of storyline or dramatic events. Hou likes to observe his characters, catching them in their most private moments. The acting is very natural, Hou's camera is delicate and loving and the score is spot on. Three Times is a beautiful film, casting its view on the different aspects of love and romance. It's Hou at his very best, which makes it a film that should not be missed.

Kofuku no Kane is what happens when three of my favorite Japanese film people get together to make film. It's the highpoint in the oeuvre of director Hiroyuki Tanaka (Usagi Drop, Monday, Kanikosen), which wasn't shy of good films to begin with, enhanced by a rare leading performance of Susumu Terajima and finished off with a lovely cameo of Seijun Suzuki (Pistol Opera). The result is every bit as good as you'd expect it to be.

With many obscure Japanese films getting EN-friendly releases at the beginning of the new millennium, it's beyond my comprehension that some of Tanaka's prime films remain cut off from the West. Even though Tanaka is a respected regular at prominent genre film festivals (think BIFFF), his films ooze quality and he has a very clear signature style, you have to look far and wide to find certain of his films on DVD. As for Kofuku no Kane, there is only a German DVD available (original dub, German subs), it's not ideal but at least it gives you something to work with.

Kofuku no Kane is a film that feels as if it was made from the bottom up to feature Terajima as its main character. I'm a big Terajima fan and I always felt the actor was somewhat underused, playing second violin to other, more famous people in the business. With Kofuku no Kane he proves that he is capable of taking an entire film upon his shoulders. When all is said and done, Terajima may not be the most versatile actor but there is no-one that can beat him at his own game.

The film starts when Terajima finds out he's out of a job. The factory he's always worked at has closed its doors, leaving him and his coworkers without a steady income. In a daze Terajima wanders off, traveling through the city, meeting up with a varied range of people. Terajima seems numb, doesn't speak a single word and acts like an empty shell, yet people flock to him and lead him into an interesting series of adventures. Perfect road movie material, but on a much smaller scale and with an interesting twist.

I think Kofuku no Kane qualifies as Tanaka's most visually accomplished film. Shots are often static, but perfectly framed and always functional. There are many occasions when the camera is positioned in such a way that it subtly enhances the humor or dramatic impact of a certain scene. It's one of Tanaka's typical trademarks, brought to absolute perfection here. The camera work does loosen up a little near the end, mimicking the mental state of the film's main character.

The soundtrack is mostly absent, it's not until very late in the film that traces of an actual score start to emerge. Before that it's mostly environmental sounds that make up the soundtrack of the film, coupled with several monologues. Even though Terajima himself remains quiet throughout the film, the people he meets are glad enough to tell him their problems. The music is never missed though, especially when the quiet of certain scenes underline Terajima's state of being.

As I said before, this film was simply made for Terajima. He has no dialogue, but the man's expressions throughout the film are golden. It's not that Terajima acts with broad gestures and lots of poeha, but the more than expressive looks on his face and often gentle shifts in posture always betray what he's thinking. Even though he appears apathetic and distant, he's a very likable character. Secondary characters are solid too, though they go mostly by unnoticed (except of course the cameo of Suzuki).

Kofuku no Kane is not a very complex film, but Tanaka's excellent mix of drama and comedy is remarkable. Terajima's adventures can be a little far-fetched, but each segment is there to illustrate a little about Terajima's brewing crisis. Throughout the film he finds out a thing or two about life, leading up to the point where he can finally free himself of his own burden. The ending is without a doubt one of the best I've ever seen. I'm not going too spoil too much, but I'm pretty sure I've never grinned any wider.

If you want complex story lines or deep-digging drama it's probably best that you look elsewhere, but Tanaka's gentle and loving approach and Terajima's superb portrayal of his character takes you along an amazing trip full of endearing, funny and warm moments. I'm still hoping for a proper DVD/Blu-Ray release of Kofuku no Kane, but dialogue is scarce and if you are only just a little familiar with the German language I do advise you to pick up this movie whenever you get the chance.

I'm not quite sure how they do it, but the Pang Bros keep producing films at an excruciating pace, be it by themselves or in collaborative efforts. I'm not one to complain though, I'm always in for a bit of ultra-stylized Pang wizardry, especially when Oxide is pulling all the string. While Sleepwalkers (Meng You 3D) won't be remembered as Oxide Pang's most exciting effort, the overall quality guarantees a very fine piece of entertainment.

Even though Danny Pang (In Love With The Dead, Seven 2 One) made a few solid solo projects, Oxide Pang (Mon Seung, The Detective, The Detective 2, Basic Love, Som And Bank) remains the most talented of the two brothers. Oxide Pang has a certain visual flair that is virtually unmatched, even in a rather simple film like this he manages to put the most impressive shots on display, turning potentially dull scenes into real eye catchers.

Sleepwalker is a pretty straightforward thriller, infused with a little mystery and spiced up with the token horror influences during the first half. True horror aficionados shouldn't be expecting a return to Oxide's old horror habits though, while there are a few tense and menacing moments hidden away in Sleepwalkers, Oxide is just teasing, completely abandoning the horror aspect during the second half of the film. In the end the supernatural is kept to a minimum and serves the dramatic side of the story rather than turning it into typical horror fare.

Sleepwalker follows Yi, a young tailor who has trouble getting over the break-up with her ex-boyfriend. Yi's colleagues start noticing slight changes in her behavioral patterns, Yi herself is confronted with them when a police officer wakes her up at night, asking her what she was doing out late at night. Yi suspects she is sleepwalking and traps herself inside her own house, but it seems her unconsciousness isn't going to be fooled that easily. While Yi tries to figure out what the hell is going on, her own story starts to intertwine with that of a young mother looking for her missing child.

The film was released in 3D, but safe one rather tacky effect shot there isn't much that hints at the 3D aesthetic when watching the regular version. That's actually quite nice as there is nothing quite as annoying as noticing where certain 3D effects should've taken place. I can't really comment on the 3D itself, but I can say that the cinematography and art direction of Sleepwalker are top notch. Camera angles, use of light and use of color are all superb, resulting is some truly beautiful settings. The editing is equally effective, making this one looker of a film.

The soundtrack is atypically subdued. Normally The Pangs like loading their films with expressive and loud music, with Sleepwalker Oxide puts the score more in the background. It's a refreshing approach for Oxide, but the result isn't quite as shocking as I'd hoped. The score often fades away in the scenery and even though previous scores were often hit and miss, at least they granted their films some extra individuality. Not that the score here is bad, but it could've used some extra spice.

Sleepwalker sees Angelica Lee return to the world of the Pangs. Lee earned her fame by putting in a strong performance in the Pang's The Eye and it's nice to see her turn up in a Pang film once again. She's pretty effective playing confused characters and she clearly delivers. The film relies greatly on Lee's character as secondary roles are quite limited and don't get much time to shine. The acting is overall solid though, with no poor performances to be noted.

The trouble with Sleepwalker is that people will be expecting a great twist at the end and the film just doesn't deliver. Around halfway through Oxide starts revealing the true nature behind the events and while there are some surprises they are all quite predictable. The film doesn't really hint at a big twist either, but somehow mind-bending plot twists became a genre cliché and way too often people expect them to be there, dismissing any film that fails to deliver. If you're like that, it's probably best to leave Sleepwalker alone.

Like I said before, Sleepwalker is a pretty simple film. Everything is neatly revealed and tied up at the end, the plot doesn't contain any real big twists and runs smoothly from start to finish. But Oxide Pang's execution is flawless and makes for some stunning scenes and settings. Lee is at her best and while Oxide Pang has definitely made better films, he could do a lot worse with a film like this to flesh out his oeuvre. I can't really comment on the 3D, but it's good to know that the 2D version doesn't suffer from too many tacky leftover effects. All in all it's a solid film, an exercise in perfected entertainment.

If you're into weird and you haven't seen Pistol Opera yet, just skip this review and make sure you go into the film as blank as possible. Pistol Opera is without a doubt one of the strangest cinematic experiences of the past decade, a film that defies traditional film making rules and beats you to death with its odd exterior. And the greatest things of all: it is directed by one of the sweetest looking Japanese grandpas you can imagine.

Seijun Suzuki is unmistakably the maddest ojisan in cinema. Forget Miike, forget Tsukamoto, forget Lynch and Jodorowsky, none of them are able to out-freak this little Japanese madman. Suzuki is a director that loves to challenge conventions and tries to do so in as many ways as possible. Forget logic, hell, you can even forget about inner-film logic. Pistol Opera is a film that plays by scene and leaves you stranded whenever it feels like it. For some people this will prove to be an enormous challenge, for others it will be the main selling point of the film.

Pistol Opera is set in the same universe as Suzuki's 1967 film Branded To Kill. It's not really a straight-up sequel or remake but borrows a few concepts and retells the film from the bottom up. Stray Cat is third on the ranking list of The Guild, an organization of professional hit man. These killers can rise up through the ranks by accepting targets and killing them efficiently, but lately trouble is brewing among the killers themselves. Even though the list is unknown to its members, one by one they are disappearing from the list, leaving favorable spots that others are more than happy to fill in.

To bring back peace to the organization Stray Cat gets the order to kill the number 1 on the list, One Hundred Eyes. Nobody knows who he is though and so Stray Cat starts her own private investigation. While all of this sounds quite sane and deceptively easy to follow, the reality is actually quite different. The overarching story may be simple enough to keep track of, the weirdness comes from within the individual scenes and spreads through the film like a virus.

The titular opera is reflected in the visualization of Pistol Opera. Many of the film's settings are reminiscent of theater sets (some quite literally), brightened up by strong and vibrant colors. Suzuki sends his camera around these sets in rather complex arcs, often opposing the camera movement with previous scenes to create a disconcerting effect. Suzuki went to considerable lengths to make his film look awesome, sadly the visuals are burdened by a horrible looking 4:3 format. It's a complete mystery to me why Suzuki didn't just give his shots some room to breath, and even though he uses the 4:3 to good effect in a couple of scenes the overall effect feels like missed potential.

The soundtrack is enjoyably quirky and original. Suzuki just likes to play around with whatever means he has to upset his audience. The individual tracks are fun and funky, but it's the weird, often unfitting sound effects that leave a lasting impression. Image a loud, deafening siren starting to howl, followed by a shot of an old phone. First you'll be startled (it's a genuine scare), only to be fooled by something so silly. Small things like that appear all over, making for a very cool and challenging soundtrack.

The acting is solid too but extremely theatrical. Broad gestures and strong, stylized poses pop up everywhere, highlighting the strong opera influences. Makiko Esumi is superb as Stray Cat, putting up a commendable performance and claiming each scene she's in. Esumi finds a great adversary in Sayoko Yamaguchi though, who provides the proper counter-weight for Esumi's character. Then there is a cool cameo of Masatoshi Nagase, other notable appearances include Kirin Kiki and Yoshiyuki Morishita. The acting style won't be to everyone's liking (just like the rest of the film), but it definitely gives the film an extra edge.

If you would neglect the extreme styling and take the film at face value, I'm sure you'd end up with a list of film mistakes longer than the actual script. Characters move their poses and positions in between shots, they walk past each other without seeing one another, they disappear and reappear in unrelated sets. The action sequences are so stylized they don't even count as action sequences any more. There's weirdness all over the place and right when you think Suzuki's box of tricks has dried up he comes up with a new thing to put you in your place.

Pistol Opera is not the easiest of films. You have to accept that the story is a mere hook for some cinematic fun while Suzuki takes a little run with his audience. It's a unique and special experience though, one you won't find anywhere else. The mix of theatrical coolness and playfulness is truly refreshing. Afterwards, when you snap out of Pistol Opera's daze, make sure to Google a picture of Seijun Suzuki for maximum effect. I'm certain that if they ever needed a stock image of a sweet-looking grandpa feeding the ducks with his grand children, there wouldn't be a better choice that Suzuki.

Yimou Zhang is back with a new film and once again he means business. The Flowers Of War is China's most expensive film yet and it's one of the first major Chinese films to prominently feature an American Hollywood star as its main character. Mr Batman himself (Christian Bale) is disguising himself as fake-priest John Miller, who takes it upon himself to protect a church full of orphans and prostitutes from the Japanese soldiers.

After releasing Curse Of The Golden Flowers Zhang retreated back to China. Between directing the opening sequence of the Olympic Games and releasing two low-key projects (at least internationally speaking, Love Of The Hawthorn Tree and The First Gun - despite the latter being a rough remake of the Coen's Blood Simple. - received very little attention) Zhang was almost invisible to us Westerners. Six years later he returns with a film that strives to match his former glory.

The Flowers Of War travels back Nanking, 1937. Japanese soldiers are invading the city and the Chinese are running for their lives. Few people are spared during this gruesome invasion. American citizen John Miller abuses the situation to make some quick money as he tries to rob a church from its prized possessions. The church is some kind of safe house and holds a group of young orphans. Miller isn't really bothered by their presence though and continues his quest for valuables.

Not much later a group of prostitutes join the orphans in the hope the Japanese won't find them in the church. The tension inside the church quickly rises and when the Japanese finally raid the place Miller unexpectedly steps up to safe the children from the cruelties of war. What follows is a struggle to escape from the clutches of the Japanese without harming any of the people present in the church.

Zhang's work is known to be insanely colorful (think Hero), so the rather grim setting of a city at war may surprise fans at first. Zhang is meticulous in his visual direction though, so it's hardly noticeable during the first couple of scenes. Until the point where we enter the church that is. Apparently Zhang found himself a stained glass window which he continuously abuses in the most magnificent of ways to inject his film with bright and emotive colors. The results are stunning, be it the light falling through the window, the glass shattering by a bullet impact or a simple scene shot from up close through the window. He even found a second excuse in the beautiful dresses worn by the prostitutes, who also bring a lot of color to the film. The visual contrast between both aspects is simply brilliant.

The soundtrack is pretty interesting too. The first couple of scenes are heavily muted, which is quite unusual for a film of such epic proportions. No loud, sentimental music or ear-shattering sound effects, but the dull thuds of war in the background. Later on the score becomes more prominent, while still finding a surprisingly good balance between Western and traditional Chinese influences. The mix is almost refreshing and suits the film very well. The score still finds itself well within the boundaries of what could be expected, but the execution is gentle and admirable.

Bale does a pretty good job here. It's always a little tricky, casting a famous actor in the lead of an Asian film, especially when he's supposed to be some kind of savior. Bad memories of Cruise's Last Samurai still haunt my nightmares, luckily Bale's character is different. He isn't just the good guy saving those poor Chinese people from their horrible fate. He actually starts out as a bona fide asshole, slowly warming up to the people that share his barren fate inside the church. The Chinese actors are mostly first-timers but do a great job too, as they provide Bale with the necessary dramatic challenges to rise above himself.

My biggest worry before seeing this film was the inclusion of Bale. I'm not a big fan of Asian films trying to be a Western film as most of them end up as half-arsed attempts that fail on both accounts. The Flowers Of War presents an interesting mix though, where Bale's presence brings a more Westerns feel while the film itself still manages to step beyond the boundaries of traditional Hollywood film making. There are Western influences found in just about every aspect of the film (cinematography, acting, soundtrack, ...), but they are always blended in such a way that they come off as refreshing, not working against the Chinese foundation of the film.

One popular critique about this film is about the black and white depiction of the Japanese soldiers. There's hardly any nuance or subtlety and they are shown as wild and savage beasts, raping and killing whoever they get their hands on. While this critique is quite factual, I don't think it's necessarily a bad thing. Of course it's a little tricky as the film is based on a true setting, on the other hand The Flowers Of War is a film that demands a proper bad guy. Subtlety wouldn't have helped the dramatic impact of the film, it would in fact have made it a totally different film altogether. So yeah, it may not be true to life, but that's why it's a dramatized film and not a documentary. I hope most audiences will be smart enough to look past that.

The Flowers Of War borders on sentimentality and poses as a very epic endeavor. It's Zhang's magnificent direction that erases any major critiques, turning the film into a proper epic spectacle. There are moments of unsurpassed beauty, tucked away in a strong story, propelled by a cast of fallible characters. Zhang cleverly steps around a few sentimental pitfalls and delivers a film that shines from start to finish. It's a return to form for Yimou Zhang, the only real downside is that the film failed to appear in theaters over here. A simple TV setup simply doesn't do justice to the beauty of this film.

Isao Yukisada (Parade, Women Play Twice) may not be amongst the most famous of Japanese directors, quality-wise he's easily one of the most consistent ones I know. His output ranges from good to great, never truly peaking but never failing either. A Day On The Planet is one of his better films so far and should appeal to everyone with a soft spot for Japanese dramas (at least the feature length kind, not the TV kind).

A Day On The Planet finds Yukisada in familiar territory. It's another ensemble film without a real protagonist, instead the film focuses on a group of young friends who come together one night to hang out and celebrate. As an audience we are inclined to cling ourselves to the first group of characters that's introduced, but Yukisada moves between the different characters without any real preference, skipping between backgrounds and events and focusing on the group dynamic without alienating us from the individuals.

Each character gets a prolonged sequence to shine, on top of that there are two tangibly related story lines that help in gluing everything together. While there is enough personal drama tucked away in A Day On The Planet, there isn't anything in particular that propels the story forward, there is no real climax and the emotional payoff comes in bite-size chunks rather than a big sprawling finale. It's a real slice-of-life kinda film, low on actual drama but still beautiful and captivating in all its mundane glory.

On a visual level it's a very decent yet safe and predictable film. If you've seen a couple of Japanese dramas you'll know what to expect. The camera remains close to the actors and remains mobile at all times without ever falling into the Dogme trap. The beach scenes are beautiful (the shots with the whale are impressive), inside scenes tend to be a bit darker and murkier. Overall the film has a pleasant look but it never intrudes on the drama, nor does it demand too much of the viewer's attention.

The score suffers the same critique. While it's nice and fitting, it's far from original. It's understandable considering Yukisada's intentions, when making a humanistic slice-of-life drama there isn't much need for overly expressive styling, be it visual or through the music. Still, I feel that there's more that could've been done within these limitations, a bit more attention to the score wouldn't have hurt the film.

Acting on the other hand is all around great. Tanaka and Tsumabuki make for a great screen couple, the others are all very natural and believable too. Yukisada is typically great with his actors, drawing very life-like and likable performances from his cast. There's also a small role for Eihi Shiina, though she's completely unrecognizable from her role in Miike's Audition. I must say that I didn't even physically recognize her when I watched the film.

A Day On The Planet is a film for those who like to spend some time with a mixed set of characters. People come and go while the focus of the film is continuously shifting between different characters. There is no real drama, just minor, human troubles (the type that makes up what is the bigger part of our own lives). Unfinished personal projects, girlfriend issues and small setbacks are amongst the most dramatic events featured in this film. It's not for everybody, but if you like this kind of thing then A Day On The Planet is a very worthwhile experience.

It's not always easy tracking down Yukisada's films, but for fans of this type of films it's definitely worth the trouble. A Day On The Planet deliver a lovely two hours of escapism, allowing you to be a fly on the wall of a group of Japanese teens who have an enjoyable night out. There's nothing spectacular going on, but that's exactly what makes this film so wonderful. Looking at Yukisada's oeuvre I think it's fair to say that a big international career is probably out of the question, but he should be able to garner a loving fanbase nonetheless, warranted by the dramatic purity and quality of his films.

What would happen if a director made a film about himself? And how would that film be affected if this director just happened to be a real multi-talented control freak? You don't need to look any further than Takeshis', Takeshi Kitano's (Hana-Bi, Kikujiro no Natsu, Achilles to Kame, Kantoku: Banzai!) ultimate cinematic experience where he finally takes the time to scrutinize his own self. The result is every bit as schizophrenic as you'd expect it to be.

Takeshis' is a very difficult film to judge. A lot depends on how familiar you are with the work of Kitano (even outside the realm of cinema). Takeshi Kitano is a complex character, an ever-present force in the Japanese media who does everything from designing games to writing novels, from hosting TV shows to writing, starring, editing and directing his own films. He's also a famous comedian, has several columns and his ties with the Yakuza are infamous. How do you capture such a personality in a single film?

The answer is clearly not straight-forward. While the first 30 minutes or so are pretty easy to follow, Kitano quickly loses himself in a world of dreams, working with scenes that overlap, characters that resurface and moments of completely unrelated brilliance. If you're looking for a coherent story you won't find it here, but amidst the chaos you will pick up a lot about the man behind the legend, the chaos actually defines Kitano and the way he goes about constructing the film has a very familiar feel to it, bringing you much closer to his persona than any of the separate scenes could ever manage.

There are fragments of an actual storyline in Takeshis', where we follow a Kitano look-alike trying to find a job as an actor in the movie business. He keeps on failing his auditions and so he resorts to daydreaming about becoming a big movie star. Trying to make sense of this story throughout the second half will greatly reduce the pleasure there is to be had though, so I wouldn't consider it much more than a simple setup that serves as another reflection on Kitano's almost schizophrenic life.

Visually Takeshis' is a strong summary of Kitano's typical style. The film relies heavily on static shots and looks for dynamics in harsh and unexpected cuts. Kitano is great at building up shots so the abundance of static camera angles is far from annoying, his typical editing style simply finishes it off. He also took a few cues from Dolls as the whole is a lot more colorful compared to his earlier films (though definitely up to Dolls' standards).

Takeshis' is the second film in line to break off Kitano's collaboration with Joe Hisaishi. Hisaishi's signature is missed simply because he had such a big part in the success of Kitano's film, on the other hand this film is so incredibly meta that the more modern and electronic-oriented score fits better than Hisaishi's typical scores could ever have. The music played during the beach climax in particular is stunning and forms a solid bridge between the old and the new Kitano.

Kitano himself takes up the role of two characters (himself and his look-alike), which is pretty awesome considering he's such a charismatic actor. There is absolutely no one else that could've taken up the role of Takeshi Kitano besides himself. Secondary roles are perfectly cast too, with Kayoko Kishimoto (she plays the worst bitch ever) and Tetsu Watanabe making noteworthy appearances. They are still outclassed by Kitano regulars Ren Osugi and (personal favorite) Susumu Terajima though, the latter actually playing one of his best roles so far. The man's facial expressions and overall body language are just pure gold.

If you're unfamiliar with Kitano's work I would never recommend this film. All the fun and beauty comes from the infinite references Kitano makes to his earlier work and achievements. There's tap dancing, beaches, suicides, absurd and improv comedy. Silly jokes, dyed hair, familiar actors, twitching facial expressions and so much more. Takeshis' is a film that defines Kitano in many ways and in that sense it's a great success. This may scare off people who aren't too familiar with the man's work, but that's actually a good thing in this case.

The good thing is that it's not all just an ode to himself, Kitano doesn't mind making some fun of himself or the people around him. It keeps the film from becoming one big ego trip, instead the result is something more humane and life-like. The final thirty minutes may seem nonsensical and many of the jokes may appear to be completely random, but fans of Kitano will recognize his signature style right away. Takeshis' is a pretty complex film but as soon as you realize it's not so much about the story as it is about the construction of the whole, you'll see that this was the only way to realize this film. Takeshis' is a feast of recognition, a wonderful comedy and a completely unique film that could've been made by only one man in this entire world. Takeshis' is Takeshi Kitano.

Fabrice du Welz raised quite a few heads when he released Calvaire. Not only are Belgian horror films a rare commodity, for a freshman effort Calvaire felt surprisingly mature and focused. Clearly this wasn't some kind of semi-professional one-off, but a film that bared the director's lasting intentions. Genre fans were pretty disappointed when du Welz' follow-up (Vinyan) didn't turn out to be a straight horror flick, but at least they'll always have Calvaire to revisit.

Calvaire is one of the few films that get noticeably better which each consecutive viewing. The first time I watched it I found the first half of the film somewhat slow and uneventful, but knowing what is to come you'll find a lot of subtle (and often very funny) foreshadowing tucked away in those early scenes. Little moments of genius that betray the twisted second half of the film and make the first half of the film a lot easier to sit through.

Calvaire (or The Ordeal) is just what it promises to be for main character Marc Stevens, a low-ranking singer who travels between retirement homes and small fairs to earn a few bucks. Untalented folk like that actually make up a big part of our local "artists", Calvaire is du Welz' way to take revenge for their horribly constructed and badly worded attempts at music that bother unsuspecting people watching TV or trying to do grocery shopping.

After a short introduction deglorifying Marc's life as an artist we see how the poor man gets stranded in the middle of nowhere. A passerby directs Marc to the nearest inn where he can spend the night. The next morning Marc's van turns out to be beyond repair, so he is forced to spend the next couple of hours in company of Bartel, owner of the inn. After some idle chit-chat Bartel discovers Marc's profession, which brings back his own past as a stand-up comedian. A critical mistake as Bartel has trouble coping with the ghosts that lie buried in his memories.

To make sure Calvaire looked its very best, du Welz claimed the skills of now famous cinematographer Benoît Debie (Innocence, Irréversible, Vinyan, Enter The Void), without a doubt one of my favorite visual magicians. His work for Calvaire is superb, capturing the dreary and misty surroundings of the Belgian Ardens. There are some superbly shot scenes hidden away, particularly in the second half of the film. Not only the camera work itself, but also the use of color and light is sublime and help to set the ideal atmosphere for Marc's trying adventure.

Calvaire's soundtrack is a very solid affair, relying heavily on soundscapes and brooding ambient patterns. It really suits the film atmosphere, making the setting even more backwards and depressing (improbably as it sounds). There are a few vocal tracks (when Marc performs) which are spot on, then there is the now-famous bar scene that features one of the greatest songs ever to played on a badly tuned piano.

The acting too is A-grade. Laurent Lucas does a stellar job as the unfortunate Stevens, but its Jackie Berroyer that shines as Bartel. His facial expressions and subtle mannerisms really make his character a true sight to behold. He's a sick little puppy, but at the same time he has a certain air of sadness and loneliness that elevates his character above most horror icons. To top it off, there's Philippe Nahon making a small but noteworthy appearance as head of the local community.

Calvaire is not so much a true horror film as it features little gore, nor is it very tense or scary. Instead you get a truly amusing dark comedy where the main characters is punished for his artistic crimes. Stevens finds himself amongst a bunch of freaks and weirdos who provide the perfect setting for some absurd and pretty sick form of humor. The poor man goes through hell, but you can only smirk at the crap Stevens has to endure.

Not everyone is going to appreciate Calvaire's particular sense of humor, for some it may be a little too absurd at times (the midgets are a good example, so is the bar dance), but if it suits you then du Welz' film is easily one of the best in its genre. It's beautifully shot, consciously directed, perfectly acted and a perfect mix of a twisted backwards horror with a dark and nasty comedy. Fabrice du Welz may not be the most prolific of directors, but when he releases a film he makes sure it counts.

Osamu Minorikawa's Life Can Be So Wonderful is a film that illustrates exactly what the recent output of Japanese cinema is missing. It's a very unique, personal and free-form film that exists outside of most genre boundaries and definitions. Just ten years ago projects like this were almost the norm, nowadays you have to dig deep to uncover gems like Minorikawa's freshman film. All the more reason to cherish it and to give it the attention it deserves.

Life Can Be So Wonderful is not so much traditional cinema as it is a visual poem, mixed with faux documentary impulses. Minorikawa isn't using this approach to shock or amuse, instead he tries to capture the beauty of life in small, personal moments and recollections. Everything about this film is a testament to Minorikawa's honest intentions, which is very refreshing in itself. Throughout the film you are constantly confronted with the presence of the director.

Minorikawa's film is actually an anthology project. There are five separate shorts that each have their very own voice and style, but still merge seamlessly into a single film. Each short introduces one character who is given a little window to philosophize on life. There is no connection between the characters, there is no dramatic arc that brings them together, but the overarching idea and approach of each short is always the same.

While there is some dramatic tension left and right, Life Can Be So Wonderful really is an ode to life. Some shorts are more melancholic than others, the second one in particular is even a little downbeat, but each short still knows to emit a positive message. Minorikawa's film is about appreciating life, even when some parts of it are less than perfect or different from how we imagined them to be. A very simple yet elegant message that runs throughout every single fiber of this film.

Minorikawa aims his camera at the little things that make people happy. Unsuspecting objects like plants and cute gadgets or people enjoying the sunny atmosphere inside their own house. There are no majestic camera swoops or intricate edits to convince us that life is worth living, instead the film is littered with beautiful snapshots of places and objects where we would usually not look for beauty.

The music is pretty traditional, in the sense that it aligns with what you would expect from an artistic drama film like this. Soft, somewhat meandering music that sets a nice atmosphere to let the mind wander from time to time. There are quite a few voice overs too, to the point where they actually become part of the soundscape of the film. It's all pretty decent, but admittedly not as interesting as the rest of the film.

The acting is very natural and lifelike. I actually tracked down this film because Ryuhei Matsuda was in it, but the other actors are just as great. I would even go as far as to say that Matsuda's appearance clashed a little with the natural vibe this film emitted, as it made me realize that it was all a mere setup rather than stylized documentary footage. It has little to do with Matsuda's actual performance, it's just that a less recognizable or popular actor might've been a better choice. Then again, a name like Matsuda does attract people (with myself being the perfect example), so in the end including him was probably worth it.

Life Can Be So Wonderful may be quite short with only a good 65 minutes of actual film (not counting the credits), but I'm sure that it will seem like an endless drag to some people. If you expect a linear story line with dramatic events propelling the film forward then you're going to be bored as hell. Instead Minorikawa attempts to capture the emotions through more abstract visuals and little human portraits. It's mostly a non-linear experience with little in the way of plot or emotional climaxes, luckily there are still directors out there who realize that film is more than drawing people's asses to a nearby movie theater.

I was happily surprised after watching Life Can Be So Wonderful. It's an upbeat, albeit slow and meandering, film that succeeds effortlessly in its goals. I guess finding Minorikawa's other films will prove to be quite a challenge, but if they're as good as this one it's definitely going to be worth the trouble. Be warned that this is not a film aimed at mindless entertainment, but if you're in the mood for a slow-burning charmer that acts outside the boundaries of traditional cinema then it's warmly recommended.

Mamoru Oshii (Kokaku Kidotai, Innocence, Patlabor 2, Sky Crawlers) has one hell of an impressive resume, containing some of the biggest, challenging and most successful animation films out there. At the same time he never stopped experimenting, expanding his oeuvre with smaller, more artistic films (think Tenshi no Tamago or Tachiguishi Retsuden). Talking Head clearly belongs to this second category of films and should be approached with at least some level of caution.

Talking Head is part of the unofficial live action trilogy Oshii directed between '87 and '92. It's not a true trilogy though as Talking Head has little (actually nothing) to do with the other two films. Red Spectacles and Stray Dog are both set in the Kerberos universe, Talking Head is a meta film about film and animation. But ever since Bandai decided to release them as a 3-pack combination people started to adopt the trilogy idea. I'm not one to complain though, releases like these are rare and should be cherished, whatever the consequences of the release format.

Talking Head is by far one of Oshii's most abstract films. It's a film that talks about film and animation itself, turning the film into a pretty big meta experience. Oshii travels through all the different processes that make up a film, littering scenes with film history and some personal interpretations and reflections on what makes a film work. Sure enough there is some background story to warrant a more or less coherent narrative, but it's clearly just an excuse for Oshii to run through a couple of ideas surrounding the magic of the silver screen.

Rei, a director for hire, is called in to finish an abandoned film project. Rei is famed for mimicking other people's styles and directing films in their name, but to do that he has to understand the idea and concept behind the project he needs to complete. This is somewhat of a problem as the original director vanished without a trace. The only option left for Rei is to run down the production department while trying to uncover the mystery of the unfinished film. Things get weird when one by one people are starting to die and disappear around Rei.

Oshii makes the best of his experience as animation director to turn Talking Head into a visual tour de force. The way he frames and colorizes his shots are typical for someone who is used to starting from a blank page. Oshii uses a rather theatrical approach in Talking Head (with many scenes shot on actual stages and sets), but combines it with very cinematic camera work and lighting. This makes for a very interesting dynamic, enhancing the meta feel without falling into the trap of visual boredom.

The Talking Head soundtrack is just one of the many collaborations between Oshii and Kenji Kawai (who also appears as a character in the film), but it's not the most predictable one. The soundtrack is quirkier and more distinctive, not as homogeneous and ambient-inspired as usually the case when the two work together. It fits the playful style of Talking Head though, accentuating Oshii's more light-hearted approach.

That Talking Head isn't Oshii's most serious film becomes clear when confronted with the almost slapstick-like way of acting. It's a style Oshii experimented with before (Red Spectacles) but may surprise people not used to this side of Oshii's work. It only adds to the weird atmosphere already present, especially when all the actors feel clearly comfortable in their roles. Shigeru Chiba carries the film with ease, the secondary characters all have their moment of glory too.

If you're not interested in the magic of film or Oshii's thoughts about the nature of film and its various processes, you will have trouble liking Talking Head. While there is plenty happening on screen, there isn't much of a narrative to follow and there's quite a lot of dialogue to digest. Talking Head is clearly a concept-first film and will leave unsuspecting film fans bewildered. At the same time, it's also a wildly unique project and probably one of the best blends of Oshii's bipolar nature, mixing serious ideas with a very comical approach. The only film topping that is Red Spectacles.

It was a long time since I last watched Talking Head and I wasn't really sure how well I could trust my initial response to the film. Watching it again made me realize that this is without a doubt another one of Oshii's true masterpieces, dazzling and surprising its audience with each chance it gets. If you don't mind the vague narrative, Talking Head is a chain of fun, interesting and challenging scenes. A film made by somebody who clearly loves film and likes to share his own views and visions.

Intruders is a rare little bird. It's a 'big-budget' horror flick directed by someone who dares to put his own style forward. It's unlike the poor reboots that plague the American horror market, but it certainly has the dollars to venture where usually only those films are allowed to go. The result is a special breed of European film making, one that won't appeal to all genre fans but serves as an excellent reminder of Fresnadillo's talent.

Fresnadillo (Intacto, 20 Weeks Later) isn't the most productive director. With only three films in 10 years time it will take a while before he builds up a respectable oeuvre. This abundance of time allows him to really polish his films though. Above anything else, Intruders is a very accomplished film, a film where each scene, even each frame seems well-considered and thought-through. A quality rarely seen in horror films.

Intruders is quite the international project. A Spanish director featuring German, Dutch, Spanish and British actors and set in both London and Spain (not sure about the city there). The film itself is a typical Spanish horror affair though, with supernatural experiences used as an extension of dramatic motivators. There are no true evil powers here, just human drama that's visualized in a horror context.

The film follows two seemingly unrelated families. The first one is located in Spain, where a little boy is haunted by a mysterious faceless figure (named Hollow Face). The creature is after the boy's face and haunts him at night, trying to separate him from his mother's protection. Then there is a London-based family, whose little girl is haunted by the exact same figure after she finds a wooden box containing the legend of Hollow Face buried inside a tree.

Visually speaking Intruders is a real looker. Every frame is just deliciously stylized. Color and lighting in particular are superb. Even though the film is quite dark in places, the right bits and pieces are highlighted to raise the tension to appropriate levels. The camera work can be a little too shaky during the action scenes, but those are just rare moments in an otherwise exquisitely stylized film.

The soundtrack is pretty typical for Spanish films (a bit too epic and overdone at times) but at the same time Fresnadillo keeps it functional and to the point. It wouldn't have hurt to remove some musical cues left and right, but when it matters the soundtrack does deliver, increasing tension and setting a solid atmosphere for the horror to thrive in. It's not a very remarkable or recognizable score, but it certainly does the job.

As for performances, some strange choices were made during the casting of certain actors. The Spanish actors are fine and so is Clive Owen (which is a rarity, but he actually makes his character work here). But why anyone would like to cast Daniel Bruhl as a Spanish preacher, or Carice van Houten as the wife of Owen is completely beyond me. Bruhl's Spanish is fine but he just doesn't really fit the character, van Houten's English is atrocious, and even though she's supposed to be playing a Dutch woman in London (at least, that's why I hope) there really is no visible motivation for this choice. I guess it gives the film a more international (and cross-European) image, but it doesn't help the quality of the film itself.

Fresnadillo does little to challenge genre clichés. Intruders is a pretty straight-forward horror film, especially for people who are familiar with the Spanish take on horror productions. The film is quite slow, heavily stylized and borders more on the fantastical and supernatural than on true horror motives. These can be serious hurdles for people expecting anything more than a true genre film, but apart from that Fresnadillo does everything right and people knowing what to expect can be assured of a quality horror production.

Intruders is a very stylish affair. The film takes its time to explore its setting, slowly working up to an impressive finale. There are no great twists or mind-blowing revelations, instead you should relish the journey towards them. I wish more big budget horror film directors would take a cue from Fresnadillo. Instead of producing cheap Hollywood shlock for the masses, there is more to the genre and a few extra dollars do come in handy once in a while. Sadly reception of the film has been quite mediocre so far, I can only contest public opinion and say this film deserves much better.

If you haven't seen any Takeshi Kitano (Kikujiro no Natsu, Achilles to Kame, Kantoku: Banzai!) films yet, Hana-bi is probably one of the best starting points in the man's oeuvre. It's one of his more accessible films, but it still goes a long way in highlighting his various skills. While still very unique and different from Western cinema, there are enough elements to pull in people not quite familiar with Asian film making.

Back in 1997 Hana-bi earned Kitano a Golden Lion (Venice International Film Festival). Even though he needed the help of Shinya Tsukamoto to convince the jury of Hana-bi's qualities, the film went on to become Kitano's big break-through in the West. A break-through that was already imminent when he released Sonatine a couple years earlier, but apparently an internationally respected prize goes a long way when it comes to Western interest. Hana-bi stands at the source of the renaissance that Japanese film making experienced around the turn of the millennium and in that way it is definitely one of the most important Japanese films made in the past 20 years or so.

Just winning a lauded festival prize isn't quite enough though, as '97 Cannes winner Unagi illustrates (who remembers that film these days?). You need a film that also differentiates itself from others. Hana-bi does just that, as is the perfect mix of Kitano's trademark elements. Snappy and and short bursts of violence are alternated with a quirky sense of humor and more poetic/dramatic moments. Kitano constantly plays around with these different elements to create a film with a very unique feel, able to shift tones in the blink of an eye while keeping the overarching atmosphere more or less consistent.

Kitano plays Nishi, a demotivated cop who is suddenly confronted with several deaths around him. Not only did his he just lose his daughter but his partner got killed in action, a close colleague lost both his legs and his wife was diagnosed as terminal. Nishi decides it's time to take a break and stages a bank robbery to allow him and his wife to undertake a little road trip, away from all everyday worries. Of course things don't go as planned and before long Nishi finds himself being chased by a gang of yakuza and a small team of former colleagues.

You're excused if at times you feel like you're watching an 80s flick. It seems that back in those days Japan was a little behind on fashion, which gives the film an older feel that its production date suggests. On a technical level, it's Kitano's editing style that demands the most attention. Kitano's unique timing lends the film some very interesting shots, but it's the things Kitano doesn't show that make for the best surprises. More than once does he leave out the crux of scene, only showing the events leading up to a certain event and immediately cutting to the aftermath. It's cause and effect, without the actual event in between.

Hana-bi was scored by Joe Hisaishi and while not his best collaboration with Kitano (Hisaishi made more memorable tracks for Dolls, Kids Return and Kikujiro) it still contain some pretty great pieces of music. If anything, it gives the film a pretty laid-back atmosphere that functions as an ideal constant, tying the different tones of Hana-bi together.

When Kitano takes up the lead role you know that you need not worry about performances. Kitano plays (a fraction of) himself and once again knows to charm in a role that isn't necessarily sympathetic. Nishi may be rude, violent and annoying, he still makes me smile every time he does something quirky or unusual. The secondary cast is stellar too, with Susuma Terajima and Ren Osugi taking up most of the screen time. Kayoko Kishimoto is present too as Nishi's wife, the start of a long and successful collaboration between Kishimoto and Kitano.

Kitano takes center stage in Hana-bi. Not only in front of the camera, but with just about every aspect of the film. As an actor he is irreplaceable, as an editor he gives Hana-bi a unique rhythm, as a comedian he inserts some genuinely funny jokes and as a director he keeps a perfect balance between the different tones that are present. And if that wasn't enough, Kitano litters the film with his own paintings. They may not be sprawling examples of technical mastership, but they are certainly unique and amusing.

Hana-bi is a real delight. It's a simple, accessible film but with enough unique elements to keep you surprised and interested. The film is also the perfect showcase for Kitano's versatility. It's funny, poetic, violent and leaves you with a perfect dramatic punch in the gut. If you're new to Asian cinema, Hana-bi is definitely a good starting point. If, on the other hand, you're a seasoned fan already, I cannot image you haven't seen this film yet. If not, be sure to make it a priority.

There is no doubt that Versus was Ryuhei Kitamura's (LoveDeath) break-through film. His two earlier efforts made little or no splash in the film world, but once Kitamura released Versus doors started to open. As often the case, Kitamura never managed to match the genius of his break-through film, then again it makes the original all the more special. Even though this low-budget vehicle is already more than 10 years old, there's still plenty of life left in it.

Trying to find the exact source of the current Japanese wave of splatter films is quite tricky (I would say The Machine Girl), but I'm pretty confident Versus provided plenty of inspiration for the Sushi Typhoon collective. It's a film that isn't constrained by any genre boundaries. It mixes just about everything it thinks is suitable for a cool action flick. Take some big guns, a team of zombies, a few different martial arts styles and of course a couple of samurai. Blend everything together and you have captured the key elements that make Versus such a fun film. Excessive gore (though not up to par with current Japanese splatter films), crazy characters and a rather liberal take on what's physically and biologically possible are what link this film to current favorites (+ of course the presence of Tak Sakaguchi).

The story is pretty basic and serves as a mere hook to bring a vivid selection of characters together. First of all there is Prisoner KSC2-303 who just escaped from prison. He meets up with a bunch of yakuza crooks who managed to slip him out of his confinement. What KSC2-303 does not know is that the yakuza are led by his arch-enemy. Enter more yakuza, KSC2-303's love interest, two police guys chasing KSC2-303 and a small army of undead criminals and you should get the gist. There is a whole lot of fighting and acting tough, ending with the final showdown between KSC2-303 and his arch-enemy. Needless to say, you don't need to watch this film for its fantastic plot.

Versus' low-budget background is clearly visible throughout the film, but this didn't seem to bother Kitamura in the least. The image may not be as clean or crisp as can be, the camera work, editing and framing is simply awesome. Kitamura's camera is constantly on the move, finding weird yet imaginative angles and zooming through and past everything in its way (that includes human cadavers). If you do prefer a more glossy look you could check the remastered version (with also has some scenes re-shot from scratch) but since I've always watched the original I can't comment on the quality of that release.

The soundtrack consists of an eclectic range of action-oriented music. It's far from subtle and homogeneous, freely switching between cheesy guitar riffs and club-ready drum n bass. The thing is though that it works pretty well for each separate scene. It's not what you call a great soundtrack, but as far as supporting the different scenes goes it does the job considerably well.

The acting has similar issues. While the actors have plenty of charisma, some of them just can't act. It's not a big deal in this film, at times it even adds an extra layer of weirdness (the big police guy or the mad yakuza). Sometimes it even goes as far as to lend the film and the characters a very particular charm, but it's equally obvious that they weren't going to win any prizes with their performances. Even Tak Sakaguchi gets by more on charisma than on actual talent. Again, that's pretty much okay for a film like this as long as you don't expect anything more from it.

Even though Versus lasts a full two hours, the film stays fresh and exciting at all times. Kitamura put a lot of variation between the fight scenes, sprinkled the film with plenty of comedy interludes and comes up with smart and clever details at regular intervals. Versus is a true "win or lose" kind of film where the director is giving his all to prove his worth. It may be a bit uneven because of that, but the amount of creativity and passion on display easily trumps whatever negative points follow from Kitamura's lack of subtlety.

For a while Versus was one of my all-time favorite films, but the recent wave of Japanese splatter films changed things a little. Nishimura and friends go way beyond the madness on display in Versus, which makes Kitamura's film a bit less extreme and "out there" compared to when it was launched. It's still immensely fun and entertaining, but when it comes to gore and insanity there are better films out there these days. That's about the only real critique I have, apart from that Versus is still wildly hilarious and definitely worth you time.

In recent years there has been no shortage of Chinese war epics. Every year several prominent directors stick their names to one or other excessive big-budget affair where no expenses are spared to recreate the largest battles in China's rich and sprawling history of warfare. Ping He's Wheat may look like it fits this mold, but actually it doesn't (at all). It's a remarkably small and humble film, which is exactly where its true strength lies.

Rather than focus on the actual warfare, He directs his camera at a village full of left-behind women. Year after year they have to survive on their own while the man are waging war in nearby cities and villages. Uncertain of their men's fate, the women go about their everyday lives, relying on their shaman for information from the outside world. The setup of Wheat reminded me a little of Hu Guan's Cow (also a 2009 film), which offers a similar secluded view of warfare, focusing on a small village tucked away amidst the mountains.

Out little village is greatly disturbed when two men are found in a nearby riverbed. Identified as their own soldiers through wounds inflicted by the adversary's weapons, these two men turn about to be deserters of the adversary's army, left for deadafter they jumped into the river. Looking at the somewhat troublesome start of the film, it's a shame He gives away this piece of information early on as it could and would've spiced things up a bit during the first half of the film.

But He doesn't keep his audience in the dark and focuses on how these two men integrate with the rest of the villagers. With one of the two men acting as a complete idiot though, I don't feel He made the right decision there. The first half is centered around many dialogs and features little to no action sequences, which makes the constant over-acting of the dimwitted fellow a little hard to bear, especially as he is quite prominently featured.

Visually He has everything under control. Standards are pretty high for Chinese war epics, but He lives up to them pretty well. He does differentiate himself with a handful of shots from directly above which do make for some very nice views of the corn fields. The lighting is particularly strong and the interior settings are lush and impressive. If you're a fan of the wealthy and traditional Chinese styling, you're gonna feel right at home.

The music is equally traditional, a combination of beautiful strings and typical Chinese instruments. I've come to expect little more from a film like this and I do like the music itself quite a bit, but I wouldn't mind seeing a bit more variation in the scores used for films like these, as they become a bit interchangeable after a while. It can be a little dire if you can dream a soundtrack before even seeing a trailer of a certain film.

As for the acting, Jue Huang does a good job as fierceless warrior. It's Fan Bing Bing who's allowed to shine the most though, as the strong, fearless mistress of the village who takes her job and responsibility very seriously. The supporting cast is equally solid, the only bad apple is Jiayi Du who takes his role a bit too far and becomes annoying rather quickly, playing the village idiot. Part of the annoyance comes from the character itself, but He should've downplayed him a little to make his presence less visible.

Wheat knows a rather rough start. He gives away a bit too much at the start of the film and the role of the village idiot gets too much attention. Gradually things get better though and when halfway through the film the village is attacked by bandits, raising some serious suspicion around the story of our two men, Wheat turns into a very amusing and remarkable little film, even gaining enough momentum to warrant the beautiful yet somewhat sentimental ending.

Wheat is different from other Chinese war epics in the sense that it keeps itself away from the actual battlefield and warfare, focusing more on the people left behind. There are some mild yet impressive action sequences in the second half, but they are definitely not the main selling point here. If you're a fan of Cow then Wheat this is a sure sell, but everyone looking for a more toned-down, stylish yet amusing war film should have a go at it. Remember that the first half our is a bit rough around the edges, things will get only better after that.

With Permanent Nobara director Yoshida confirms his signature style, removing all doubt that his previous films were some kind of lucky hits. Pay no attention to the poster and trailer I listed here, Yoshida's latest is a lot edgier that its own advertisement would have you believe. It's a cheeky little comedy with more sting than your average film, leaving you behind pretty amused yet somewhat bewildered.

Yoshida's first film (Funuke, Show Some Love You Losers) is one of my all-time favorite films. It dominates a list of off-key Japanese comedies that gained popularity in the late '00, combining rather wry drama with light-hearted comedy. A weird and awkward combination that won't appeal to everyone and no doubt requires a somewhat warped sense of humor to appreciate. It's difficult to compare to other comedy sub genres, but if you're into Todd Solondz (Life During Wartime) it's definitely worth a shot.

At first glance Permanent Nobara reminded me a little of Naoko Ogigami's Yoshino's Barber Shop. It features a similar town and similar hair dresser salon (one-style only haircuts - perms in this case), even the laid-back atmosphere is somewhat reminiscent. That is, until people start to talk to each other. The dialogs are strangely honest and direct, contradicting the appearance of the characters in front of us. Jolly looking grandmas are talking about scoring dates and screwing men, kids are talking about abortions and women are rather unbothered about the unfaithfulness of their husbands. Something is definitely off here.

Central to the story lies the tale of Naoko, a young mother who returns to her home village after divorcing her husband. Together with her young daughter Naoko moves in with her mother, using her spare time to help out in the local hair salon. Naoko tries to pick up the pieces of her life and starts dating her old classroom teacher, but much like the other men in the village he doesn't appear to be too reliable.

Visually Yoshida remains true to the conventions of the genre. Rural Japanese dramas usually result in bright green colors and idyllic landscapes, emitting a tranquil and soothing atmosphere. Add a couple of beautiful beach scenes and some scenic shots of the sky and you pretty much know what to expect from this film. Yoshida paints a pretty picture, though not overly stylized or in-your-face.

The soundtrack is quite simply a logical extension of the visuals. Soft piano music and agreeable strings combine to create a sweet, enjoyable atmosphere. It's not the kind of music you'll remember after watching the film, but it does serve its purpose rather well. I could see it working as some kind of de-stressing therapy, but I don't think that was Yoshida's aim here. Again, the film remains true to genre conventions.

Main character Naoko is played by Miho Kanno, an actress I first discovered watching Kitano's Dolls where she portrayed one of the saddest characters I've ever seen on film. Her talent for drama is a real asset to Permanent Nobara, as she can easily switch between heart-felt drama and the lighter, more deceptive dramatic scenes Yoshida forces onto his audience. The supporting cast is pretty great too, providing comedy and additional portions of sorrow to make the picture complete.

Permanent Nobara draws its humor from the light-hearted way it approaches its overly dramatic story. Through the eyes of any other director, there would've been a lot of pain and sorrow in this little village, but Yoshida turns it around and creates a happy, joyous and up-beat community of people that deal with their problems as it they were just little bumps in the road. Safe a few clear comedic interludes, Yoshida isn't too direct about his methods though. Most conversations are just passing moments that would go completely unnoticed if you weren't paying attentions to the subtitles. Everything in this film is made to make it feel as if you were watching a regular, run-of-the-mill (though quality) Japanese drama, but when you think you see some old ladies talking about the weather, they're really discussing penis lengths.

Like I said before, you need to be susceptible to this kind of humor to appreciate Yoshida's films. The end of Permanent Nobara is more straight-forward drama (that works remarkably well by the way, all credit goes to the superb acting of Kanno), but the first hour or so, even though the film is drenched in dramatic events, is straight-up comedy. This will no doubt lead to mixed reactions, but if you think you can handle it, this film is absolutely worth your time.

I'm actively seeking out Yoshida's final film, if it proves to be as good as Funuke and Permanent Nobara he's making my select list of directors to watch. If it doesn't, Yoshida is still responsible for two lovely comedies. Permanent Nobara isn't as edgy or out there as Funuke, but it's a great follow-up that knows to charm and amuse in equal measures. Recommended if you think you're up to the challenge.

Tom Lin's latest endeavor may be his definite ticket to international recognition, if Starry Starry Night makes it out of Taiwan (always somewhat of a gamble). It's a film with enough potential to appeal to a wide audience while at the same time maintaining its artistic integrity and firm traces of Lin's own personal voice. One thing is certain though, the result is one of the sweetest and most endearing films of 2011, warmly recommended to brighten up one of the upcoming winter evenings.

Lin has made some first-grade career choices these past few years. After brushing up his skills as first assistant director for a couple of quality productions (Spider Lilies, The Wayward Cloud, Do Over) and helming his very own first feature film (Winds of September), he now tackles the adaptation of a popular illustrated novel by Jimmy Liao. A smart move that landed him some extra budget to play around with, obviously well-spent.

Starry Starry Night is the slightly fantastical tale of Mei, a 13-years old girl trying to deal with growing up, while still escaping to her own fantasy world when real-life problems prove to be too daunting to face. Mei finds a companion in Lee, an introverted young boy who just transferred from another school into Mei's class. When Mei's parents decide on a divorce, Mei runs off with Lee in search of a moment of untainted happiness and maybe even some romance.

The film is told completely from the perspective of Mei. Lin could've grabbed this opportunity to lose himself in overly detailed fantastical dreamworlds, instead he keeps the feel of Starry Starry Nights much more down to earth, limiting most fantastical elements to background details or small touch-ups left and right. It gives the film a more mature atmosphere while still respecting the world of the main characters and their somewhat immature behavior.

Lin impresses royally with the film's visual style. Moody, warm and colorful, but also with a more serious and grim edge during the first, more reality-based half of the film. The CG is remarkably well accomplished, being both technically and aesthetically pleasing. One scene in particular, near the end of the film (the dream with the jigsaw puzzles) turns out to be a real stunner. Starry Starry Night is yet another film keeping the aesthetically honor of Taiwanese cinema high.

The soundtrack is a bit more on the safe side (as is usually the case with this kind of film). Starry Starry Night features a quality score with quite a few agreeable and atmopsheric tracks, but it does little more than support the scenes Lin had in mind. I prefer my soundtracks to be a bit more defining and out there, but I must say that the music here does add a layer of sugar-coated softness and glow that benefits the overall atmosphere.

As for the acting, Jiao Xu carries most of the film on her shoulders. Discovered in Stephen Chow's CJ7 she is now clearly expanding her reach into more complex and demanding roles. Lin gives her plenty of room to sparkle and Xu clearly grabbed that chance with both hands. Her performance is outstanding and gives a lot of extra shine to the Mei character. Eric Lin supports her pretty well, the rest of the secondary cast is solid but clearly not the main focus of Starry Starry Night.

If the poster art looks somewhat familiar, it may be because Woody Allen used the same Van Gogh painting to promote his latest film, Midnight In Paris (or because you've seen the Van Gogh painting before of course). The painting is more relevant for Starry Starry Night though, as it is actively featured during one of the key scenes and it is used to flesh out the key morale of the film. The whole art angle within Lin's film might feel a bit forced at first, but it does pay off rather well as the films progresses and it finds a perfect conclusion in the final scene.

While the epilogue is quite mushy and even sentimental, Lin shows his true mastership by making you believe this was the only ending possible. You can very well call it a feel-good Hollywood finale (and there is little to contradict that), but it's executed with so much class and warmth that any other conclusion would've felt wrong and out of place. The final shot is of stunning, unprecedented beauty and will leave you with a warm, contented feeling that carries on well beyond the last credits have disappeared from the screen.

Tom Lin paints one of the dearest, warmest and most charming films of the year. Starry Starry Night is a beautiful and imaginative trip into the mind of a 13-year old girl, exploring her world and dealing with her problems. The film has its fair share of memorable scenes and a truly magnificent ending that will keep you comfortably warm during these cold, rainy winter days. I'm already looking out for Lin's next film as I'm sure there's still a lot of unexplored potential left in him. For now though, I'll just recommend Starry Starry Nights and hope that it will reach a big, loving audience that cherishes it accordingly.

If you ask me about the pinnacle of Japanese drama cinema there is only one name that withstands all criticism: Hiroshi Ishikawa. Sadly his work is terribly under-appreciated (or just plain unknown), even amongst fans of Japanese cinema. What better reason to review his first film and unmistakable stronghold of my personal top 10 list. A film that threw me off-balance the first time I watched it and still holds that same power almost 10 years later.

Ishikawa is a director with a background in shooting commercials, which is pretty funny considering the fact that his films are amongst the most subtle, stilted and tender dramas you could ever imagine. There is no flash, no hype, no trickery, just staggeringly convincing characters in a very realistic slice of life setup. If anything, the man's film teach you a thing or two about reigning preconceptions of a director's background, especially when said director comes from a more commercially-oriented industry.

I still find it somewhat awkward to explain to people that Tokyo.sora is the one film that probably has the biggest emotional impact on me. After all, Ishikawa's film is about six women living in modern-day Tokyo, hardly something I can actively relate to as a 30-year old guy living in Belgium. But underneath the surface of Tokyo.sora lie more universal themes, exploring social contact, solitude and just about everything that lies in between.

Tokyo.sora's women are fragile yet sturdy characters who are all on the verge of a blossoming relationship (some romances, some friendships). Making contact or truly opening up to other people isn't quite that easy for them though, so they all struggle along, each of them dealing with the hurdles that are thrown at them in their own, personal way. There is no real story and there are no real dramatic events propelling this film forward (except maybe one, and even that is handled in a very down-played manner), just the intimate stories of these six women.

Even though Tokyo.sora is pretty sober, it's still a very attractive and beautiful film to behold. Ishikawa chose his color palette very carefully, with many blues and grays dominating the screen. The framing is delicate and precise, the camera work accurate and observing. Ishikawa often refrains from looking at his subjects directly, instead he picks mirror reflections or positions his camera out of view from the characters. This really heightens the feeling you're looking in on the lives of the characters rather than watching scripted scenes, even though there is always a clear level of styling present.

The music is handled by Yoko Kanno (anime scoring legend) and while I'm not a big fan of her anime work, she provides a wonderful, touching and emotional score here. Maybe not the most original of scores (think piano tunes and soft-voiced vocal tracks) but definitely a valuable asset that enhances the soft and drifting atmosphere of the film, easing you into a warm state of trance.

The acting too is simply superb. None of the actresses are particularly popular or well-known, but they all possess a natural flair that makes it that much easier to feel along with their characters. This being a Japanese drama you have to be able to cope with the typically stilted and introverted way of acting, though for me this only makes things better (and it's actually quite in line with the themes of Tokyo.sora).

Don't expect too much in the way of story or dramatic climaxes. Everything about this film is minimal, from cinematography to scoring to character development. Sure the women change throughout the course of the film, just not in any major, life-altering ways but in a more natural, realistic way. Small events, meetings or simple gestures are the highlights of this film, slowly influencing the lives these women are leading. This being a film about six women whose lives aren't necessarily linked together in any way, the structure can be seemingly random and uneven. At the same time, by jumping between the different stories even within scenes you get some very nice contradictions and a worthwhile mix of emotions. While I've seen some people critique this way of mixing the different stories, I actually believe it helps the realistic character of the film.

Ultimately this is a film about the friction between social contact and solitude. Sometimes contact with others is what you crave and loneliness can be a painful sore. At other times loneliness is liberating and social contact can be a real drag. Both elements fulfill an important function in our lives, even though there are moments when they are difficult to cope with. So even though I'm not female and I don't live in Tokyo, these themes are still pretty relevant to me, pulling me in like no other film can.

If you're interested in Japanese drama Tokyo.sora might not be the best entry level film. The pacing is incredibly slow, the acting particularly introverted and the film itself remarkably uneventful. And yet, seeing these women go through their lives, often incapable to make seemingly easy decisions but always finding the strength to pick up their lives and move on, this film emits such strong, powerful and delicate emotions that it easily surpasses its peers. As far as realistic drama goes, this is as close to perfection as I've ever seen. If you're into Japanese dramas and you haven't seen this yet, there is no better film I could recommend.

Check the trailer, no subs needed.

I'm not really a man of melancholy and traditions, unless they are just plain and unmistakably useful. So here we go again (do check the 2008, 2009 and 2010 editions for more valuable recommendations), my rundown of the 10 best movies I've discovered in 2011. A list of films you simply need to see, if not you risk the chance of missing out big time. No new content, but a solid reminder should you have missed some of my film reviews this year.

By now you probably should've realized Sogo Ishii (August In The Water, Electric Dragon 80.000V, Kyoshin) is set firmly on my shortlist of favorite directors. I appreciate his punk approach to cinema, but he also has a softer side he's not afraid of showing. Dead End Run combines both aspects of Ishii's work and blends them into an explosive rush of beauty and style. The result is a 60 minute anthology film featuring three phenomenal shorts.

Dead End Run is Ishii's "gone-digital film". Like many others he started experimenting with digital film in the early 2000's. While the image quality may be a bit grainy at times, it's clear that mobility and editing benefit a lot from the digital approach. Bluntly said, Dead End Run is Ishii's way of experimenting with his new toys, lucky for us the result is a bit more than just some technical wizardry. While the anthology itself is not really high on concept (three people on the run are trapped by a dead end), the shorts themselves are still pretty exceptional in their own way.

Last Song (the first short) features a beautiful dance macabre. While Ishii is known for tightly incorporating music into his films, this is probably his first full-fletched musical, and it's not even set to anything remotely resembling punk. When Yusuke Iseya is trapped in an alley he kills a passing girl by accident. The girl seems rather pleased with her faith though and decides to recite one last musical number with Yusuke. In only fifteen minutes time Ishii builds up a very cute and endearing romance that left me quite perplexed when it suddenly ended.

While the music itself is very poppy, the cinematography, dance choreography and sound effects make for a very intriguing effect. And while the setup might be quite absurd, Ishii has little trouble to make this short come to life, transforming it into a quirky yet very believable romance. A very strong opener to this anthology film and my favorite of the three films shown here. 4.5*/5.0*

The second short (Shadows) features Masatoshi Nagase, no doubt one of Japan's coolest actors in the business. The ideal man for the job too, as this short is basically a 15-minute Mexican stand-off between Nagase and himself, intertwined with a similar stand-off from the past. Ishii goes western here, as he focuses rigidly on faces and glides his camera between the two opposing forces, catching every angle before bringing the showdown to a surprising yet fitting ending.

I'm not big on westerns and I usually find these kind of shoot-outs pretty boring, but it's clear that a different setting and more inspired camera work can do a lot for a scene like this. It's a great exercise in getting the most out of one single moment in time, as long as you manage to keep it varied and interesting. A great little short that is low on substance, but high on style. 4.5*/5.0*

The third and final short (Fly) is a bit different in feel from the first two. It doesn't play at night and Ishii puts more focus on mobility, energy and action, making this short a bit more lively and nervous. The film features Tadanobu Asano on the run for the police. When he flees on a rooftop he runs into a girl which he takes hostage, quite unaware of the suicidal tendencies of this young woman.

The short becomes a bit more fantastical near the end of the film, which pretty much saved this short for me. While the first half isn't too bad, it's nowhere near as special or spectacular as the first two shorts. Asano is cool as ever, but the camera work was a bit too nervous to my liking and the build-up towards the ending a bit too random. Still, counting the second half of the short, it's still a beautiful little piece of film making. 4.0*/5.0*

Overall Dead End Run is a fun, varied and classy anthology film where Sogo Ishii allows himself to show his more experimental side while leaving room for some softer touches. There are some very nice parallels between the different shorts, there is plenty of audiovisual trickery and the short running time makes sure you won't get bored. If you like your films a little different this is a definite recommendation. 4.5*/5.0*

Don't miss the trailer, no subs but you won't need 'em anyway.

Tenshi no Tamago is the film where it all started for Mamoru Oshii (Tachiguishi Retsuden, Sky Crawlers, Patlabor 2). For the first time he was freed from any limitations, finally at liberty to make whatever kind of movie he wanted to make. The result is one of the most important milestones in Japanese animation history, a film that shattered any remaining notions that animation was merely kid's fare.

When people say Japanese animation is more mature than its Western counterpart they actually mean it appeals more to the inner geek. Even "mature" films like Ghost in the Shell or Jin-Roh are still littered with geeky elements and details (cyborgs, guns, random nudity). Of course these film also tackle more serious themes and ideas, but not without their fair share of fanservice, often alienating a more arthouse-oriented and/or depth-seeking audience.

Tenshi no Tamago has none of that. Apart from its fantastical setting this is a film that links itself to the likes of Tarkovsky, handling themes with a level of restraint and seriousness not often found in other animation films. There lies little to no fanservice in the fantastical elements, only symbolism and hidden meaning. Oshii declared that this film was a cinematic translation of his emotional state, hinting to the fact that even he could not explain every single thing explored or touched in this film.

The story is quite limited and focuses on a little girl traveling all alone through a desolate landscape. The girl carries an egg with her which she vowed to protect from the outside world. She meets up with a soldier who shows considerable interest in the egg she is carrying around, wondering what could be inside. And that's as much story as you're going to get from this film. Safe to say, if you can't handle slow and though-provoking cinema, you better stay away from this one.

Tenshi no Tamago isn't just Oshii's project though, the artwork of the film was directed by famed artist Yoshitaka Amano (known for his work on the early Final Fantasy games and recognized talent in the art world). While his art style isn't the easiest to translate to animation he did a truly wonderful job with Tenshi no Tamago. The film looks stunning, the animation is meticulously detailed and even though the 80s vibe is recognizable in some smaller elements (like the coloring of the skies), the film's visual style exists outside the realm of time.

The film's score is just as beautiful. Some sequences seem prolonged just to show off the awesome soundtrack (like the campfire scene), but that's hardly an issue considering the trance-inducing effect of the music. The sound effect are equally haunting, creating a very desolate and ethereal atmosphere that helps to even out the slow pacing. The voice acting is limited with only two characters and a noticeable absence of dialogue, but both characters are voiced with the proper understanding of their function. So even if you don't care about the meaning behind the film, it still works perfectly well as an audiovisual experience.

Believe it or not, but Tenshi no Tamago never found its way to the West (at least not through official channels). The first time I watched this was on a laptop (DVD player couldn't read Region 1 DVDs) with a printed script next to me just to follow the dialogues. I have the Japanese DVD at home now, but that's just for show. Whenever I want to see this film I have to rely on fansubs (or the HK bootleg, though I don't own that one). While I understand a film like this has a limited audience, the lack of an English-subtitled release is still one of the biggest injustices in cinematic history.

If you want the get the most out of Tenshi no Tamago it's best to read up a little on Oshii's struggles with religion at the time he was making this film. Viewed from that angle the story of the girl protecting the egg makes quite a lot of sense (though other elements, like the shadow fish are still a blank). The duality of the problem the characters are facing (you have to break the egg to find out what and if something is inside) is interesting enough and also retains its merit outside any religious context. For those who like to think and puzzle, Tenshi no Tamago is a pretty meaty film that fits in with the most serious of live action arthouse films out there.

In 1985 there was no animated film that even remotely resembled the likes of Tenshi no Tamago. Over the years more and more animated films began to incorporate mature themes, but I would argue that none of them could surpass the dedication and depth of this one. It's a strong, personal film that earned its place amongst the best work of Mamoru Oshii (and animation in general) and is the perfect example of mature animation. It's a real shame the popularity and appreciation of this film is hampered by lack of proper distribution in the West. Still, if you can find a way to watch this, do not miss the chance or you might regret it. 5.0*/5.0*

Check the trailer, no subs needed.

Without a single doubt, without any form of competition, this is the best film of 2011. And while Honey PuPu can't claim absolute originality (pk.com.cn precedes it), it's still the most beautiful, unique and skillfully executed film I've seen in its genre. So take a minute to find out why you definitely need to watch this, more so than anything else produced in 2011. I can't guarantee you'll like it, but in this case the experience is actually more important.

Within the heart of Honey PuPu echoes the voice of a new generation. Not a new generation of film makers mind, but a generation of people who grew up in a different world than we did. Most reviewers do seem to realize this, but not everyone seems to understand that it runs deeper than what you can see on-screen. Sure there's websites, headphones and mobile phones dictating the world of the main characters, but there are more profound and important differences with traditional film making.

The key difference can be found in the way we are brought up to process information as individuals. When I was young and I wanted to read up on a particular subject I reached for an encyclopedia. This gave me a bunch of facts and interpretations concerning a particular subject. Nowadays people turn to google, and sure enough a wiki page will pop up telling them pretty much the same things I was told. But the wiki page is just one simple search result amongst a range of hundreds and thousands of other impressions. Searching for information doesn't just lead to processing dry facts anymore, it opens up a full window of different media and different impressions that make up a more thorough and complex web of information.

This is where Honey PuPu differs from what we have come to know as cinema. Traditional cinema builds up a concept to illustrate the message or intentions of a writer or director. Depth and meaning are assumed by focusing on and expanding a single view, or in some cases the interaction between separate (often conflicting) views. It's the encyclopedia way of film making where we have one single access point and one voice teaching us about the central theme. Honey PuPu is nothing like that. It's a collage of opinions, views and interpretations that are connected by a single central theme, but stand firmly by themselves. "Truth" and "meaning" are found in this intricate web of information instead of trying to find it in one single statement. There is only a central theme and the director's personal selection of impressions related to this theme. The result is an experience much richer and impressive than any traditional film could ever produce.

All the above is nice of course, but you still need some solid talent to make it work as a film. With Hung-i Chen in the director's chair, there is nothing to worry about though. Visually this film is absolute stunning from start to finish. It's awesome to see Chen blend visual styles and atmospheres in a very natural and organic way. There are for example no specific, stand-alone animation sequences, but some scenes do make use of partial animation which is perfectly integrated with the live action imagerey. Chen's box of tricks is rich and beautiful, supplying each segment with the proper atmosphere and leaving behind a truly stunning visual impression.

The soundtrack illustrates a similar understanding of how to blend different musical styles and atmospheres. While essentially a poppy soundtrack, there are firm traces of hip-hop and electronic music which continuously weave themselves together in order to make an all-round impressive score. Chen has a background in directing music videos which clearly shows in the way he handles the music here. In short: the combination of visuals and score alone should make this film worth your time.

Most of the cast consists of youngsters, who I assume felt quite at home within the boundaries this film set out. The acting is pure and natural, while still keeping a very young and modern edge. Po-sheng Lin is the biggest discovery if you ask me, but the rest of the cast is not far behind in terms of fleshing out their characters. Impressive performances throughout that effectively lift the film to even higher grounds and hopefully mean the start of a bright career for the main cast.

The central theme of Honey PuPu is "missing", around this theme several stories are wrapped and explored. These stories are tied together by a website where missing people can be reported and traced, but all of that is just a hook to allow for more impressions and takes on what it means to miss or disappear. From boyfriends that left without a word of warning to lost bee populations, from nostalgia to lack of logic, it all flows in and out of view. Some ideas and issues are resolved, others are merely introduced and left to linger.

The result is a rather dreamy, poetic and refreshingly modern collage around one central theme. There is no single consensus or message, but that does not result in a lack of depth, on the contrary. The key to the "missing" theme can be found somewhere amidst all these different impressions and views, the feeling the film leaves behind is that of a broader understanding of the central theme rather than a heavily constructed and explored message forced down your throat. The voice of the director isn't lost in all this, but can be found in the actual choice of information rather than the single message most films carry with them.

And that is why this is a film by and for a new generation of people. Not because you see people interacting through websites and mobile phones in this film, but because Honey PuPu presents its theme in a radically different manner. Everything is a mash-up, a mix and collage of ideas and views, some personal, some found elsewhere. Watching this executed by a talented director is a unique experience that will hopefully develop into a full-fletched branch of cinema. I'm convinced it's still to early for this to actually happen (most films critics aren't going to be ready for a film like this), but films like Honey PuPu and pk.com.cn are definitely the beginning of something fresh and new. If you see only one film in 2011, make it this one. 5.0*/5.0*

Check the trailer , it's worth it.

British genre films are doing quite well for themselves. After a series of successful horror flicks British genre cinema is now broadening its range to other nerd-friendly territories. Enter Attack The Block, a mix of comedy, horror and sci-fi, opposing a group of grimy London kids with an invasion of blood-thirsty aliens. The concept is quite flawless (in a fun-guaranteed way) and Cornish is skilled enough to make it work.

While Attack The Block promotes itself as a film made by the producers of Shaun Of The Dead, the film is actually much closer related to recent French action/horror flick La Horde. Take a band of (semi-)criminals, lock them up in an apartment block and have them assaulted by a blood-lusting non-human species. Sure we're talking aliens instead of zombies here, but the difference isn't all that important really. Just another day at the office for the effect guys.

When everything is said and done Attack The Block is mostly defined by its setting. A young group of British slang-spewing Londoners living in the projects is what lifts this film above the rest of its peers. I admit to having a serious soft spot for the grimy slang of these youngsters so I was more than a little biased when watching this film, but it's just a lot more fun seeing this group of boys fight off evil in a storm of bloods, bruvs, fams and allows rather than being faced with the next group of ever-boozing and whoring American fodder.

The film starts when our little gang is disturbed by a nearby meteorite crash. An alien jumps out from the crashed meteorite and proves quite effective in disturbing one of their petty hold-ups. The gang is pissed and they decide to change the creature, eventually managing to corner it and kill it. What they didn't suspect is that they just killed one of the race's infants. When the parents arrive a little later they seem perfectly capable of tracking down the kids and have them pay for what they did.

Visually Cornish has everything under control. While not very extreme or meticulously stylized, the film looks attractive throughout. Cornish also deserves extra credit for the styling of the aliens. Even in full view they look cool, mysterious and convincing. It's the perfect example of smart and effective styling to keep the CG cost down and to maximize the intended effect, something that helps the film a great deal forward.

The soundtrack is a bit more generic and predictable, though the lack of high-energy grime tracks was actually a bit surprising considering the film's setting. A little disappointing too as I felt it could've added a bit more bang to the key moments of the film. The current score isn't bad, but it does feel somewhat underused and a tad too clean for its own good. Something Cornish should definitely work on in future projects.

The acting is all-around strong. The kids play their roles perfectly, forming a gang of annoying yet likable little pests. As for the secondary roles, Nick Frost has a pretty funny part that levels the action and sci-fi elements with a dose of enjoyable British humor. No-one is going to win any acting prizes with this film, but there's definitely some future talent amongst the young kids which will hopefully surface somewhere down the road.

Cornish is quite smart in the way he handles his film. Attack The Block combines some popular themes and genres, places them in a relatively new setting and makes sure that each part is adequately developed. The aliens look smart, the comedy elements are fun enough and the setting plays an appropriate part in establishing the film's own identity. It's an almost perfect genre mash-up that only lacks some balls and wits in order to become truly great.

As it stands though, Attack The Block is a highly enjoyable film that blasts by in no time. It's a quality production that will hopefully secure a follow-up project for Joe Cornish. If you're up for a blend of Critters and La Horde with a touch of Dizzee Rascal, you can't go wrong with this one. Recommended. 4.0*/5.0*

Check the trailer , it's worth it.

For me Lynch - together with Tsukamoto - opened up the doors to a cinematic world beyond the realm of pure commercial film making. Tsukamoto's Tetsuo and Lynch's Eraserhead were two defining films in my choice to become a die-hard film fan. Through the years Lynch became a bit more laid-back and commercial-minded, but when he released Rabbits he was finally able to top his first feature film. The result is as captivating as it is alienating.

Rabbits is not so much a feature film, but a series of 8 web episodes that were originally released on Lynch's membership site. Each episode features a simple opening sequence and a short list of credits. Lynch used pieces of these episodes in his next film Inland Empire, at the same time "people" re-edited the episodes to a single (short)film. Hence the reason why it eventually found its way into my list of 100 favorite movies.

Approaching Rabbits like a traditional film is virtually impossible. There is no clear storyline, there is no meaningful dialogue. The music is a continuous repetition of the same track and Lynch applies only one camera position for the whole series of episodes. And yet, through the magic of cinema, the film remains interesting and captivating through its entire running time.

The story/dialogue of the film appears to be coherent viewed throughout its entirety. But instead of keeping them in sync, Lynch seems to have randomized them completely. One characters say a line, the next replies with something completely unrelated. By the end of the film some lines seem to have referred to question posed 20 minutes earlier, but no clear explanation is given. I guess someone with a lot time could attempt to piece everything back together, I just never cared enough.

Rabbits was one of Lynch's first digital projects, which might be the reason why he kept things very simple. The film is shot from one single camera position, there are two different effect shots/lighting twists and one single edit. It's funny how this single edit feels like quite the event within a film that is filmed from one static viewpoint, even though the edit itself is actually quite trivial and boring.

Saying Rabbits is boring cinema, art for art's sake, is actually pretty hard to contest. For me it's the soundtrack that pulls everything together and turns it into a worthwhile experience. Badalamenti's works for Lynch is typically superb (and in that sense reminds me of Oshii-Kawai collaborations), but here Badalamenti has really outdone himself. From the first notes the single music track has a hold on me and the music doesn't let go until each short is finished. If there's one film that illustrates the power of music in cinema, it's this one. Also worth of note is the laugh track edited underneath the shorts. It's completely random but it works and gives the film an even weirder atmosphere.

As for acting performances, there is not much to say. Lynch reuses his Mulholland Drive cast (Coffey, Watts, Harring and Del Rio), dresses them up in big rabbit costumes and has them deliver lines in a rather monotone voice. It's weird, it's cool, but it's not much of a performance. And that's about all there is really.

Rabbits is emotional cinema. It is something you experience rather than understand. Sure after a while several snippets of conversation might gel together, but the overarching mystery never becomes clear, let alone that some form of explanation follows. The mystery is established through the music, the visuals and the async dialogue, and that it does extremely well.

If this sounds boring to you Rabbits is probably not worth the trouble of pursuing. It's a simple, one-trick project that offers very little in the form of tangible content. On the other hand it's superbly captivating and extremely mysterious, unlike any other film I know. A prime illustration of why cinema is such a magical beast, even if we know and realize how certain things are accomplished. Recommended, though it should be approached with caution. 5.0*/5.0*

No trailer but I can link the film in its entirety.

Even though I like my share of stylish Eastern martial arts period pieces from time to time, it's not exactly the most dashing or innovative genre one can imagine. Sure the cinematography improves and the fight choreography gets 1-upped all the time, but in the end these films all look very much alike. Enter Wuershan's The Butcher, The Chef And The Swordsman (BCS from here on), time to welcome a new generation of Chinese film makers.

I always figured BCS tied in with the rest of those "modern" Chinese/Hong Kong period pieces (think Mr. & Mrs. Incredible or My Own Swordsman). Decent, somewhat flashy martial arts comedies, but all in all too fluffy and forgettable to make a real impression. Wuershan is clearly aiming for more, revealing himself as the Chinese alternative to Taylor and Neveldine (Crank 2, Gamer). If that makes you cringe, it's probably best to abandon this film altogether.

BCS starts with the sad tale of a scruffy looking butcher in love with one of the top-selling ladies of virtue. The butcher is convinced he can save up enough money to buy his way into happiness, ignoring the fact that a skilled martial arts master is also eying the love of his life. Things look bleak for our butcher, until he meets a mysterious figure carrying around a mythical cleaver which will grant him the strength to claim his true love.

From there on the film tumbles in a repeating structure of flashbacks and stories within stories. Three tales develop (the story of the butcher, the chef and the swordsman - how convenient) that will lead back to a sprawling finale where our butcher will attempt to rescue his princess one final time. Needless to say, all of this is handled with the appropriate amount of over-the-top humor.

BCS is very typical for a film coming from a first-time director. Wuershan clearly grabbed this opportunity to show the world his skills and vision. The result is an overload of style and visual flash, which I can only applaud. Each segment and flashback has its own very distinctive, in-your-face look, all of them are interesting in their own way. From over-saturated and colorful set pieces to black and white with red highlights, from childish animation to old-style CG models, it's all here and executed with great skill.

The score could've been a bit better though. It's a somewhat eclectic mix of modern high-energy tracks that turns out to be quite functional, but resides mostly in the background and upon closer inspection feels a little too generic. If you really start listening to the music there is very much of interest there, but within the madness of the film it's hardly an issue. Still, something Wuershan should take into account for this next project.

As for the actors, they are an interesting bunch. Of course there is plenty of completely over the top acting (Hong Kong-style) going on, but that's to be expected from a film like this. It's even accentuated by the crazy camera work, so naysayers better stay clear from this film. At the same time there are a few actors who clearly understand this form of acting like no other. Mi Dan and Masanobu Ando (where did he come from) are top of the crop here, but the rest of the cast is equally energetic. Excellent comedy performances that grant a lot of extra energy to the film's already energetic exterior.

There isn't much depth to be found in the different storylines or characters, but as this is a full-blown comedy that was to be expected. A bigger problem is the continuous onslaught of style and energy, which makes this film a pretty tiring experience, especially for those expecting a laid-back no-brainer. Personally I love this type of film making, things can't be hectic, insane and weird enough for me, but I'm sure not everyone will feel the same (which is exactly why I referred to Taylor and Neveldine early in my review). If anything, this film will keep you awake, even when you don't like what you see.

BCS was one of my brightest discoveries of 2011 (though of course, the film was actually made in 2010), turning out to be a very unexpected yet pleasant surprise indeed. Up front I really didn't expect too much from this film, but the result is flashy, funny, weird and in-your-face. I'm an instant Wuershan fan and hope he'll keep doing stuff like this before slowly fading away doing big budget stuff with little of his own input left in the end product. Good stuff and definitely recommended for those who appreciate a fair amount of ADHD weirdness. 4.5*/5.0*

There's a subbed trailer, but mind some mild spoilers.

For all the reviews I've written for Oxide Pang's solo projects (The Detective, The Detective 2, Som And Bank and Basic Love) I never got around to reviewing my own personal favorite. Time to rectify this situation and give some love to one of Oxide's lesser known films, but without a doubt his most complete and impressive work to date. Mon Seung (also known as Diary in the West) has all the usual Oxide magic and then some.

From the outside (trailers and poster art) Mon Seung might look like a regular horror flick, but there's a little more going on below the surface. The film starts as a moody drama, switches over to horror and fantasy and ends as a rather successful mindfuck thriller. All these shifts feel natural and flow from the film's storyline, still it's probably best to be aware of this from the very beginning. The first part is rather slow and typical under-the-skin material, people expecting tension and horror antics right away might end up very disappointed early on.

The film starts with a a somewhat depressed Wing-na. She's a little lovesick and sad that she can't seem to sustain a real relationship for a long period of time. When she runs into a boy that resembles her former boyfriend she decides to give it another chance, but despite her best intentions things don't work out as planned. At first Wing-na doesn't seem responsible for the issues they are facing, but something is definitely amiss and slowly the truth will reveal itself.

Mon Seung features its fair share of twists and turns. Some of them are pretty predictable, others really blew me away (like the in-film reboot of the story, which left me completely perplexed the first time I watched it). People watching Mon Seung simply to find out how it all ends might be a little underwhelmed by the final twist, but if you prefer to enjoy the journey that leads you there this film has plenty to offer.

Oxide Pang has strong visual control over his films, which he once again demonstrates with this film. Some stunning filters, dark and moody lighting and strong camera work make Mon Seung a beautiful film to look at. And even the CG, which can be a bit showy in most other Pang films, is subtle, functional and still manages to be jaw-dropping beautiful in some places. Add some very solid editing and a very consistent style throughout and you get one of the most beautiful films the Pangs have ever directed.

I've always been quite critical about the musical scores in the Pang's oeuvre and even though I wasn't really convinced by the music in Mon Seung the first time around I found little wrong it now. Maybe it's a bit more dreamy than I'd anticipated the first time I watched it, but it actually flows quite well with the more fantastical bits of the story, giving the film a warmer and more mysterious overall feel.

As for the acting, Charlene Choi, not one of Hong Kong's best actresses, carries this film almost entirely by herself. Lucky for Oxide Pang she was able to pull it off and put in a very commendable performance. Isabella Leong and Shawn Yue complete the cast and their help is definitely appreciated, but I feel this is without a doubt the best performance of Choi I've seen so far and that alone is worth a special mention. The way she swings between timid, lonely girl and her other, dark side is impressive.

The first half of Mon Seung is rather slow and atmospheric, focused mostly on the dramatic side of the story. Around halfway through the first really impressive scenes find their way into the film and after one hour Mon Seung shifts into full gear. From there on the film shows its true colors and turns into one of the most devious and entertaining thrillers I've ever seen.

Maybe this particular mix and shift of styles caused the film to remain somewhat underground, though by the time it was released the Pang's weren't as hot as they used to be, so that too might have contributed to its current status. Whatever the reason, Mon Seung never found its way to its audience and remains terribly under-appreciated. It's a shame because it showcases the true skills of Oxide Pang and it turned out to be his best film yet.

Mon Seung is a skillful, beautiful and impressive little mindfuck thriller. With a very limited cast and one single location Oxide Pang still manages to go all-out and deliver his best film to date. Atmospheric from start to finish, surprising at times and captivation throughout. Hopefully this film will have its revenge 10 or 20 years from now as a true cult classic, but I'm not too optimistic. Definitely recommended. 4.5*/5.0*

Check the trailer, English subs included.

Taiwanese dramas are usually a pretty safe bet and while most of them are not all that original or creative, in the end they definitely know how to deliver. Blowfish is one of the best examples I've seen so far, only sparingly experimenting with more frivolous elements, yet fleshing out on of the dearest romances I've seen on film so far. Chi Y. Lee just bumped up a few notches on my list of notable discoveries.

Between this film and Lee's short film Smoke (included in the Taipei 24h anthology) it's clear that Lee both understands and embraces the visual aspect of the medium. While there are some sparse dialogues in Blowfish, they are few and far between and they consist mostly of small-talk. The real emotions are happening on-screen, acted out by the actors rather than scripted by a team of writers. In that sense Lee's films are more closely related to Japanese dramas (or by extension, the work of Kim Ki-duk - Bi-mong, Breath) instead of the seemingly more obvious link with China and Hong-Kong.

Blowfish documents the blossoming relationship between two young people, both with deep emotional scars that prevent them from easily committing to each other. Xiao Zhun flees the city after finding her current boyfriend in bed with another woman. An online auction brings her to a small, rural village where she runs into a young baseball coach. The two get together, but the coach (who I believe remains nameless throughout the film) clearly has his own set of issues to deal with. They decide to live together, slowly discovering each other and slowly growing to love each other.

And really, there isn't much more to this film. Lee isn't too interested in throwing in some extra dramatic strands to keep things interesting (expect for the short finale), instead he choses to focus on the tepid and uncertain developing relationshop between the two main characters. The result is slow yet gracious and subtle film that plays one single card, but plays it so well it easily lasts the 90 minute running time.

Taiwan has some great cinematographers and Blowfish benefits from the aesthetic grace so prevalent in these Taiwanese dramas. The film features some superbly orchestrated shots, benefits from beautiful lighting and even dares to include some playfully edited scenes in between. Nothing too daring or experimental, but noteworthy (and effective) nonetheless. The lush setting does it's work too, resulting in pure eye-candy from start to finish.

The soundtrack is safe and trusted material, but executed with such love that it lifts the film to new heights. Somewhat reminiscent of the best work of Joe Hisaishi (piano and string tunes) it gives the film an incredibly soft and soothing atmosphere, making it all the easier to let yourself drift away on the woos of the young couple. Perfect material for a film like this.

Films like Blowfish require a lot of effort from the actors involved. Vicci Pan and Kang Jen Wu have to carry most of the film by themselves and they don't get much help from dialogues or other narrative means to get their emotions across. They rely almost entirely on body language to sculpt their relationship and to draw the audience into their little love story. Both actors do a tremendous job though, even during some of the more daring scenes. The supporting cast is good too, though their work is quite limited as the film's focus is heavily fixated on the two main characters.

Blowfish is a film that will appeal to a certain type of film fans, in particular those who have a soft spot for Japanese (silent) dramas. The actors don't talk much, the drama is limited in scope and everything is handled with much grace and subtlety. A film like Blowfish can be boring as hell if you don't like its characteristics, but if you do then this film is definitely one of the finest and dearest examples out there, only surpassed by the work of Hiroshi Ishikawa (Su-ki-da, Tokyo.sora)

It's hard to recommend this film to people who don't really know what they're getting into. Blowfish has everything to be one of the most romantic films of 2011, but unless you feel completely at ease with the directing style of Lee it might just as well be one of the dullest stories ever told. I loved the film from start to finish, glad to once again meet a (mostly) silent couple that lives through the film without too many conversations or direct outbursts of emotions. This film will definitely get in my end of year list later this month, but approach with caution if you do not know what to expect. 4.5*/5.0*

Check the trailer, English subs included.

The films of Sogo Ishii (August in the Water, Electric Dragon 80000v) can be quite a handful to track down, but if you are aiming to see the full version of Kyoshin (Mirrored Mind) you better get ready for some serious digging. Then again, once you succeed in tracking it down you're all set to uncover one of Ishii's most impressive and engaging films to date. Kyoshin is Sogo Isii's Vital and then some, so brace yourself for some prime punk-goes-bio action.

I was lucky enough to catch the full version of this film at the now-gone Dejima festival in Amsterdam a couple of years ago. A shorter version of Kyoshin appeared on a Korean short collection DVD (Jeonju Digital Project Box) which is almost impossible to find these days, and with 20 minutes cut from the full version not really worth the trouble if you ask me. It's a shame, because Kyoshin turned out to be my absolute favorite Sogo Ishii film and one definitely worth owning. It's still available as part of the Sogo Ishii Collection Box (The Psychedelic Years), but no subs included and quite expensive indeed.

With Kyoshin Sogo Ishii almost completely abandons his punk background, leaving behind the world of dark alleys, grating soundtracks and extravagant characters, making a full 180 to end up with a mix of Hiroshi Ishikawa's work and Tsuka's Vital. Expect some truly stunning landscape photography coupled with close-to-the-skin introverted drama. It's great to see how these two directors, while still managing to uphold their own unique style alive, keep dancing around each other professionally. In this particular battle though, Ishii is the clear winner for me.

The story is quite simple and nothing more than a hook for the core issue this film tries to deal with. Kyoshin follows a young woman on the brink of a breakdown. Unhappy with her life, she feels alienated by the cold realities of the urban life around her. When she meets up with another woman they decide to end their lives in search of a better existence, but paradise isn't exactly what she hoped for either.

Ishii is a visual film maker and even though he switched the tone of his new film around completely, his love for on-screen beauty didn't leave him. Even better, Ishii is at his absolute best here. Remarkable about Kyoshin is Ishii's demonstration of perfect framing. Especially the second half of the film is filled with landmark shots, both beautiful and strangely abstract. But then Ishii goes on to show the same scene from a different, wider angle and you notice that the shot was made abstract by the perfect framing, not by the setup itself. Best of all is that this is not just some technical showing off but the effect is actually related to the core theme of the film.

The soundtrack is equally beautiful, though it settles itself more in the background. A beautiful, soothing score that feel somewhat familiar to fans of the original Ghost In The Shell soundtrack. It's not a rip-off or shameless copy, but the style of music feels strangely familiar. It works wonders for this film though, so you won't hear me complaining.

As for the acting, I can only say that Miwako Ichikawa gives her all in this film. She makes her character come to life with such natural grace that it's hard to believe she is simply an actress coming to work and doing her job. Mind that this is typical Japanese drama, so don't expect any big emotions or grand sentimental scenes, everything is kept very small and subtle. Absolute perfection that exists on the same level as Ishikawa's films. The secondary cast is small and negligible, the entire film rests on the shoulders of Miwako.

It's probably no coincidence that Sogo Ishii changed his artist name after this film. With that in mind, it's an educated guess that some of the material here is at least partially autobiographical. The character's struggle and transformation throughout the film, the story of an actress trying to come to terms with her own films ... it's difficult to say without any word from the director himself of course, but this film is without a doubt a new beginning for Sogo Ishii as a director.

Even though this is definitely a film with a message and at least some level of symbolism, the film is still pretty straight in its delivery. Kyoshin is not an intellectual film, it's an emotional film that sets out to make the audience feel rather than think. The thinking is reserved for after the movie, when you're watching Ishii's film there's only room for being swamped by the gracious atmosphere. Ishii's message is honest and down-to-earth, though I assume not quite earth-shattering for most people watching it.

Kyoshin is a marvelous film. A perfect score and absolutely stunning visuals transport you to a different world, only to let go of you 60 minutes later, comforted and touched by the film's protagonist's struggle. It's a new step in Ishii's career that will hopefully result in some new work in the near future. Actually finding this gem will be a bitch, but it's definitely worth the trouble. I stopped hoping for a English-friendly DVD release but maybe someone will someone will surprise me, please do. Without a doubt one of the best film's I've ever watched. 5.0*/5.0*

Don't miss the trailer, an absolute must.

Based on the trailer and poster art, Del La Iglesia's Balada Triste de Trompeta was either going to be a great cinematic celebration or a complete and utter failure. The marketing of the film left no doubt that we were in for a bold and daring piece of film, but I wasn't completely certain whether De La Iglesia was really up to the job. After watching the film though, it's safe to say it surpassed all my initial expectations.

I like Spanish (genre) cinema, but overall I have the feeling Spanish films like to play it safe, aiming for craftsmanship rather than creativity and identity. From slow-burning horror films like No Do and El Orfanato to fake-docus like [rec], [rec] 2 and Atrocious, these are all great example of solid film making but lacking the element of surprise and wonder. If anything, Balada Triste de Trompeta is here shatter this very presumption, ready to serve you a different kind of Spanish cinema.

From the very first minutes it is obvious this is not just another genre flick playing by any strict rules or sticking to simple genre conventions. The film can't even stick to one single genre for longer than five minutes in a row, continuously shifting between action, horror, drama and romance. Below all this manic shape shifting there is a solid layer of dark humor tying everything together and keeping the film from falling apart, though not everyone might pick it all that quickly as some of the jokes are quite morbid indeed.

The story of this film goes all over the place, but at its core lies a simple tale of young boy who sees his father imprisoned and exploited and never gets over his traumatic past. When the boy grows up he joins a circus as a sad clown, trying to follow in his father's footsteps. But a failed relationship finally pushes him over the edge, throwing him in a big emotional turmoil that takes a firm grip on him and the people around him. While this sounds very dramatic and deep the reality is an evil looking clown waving around automatic guns, so no worries.

Visually De La Iglesia has everything under control. The film has a raw and dark visual edge, often contrasted with strong and sharp lighting. Every shot or scene is a meticulously visualized and this for the entire running time of the film. From costumes to setting to camera work and lighting, Balade Triste just oozes style and, apart from one or two mediocre CG shots, looks absolute impeccable. Seeing a film like this with such lush production values is quite rare, but it's even rarer to see such an amount of money used this well.

The soundtrack is a different story. Like many other Spanish films the soundtrack can be a little overwhelming. The music seems ever-present and judging by the choice of tunes the film is supposed to be a succession of dramatic climaxes, one even bigger and bolder than the other. It's all a bit much, though the music itself isn't all that bad really. While definitely fitting is some scenes, it would've been better if De La Iglesia had incorporated some quieter moments, less driven by music and relying more on the superb visuals.

Luckily the acting is great, giving the film some extra depth and shine. Carlos Areces is superb in the lead, switching effortlessly between tormented clown and crazy madmen in between scenes. The rest of the cast is equally engaged, resulting in a remarkable set of vile, weird and dark characters. And while the film's characters retain their caricatural nature there is also something deeper than drives them, creating an interesting and rare duality, something quite unique to this specific film.

It's quite difficult to define a target audience for Balada Triste de Trompeta as there is something for everyone, but also many things that might put people off. People coming for the violence and action might not care for the underlaying drama and romance, people coming for the arthouse vibe might find the film a bit too shallow and direct at times. Whatever group you might put yourself in though, Balada Triste is worth checking out if only to experience it for yourself and to make up your own mind about this film.

Put Del Toro, Rodriguez and Jeunet in a blender, add some clown sprinkles and shake really well. Finish with a good handful of De La Iglesia magic and you have a film that might not appeal to everyone but sure knows how to make an impression no matter how much you effectively enjoy watching it. Balada Triste de Trompeta is impossible to compare to anything I watched before, and for that reason alone it deserves all the attention it can get.

It's hard to recommend this film in the sense that I don't know what the exact reactions of people may be. But this is a film that needs to be watched, if only so you can make up your own mind about De La Iglesia's clown epic. It's a technical marvel, an unearthly combination of pulp and arthouse and equally moving and entertaining without ever becoming cheap. A regular gem that deserves an appreciative audience. I'm sad to have missed this in cinemas, luckily there's a solid Spanish DVD/Blu-Rah release to fill that void. Absolutely recommended. 4.5*/5.0*

Don't miss the trailer, no subs required.

When I went to watch Reconstruction for the first time in theaters it were the numerous Lynch references that had drawn me to this film. And while the link between both is absolutely justifiable I'd be doing this film (and Christoffer Boe) a great injustice to just leave it at that. Over the years Reconstruction easily surpassed the work of Lynch and turned out to be one of my all-time favorite films.

Reconstruction is equal parts mystery and romance. Not only is this is rare combination of genres to be found in one film, the fact that Boe seems to have mastered both of them to staggering perfection and knows how to balance these two elements without losing their individual strength makes this film a rare gem indeed. Boe himself proved that this is not just a lucky one-off either, as Allegro (his sophomore feature) boasts similar perks.

In Reconstruction Boe plays a game with his audience, but he plays it fair and square. The films start with the message that what we are going to see is all just film, a simple setup to entertain and move. Knowing that, the enchantment of film should be powerful enough to still make us care in the end. I've watched this film at least five times now and can't help but conclude the same thing as Boe, no matter how many reminders are given: it's all just film, but in the end it hurts just the same.

Reconstruction follows the story of Alex, a young photographer who falls in love with another women (both women are played by Bonnevie). He chases her down the subway and ends up spending the night with her. Still uncertain of what to do next, life choses for him as reality and fantasy start to mingle and leave Alex confused and alone. His home is gone, none of his friends remember him and even his father rejects him. With nowhere else to go, he turns to the one woman that followed him through the reality shift.

Reconstruction is clearly a film by a first-time director with a vision. This means Boe likes to flex his visual muscles from time to time, indulging in eye-catching filters and striking camera tricks. These moments are aptly timed though and in between Boe shows he can also impress when toning down the trickery, relying solemnly on framing, lighting and camera work. Add a grainy filter and the result is absolutely stunning to behold from start to finish.

The music is equally beautiful, but definitely not as daring. Boe goes for accessible and well-known classical pieces (most notable Samuel Barber's Adagio for Strings), but he integrates them so well that it's hardly an issue. A good thing too because otherwise such choices quickly come off as cheap and disinterested. Boe's timing is impeccable though, actually giving new depth and meaning to these well-known pieces of music.

The acting too is absolutely perfect. Kaas is great as the bewildered Alex, Bonnevie does an equally impressive job with both of her characters. The chemistry between the both of them is almost tangible and is further enhanced by Boe's close-the-skin camera work. There aren't too many secondary characters, though Boe fans will definitely recognize Nicolas Bro from Boe's Offscreen.

While Boe's keeps a very constant level of high quality, there are still a couple of scenes that elevate themselves above the rest of the film. The introduction, the first meeting in the subway and the outro all ever stunning scenes, but the test of faith scene that serves as the film's dramatical climax stands as one of my absolute favorite scenes ever. All things great about Boe's work are brought together in that single scene that has defined this film for me from the very first time I watched it.

If you don't like to be reminded that you're watching a film you might find it a little difficult to become immersed in the world of Reconstruction, as it was clearly made to prove a point. And if you approach it as a straight-up Lynch clone you might end up feeling a little cheated as in the end Reconstruction isn't really all that complex. Get past that though and I can't think of many other things that might deter you from watching this.

Reconstruction is a warm, fuzzy and romantic film, set in a world of bewilderment and intrigue. It scores high point in every department and as long as you accept Boe's premise, it's almost impossible to find faults with it. It's absolutely recommended viewing and even though Boe proved his talent in his later films, he never really succeeded in surpassing this one. 5.0*/5.0*

Don't forget to see the trailer.

Vampires were supposed to be the new zombies, but apart from some flaky mainstream success the hype never really grounded itself amongst genre fans. This alone goes a long to explain why Sodium Babies has such a hard time to find the recognition is deserves, so set aside all your prejudices concerning the whole vampire hype thing and let yourself be dazzled by the raging talent the Decaillon brothers put so generously on display here.

What if ... what if Adam Wingard (Pop Skull), Frank Miller (The Spirit), Guy Ritchie (RocknRolla) and Jean-Pierre Jeunet (Micmacs) formed an unholy foursome, decided to adopt a child and taught that child everything they knew about cinema. Well, you'd get something that might look a little like Sodium Babies. It's the perfect debut effort, lacking the subtleties of a film made by a seasoned director but making up for those shortcomings with an unlimited amount of style and enthusiasm.

Sodium Babies will remind you in nothing of what you'd come to expect from vampire films. There's no room for oldskool romance and mysticism, no need for bloody fangs and barren mansions and not a hint of traditionalism. Sodium Babies is a modern adaptation of the vampire myth, transported to the marginal reaches of the criminal world and executed with so much flair and power that you'll be spinning around in your chair while trying to take in everything happening on-screen.

The film follows Dead Dog, a lowly ranked vampire henchman who provides blood for the top vampires and cleans up his own mess afterwards. His life consists of killing humans, sucking them dry and disposing them in various, untraceable ways. That is, until he gets caught up in a feud between his master and Gael, a recluse vampire who sees in Dead Dog the perfect tool to get back at the people who exiled him from the vampire clan. What follows is a mind-bending vision of Dead Dog's struggle to escape his doomed fate.

The film was developed over a period of five years, with the brothers doing most of the visual effects themselves. It just goes to show that with the right amount of talent on board a film doesn't need to cost a lot in order to look visually dazzling. Sure they go a little overboard from time to time and not every shot or effect is spot on, but watching Sodium Babies is a continuous feast of crazy editing, mad filters and creative camera work. It's a true visual assault that serves as the perfect illustration of their talent as well as providing some awesome eye-candy for the audience.

The soundtrack is just as eclectic and travels all over the place. It's far from perfect, but the way the Decaillon brothers handle the music still deserves some credit. In some scenes the score feels quite out of place, but even those moments contribute to the overall atmosphere of the film. In other scenes the score (and sound editing) fits like a charm. There's definitely potential here, the brother just need a little more control from time to time.

Dead Dog is played by Benoit Decaillon himself, making the dedication of the brothers even more remarkable. Benoit does a pretty good job in front of the camera too, though it's clear from this film that he didn't have much prior acting experience. I think the same could be said about the rest of the cast, but they still do a pretty commendable job in bringing their characters to life. Definitely not an A-grade cast, but they don't let the film down either.

The Decaillon brothers describe the experience of watching this film as being inside a washing machine. That's actually a pretty good summary of what you can expect from Sodium Babies. The film doesn't commit to just one style or one type of atmosphere. It bounces all over the place and tries to make the most of whatever situation in finds itself in. This makes the first 20 or so minutes a challenge, but once you accept the film for what it is it will reveal itself as a surprising source of wonder and joy that surpasses many other films out there.

If you want to whine and bitch there are no doubt an unlimited amount of things that you can bring up to trash this film. Sodium Babies is far from perfect, but all these imperfections are adequately countered by the brother's never-ending enthusiasm. It's exactly why I love these type of films, while not perfect they pack enough interesting bits and ideas to fill three of four "regular" films, leaving you with a sense that your invested time was well spent.

Sodium Babies feels like a film made by a duo who feared this was their single, one-time shot at becoming professional directors. The film is packed to the brim with great ideas and memorable scenes, it's a true testament of their talent, but at the same time it's also quite chaotic and a little bumpy. Whether this is going to be a problem depends on your own cinematic wishes and demands, but if you appreciate the vigor and effort the brother put into their work I am absolutely certain you're going to love this film to bits. Let's hope Sodium Babies film will find its audience on DVD, guaranteeing the brothers a chance at a second attempt. Definitely recommended. 4.5*/5.0*

Do check the trailer, it's worth it.

Last week Todd wrote a strong and honest piece on how the fan community is seen by the movie industry, sporting some impressive numbers that at least explain why we are considered low-priority. Yup, in the end it's all about cash and the rules of cold, hard economics. But then Todd went on to preach that we, hardcore film fans, should vote with our money in the hope to get noticed. While I actively support the positive message of this plea (support what you love), there is something I believe Todd is not telling us in his rant.

The web (the popularized version) has been around for about 15 years now but the film industry still isn't getting it, and in that process they lost sight of other, more consumer-oriented truths of cold, hard economics.

Hiroki Yamaguchi's Gusha no Bindume is as Japanese as a movie can be. Utterly drenched in cyberpunk and manga influences, the film is a sprawling testament of what a young film maker can accomplish with a shoestring budget as long as he has the talent and vision to make something unique. It's a shame we haven't heard from Yamaguchi since, but at least he left us with a very special legacy indeed.

If the name Gusha no Bindume doesn't ring a bell it might be because you know the film under a different title. As it dates back to a time when publishing companies were still very eager to bring Japanese films to the West (or at least, eager enough to pick up off-center titles like these), several different titles were thought up to release it here. And so the film is also know as Gusher no Binds Me, Hellevator and The Bottled Fools, all referring to this film.

Gusha no Bindume is a typical movie where holes left by a lacking budget are filled with creativity and inventiveness. From the start it's clear that Yamaguchi had few means to his disposal, at the same time he knows to impress with a varied range of tricks and creative alternatives that still managed to lend his film a professional shine. The same goes for the concept of the film. While basically a single-room setting film, there is always plenty happening and after a short while you'll hardly notice the fact that Yamaguchi cut back heavily on set designs.

The film is set in a dystopian future, somewhere inside a large and all-encompassing structure. We follow Luchino, a troubled young girl fleeing from an explosion she caused by illegal smoking. She runs inside an elevator trying to escape the authorities, but halfway through her escape the elevator is brought to an emergency stop in order to pick up two top ranked criminals on their way to their final resting place. Things get hairy and before the passengers realize it the elevator is cut of from the main system and left in the hands of the two criminals. And as it turns out, the other passengers riding the elevator each have their own secrets to hide.

Visually there is a lot going on here. Yamaguchi makes good use of whatever means he has, resulting is strong lighting and camera work, subtle use of the right visual filters, inventive production design and one or two scenes that go all out. There are two or three CG shots that feel lacking, but are still needed to give a better idea of the overall setting our characters live in. These moments are easy to overlook though as they don't last long and the budgetary limitations of the film are plain and obvious.

The soundtrack consists mostly of electronic-influenced background music. While pretty decent and fitting the actual music is a little too generic for my tastes. The sound editing on the other hand is a bit groovier, especially when the convicted criminals enter the elevator and one of them starts talking backwards. A simple yet creepy effect that gives a lot of extra shine to his dialogs. It's clear that Yamaguchi is a product of the post-processing generation, but he sure handles his techniques with commendable flair.

Gusha no Bindume is a film that builds on stereotypes and so the actors don't have too much work beyond acting out the character's typical hooks. The cast is well-fitted for the job though, the two criminals in particular are regular whack jobs that liven up the film considerably from the moment they are introduced. No point in expecting deep-digging performances of course, but keeping in mind the kind of film this is the acting is neigh perfect.

Considering the film is mostly restrained to one single elevator room, it's amazing to see how vivid and lively Yamaguchi's vision of the the Gusha no Bindume universe turned out. Through the characters that enter and leave the elevator room we get a good idea of the kind of strange world these people live in, while at the same time obscuring most of the daily going-ons of that same universe. Our vision of this universe is restrained to a single elevator room, which adds a smart level of intrigue and mystery while still allowing us a glimpse of the cool stuff happening outside.

Many of the elements that make Gusha no Bindume such a cool film can be linked back to other films, but the combination of all these separate elements blended together still results in something highly unique with lasting appeal. It's easy to call the film a Cube clone or a live-action manga, but whatever link you try to make you'll always end up with the conclusion that it won't do justice to Yamaguchi's hard work.

Gusha no Bindume is Japanese low-budget sci-fi cinema at its finest. What Yamaguchi lacks in budget he makes up in inventiveness and creativity. The result is a highly entertaining film that contains plenty of treats to keep you interested throughout. Discovering Yamaguchi's universe is an exciting trip through a Japanese cyberpunk-influenced wonderland that leaves you begging for more. Hopefully Yamaguchi will find the strength to work on a follow-up feature, if not I'm still extremely happy he was able to complete this film, hopefully creating a worthwhile legacy with an appreciative cult following. 4.5*/5.0*

Don't forget to check the trailer.

Welcome back to the wonderful world of Yoshihiro Nishimura (Tokyo Gore Police, Vampire Girls vs Frankenstein Girl, Mutant Girls Squad). The most famous particle of the Sushi Typhoon collective returns to the director's chair and once again delivers a film that blows all boundaries of decency, good taste and proper film making. And yet, the result is every bit as crazy and hilarious as you'd come to expect. With Helldriver Nishimura clearly nailed another future classic.

When Iguchi (The Machine Girl) and Nishimura took over the Japanese splatter scene they came up with a rather unique concept for their films. Over the years that concept hasn't changed too much, but the way they work within those self-imposed boundaries is still as creative and out there as when they first started out. Slowly their output is changing from unique, individual works to genre film making and while some of you might be disappointed by this turn of events, true fans will only show more appreciation for the seemingly endless imagination of the people involved.

Let's get one thing straight. Nishimura's films don't aim for perfection. On the contrary, if you're trying to find room for improvement there's probably an endless list of things that could've been better or could've used some extra clean-up work. Just know that this is clearly by design. In order to put in as much insane ideas and craziness as possible, other areas in the development process have to suffer. It's a fair choice that allows Nishimura to make the films he wants to make, on the other hand it does ask for a little extra investment from the audience to accept some sloppy execution from time to time.

The story of Helldriver finds Kika in a world divided by a big wall. On one side live the uninfected, on the other side lies a big wasteland crawling with zombie-like creatures, firmly under the spell of an obscure alien presence. While the Japanese government is somewhat reluctant to annihilate these zombies (trying to protect their civil rights and completely unaware of the real dangers), the zombie queen is gathering her troops to launch a massive attack to break out of their prison. And so Kika is sent on a mission to avert the looming danger, helped by a crew of novice zombie killers.

Visually speaking this film is quite tricky to review. Sure it's loaded with subpar effects (both real and CG), but sloppy as it may be, at the same time its also extremely functional and essential to the continuously high fun factor of the film. When a crazy sword zombie-creature is battling a car revving on two wheels, the CG might be lacking quite a bit, but it's obviously the only way a scene like that would have ever made it to the screen. Camera work, lighting and use of color are generally strong though, making the most of the limited means they clearly had to their disposal.

The soundtrack is every bit as chaotic. A silly mixture of Japanese folk music (not unlike Miike's Izo) and other, more generic action tunes mostly added for comedic effect. The soundtrack itself is not all that great, but considering its intended use it more than suffices. Usually I care a lot for proper use of sound and music in films, but these types of projects are clearly an exception.

Roughly the same can be said about the cast. Sure there are no A-class actors here and from time to time the acting can be quite shabby, at the same time the whole cast emits an immense sense of fun and enjoyment that more than makes up for their lacking capabilities. Everyone goes willfully over the top in portraying their characters, making it an ever bigger freak show than you could ever imagine.

Nishimura's Helldriver is of epic proportions. The film lasts a full 120 minutes which is quite long for nonsense like this. You would expect that Nishimura's ideas would start to dry up around halfway through, but against all odds he succeeds in keeping the film fresh and challenging from start to finish. The opening credits start 45 minutes into the film, the real fun only begins during the second hour. Surely the format is tried and tested by now, but the craziness Nishimura manages to pull out of his cinematic hat is still beyond belief.

As time goes by films like Helldriver will appeal to an increasingly smaller audience, speaking to people who appreciate the film for what it contains rather than for its novelty value. Compared to his previous films, Nishimura strikes a perfect balance between splatter and comedy in Helldriver, where his earlier films would sometimes lack one or the other. It's definitely not a horror film in the sense that it is supposed to be scary or haunting, at the same time it's not all just for laughs either and splatter fans get their share of the action.

Nishimura adepts can rejoice, Helldriver is up there with the best, sporting roughly two hours of madness, hilariously out-of-place social criticism and tons and tons of liters of blood. Surely you've seen it all before, but the creature design is still impeccable (zombie airplane) and some scenes simply must be seen to believed (the star alien commanding the zombies). It's true fan fodder and people not willing to engage in Nishimura's world will surely end up disappointed, but considering its uniqueness and stellar fun factor I can only hope Nishimura can keep this up for some time to come. 4.5*/5.0*

There's a hilarious trailer, mind the spoilers though.

Shinya Tsukamoto's Tetsuo is a landmark film, no doubt about it. It crawled up from its tiny, little, underground niche and wrestled its way up to become one of the must-see films for any loving film fan with a growing interest in Asian cinema. Surely it's not a film for everyone, but at the least you owe it to yourself to find out what Tetsuo does for you. As for me, it's still one of my top 10 all-time favorites.

Not only is Tetsuo a landmark film for Tsukamoto, cyberpunk cinema, Japanese cinema or even Asian cinema as a whole, it's also a personal landmark. A film that defined my taste in movies and turned me into a real film fan. Before Tetsuo I (like everyone else) watched movies from time to time, but just as a regular pastime. The first time I put the VHS in the recorder I needed four pauses to complete the film. I didn't like it much and understood very little of what Tsukamoto trying to do here. But the film didn't let go of me and not a week later I had seen it three times already and bombarded it as one of my absolute favorites. It never really lost that status since.

Tetsuo was one of the first films I watched that didn't occupy itself too much with direct storytelling and character development (though in a sense it's the physical character development that makes it such a cool film), rather it tries to convey a more abstract experience of the material it presents. There's hardly any dialogue and what plot there is, is simple and juvenile, but Tsukamoto uses that void to put a lot more focus and attention on the way you experience his film.

The story makes little actual sense but should be quite easy to follow even when you don't have proper subtitles available. When one day a man crashes into a street bum with his car, he disposes of him quickly before getting caught. When he wakes up the next day though, he finds himself turning into a metal mutation, spawning tubes and wires from all over his body. To make things worse, he is being stalked by a metal fetishist showing a lot of interest in his barren situation.

Above all, Tetsuo is a visual experience. While it's low-budget roots are obvious, the lush, high-contrast black and white visuals hide many of the imperfections and help tremendously in giving everything the needed metal shine. The cinematography is overall impressive, but it's definitely the live stop-motion sequences that will leave the biggest impression. Manically edited and frantically paced, they define this film. And even though Tsukamoto owes quite a lot to the prior work of Sogo Ishii (August in the Water, Electric Dragon 80.000V), he definitely improved on it and made it his own.

Another crucial element in the whole Tetsuo experience is Chu Ishikawa's soundtrack. In line with the metal theme of the film, Ishikawa opted for a strong and fitting industrial score. Clanky sounds are assembled and structured to create a unique and immersive ambient soundscape, from time to time ruptured by strong, pounding beats. The sync between audio and visuals is also impeccable, even by today's standards.

The acting shows definite signs of Tsukamoto's high energy theater background, but considering the style of the film this is perfectly acceptable. The world of Tetsuo is as alien as the wild and broad expressions of its characters. Tsukamoto and Fujiwara (producer of Tetsuo and also director of Organ and ID) take the biggest roles, together with Tomorowo Taguchi who properly launched his career with this film. A very powerful actor with a broad range, able to play anything from metal mutant to creepy pervert (Hiroki's M, right down to docile friend (Hiroki's It's Only Talk).

Tetsuo is a film that weighs on you. Many people complain that even though it's only 70 minutes, the second part is too long and should've been trimmed. I don't agree (at all), as this is exactly why Tetsuo is such a great film. Halfway through you're ogling the screen wondering how and if it can get any weirder, crazier and more hectic. The second part goes on to illustrate just that. As the film continues it becomes more abstract and alien, working up to a perfect climax that still knows to blow my mind. Some of the grainy, black and white shots near the end are so vague and weird that it's almost impossible to see what exactly is going on, but the overall effect remains.

It's hard to predict how people watching this now for the first time will experience Tetsuo though. Ever since its initial release more films followed in its footsteps, sporting bigger budgets and better technical stats. The film does show its age, but at the same time it remains unique enough to transcend its dated exterior, where others (like Eraserhead) are starting to lose some of their initial shine.

But no matter what you think after watching this film, Tetsuo is quite simply a must see for everyone with the least bit on interest in films that dare to be different. It's an almost perfect cyberpunk endeavor, sporting lush visuals, a great soundtrack and providing a nerve-wrecking experience. In all these years I still find it as bold, daring and impressive as the second time I watched it, having lost little to nothing of its initial impact. It belongs firmly in my top 10 lists of favorite films and probably will remain there for some time to come. Absolutely recommended. 5.0*/5.0*

Check out the trailer for a quick preview of the madness that lies within.

The last redesign of my blog dates back to 2010, which in web terminology is somewhere between the birth of Christ and the Middle-Ages. For those of you who remember, I experimented with live iterative design, taking on pages and components one by one and gleefully accepting the mess it created in between. With 2012 looming before me, it's time to do some much-needed clean-up work and some minor touch-ups left and right, so brace yourself for a new period of live updates.

The Japanese cyberpunk genre isn't that richly populated (understatement), and to make it worse many releases are almost impossible to find here in the West. A real shame because it's without a doubt one of my favorite genres out there. Tsuburo no Gara is one of the prime examples of Japanese underground cyberpunk cinema and so it deserves some extra time in the spotlights. In short: strap yourselves for 70 minutes of concrete, metal and moist.

Before you get too excited, I should warn you that there is no DVD or Blu-Ray out there with English (or any other language for that matter) subtitles. I was lucky enough to catch this film at the Dejima festival in The Netherlands a couple of years ago, but I haven't heard from it since. There isn't even an official DVD or poster (the one shown here is a fan poster), only a combined release on a PFF (Pia Film Festival) collection DVD.

While the film is quite low on cyber and actual punk, it does carry many of the stylistic traits of the genre, most notably the almost fetishistic way of focusing on specific details. Director Masafumi Yamada will swamp you in close-ups of moist skin, concrete walls, black misty puddles and a strange fascination for snails, creating a very tense and claustrophobic atmosphere in a mere 70 minutes.

My DVD doesn't have English subtitles and it's been quite a while since I watched the festival version, so the details of the story have faded a little since then. But the gist of the setup is still pretty clear. A man and woman wake up in a concrete structure, not knowing where they are or how they got there. The woman is a nurse, the man a patient with a rather peculiar metal structure strapped to his back. While they try to escape from their concrete prison, flashbacks reveal the true nature of the patient's illness. It's a simple setup, but cyberpunk cinema has never occupied itself too much with complex themes and storylines.

Visually I'm very much in two minds about this film. On one hand it's a beautifully shot movie, with much attention paid to composition, lighting and editing, sporting some impressive play of light and shadows. Every frame is impressive and clearly thought through, bathing in grey and green hues, turning the drab, concrete settings in a cyberpunk wonderland. Sadly the entire film is shot in 4:3, which, I'm sorry to say, is ugly as hell. While the images themselves are impressive and captivating, they feel cramped and somehow unfinished. No doubt it's somewhat of a personal preference, but a wider image would've done much more justice to the work of Yamada.

The soundtrack consists mostly of ambient sounds, structured or woven into hidden melodies and rhythms. Actual music (as most people will know it) is rather scarce (and of the minimal, experimental kind), but the entire film is set to the sounds of clanking metal, thumping concrete and falling water drops, so there's always something to listen to. Great stuff, not too original considering the genre it resides in, but still a welcome variation on the more crunchy and industrial-oriented noise that usually sits under these kind of films.

The acting is sufficient, especially for a film that isn't necessarily all that character-oriented. The male lead reminded me a little of Tsukamoto and was clearly the best actor of the bunch, the female lead played her part with adequate conviction. As for the secondary cast, there are only a few other characters featured in the film, but considering their lacking screentime they are hardly worth discussing.

If you're worrying about watching this film without subtitles, you should know that even though the dialogue is kept to a minimum, you will still miss some of the finer details of the story. The main concept is clear enough though and whatever weirdness there is exists within the film itself and is not a result of the lack of translation. In the end, you shouldn't have too much trouble understanding what is going on, then again Tsuburo no Gara relies more on atmosphere and tension anyway.

When comparing it to other films out there, I noticed that Tsuburo no Gara shows quite some similarities to Tsukamoto's Haze (which it predates by a year). While the first part is quite claustrophobic and direct, the ending reveals a more symbolic interpretation of the film's events. Both films release their main characters back into the real world, freeing them from their inner contraptions and shedding a different light on what happened before.

Tsuburo no Gara is first-grade cyberpunk cinema. Not as overly energetic or chaotic as its peers, rather it creates an eerie, claustrophobic atmosphere and drags you deeper into its concrete prison with each successive scene. Sporting a stunning setting, strong cinematography and a superb soundtrack, cyberpunk fans owe it to themselves to seek this one out, even when there are no suitable subtitles available. I promise you won't regret it. Absolutely recommended. 5.0*/5.0*

No so much a trailer, but here are the opening minutes of the film.

In the wake of other Asian countries, Thailand lived through a small yet vivid period of international interest at the start of this millennium. Some very fresh and unique films reached our shores because of that, of which Mah Nakorn is definitely one of the most impressive and memorable. Mah Nakorn put Wisit Sasanatieng on the map and even though he made some other interesting films, none of them has been able to match the magic of this one.

While Sasanatieng's Tears of the Black Tiger proved to be a little too inaccessible for most people, he improved himself considerably when he released Mah Nakorn (Citizen Dog). While stylistically just as kitschy and in-your-face as his first, Mah Nakorn exists well outside the realm of typical genre films, which apparently had a big impact on the expectations of people seeking out this film. The fact that it is quite difficult to compare Mah Nakorn to other films out there also helped to relieve people of their initial preconceptions. There is definitely a bit of Amélie-inspired magic in here, but apart from that it's a film that stands completely on its own and doesn't invite many other comparisons.

Mah Nakorn doesn't really stick to a well-defined storyline. We follow Pod and Jin and their evolving relationship, but along the way the film diverges in several little side stories, introducing a range of secondary characters and plot lines that have little to do with the main story arc. It sometimes feels as if Sasanatieng had a bunch of great ideas for shorts, but instead of taking the short film route he tied all those ideas together to his two main characters and made a unique film with all the material he had gathered.

The world of Mah Nakorn definitely looks like ours, but it has its own, random set of rules. People are able to swap fingers, they can grow tails, teddy bears are able to talk and sometimes it rains helmets. And that's just a small selection of the weirdness this films throws at you. None of these things are ever properly explained, they're just a part of the surreal world the characters inhabit and have to deal with on a daily basis. It's definitely part of the charm of Mah Nakorn, but as there is really no limit to what can happen it may be a bit tiring for some.

If there's anything that will stick with you after watching this film, it's the vibrant and contrasting colors Sasanatieng uses all over his compositions. Sure it's kitsch and at times it looks as if God's brush slipped and he didn't have time to correct his errors, but at the same time it gives the film an unflinching charm that goes very well with the humorous tone. There's quite a lot of CG used to create the wacky world of Mah Nakorn, technically it's not always up to par but it does result in some beautiful scenes and it somehow fits with the comical feel of the film.

The soundtrack is pretty awesome too. A combination of classical and modern Thai pop songs, it gives the film a very alien atmosphere. People who are used to listening to Thai pop music might experience this differently of course, but for me it all sounded quite outlandish. The music is also used to great comedic effect, case in point the hilariously off-key lipsync in the introductory minutes of the film.

The acting is decent, but it must be said that most actors have a pretty easy job here. Sasanatieng does most of the hard work making the comedy work, the actors are little more than mere puppets walking around in Sasanatieng's meticulously crafted world. The same goes for the secondary characters who have even less to do. They all fit their roles though and the acting is never second-grade, nor does it ever take away from the overall experience of the film.

If you don't like narration in films, mind that there is quite a lot of that here. Great little detail though: the narration is done by none other than Pen-Ek Ratanaruang (director of Nymph and Ruang Talok 69) and he does a pretty commendable job. The monologues are witty and well-written too, on top of that I actually quite like narration in films (if done well of course - no Morgan Freeman please).

In essence Mah Nakorn is a romantic comedy, but that label doesn't even begin to describe the vibrant, unique, funny and creative film that Sasanatieng whipped up. The film is filled to the brim with great ideas, properly executed and acted out with so much enthusiasm that it's definitely one of the best comedies I've ever seen. And even though the story itself might be rather detached and fragmented, the romance between Pod and Jin still survives all these typical hardships.

If you're looking for something light-hearted, fun and visually exuberant then Mah Nakorn is your film. It's a lovely little comedy with a lot of heart, a lot of warmth and plenty of interesting and original ideas. It might be a bit random and episodic at times, but if you can look past that you might be in for a very pleasant surprise. And if all else fails, you can still amuse yourself trying to comprehend how Sasanatieng came up with all these crazy color combinations. Warmly recommended. 4.5*/5.0*

There's a trailer, subs and everything. Mind the spoilers though.

Masanori Tominaga's The Pavillion Salamandre just came out of nowhere. It went by completely unnoticed on its initial release, the addition of Jo Odagiri being the only hook that put this film on the radar of a select few in the West. Looking back after watching the film, it's not difficult to see why they didn't even bother to promote it over here, but that shouldn't stop you from seeking it out when you have the chance. The experience alone is worth the gamble.

If the name Tominaga sounds familiar, it's because I've written several reviews for Mai Tominaga's films (Wool 100%, Rinco's Restaurant) in the past. While I haven't been able to figure out any clear connection between the two directors, judging from their respective styles it wouldn't surprise me in the least if there was some kind of family connection between these two. Even though the both of them make very distinct films, there is a certain familiarity to their output that links them together.

The Pavillion Salamandre is one of those film that isn't overly weird, but manages to create an off-key atmosphere that lasts an entire film. Strange dialogues, quirky characters and unnatural plot twists make for a very fun and intriguing whole. Chances are of course that Tominaga's style won't suit you, if that's the case then this will no doubt be a horrible trial to sit through. But if it does somehow manage to stick, The Pavillion Salamandre is a film that will stay with you for a long time to come. It's a gamble, but definitely worth the risk.

The story is difficult to capture in a few lines, but I'll give it a shot anyway. Central to the story is Kinjiro, a strange and famous salamander whose pond (and whose very existence) is a national landmark. Roentgenologist Hoichi is chased and eventually hired by some suspicious-looking guys to examine the animal and determine its authenticity. What Hoichi doesn't know is that he's being used as a tool in a long-lasting feud between the Kinjiro foundation members. And if you think this sounds random already, it's only the beginning of the story.

Visually Tominaga's film is a little inconsistent. Some scenes look really wonderful, with much attention being paid to the camera work, composition and color. Other scenes look a bit plain and have a rather rushed feel hanging over them. It's a shame because the potential is definitely there and some scene are genuinely impressive. Maybe it was a budget-related issue, maybe it's because this was Tominaga's first film or maybe Tominaga just didn't care enough to keep it consistently fresh. Whatever the case, I feel more could be done visually.

The soundtrack on the other hand is first class material. Ranging from stylish jazz to experimental lofi electronic, the score is a constant factor in undermining any chance of getting used to the film's quirky feel. It's a constant challenge that lends the film a very unique atmosphere and even though it's not always easy on the ears, it sure is a lot of fun. People who've watched 100% Wool might have a pretty good idea of what to expect.

The most recognizable actor of The Pavillion Salamandre is without a doubt Jo Odagiri. The man is often compared to Tadanobu Asano (scruffy appearance and a taste for off-key characters) and judging on his role here the comparison is easy to justify. Odagiri has his own flair though and uses it to great effect in this film. While Odagiri steals the show, Kashii turns in more of a sleeper hit performance. Not as visible or out there, but just as strong and powerful all the same. The rest of the cast is up to par, with everyone obviously very conscious of the type of film they're appearing in.

Halfway through Odagiri switches hides and transforms into some weird Italian stereotype. Things get gradually weirder and the coherence might be hard to find at times. While the film does wrap up nicely, you may wonder how Tominaga managed to cram in so much nonsensical plot lines. If you were planning on watching a captivating story with big emotional scenes, warm feel-good comedy and overpowering dramatical elements, better go somewhere else. The Pavillion Salamandre is an incoherent, strange and chaotic mess that challenges your suspension of disbelieve for its entire running time, but pays off in other areas.

It's definitely a difficult film to recommend. The film is virtually impossible to compare with other films, it has a very distinct flavor and doesn't really cater to any well-defined audience out there. But if you like a film that dares to be different, shows a lot of vigor and enthusiasm and manages to be quite funny and emotional through all the chaos, this is no doubt a film that should be high on your checklist. Great fun, unique and mesmerizing, but definitely not for everyone. 4.0*/5.0*

There's a nice trailer, no subs though.

Directors Yan Yan Mak (Hu Die) and Clement Sze-Kit Cheng (Gallants) team up for a film that dares to gives some extra shine to the Hong-Kong arthouse scene. Joining others like High Noon and Ex (both by Heiward Mak), this film once again strengthens my beliefs that Hong Kong is capable of a lot more than it dares to (mass)produce. Now if only films like Merry-Go-Round would get the proper international exposure, more of them would find the light of day.

Like it or not, but the Hong Kong movie scene is mostly treasured in the West for its abundance in genre film making. Sprawling martial arts epics, gritty police thrillers and some classy Triad action are all fan favorites and are easy to sell to the West. When it comes to arthouse/drama cinema though, there is a small but very noticeable emptiness. Other Asian countries like Japan, Taiwan and China have interesting drama releases queuing up year after year, digging up some decent Hong Kong drama/arthouse titles often requires a lot more effort.

Finding Yan Yan Mak behind a film like this was no real surprise, those of you who have seen Hu Die will definitely recognize his style. But seeing Clement Sze-Kit Cheng appearing on the director's list is something else. Gallants was a quirky and fun rehash of the martial arts comedies of yonder, none of those elements found their way into this film. Still, the duo obviously complemented each other pretty well and the result is both beautiful and captivating.

The film follows the lives of two women who meet each other for the first time in California. They both move back to Hong Kong a little while later, and without them knowing their lives appear to be closer connected than they could ever have imagined. This connection is formed by two men who link everything together and complete the rather complex setup. Merry-Go-Round is more of a show, don't tell kind of film, so piecing everything together does require you to keep focused throughout the entire running time.

When the film was finished I went to check for cinematography credits on IMDb right away. With All About Love and Love In A Puff Jason Kwan had some impressive credits to his resume already, but with this film he completely baffled me. Merry-Go-Round looks truly exquisite, each scene is beautifully shot and orchestrated to the tiniest detail. The lighting is quite simply sublime and the framing nothing less than perfect. I hope Kwam continues on this path as he clearly has much more to show to the world.

It's a shame the soundtrack wasn't really up to par. Merry-Go-Round features a nice (although very typical - think soft piano music) Asian drama score, but mixed with some lesser quality indie songs, all of them featuring English vocals. I assume it should underline the link with the California plotline, but the effect is less than stellar. Sometimes English-language tracks work in Asian films (think Ghibli's The Borrowers), but here they conflict with the unmistakable Asian arthouse vibe coming from the rest of the film. The result isn't bad per se, but it's obvious the soundtrack doesn't really fulfill its full potential.

Luckily the acting is as solid as ever. Teddy Robin Kwan remains an interesting and very recognizable actor, Miao puts in a stylish performance too. As for the youngsters, it's Koon that shines the brightest and also carries most of the dramatic weight of Merry-Go-Round. Chou is probably the weakest link, but only in comparison with the others. The four of them do a great job of acting out the many nuances between the different characters in the film and succeed in bringing their respective character to life.

Merry-Go-Round is a film that drifts by gently, but also manages to linger afterwards. There isn't a clear plot or dramatic hook you can look forward to, so people with an angsty plot fixation should take notice. We're just following a set of four characters whose lives are slowly intertwining, going through their everyday rituals trying to deal with the problems they encounter. There's no big pay-off at the end, just a small twist that puts some things in perspective, but doesn't bring any mind-shattering revelations. This is definitely not a bad thing, but not everyone will appreciate this.

Above all, Merry-Go-Round is an ultra-stylish drama with its heart in the right place. It's suited for people who don't necessarily need impressive plot lines or great emotional scenes to enjoy a drama film. To see such a film coming from Hong Kong is quite unique, but those of you who are familiar with modern Taiwanese dramas will probably see the similarities right away.

If only the soundtrack would've been a bit better, this film could have turned out to be a small masterpiece. For now, it's a warm, gentle and beautifully shot drama with a set of interesting characters that will guide you through the 120 minutes running time with deceptive ease. Hopefully many more Hong Kong films will follow in its footsteps, though looking at the poor international interest displayed for Merry-Go-Round I wouldn't bet on it. 4.0*/5.0*

Check the subbed trailer for a nice preview.

Not much has changed on my blog the last couple of months. I've been quite busy with work, my personal life and trying to provide continuous output, so little time remained for behind-the-scenes tinkering. Still, somewhere deep underneath all the layers of chaos I found some free time to reshuffle some data and make a new site section out of that. And so with considerable pride, I present to you the new, permanent Onderhond Movie Top 100.

With Matoko Shinkai (Hoshi no Koe) gearing up to present his latest film to the Western world, I figured it would be a good time to revisit some of his former glory. Byosoku 5 Senchimetoru is an exceptional piece of cinema and undoubtedly the film that introduced Shinkai to a broader audience. Four years after its initial release, it's still as remarkable as when I first watched it, having lost none of its splendor or power whatsoever.

Shinkai will forever remain the man that worked himself up from one-man animation team to high-profile anime director in just a few years time With each consecutive film Shinkai's team of contributors keeps growing, but even for a film featuring the technical excellence Byosoku 5 Senchimetoru does, the list of credits remains frighteningly short. Even though Shinkai clearly takes his time (3-4 year gaps between each film), it's pretty much remains impossible to comprehend how he manages to ever complete his films with such a small staff.

Byosoku 5 Senchimetoru is presented as a collection of three separate shorts. Each short represents a different phase in the relationship between Takaki and Akari and stands well on its own, but it did feel somewhat unnecessary to include ending credits for each short throughout the film. Especially when considering the overarching storyline and stylistic similarities of these shorts, as they form one solid, thematic whole. I would've liked it a little better if they had just edited the shorts as one film and added collective credits at the end of the film. Not that it matters that much, once the shorts start you'll be wowed plenty to forget such tiny mishaps.

Shinkai shows us Takaki and Akari, two best friends on the verge of becoming a couple. Once again distance plays a huge part in how the story unfolds, as they are forced to move away from each other, never fulfilling the promise of their relationship. As the distance grows between them, so do their memories fade away, but they never really forget about the unique bond they had between them. Each short follows a milestone in the healing process between Takaki and Akari, helping them to live their lives apart.

With Byosoku 5 Senchimetoru, Shinkai takes his visual style to the next level. He's always had the exceptional skill to draw the most amazing backgrounds and landscapes (and they're still absolutely fabulous here), but the character animation always seemed to suffer because of it. He finally fixed that, creating a perfect blend between the backgrounds and animated objects, making the overall effect even more impressive and realistic. Another strong point is the lighting and coloring, especially when the characters are bathing in the rays of the early morning/spring sun. Shinkai's visuals don't just support the atmosphere it his film, they actually define it.

The soundtrack is a bit more on the safe site. Easygoing piano music and soft tunes underlay the more abundant visuals. It goes very well with the mood of the film though, creating a warm and fuzzy atmosphere. Much has been said about the inclusion of a J-Pop track near the end of the film, but the more I watch this film the better I actually like Shinkai's choice. It might be a bit alien for audiences not used to this kind of music, but in the context of the film the song is actually pretty good. The voice acting is decent too, though a little on the sensitive side. Virtually every line is whispered or uttered as if very grave and important. In dialogue-heavy parts it can be a bit much.

For a Japanese drama handling hatsukoi (first love), Byosoku 5 Senchimetoru can be deceptively bitter at times. The visuals may be lush, the soundtrack soothing and the overall atmosphere calming, it does not mean that our two protagonists are facing an easy relationship. Shinkai often hints at certain events, only to reveal a darker, less rosy reality later on. Each of these moments is a little punch in the gut, though effectively hidden from plain sight. He repeats this structure in every short, and even though the film does end on a reassuring note, you can't help but feel a little down once the credits start rolling.

The final short, though the shortest, is definitely the most powerful of the three, freeing the viewers from their romantic preconceptions and serving them a taste of unapologetic reality. The first time I watched this film I was genuinely surprised by the bitter undertones, and even now it still baffles me how cold this film is below its warm and fuzzy exterior. Shinkai created a strong contrast between the underlying themes and the reigning atmosphere, resulting in an interesting challenge that still stands strong after multiple viewings.

Some people won't really pick up the film's bitter core, for them there are still the lovingly detailed visuals and the stunning atmosphere. Considering the small team that worked on this film, it's a miracle that it still succeeds in looking this technically proficient and overall wonderful. Byosoku 5 Senchimetoru is my favorite Shinkai, but it's clear he's still improving with each new film he makes. I'm eagerly awaiting his next project, but you could do worse than watching this film again, just to kill some time until his latest gets a Western release. Definitely recommended viewing. 4.5*/5.0*

There's a subbed trailer, so check it out.

Vital marks an important milestone in the evolution of Shinya Tsukamoto's (Tetsuo: The Bullet Man, Nightmare Detective 2) signature style. When it was first released the film seemed to divide fans and naysayers alike. And while I clearly recognize the obvious differences with his earlier projects, Vital still feels like a film that could not have been made by any other director. On top of that, it turned out to be one of my favorite Tsuka films to date.

The most obvious difference between Vital and Tsukamoto's earlier work is the film's affinity with nature. Tsukamoto's early films (ignoring his commissioned work for a minute) are known for their unmistakable urban vibe. Many of the key scenes in Vital play in some idyllic vision of nature, far away from all the skyscrapers and small, overcrowded streets. This change of setting, as trivial as it might seem at first, has a pretty big impact on the entire feel of the film.

Vital is also Tsukamoto's first film that plays more like a straight-forward Japanese drama. Sure there is plenty of Tsuka-styled weirdness, but nothing as direct or plastic as you'd come to expect from the man. No drill penises or men in strange cone-shaped headgear contraptions, Tsukamoto operates on a more symbolic level here. The film starts when Hiroshi wakes up in the hospital after surviving a car accident. His memory is gone, only small fragments of his former life have remained. Not really knowing what to do with his life, he starts his study to become a doctor from scratch, not remembering his earlier decision to completely abandon this career choice.

Though not a horror film, Vital probably contains the most direct form of body horror in any of Tsukamoto's films. Things get a little out of hand when Hiroshi starts his dissection classes and gradually realizes the subject he's working on is really his old girlfriend ... the one who didn't make it out of the car wreck. Rather than choke, Hiroshi continues his classes and actually starts remembering things about his past, all the while working his way deeper and deeper through the body of his late girlfriend. It's a morbid concept, but Tsukamoto handles it with remarkable maturity and class.

Visually the film can be split in two separate parts. There are the usual Tsukamoto antics like the car crash scene and the returning images of the smoking chimneys. Hectic, chaotic and madly edited, those scenes are obvious remnants of his trademark style. Then there are the scenes in nature, which emit a completely different vibe. More timid, focused on beauty and color and sporting a very loving and relaxing atmosphere. Both aspects of this film are splendidly executed and Tsukamoto make sure that the transitions between both parts are as smooth and yet as powerful as possible.

The music follows a very similar pattern. There are the more industrial-sounding pieces that go with the darker scenes, and then there are the ethereal, soft ambient waves that pop up when Hiroshi travels back to his natural paradise. Combined with the visuals Tsukamoto creates two entirely different atmospheres, heavily contrasting with each other but still forming a beautiful whole (call it a perfect yin and yang). As for scoring his films, Tsukamoto has never really disappointed me.

The acting is another element that differs greatly from Tsukamoto's earlier films. His own theatrical background has always played a big part in teh way characters were portrayed in his films. With big motions, extreme expressions and lots of vigor his characters moved through Tsuka's stories. In Vital he takes the opposite approach, more in line with other Japanese dramas. Tadanobu Asano, Nami Tsukamoto and Kiki all put in wonderful performances, slowly revealing the deeper layers of their characters as the film progresses. The secondary cast is equally strong, though I must admit Ittoku Kishibe gave me quite some trouble when I first watched this film. His role in Survive Style 5+ kept coming back to me, needless to say the image of a tweeting birdman doesn't really fit the atmosphere of Vital.

At the core of Vital lies an intriguing little puzzle. On the one hand Hiroshi tries to move on with his life, but the only way to accomplish this is by trying to make peace with his own forgotten past. He balances on a fine line between losing himself in some kind of fantasy world and getting a grip on his long lost memories. The fact that Hiroshi tries to do this by dissecting his late girlfriend's corpse gives the film an extra dimension, resulting in some beautiful yet morbidly poetic moments. One of which (the car crash immediately followed by the interior rock formation) belongs to my all-time favorite film scenes.

One final interesting element is the dance scene Tsukamoto included halfway through. Every since Sogo Ishii directed a stand-alone dance sequence in Dead End Run, other reputable Japanese directors have followed in his footsteps (Miike in Big Bang Love, Asano in Tori and Kitano in Takeshis' - maybe even Katsuhito Ishii in Taste of Tea). What sets these scenes apart is that they exist somewhat separately from the film. They feature modern/abstract dances set to scored music rather than real-life music. In a sense they resemble Oshii's trademark takeouts as they function as a little breather in between the regular scenes. The editing and camera work in Tsukamoto's version makes it one of the most captivating examples out there.

Fans of Tsukamoto might be a little surprised by the stilted acting, the strong dramatic undercurrents and the softer, more poetic scenes. In a sense this is a typical Japanese drama infused and enriched with plenty of Tsukamoto goodness. The result is haunting, morbid, poetic and beautiful all at once. So much that Vital became one of my favorite Tsukamoto films, combining two contrasting styles with the proper love and attention to keep the strengths of both alive. Definitely recommended. 5.0*/5.0*

Don't forget to check the trailer.

When Peter Chan (Warlords, Perhaps Love) announced he was making a new film called Wu Xia starring Donnie Yen, fans were beyond ecstatic. But before long it became clear that Chan wasn't making just another big budget martial arts flick, he was aiming for something a little different. The result is a beautifully produced, entertaining piece of detective work with some proper action thrown in for good measure.

Chan likes doing things a little different. Warlords wasn't just any ordinary war flick and Perhaps Love not just any other musical. With Wu Xia though, he went out of his way to trick genre fans into watching his latest film. The wuxia stamp is a collection for everything related to martial arts and considering this broader definition Chan's film has every right to call itself that. But the amount of action sequences that are usually assumed are mostly absent here, instead Chan sets up a neat little detective story. Not that the film is completely void of any martial arts scenes, but it's definitely not the main selling point of the film.

Chan follows in the footsteps of Tsui Hark's Detective Dee and focuses on the detective work rather than the action. After a short introduction where Donnie Yen kicks some very subtle ass (as to not to give away his cover), Takeshi Kaneshiro is sent on his path to investigate. In true Sherlock Holmes fashion he reconstructs the fight and quickly suspects Yen's character of hiding a darker truth. That there is more to Yen than meets the eye is clear from the beginning, actually uncovering his true identity proves to be a much more difficult task.

Most of the first part of the film is dedicated to the intellectual stand-off between Yen and Kaneshiro. Chan travels to the motions with style, not really delivering anything too original or mind-bending, but exploring the actions of both protagonists with proper depth and dedication. The second part of the film is a bit more action-oriented, though still not on the level of most other wuxia entries.

If there is one constant in Chan's recent output it's the consistency in visual beauty that can be found in his films. Wu Xia is definitely no exception, with wonderful framing, gentle camerawork and beautiful use of color from start to finish. Chan is aided by some stunning set pieces, most notably the flooded fields where Yen and his adversaries battle in the beginning of the film. Chan's style doesn't necessarily differ a lot from other directors working with similar means and within similar genres, but he still has a certain stylish edge that others seem to lack. Also notable are the many short animation sequences which add some extra flair to the film.

The soundtrack isn't the overload of classic Chinese music you'd expect from a film like this, there's actually a darker and more modern edge to the score. But even then, the music never really becomes part of the film and doesn't actually go beyond its simple purpose of delivering some background noise. It's not that the score is bad, it just kind of fades away with everything else that is happening onscreen. It's far from bad, never irritating or intrusive, but it just doesn't help the film forward either.

The acting on the other hand is very solid. Yen isn't a terribly gifted drama actor but here he sticks his neck out to prove he can do more than just swift punches and impressive jumps. He can definitely stand his ground against Kaneshiro, who's turning in one of his better performances in recent years himself. Both actors play with just the slightest hint of self-awareness, but never intruding with the serious business going on elsewhere in the film.

Wu Xia turned out to be a detective story with noirish impulses and a slight, light-hearted vibe to counter the gravity of the themes at hand. Throw in a couple of stylish martial arts scenes and you'll get an idea of the fine line this film tries to balance on. It's a miracle Chan succeeds in making it all work together without losing sight of the film's overarching atmosphere, but he pulls it off with grace an delivers a film that's stands very well on its own without being truly unique or challenging.

Once again, be prepared when going into this film as an avid wuxia lover, the actual martial arts (even though quality stuff choreographed by Yen himself) is restricted to only a few scenes throughout the film. The first half of the film is quite slow with many scenes retracing the steps of Yen and Kaneshiro pondering endlessly on Yen's possible background. The pacing picks up in the second half of the film, but even then it's still quite timid compared to genre standards. Get past the idea that you're going to see an action film though, and what follows is just as good as what any wuxia film can deliver.

It makes me wonder if between Detective Dee and Wu Xia (and of course the resurrection of Sherlock Holmes) enough momentum is created for other films to follow in their footsteps. It could very well be that we'll be seeing a few other high-profile detective stories in the near future. Chan's attempt is definitely a good start, sporting high production values, a classy and stylish atmosphere and a strong mix of varied genre elements. It might drag just a little in the middle, but apart from that it's well worth checking out and easily the best of the three films mentioned above. 4.0*/5.0*

Check out the (unsubbed) trailer for a nice preview.

Electric Dragon 80000V belongs on the list of films that created a small yet fanatic niche for Japanese movies at the start of this millennium. It's guerrilla film making at its craziest, bringing some of the brightest talents of modern Japanese cinema together to create something highly unique. Definitely not a film for everyone, but if you've got the least bit interest in Japanese punk cinema, you simply cannot miss out on this one.

Sogo Ishii (August In The Water) made quite a ripple in the international (underground) film scene with this film, especially when he literally blew the speakers at a high-profile film fest (I believe it was Rotterdam) when showing his film there. Legend goes that Ishii himself kept asking to raise the volume, wreaking havoc on the people who just wandered in to watch an off-beat Japanese genre film. Then again, it's always best to go into an Ishii film at least a little prepared, so they had it coming.

Electric Dragon 80000V was shot in three mere days, with a minimal crew and minimal concept. It's punk cinema at its wildest, tackling a simple concept head on and making the absolute most of it. The film is carried by punk formation MACH-1.67 (a collaboration between Tadanobu Asano and Sogo Ishii himself) who used the film as background visuals during their live concerts. Most of the film was realized by Ishii and Asano (going from soundtrack to editing, acting and even calligraphy), only aided by that other Japanese acting phenomenon, Masatoshi Nagase, playing the villain in this film.

The story is almost too stupid and shallow to summarize, but I'll give it a shot anyway. Dragon Eye Morrison is a lizard detective who got electrocuted at a very young age. Ever since he's been electrically charged. The electricity never really left his body, but through the years he learned to cope with his rather unique condition. He is sought out by another electro-nutcase, Thunderbolt Buddha, who seems to believe there's only room for one electrically-charged human being on this planet. Buddha tracks down Morrison only to infuriate him, resulting in an electrified final battle. Now, if you believe this paragraphs contains too many spoilers, let me assure you that this is hardly relevant when watching the film.

Visually the film owes a lot to the likes of Tetsuo and Eraserhead. Gritty, high-contract black and white cinematography add a stylish shine, some clever shots and camera angles do the rest of the work. Most of the visual effects seem to be hand-drawn (think lightning/beam effects from the 60s Kaiju films) but thanks to the sharp black and white cinematography they still manage to integrate quite well. For a film that was shot in only three days, Electric Dragon looks remarkably dashing and attractive.

The score ... well, I may not be a big fan of punk music and I probably wouldn't listen to it outside the context of this film, but this is the perfect example of how to do a freakin' music score. It's loud, aggressive and shamelessly in your face. It also helps that the score features a heavy dose of distortion and noisy touches, which is a bit more up my alley. There's a perfect synergy between visuals and music, creating an atmosphere that makes you tingle all over. Or shudder in disgust, if you really can't take this kind of music. It's a big shame I never experienced this film in a live movie theater, it must've been a pretty unique experience (at least, as long as the speakers didn't die on you halfway through).

Aoart from two short scenes, there are no secondary actors present. Asano and Nagase carry the film all by themselves. No sweat for these guys though, you can see they feel very much at ease handling this kind of silly material and they really give it their all. They bring both characters to life and even though there's just very little in the way of background story or actual character development, by the time they face each other in battle there's a healthy, sparkling tension between the both of them.

Electric Dragon 80000V is all about the fun, there's not a serious moment to be found. The dialogues are completely nonsensical ("Conserve electricity!"), the story is staggeringly whimsical and the pacing is as random as can be. It's pure comedy gold without the actual laughs and punchlines, mixed with a lavish punk-drenched finishing coat. If you expect anything more from this film you will surely be disappointed, then again, why would you expect anything more if it executed this well?

As to how this films compares to other (Japanese) (cyber)punk film, I believe it somehow found its own little niche within the genre. It's definitely not as zany or chaotic as Tsukamoto's Tetsuo, there are a few passages where Ishii drops the pacing a little and allows the audience a little breather. Visually it looks very impressive, but without the raw, ultra low-budget edge of other peers (think Fukui's films). Where it really shines is when music and visuals come together to hijack the film from it's simple storyline, just to bring you something that is truly unique and memorable. There are only a few films out there that dare to place this much focus on their music and I am pleased Ishii/Asano were ready for the challenge.

With only 55 minutes between start and finish, Electric Dragon 80000V is a quick watch. That said, if you don't appreciate what Ishii is doing here it might still feel like a two hour hell. If you don't mind the raging soundtrack, silly storyline and black and white visuals though, it's a film you can watch over and over again without ever getting bored of it. Definitely one of the best films Ishii ever made and one of the films he will be remembered for. 4.5*/5.0*

Not convinced yet?, check out the trailer.

If you're planning to expand your expertise on Belgian films, Rundskop would probably be your first and most obvious bet. Live a little, take a risk and bet on Cannibal instead. Viré's Cannibal may not be as accessible as Rundskop but it packs a lot more skill, punch and raw power. Just don't go in expecting a mere genre film, Cannibal transcends its own roots and delivers a completely unique experience.

For a few years now there's been a constant stream of quality genre-defining films coming from Belgian soil. Films like Ex Drummer, 22 Mei, Calvaire, Vinyan and Small Gods mark the top of this like-minded series of films. You can see it as an extension of the French movement that started a little more than 10 years ago (led by people like Gaspar Noé, Philippe Grandrieux and Claire Denis). Dark, gritty and uncompromising films that dare to be different, but each in their own unique way.

Cannibal starts off as a pretty normal genre flick. Set in Wallonia, the Walloons (the French-speaking people in Belgium) are once again depicted as creepy, weird and twisted recluses living in their secluded forests (much like Calvaire). The film introduces Max, a scruffy-looking guy who avoids most human contact, especially that of the physical kind. His world changes when he finds a barely clad girl lying in the forest. Not knowing what to do with her, he takes her home.

In no time Max finds himself in love with this girl, but things aren't particularly going well between the two of them. When she sneaks off one night, Max follows her only to find the girl covered in blood, feasting on another human being. You would think this would cool Max' love for the girl, but apparently he feels quite at ease with her condition as he starts helping her to trap other victims. What Max doesn't know is that there are others looking for the girl.

Cannibal is a dark and gritty-looking film. Most of the camera work is hand-held, but the good, controlled and visually impressive kind. The film can be quite dark too, with some scenes eclipsing everything but some faint light sources. The framing is nothing less than excellent though and Viré knows exactly where to the camera needs to be at crucial moments. In the last half hour the film makes a surprising switch to high-contrast black and white photography, making it look even more beautiful.

But as impressive as the visual side of Cannibal might be, it's the soundtrack that really blew me away. Dark drones, distorted sounds and industrial touches all come together to create a very tangible, uneasy atmosphere. Viré really blows the roof off when he mixes a gut-wrenching scream into one of the musical pieces, together with the chaotic cinematography and gory images this particular moment comes as close to a waking nightmare as you can possibly image. Cannibal is one of those films that underlines the power of a strong, captivating soundtrack, more than once illustrating its vital part in the whole atmosphere-building process.

The acting too is impressive. Gob and Coppejans do a great job translating their impossible relationship to the screen, portraying the hardships of an unlucky couple trying to deal with their problems. Secondary roles are good too, most notably the appearance of Philippe Nahon (somewhat of a quality marker) near the end of the film. For a film that relies mostly on audiovisual impulses, the acting is surprisingly strong and consistent.

While the first hour still holds on to typical genre elements, Viré turns his film around in the last half hour. Don't expect a gory finale, when the film goes in black and white mode it makes a complete u-turn to end up as an urban crime-drama (more than once did I think of La Haine). It's a strange, somewhat unnatural switch, but even though it feels a little forced it still works remarkably well. While I was still hungering for more horror goodness, I quickly realized the second part was just as impressive.

The biggest problem with Cannibal is that title and cover art suggest a simple genre film, while Viré's film is way more ambitious than that. If you're just watching it for a quick gore/scare fix, you won't find much here. There's a definite feeling of dread and unease running through the film, but halfway through it abandons that for something entirely different. There's hardly any gore, hardly any suspense and no big horror finale, so be warned before getting your hopes up.

Cannibal is definitely my kind of film. Incredibly atmospheric, uncompromising and unique. There is still room for improvement, notably the switch in the middle could've been a little less harsh, but those are just minor complaints compared to the feeling of awe that the film left behind. I hope Viré gets the critical appreciation he deserves, Belgium needs directors like him to raise the bars for others to come. Must see. 4.5*/5.0*

Awesome trailer, check it out.

Some films know to impress with just their simplicity. They don't need a complex storyline, personality-changing dramatic events or elaborate soul-searching analogies to get their message across. Kitagawa's Halfway is no doubt one of those films. Shelve all your expectations of anything big, tragic or epic and let yourself be swept away by the beauty of the smaller, seemingly insignificant things in life. Halfway won't disappoint you.

First love in highschool must be one of the most popular topics in (light-hearted) Japanese dramas (think Ishikawa's Su-ki-da). Even though the Japanese school system is often considered as one of the toughest and competitive in the world, films like Halfway always end up highlighting the finer periods of Japanese school life. Love confessions and people just chilling on fields of grass near some idyllic rivers, and of course plenty of blue skies with puffy clouds. It's all in here.

Not all that surprising if you know the script was co-written by Shunji Iwai. The final result is less dreamy than Iwai's own films, Kitagawa made her film a bit more down to earth, but his influence on the script is still clearly visible. The setup is pretty simple: Shu and Hiro are two young kids experiencing first love (the fluffy and completely innocent kind mind). The most thrilling act of love is holding each other's hands, the rest of it mostly involves hanging out out in real life or on the phone.

The main dramatic thread lies with Shu moving away to enter a Tokyo-based college. Hiro fears this will be the end of their relationship and blames him for starting something with her when he knew about this even before they got involved. Through the course of the film they try to figure things out, though rest assured that it never amounts to anything more than simple arguments and minor bursts of uncertainty that come and go as quickly as they are introduced.

Kitagawa reinforces the cliché that female directors usually deliver less stylized films. The camera work in Halfway feels pretty free and liberated, which translates nicely to the film's characters. It's not as if no attention was paid to the film's looks though, Kitagawa chose some fitting and charming locations and includes a few well-timed moments where she plays with natural light. Personally I prefer hyper-stylized films, but it's difficult to argue that Kitagawa's style works in favor of the lighthearted drama.

As for the soundtrack, I don't really know what to think. While watching Halfway I was 100% sure Joe Hisaishi was responsible for the music. The score resembles Hisaishi's best work for Kitano's films (Kikujiro, Dolls) to the point where the music in Halfway almost sounds like a remake of Hisaishi's finest moments. This would still be somewhat acceptable if Hisaishi was actually responsible for the score, but apparently the music was handled by Takeshi Kobayashi (a Shunji Iwai regular). So while the music in Halfway is quite wonderful indeed, the aftertaste is just a little sour considering the lack of a unique sound.

The acting is solid and natural. Even though both Kii Kitano and Masaki Okada look like typical Japanese pop idols this film is definitely not just an ordinary promotion vehicle for upcoming pop stars. Secondary roles are also handled with the proper respect, only Hiroki Narimiya is an obvious miscast. He looks a little too young to play a teacher and he has a hard time removing that plastered, fake look from his face. I wasn't a big fan of him to begin with, but he looks quite out of place here.

Halfway is a template film for fans of the Japanese light-hearted high-school romances. Everything in this film feels natural, convincing and realistic. The result is a film that lacks epic drama and big emotions, but draws its strength from small scenes of joy, disappointment and happiness. If you think that watching two people wasting their time by the river in idle conversation is boring, this is definitely not going to be your kind of film.

Naysayers may also criticize the film for its flimsy moral and obvious life lessons, but the way Kitagawa handles the subject is anything but cheap. While it is true that the film holds very few shocking and/or deep revelations about relationships and life, Halfway is more about the reliving the experience than it is about walking away a little wiser. For people who have cut the ties with school life a long time ago, Halfway forms the perfect melancholy trip to a life that was much simpler (even though it didn't seem that way at that time).

In the end Halfway is a film primarily made for existing fans of the genre. It's a very good, solid entry in the genre but does little to cross any existing boundaries. It's a nice 90 minutes away from life's everyday troubles and it does a great job putting you at ease, as long as you can appreciate the small, delicate nature of the couple's blossoming relationship. I do still wonder about that soundtrack though, it can't be that I'm the only one that noticed the similarities between this and Hisaishi's work. Still, better to have a great Hisaishi rip-off that a bland and generic soundtrack. 4.0*/5.0*

Check out the trailer if you're still not convinced.

Patlabor 2 is the film that first defined Mamoru Oshii's trademark style. While most people came into contact with Oshii (Sky Crawlers, Tachiguishi Retsuden) through his first adaptation of the Ghost In The Shell manga, Patlabor 2 predates that film by two years and still holds all the key ingredients that made GitS into a world-wide success. And even today Patlabor 2 proudly stands its ground, having lost very little of its initial impact.

Oshii came a long way before he made this film. He started out working on series like Nils Holgersson and Madame Peppermint. In between he directed several feature films, each sporting their very own stylistic experiments, but none of them really connecting to form a encompassing whole. Patlabor 2 brought all these elements (philosophical meanderings, purely atmospheric cuts, politics, technical excellence and last but not least, dogs) together for the first time to create what could be considered a master template for all the high-profile films he would be making during the following ten years.

With his work on Urusei Yatsura Oshii already proved that he had few problems completely overturning the atmosphere of an existing series. Patlabor is a little different as Oshii had a big hand in the previous installments of the series, but it's plain to see that with Patlabor 2 Oshii was ready to break some new ground. While the original series and the first film still focused on the Patlabor squad as a whole, Patlabor 2 directs its full attention on chief Goto. The rest of the crew is still around, but only in minor, secondary roles.

That very shift in focus marks the first major break with the previous installments, as Goto has always been the most serious and pensive of the bunch. This character trait actually carries over to the film as a whole. It allows Oshii more time to dig into some political subtleties and to introduce a string of philosophical discussions and monologues. The story kicks off with a missile attack on one of the major Tokyo bridges. Goto is then approached be a government official to help capture the man behind the attack. He plays along, but feels there's more to it than the information that is fed to him.

From a technical point of view, Patlabor 2 still looks pretty impressive, even today. Characters designs are detailed, the animation is crisp and abundant and the mecha designs are still stellar. But one of the film's most distinct visual features is the character's remarkably pale skin tone, which is heavily contrasted by the use of dark, heavy shadows. It helps the characters to blend into the industrialized and mechanized, somewhat cold exterior of Tokyo as portrayed in this film. This atmosphere is further underlined by strong gray and blue overtones throughout the entire film.

Fans of Oshii will also notice the first appearances of some of his trademark shots. The inside view of a car traversing the highway by night, inside shots of a car when someone steps in or out, the reflections of scenes on buildings and their respective distortions, the distinct cut scenes that thrive on music and audio alone ...). It's clear that Oshii would repeat many of the visual tricks he tried to pull off in later films, but even these first attempts look damn impressive.

Another major asset of this film is the audio track. Patlabor 2 was definitely not the first collaboration between Oshii and Kenji Kawai, but it does feel like it was the first time they really found each other. Kawai composed some absolutely stunning music tracks which Oshii clearly realized upon receiving the score. Some scenes seem to be added with the sole purpose of doing justice to Kawai's music. The voice acting too is superb. Ryunosuke Obayashi is perfect in the role of Goto, sporting a soft, pleasant and soothing voice with just the tiniest hint of an audible smirk around the edges.

Oshii does very little to mask the philosophical undercurrent of this film. As Goto puts it quite well himself, Patlabor 2 is about the differences between a just war and an unjust peace and how these two are connected to each other. More on the surface level of the film we find a story about a one-man crusade, holding a complete country in his grasp with just a few well-planned tactical moves. Patlabor 2 is a game of political chess where Oshii demonstrates a very believable sketch of how one man can hold a nation hostage, called visionary by some (referencing 9/11). That's taking it a little too far if you ask me, but connections between the two can certainly be made.

But the most impressive scenes are those that are void of plot progression. The key scene of the film sees Goto floating around quiet industrial landscapes, reminiscing about war and peace, a monologue that is carried by the wonderful score of Kawai. A second scenes illustrates the occupation of Tokyo by the military, once again set to the soothing tones of Kawai's music. Clear front-runners of the landmark scenes in Ghost In The Shell (and Innocence), but already radiating Oshii's mesmerizing style.

While the ending of Patlabor 2 reaches back to its origins a little too abruptly, the rest of the film is A-grade Oshii material that should please fans of the man's work. It's an impressive tour de force, bringing a perfect mix of intriguing philosophy, a smart plot and stunning audiovisual stimuli. It's also the film where Oshii finally finds a personal style that would carry on through several future films and would begin to define him as a director. He never really succumbed to his signature style (keeping side projects like Mini-Pato or Tachiguishi), but it's obvious this film is a landmark in Oshii's oeuvre. 5.0*/5.0*

There's a nice trailer, not too many spoilers.

After being blown away by Pop Skull, director Adam Wingard became an instant favorite of mine. It's obvious the man has plenty of talent, so I was quite curious to see where it would lead him next. While A Horrible Way To Die was made directly after Pop Skull, the two films are actually very different and are almost impossible to compare. That's not to say A Horrible Way To Die isn't worth your attention though.

Pop Skull was above all an audiovisual experience, in A Horrible Way To Die Wingard finds a better balance between abstract atmospheres, proper character development and plot progression. Whether that actually results in a better film is something that greatly depends on your own take on cinema. The film is not as in your face as Pop Skull and takes a little longer to engage, but in the end there is still a clever pay-off and Wingard definitely succeeds in getting a clear point across.

With A Horrible Way To Die Wingard seems to be making his take on Henry (Portrait Of A Serial-Killer). The thematic similarities and low-budget background of both films are obvious enough, then again that's where the comparison between the both of them should probably end. Wingard makes a more subtle, introvert observation of the serial killer stereotype while clinging onto a rawer, darker edge the entire running time. Wingard's killer is not a depraved individual harboring pure evil, rather a helpless young man battling his uncontrollable urges.

Garrick Turrell is a notorious serial killer that was put behind bars when his girlfriend found out about his secret nightly activities. When Turrell is transferred between prisons though he sees an opportunity for escape and instinct takes over. On the other end of the spectrum we find Sarah, a young woman recovering from her drinking problems and reluctant to uphold any serious social contacts. The two are destined to meet, but things are never as clear or easy as they seem.

While Wingard turns the strobes, glitches and other funky visual trickery down a couple of notches, that's not to say that he completely ignores the film's visual impact, on the contrary. Wingard plays a lot with focus, keeps his camera close to his characters and operates it as if slightly drunk. The camera sways through the film, shifting focus all the time, sometimes completely losing track of the main characters only to find them again a couple of seconds later. Add to that some stellar play with lighting and color and you have a film that deserves to be applauded for its visual identity, even if it's not as outspoken as in Pop Skull.

The soundtrack too is familiar territory for Wingard. A smart mix of more traditional film music blended with dark drones and moody ambient make for the perfect ambiance and add an admirable level of dread and uneasiness to the reigning atmosphere. Again the score is not as sharp or overly present as it was in Pop Skull, but as the director clearly puts more focus on the story here, it's a perfectly understandable choice. In the end it still beats many other films out there who try to do similar things with drones and soundscapes.

AJ Bowen takes up the role of serial killer and does so with great conviction. He is perfect for a man living on the verge of society, struggling with his own natural urges which turn him into a ruthless killer when push comes to shove. Swanberg and Seimetz take up the roles of the supporting characters. They do a pretty decent job but remain somewhat overshadowed by the presence of Bowen. Especially Seimetz fights to uphold the strength of her character, who from time to time seems to wallows a little too much in her own sorrow.

The film has little regard for telling its story in chronological order. Wingard isn't helping much either by upholding a consistent style and hardly giving any indications or clues when time jumps occur. Clothes and hairdos are the biggest giveaways, but apart from that he leaves it up to the audience to figure out the details. I actually appreciated this extra level of vagueness as it kept the story (which is rather basic) interesting throughout. People who want to know what's going at all times should know that all things are properly explained during the course of the film, but mind that you could still feel considerably lost in several individual scenes.

I still need to see Home Sick and You're Next, but it seems that Wingard is using his talent for horror to create films that transcend simple genre cinema. Both Pop Skull and A Horrible Way To Die definitely deserve their horror classification, but only as a secondary genre. Don't expect an average slasher or simple serial killer flick here, Wingard aims higher and succeeds remarkably well on both accounts. It's good to know that there are some talented people out there dedicated to making a little more out of the horror genre than simple genre fare and fanservice products.

Even though similarities between this film and Pop Skull are rather slim, there's still an underlying signature style that clearly belongs to Wingard. His films are intimate, raw and combine a solid sense of realism with strong and outspoken styling. A Horrible Way To Die turned out to be a classy, gritty and nuanced serial killer flick that deserves a loving, appreciative audience. What side of Wingard you like best is mostly dependent on your own feelings of what good cinema is supposed to be, but if you like your films a little different there should be more than enough here to deliver an enjoyable and powerful evening worth of serial killer material. 4.0*/5.0*

Check out the trailer, mind some mild spoilers though.

Fans of the weird, the insane and the crazy, take notice. If you haven't watched Dead Leaves, there's a whole world of exuberant excellence you haven't explored (yet), and it's just begging to be discovered. As long as you don't mind your fix coming in animated form, there is probably no film out there that can match the pacing, insanity and overall rebelliousness of Imaishi's first feature film. The result is still unmatched today.

I've said it before, but 2004 was a particularly excellent year for Japanese animation. Several high profile titles (think Innocence, Howl's Moving Castle, Mind Game, Steam Boy) all wedged themselves in this one year release slot to compete for best anime of the year. And then there was Dead Leaves, clearly overshadowed by all these big names but using its underdog position to amaze an unsuspecting crowd of animation fans all over the world.

Since its initial release I must've seen the film at least 5 or 6 times, but it never seizes to amaze me with its excruciating pacing and high density weirdness. Every time I watch Dead Leaves I fear time might have diminished the impact of the film, but it still stands proud after all these years and it always manages to surprise me time and time again. Even though the film is only 50 minutes long, it feels as if there is enough content in there to make a feature twice as long while still firmly holding on to the crown of adrenaline-inducing action cinema.

If you're watching this film for the sake of plot and story though, beware that Imaishi has his own unique take on cinema. Whatever plot there is, is shouted and yelled in short sentences of maniacal dubbing. There are several moments where flashbacks are initiated, only to be terminated 15-20 seconds later for lack of interest. There are characters literally saying that any kind of decent explanation of events is just holding things up, so if you can't stomach that you should lower your hopes and ignore this film altogether.

While Dead Leaves is a film that could only have been made in Japan, it's definitely not your average, traditional anime. Its art style is crude and edgy, equally mixing influences of the Japanese and Western world of animation and comic books. While individual frames might still look a little bland, rest assured that the crazy editing will make up for that. Nothing seems to ever stand still, instead everything and everyone moves at a highly exaggerated pace with highly exaggerated moves. There are split screens, 1-second alternating shots, impossible camera angles and shaking cameras to spice things up, all tangled up to create one of the most visually in-your-face cinematic experiences you'll ever encounter. Add to that an impressive level of detail (frame-by-frame exploration of a film has never been as exciting as here) and what you have is a killer visual experience that becomes tangible.

Make sure to choose the Japanese voice track when you watch this film. The Japanese dub is incredibly animate and exciting, sporting many adlibs and improv moments throughout. The English dub lacks appropriate pacing and the white-boy trash cursing isn't half as effective as the Japanese yakuza-inspired dubbing. The score is pretty cool too, with some decent electronic tracks, some nice pumping beats and even some classy drum 'n bass breaks. It is not as daring as the visuals though and as someone who has the proper experience in electronic music there is some obvious room for improvement, but as it stands the soundtrack definitely meets its goals.

But the coolest thing about Dead Leaves is its unabashed approach to the juvenile style of cinema it sets out to deliver. The film is filled to the brim with crude jokes, inappropriate images and a general, shameless lack of good taste. There are subtle sex jokes, obvious sex jokes, drill penises, splatter gore, unspeakable perversions and a complete and utter lack of political correctness that pervade every pore of this film. The thing is that Dead Leaves delivers it with such overwhelming faith and enthusiasm, and with such surprising technical excellence that it will leave you completely flabbergasted. That is, if you can actually stomach the juvenile joy of this production.

Apart from some unfulfilled potential in the soundtrack department, the film has a little trouble one-upping itself during the finale. At that point the film clearly reached the limit of its creators' creativity, which leaves you with a slight presumption that the finale could've been just a little more impressive. By itself the finale is still a piece of incredibly zany cinema, but looking at the things that came before I guess I'm not 100% happy with how the last battle turned out. It's a rather moot point though, if you consider that no other film can match what Dead Leaves as a whole has on offer in the way of adrenaline, action and weirdness.

There is an unexpected purity in the way Dead Leaves presents its material, especially considering the way it renounces all that is considered good taste and proper cinema. For a film that's almost 8 years old, it's quite unusual not to be surpassed by any of its direct competitors (think Redline). It's a real shame that Imaishi never got the chance to direct a second feature-length film, on the other hand it increases the film's unique flavor. Fans of animation and high adrenaline cinema owe it to themselves to check this out, as long as you can embrace the juvenile pleasures of this film there is nothing to stand in your way of pure bliss. Dead Leaves remains one of my absolute favorites and a completely unique experience, even 8 years after its initial release and after countless viewings. 5.0*/5.0*

Check out the Japanese trailer for some taste of what to expect.

The first few years of the new millennium formed the high days for modern Japanese dramas. Kumakiri's Holy In The Sky is one of the forgotten and often overlooked gems of that era. To be fair though, this doesn't surprise me one bit. While I don't doubt the film's excellence, it is definitely not the most accessible film to get acquainted with. Fans should take notice though, as Kumakiri and Terajima collide for a genuine tour de force.

Hole In The Sky stems from a time when Japanese drama directors felt they didn't need much in the way of script or plot advancement to make a good film. Characters are usually rather non-communicative, difficult to read and appear to be cold and helpless. And while Hole In The Sky does feature a clear start and ending, nothing is actually resolved during the running time of the film.

All of the above elements can be seen as flaws or shortcomings, but fans of the genre will recognize these as the main attraction. No sentimental nonsense, no meaningless events and/or dialogues just to make the viewer feel at ease and no real life lessons learned when the credits start rolling. Kumakiri ("Green Mind, Metal Bats", Antenna, Furijia) has never been one to make many concessions to please his audience and Hole In The Sky is no exception.

Susumu Terajima takes up the lead role of bored country bumpkin working in the run-down diner of his father. His path crosses that of a young girl left behind by her no-good boyfriend, and when his father leaves for some cross-country gambling that very same day the two of them decide to spend some time together. Even though they grow quite fond of each other, they both realize that a lasting relationship is not really in the cards, but saying goodbye isn't as easy as they expected.

On a visual level Hole In The Sky leaves a little to be desired. While the film definitely features some nice shots and impressive shot compositions, the lighting and use of color is somewhat lacking, making even these nice compositions somewhat drab and unattractive. I think it's quite clear that Kumakiri wasn't really occupied with the visual side of things, but with a little more effort the film could've looked a whole lot better as the potential was certainly there.

The soundtrack is a decent affair, providing a gentle, light-hearted atmosphere with the right amount of dramatic undertones. It remains in the background for most of the film, never intruding or never asking any direct attention from the audience, but giving off just the right amount of tension to be effective. Genre fans will know what to expect, just don't hope to be dazzled by anything out of the ordinary or extravagant.

Greatest selling point (at least for me) is Susumu Terajima picking up the role of the main lead. I've always found Terajima to be underused in secondary roles (something he would only confirm one year later in Sabu's Blessing Bell), with Hole In The Sky he proves that his understated style of acting and overall presence is more than enough to carry a stilted, slow-paced drama like this one. Fans might also recognize actress Rinko Kikuchi (Babel) in one of her early roles, right opposite of Terajima. She provides a nice challenge for Terajima, effectively heightening the dramatic tension between both characters. A secondary cast is mainly absent but whatever small roles are needed are filled in with the proper professionalism.

Hole In The Sky is a rather tough film to appreciate. The main characters aren't the most communicative, nor are they very pleasant to be around. This leads to some rather questionable actions and a rather unusual relationship that develops itself throughout the film. At the same time, it's there where the main strength of Kumakiri's film lies. Catching a glimpse of the crackling collision of both characters' paths of life is all the dramatic depth a film like this needs, all the rest is simply cut out.

While at heart Hole In The Sky is a rather depressing film, it wouldn't be a Japanese drama without putting the film's events in proper perspective. No matter how many mental dents these characters carry with them, at the end of the film they reside in a state of equanimity. They've dealt with their past problems and they are ready to tackle the future head on. Getting that across without the usual cheese and sentimental bullshit is what makes these type films so appealing.

Hole In The Sky is slow-paced cinema. There isn't much happening in terms of dramatic events, the characters are rigid and introvert and odd behavior is often taken for granted. This film is a perfect example of good, solid Japanese drama fare, but should be handled with a little caution by people who don't really know what to expect. It's a rather long film and if it doesn't strike the right cords it will definitely become a tedious and boring affair. Not for me though, I liked every minute of it. 4.0*/5.0*

There's a trailer, no subs on it though.

Hong Kong is once again edging away from it's rather commercial, "safe" image. Point in case the latest slasher turns dramatic cop thriller from director Ching-Po Wong. Hong Kong's legendary CatIII rating has risen from the dead and has turned up some successful titles over the past couple of months, but Wong is eager to show that it's not all sleaze and schlock that gets branded as CatIII. Revenge: A Love Story is first class genre cinema with a mean edge.

Revenge: A Love Story is the stylistic follow up of 852 Films's Dream Home and the second film produced under Josie Ho's film label. Where Dream Home brought new life to the Hong Kong slasher genre, Revenge is a more complex beast altogether. It's not a simple genre film, rather a mix of genre elements taken to their extreme and gelled together by a solid dramatic bottom line. The result is a mean, nasty yet strong and controlled film that holds up well amongst all its indirect competitors.

You probably may know director Ching-Po Wong from his second feature Gong Wu (Blood Brothers), but it was his first film (Fu Bo) that impressed me the most. I don't remember much specifics about the story or events in Fu Bo, but those dark, morbid, underlying vibes coming from the film never really left me. In that sense Wong was the ideal man to tackle this film as he is definitely one of the few Hong Kong masters of cold, relentless cinema working there today.

Revenge: A Love Story follows the blossoming relationship between Kit, a dimwitted bun salesman and Wing, a mentally challenged schoolgirl. Wong fragments his story though and starts with a series of coldblooded murders performed by Kit. In both cases Kit kills a pregnant mother and relieves her from her child. The reasons behind this sudden switch remain vague. The police catch Kit, but with a little help from Wing they are forced to let him go again. The exact link between these events are cleared up in the following chapters of the film.

Visually Wong's film belongs to the best that Hong Kong has to offer. The lighting and framing of each shot is unbelievably stylish, creating a cold yet fascinating world of washed out colors, dark and dreadful locations and a scarcity of happy, colorful moments. And the good thing is that Wong keeps the level of visual detail high throughout the entire film. The story never gets in the way of the visuals, as is often the case in this type of film. My only critique would be one or two rather obvious and technically imperfect CG shots about halfway through that really didn't add much to the rest of the film.

The soundtrack is equally classy. Definitely not as in your face as the visuals, but it serves its purpose in the background. Usually I prefer a score that's a bit more present, but the subtlety of the music here really helps to establish the dark and brooding atmosphere. I actually went back to check the music a second time and when you start paying attention to it you'll notice the skill and perfect timing with which is was edited underneath the film.

Juno Mak is the unmistakable star of the film, but most of the media attention went to the inclusion of Japanese AV star Sola Aoi in the main cast. Fans will be disappointed to hear she remains clothed for most of the film, haters will be glad to hear she actually does a pretty good job acting in a regular film. But it's really Mak that deserves most of the attention. He does a stellar job of brining life to all different aspects of his character. The role of Kit is not an easy one as he transforms a couple of times during the film, but Mak keeps it believable and excels in every transformation.

Even though you might not see this film listed as a horror film (which it really isn't), there's some gruesome stuff in here out-nastying most of the regular horror films I've seen. And I'm not even talking about the graphic depiction of the formerly pregnant corpses (check à l'Intérieur), but more simple things like Kit scraping away the skin on his fingers. These scenes are as nasty as they come and nearly had me looking away from the screen.

Straying from the actual gore, the film also contains some grim and cold-hearted scenes, especially near the finale, resulting in an unpleasant punch in the gut. Wong keeps his story under control and uses the various chapters to form a cohesive plot, with all different strands comes together in a sprawling finale. Here he also delivers a surprisingly human message, though through a narrative quote rather than through any of the film's actual events. It's a welcome change of tone that makes the film a little easier to digest, while keeping the gut punch intact.

Revenge: A Love Story plays like a modern Hong Kong version of Se7en, only better, more tense and not as restrained as Fincher's film. Ching-Po Wong proves the perfect director for this and delivers a film that will remain with you some days after the initial viewing. Revenge: A Love Story lacks any weak points, excels on almost every level and enhances the CatIII rating with some damn stylish film making. And if you thought Dream Home was just a lucky hit for Ho's 852 Films, this film goes to the limit to prove you wrong. Excellent stuff, comes highly recommended. 4.5*/5.0*

Check the subbed trailer if you must, but it's better to go in clean.

Even though Okami is one of the most lauded games by game critics all over, it never managed to land itself the proper audience it deserved. Sure it has a warm and pleasant cult following, but its many qualities would suggest that the game could and should have a much broader fan base. And so I add my review to the pile of rave reviews that's already out there, simply because this game deserves it.

When looking for Wii games to buy, I stumbled upon Okami rather by accident. I heard many good things about the game before and was quite taken with its art style, so I took a little gamble an ordered it without much further thought. I really had no idea what to expect, only that it was some kind of action adventure game, akin to the 3D Zelda games.

The first few hours into Okami were a little uneasy. The game areas are quite large, there are tons of little side quests and it was the first time I actually sat down to play a full 3D action/adventure game. I did try some of the older Zelda games before, but apart from a brief Gamecube session I wasn't all that impressed. Okami was different though, even during these first hours the game got a tight grip on me.

When reviewers dish out scores for games they end up with a fixed set of categories they like to rate. While I'm sure Okami would score great in all these traditional categories, the greatest aspect of the game lies elsewhere. It's a bit difficult to explain, but simply being in the game world of Okami is the main selling point here. It's not just the graphics, the music or the level design, it's the combination of all these elements which put you in a stylish, calm and beautiful state of trance that knowns no equal. Just running around the vast landscapes and enjoying all the tiny details was the greatest pleasure of all.

Even when you're not too taken with the art style, you'll still have to admit that the execution is just perfect. I for one loved the tradition ink painting style and was amazed to be able to fully explore it in 3D. On top of that, the magic of the graphics isn't something that wears off over time. Even when discovering new areas 50+ hours into the game the wonder remained. Beautiful design, strong artwork, first class color work and some very nifty effects make this one of the most beautiful games to date, even if the tech behind it is not cutting edge.

The soundtrack shows similar class. The score consists mostly of soothing and calm traditional Japanese background music, but there are also some more upbeat tracks (usually during character interaction) and some proper fight music. Mind that even though there is no real voice acting, all character did get some weird mumbling sounds when they're talking. You get used to that, but at first it might come off as a little annoying.

Okami also features a unique fighting and puzzle mechanic. Regular controls for fighting and navigation are simple and precise, but our wolf is also able to enter God Mode with a push of a button. The frame freezes and you get a brush which can be used to create some godly effects and attacks by making particular strokes. The brush is operated by moving the Wii-mode around, which does take some getting used to at first. Once you master it though, the feedback it provides is superb and it's hard to imagine doing the same with a traditional controller, let alone get a similarly satisfying effect.

I found the difficulty level of Okami to be rather low, which means something coming from someone who has never played this type of 3D game before. In all I only died twice during the whole game. You'd think this could put off serious gamers, but the lack of difficulty is compensated by the immense vastness of the game. I guess hardcore gamers can take a good 40-45 to complete the basic game, but add all the sub quests and you'll go well over 50 hours of fun out of it. It took me just below 70 to get through, including finishing all the major side quests (like collecting all 100 stray beads).

When I encountered the main boss for the first time I was about 30 hours into the game. If it wasn't for those glaring empty spots in my item screens Okami could've just ended right there and still would've felt like a complete game. The second and third part of the game are shorter though, but add some tricky (the forest run), long (the thief quest) and combined (the demon gates) quests and you won't be feeling cheated, even when you're a hardcore gamer.

So is there nothing wrong with this game? Well, there are some small things, which is only to be expected with a game this size. The fact that some side quests don't really add much to the core of the game can be a little disappointing at times. You'll be collecting stuff, trading it for other items but gaining very little in the end. Another thing I don't understand is there is no option available to make markings on your map. There's quite a lot of back-tracking to be done, which could've been made a lot easier if there was some way of marking interesting spots to return to. Finally there are some pacing issues after defeating the first big boss. You're left without a real sense of urgency, which is a little strange 30+ hours into the game.

These are only small issues though, that have no way of harming the overall experience of the game. Now that I finished Okami I actually miss playing it sometimes. The chill, pleasant atmosphere proved extremely compelling and addictive, placing the actual goals of the game on a secondary level. Okami is by far the best game I've ever played, beating Nintendo's Zelda series on every level and delivering something that no game has done before. Rather than provide first class gameplay, killer graphics or a compelling storyline (which is still does), it delivers a world that's just great to "be" in. Comes with the highest recommendation. 5.0*/5.0*

Check out the nifty trailer to see the incredible art style in action.

Sion Sono (Love Exposure, Ekusute) is definitely on a role here. After dazzling people with the epic Love Exposure he's back with another film that is bound to make heads turn. Cold Fish may start off quite slow, but by the time the end credits make their appearance you can rest assured you've experienced one hell of a ride. It's not for the faint of heart but true Sono fans can rejoice, this is prime Sono material.

Looking back, Cold Fish reminded me a somewhat of Takashi Miike's Audition. It follows a very similar pattern, starting off quite slow and growing subsequently more gruesome, grotesque and absurd during the second part. Looking at Sono's film though, the entertainment level is more evenly spread and even the slow start is pretty interesting by itself. While Audition's first hour bordered on boring, Cold Fish works a lot better on a dramatic level and makes it a lot easier to stay put.

The film follows the life of Shamoto, a rather timid and plain-looking Japanese dad. His family's life is not without problems, but they still get along just fine. That is, until the day they cross the path of Murata, the owner of a tropical fish shop (just like Shamato) who captivates the entire family with his eccentric behavior. What they don't realize is that Murata slowly reveals the cracks in the family's happy facade, tearing them apart while gobbling up each family member for his own sinister plans.

Even though Shamoto is definitely the main character of Cold Fish, Murata is really in the center of the film and he'll be the one you'll remember when you look back on it. It's quite obvious from the start that there is something wrong with the man, but with his weird yet cheerful behavior he manages to captivate the audience along with Shamoto's family. This makes the second part of the film all the more interesting as you too were suckered by his charm, even when it was made perfectly clear early on that something was not right.

Sono is not someone who needs big budgets to impress. While his films aren't visual masterpieces, they feature a pleasant amount of beautiful shots and some very solid camera work. The editing too is remarkable, with some very harsh cuts resulting in a few simple, snappy yet unsettling scenes. While there is definitely room for improvement, there is still plenty to admire here.

The soundtrack is quite interesting to say the least. Cold Fish is not a film void of humor, part of which comes from the music. There are for example some pretty outlandish scenes near the end of the film that are edited to off-key jolly carousel ride music. This contrast really heightens the absurdity of these scenes and makes for a pretty special experience. It's nice to see Sono make such bold decisions as in the end the film as a whole benefits greatly from it.

The acting is also key here and it must be said that all main characters put in a wonderful performance. Mitsuru Fukikoshi does a great job with the timid Shamoto (especially in the later scenes), but it's really Denden who steals the show. His version of Murata is essential to the success of the film, as he takes you on a ride that's quite hard to stomach altogether. But in the end it's his character that glues everything together, and it's the believability of his character that will tow you through most of the second part of the film.

Sono's films are often labeled as misogynistic and while the women in this film are definitely in need of some professional counseling, the men don't really come out any better. The woman are selfish, soda-masochistic leeches while the men are beastly, arrogant and lying scumbags. It's quite easy to come up with a whole lot opinions on Sono's view of the world, but as he handles most of his films with an unmistakable rim of dark humor, it is difficult (if not impossible) to tell how much of his material is serious and how much of it is simple manipulative entertainment. As for Cold Fish, I would say that those who label it as misogynistic are probably a little too over-protective.

Cold Fish is a film that gets better with the minute. While the first hour is pretty decent and presents some interesting dramatic strands, the second part is where things get really interesting. Visualizing the descent into madness is one of Sono's strengths and with Cold Fish he proves he can do so with proper restraint. Where films like Love Exposure and Suicide Circle can feel quite uneven, the build-up of Cold Fish is stunningly precise and even beats that of Sono's own Strange Circus.

Cold Fish is a film that will sit well with those who appreciate awkward, cruel and excessive Japanese cinema. It's a splendid descent into madness with the proper amount of dark humor, flawless performances from the entire cast, some interesting dramatic undercurrents and a solid audiovisual coating. It can get rather graphic in places and you might want to reconsider if weren't impressed by earlier Sion Sono films, but otherwise this is Sono at the top of his game. 4.5*/5.0*

There is a subbed trailer, though I would stop in the middle as it's a little spoiler-heavy.

Wilson Yip (Ip Man, Ip Man 2) has been making quite a name for himself these past couple of years, so it's not all that surprising that people have been eying his latest project with heightened interest. With A Chinese Fairy Tale (or A Chinese Ghost Story if you will) Yip takes on a slightly different genre, no doubt alienating a part of his international audience. But fans of the original too should take a word of warning, as Yip's modernization is not for everyone.

It's getting more and more difficult these days to determine whether a remake is just a remake, a reboot, a prequel, a preboot or maybe even a complete re-envisioning of the source material. Whatever the case, Yip's latest finds its roots in Siu-Tung Ching's (Swordsman II) 1987 cult hit A Chinese Ghost Story. While the story is slightly different from the original, the structure and focus of the film remain the same and are lovingly incorporated in this 2011 upgrade.

That said, people hoping to catch some of the classic atmosphere of the Chinese Ghost Story series might end up feeling cheated by Yip's latest. While on paper there are many similarities between the two films, Yip's remake is heavy on CG and effect shots, completely forgoing the old-style effects and charm attributed to them. For me this was not much of a problem, I feel that Yip did a great job upgrading the visual style of the film, but those with an aversion to post-processed CG visuals might reconsider before going into this film.

The story is quite complex, unless you accept that this is just another action/fantasy flick and take all the drama for granted. There's a basic love triangle and a village that needs saving from a tree demon. Once you start drawing lines between characters and events things get more muddled, but as the film itself isn't all that concerned by delivering a proper dramatic foundation, neither should you.

If you can stomach the CG, Yip's A Chinese Fairy Tale is a beautiful film to behold. Apart from all the effect shots the camera work, framing and settings are top notch too, but no matter how you feel about those, in the end they will be overshadowed by the CG in the film. Not everything is technically impressive and a few select shots are not very convincing, but that is all quickly forgotten when the aesthetic value of the images start doing their work. The editing too deserves a little mention, as it is snappy, controlled and impressively paced.

The soundtrack is comprised of the same traditional Chinese music that is ever-present in films like these. While it could be considered as a nod to the original and it does result in creating a proper atmosphere, it is far from adventurous and mostly functions as background filler. A few days later I can recall very little from the music and listening to the songs featured in the trailer, they could just as well come from one of ten other films in this genre.

The acting is sufficient, though Yifei Liu clearly lacks the charisma to fully carry her role. Luckily actors like Siu-Wong Fan and Louis Koo take the spotlight away from her when they enter the frame. The lead role is reserved for Shao-qun Yu, who does a great job resurrecting one of the gullible young characters of the old days. He aptly succeeds in finding the perfect balance between slightly overacting classic characters and what is considered acceptable in modern-day films.

In a surprisingly smart move the film was retitled A Chinese Fairy Tale. Even though the original might still classify as a horror film, times have changed and the notion of some demons and an evil tree are not good enough to satisfy horror audiences. In the end, Yip's film is a martial arts fantasy epic with some darker touches here and there, where horror fans can find very little to get excited about.

There isn't too much martial arts action, but there are a few scenes where Yip can demonstrate what he's learned this past 10 years. This time around he's not quite that restrained by reality though, which results in some smartly choreographed martial arts wizardry and some impressive fantasy bashing.

If you take away the layer of CG, the film underneath is as close to the original as you can get nowadays. A simple narrative with complex relations between characters, snappy editing, blue-filter night scenes, and epic finale, a gullible young hero, some fantasy martial arts and a lot of people floating around ... it's all there and it should definitely appeal to the fans of the original. The CG transports the film to our modern times though and considering its domination it kills off a considerable amount of the melancholic atmosphere. Whether this is enough to kill the entire film for you depends on your acceptance of this decision. I for one didn't mind, I loved the CG and was considerably impressed by the visual expression of Yip's latest, but I realize that opinions may differ. If you think you can handle an update of A Chinese Ghost Story bathing in CG visuals, this one is definitely recommended, otherwise you best stay clear. 4.0*/5.0*

There is a subbed trailer, though I would stop in the middle as it's a little spoiler-heavy.

I'm slowly running out of Johnnie To (Vengeance, PTU, Mad Detective, Sparrow) films to watch, luckily there are still some hidden gems in his back catalogue that are waiting to be discovered. Throw Down was such a film, and even though it might be quite a challenge to find, it's worth the trouble as it's an essential link in understanding To's current trademark style. I went in with modest expectations, but was happily surprised by the level of wit and rhythm on display.

When I first watched To's Sparrow I was completely baffled by the film's style and rhythm. Sure I had watched To films prior to that, but it was the first time I'd seen him so carefree and at ease, allowing a film to pretty much make up its own rhythm as it progressed (at least, that's how it felt while watching, I later found out he hired a special dance choreographer to help him out with that). When watching Throw Down it became a little clearer where To found the inspiration to make Sparrow, as this film shares a very similar carefree, tongue-in-cheek atmosphere. The result is a little rawer, but definitely recognizable.

When I started Throw Down I expected to see a noir-ish martial arts film, what I got instead was a fun, crime-fueled comedy with some martial arts thrown in (no pun intended) for good measure. It's an unusual mix of styles and genres, but if you liked To's Sparrow and/or Mad Detective you will have some idea of what to expect from this film. It's typical To material, balancing a fine line of familiarity and creativity.

The story focuses on Sze-To, a former judo champion who has lost most of his glory to his gambling and drinking problems. Debt owners are putting more and more pressure on him and even the bosses of his night club are starting to question his ability to run a decent business. A silver lining appears when he is visited by Tony, a young and upcoming judo star, searching for fame by battling the great former judo talents. Obviously Sze-To is in no condition to fight, so Tony joins Sze-To in his night club and vows to wait until he can finally battle his great idol.

Visually To is already on top of his game here. Delicate camera movements, solid framing and superb night shots make for a strong noir atmosphere. He does allow himself some visual frivolities, especially during the more comical scenes, but most of the film is dripping with To's uberstylish signature style. You'd almost take it for granted after watching so many To films, but there aren't many directors out there that can match his visual excellence.

The soundtrack is once again an essential part of the film's experience. As always it's a pretty odd selection of tracks you wouldn't immediately expect in a film like this, but that's definitely part of the charm. To also shows no intension of hiding the score behind other elements, but he puts it front center for everyone to admire. And as always, against all odds, it works, though in a weird, magical way. It enhances the playfulness of Throw Down and provides a prefect frame for the tongue-in-cheek feel of the film.

The actors are definitely in on the joke. Even though the story provides some glaring opportunities for more serious dramatic scenes, Koo, Kwok and Ka Fai play with a visible smirk and a definite tingle in their eyes. All actors are clearly enjoying themselves, further increasing the fun factor of the film. There's also a nice cameo from Jordan Chan who's definitely gained my respect after watching through the whole Young And Dangerous series. It's a shame he somehow faded away in recent years.

The basic premise of the film is quite simple and doesn't really spark a lot of immediate interest. It's the way To handles the atmosphere that really lights things up. Calling this film a comedy is somewhat of a gamble as there are no clear punchlines or laugh-out-loud moments, but the constant joy, light-hearted atmosphere and loose interpretation of the laws of reality definitely makes comedy one of the primary genres of the film.

There are also a couple of scenes that leave a lasting impression, elevating the film to a higher level. There's the huge bar fight with 8 or 10 mini-fights going on at once while To still tries and succeeds in maintaining a cool and controlled air of filming. There's also the debt collection scene and a scene were Koo and Ying are fleeing a casino after stealing an armful of cash. These are all moments where To simply lets the story slide and focuses on making something special, something unique. It's also in these moments you realize the true beauty of cinema.

Throw Down is a little hard to recommend. It's a film with a pretty unique feel that might not speak to everyone. On the other hand, I'm sure most people will find something enjoyable here. For me it was interesting to see how this film fits in with the other To films, apart from that it's just a very fun and entertaining film with a good few memorable scenes. In the end it's not one of To's absolute bests, but definitely worth watching. 4.0*/5.0*

There is a trailer, no subs but you won't miss them anyway.

Who Are You (or Who R U - depending on where you look for information) is one of the latest entries in the Thai horror genre. The film strays a little from the traditional Asian horror fare, keeping the ghosts and apparitions to a minimum, instead focusing more on drama and aesthetics. The result is a beautifully shot horror film that deserves a wider audience, though people expecting a simple horror fix might be a little disappointed.

People have some rigid preconceptions about Asian horror films, but the Thai horror scene is actually quite diverse. Of course there are the films riding along on the not-so-recent-anymore wave of Asian suspense films (think Shutter and Alone), but if you're more into gore and shock the Art of the Devil series will kindly serve your needs. Then there are some popular anthology projects (Phobia, Phobia 2) which also hint at said diversity. Who Are You belongs to the most interesting category of Thai horror films, mixing lush cinematography with strong dramatic elements and some subtle arthouse influences (think Meat Grinder). This combination also makes it one of the least accessible categories though.

To get the most out of this film, some prior knowledge of the Hikikomori condition (young people locking themselves up in their own room for years on end, often threatening with suicide when people try to enter) comes in handy. I always figured this was a Japan only thing (we do get some footage from a Japanese documentary), but apparently other nations are struggling with these same issues as well. It's a rather surprising motive to use for a horror film, but Wonjinda proves it fits the genre extremely well, especially when you keep the camera outside the actual locked-down room for most of the film.

Who Are You sees a single mother struggling with her only son. She doesn't seem to be too concerned about his condition, until she runs into a documentary filmmaker who goes on the investigate the Hikikomori condition and proposes to make a documentary out of her son's case (don't worry, this is not a found-footage film). The mother gives her consent, but the boy isn't too happy with the plan. Things go from bad to worse and the real issues are slowly revealed, twisting themselves to a somewhat predictable yet effective finale.

Definitely the most striking aspect of Who Are You is the stellar use of color. Even though there are many night scenes, the shots remain colorful and vibrant throughout. Thai cinematography is known to be focused on strong and emotive colors, but Wonjinda takes it to a whole new level. The camera work itself is excellent too and even the few special effects found in the film are top notch quality.

The soundtrack too is strong, but it's definitely the overall sound design that impresses the most. The score provides plenty of atmosphere by itself, yet the addition of some subtle sound effects here and there give the film that extra edge to creep you out. It's interesting to see a rather simple scene become haunting just by adding the right effects to a soundtrack. I know music in films is a pet peeve of mine, this film clearly illustrates why I think it is such an important factor in the overall experience.

Apart from the intro, the acting is solid and straight-faced. The characters here aren't too demanding for the actors, but as there is a definite dramatic stretch in the plot at least some kind of decent performance was required. Not to worry though, the cast did what was needed and fair well in both the dramatic and the horror scenes.

Who Are You is not a perfect film though. It's not that I mind drama in a horror film, but halfway through the film practically grinds to a halt, forgetting about the horror and even the beautiful cinematography is axed in favor of some dramatic scenes. By itself this segment isn't all that bad, but it just doesn't compare to the rest of the film. Nearing the end Wonjinda picks up where he left before and does deliver a popping finale, which really helped to save the film for me.

As for the actual amount of horror, most of it happens off-screen. Don't expect to be shocked or horrified, Wonjinda is clearly not interested in all that. If you let the soundtrack do its work though, there are some very creepy scenes in here. But even those are mostly carried by the reigning atmosphere, so if by then you have decided this is not a very good film those scenes will probably lose all their effect, leaving you with very little.

Fans of Meat Grinder or likewise will probably love this film. It's lush, bursting with strong colors and lovely cinematography. Add a killer soundtrack and you have a worthwhile horror film that carries you through on style alone. There's even an interesting background motive and some drama added to the mix, which elevate the film further above generic horror fare. But people hoping for some standard horror fare might think twice before watching this. 4.0*/5.0*

There is a subbed trailer so check it out.

When the lauded Studio Ghibli announces a new film, the world takes notice. But not me. Even though I'm a big Ghibli fan, I simply trust their skills well enough to know every new project they produce will reach a certain level of quality that will satisfy me. And The Borrowers is definitely no exception. The only question that remains is how well it compares to other Ghibli films and whether Yonebayashi was able to beat Miyazaki at his own game.

Even though I'm a big supporter of most Ghibli films, the past ten years they've done very little to explore the boundaries of the anime universe. They've been producing pretty much the same film over and over again without worrying too much about innovation. Sure there are differences between films like Ponyo and Howl, but the bottom line is always pretty much the same. All their films feature that same trademark Ghibli charm that people have come to expect from them. This is not necessarily a bad thing, though I do miss the occasional off-center project like Yamadas or Ocean Waves.

The Borrowers is based on a story by Mary Norton. More and more Ghibli is looking to the West for inspiration, lucky for me they usually dig up something I haven't read or seen before. Apparently Norton's story is quite well-known here, but it went by me completely when I was a kid. So even though I can't really compare this film to the original, I still believe the story itself is universal and simple enough to work independent of its source material.

The Borrowers is about a family of "little people", living underneath the porch of an old country house. Once in a while they head upstairs to borrow some of the inhabitants stuff, but only things that will not be missed. When Arrietty is old enough to undertake her first Borrow, she is spotted by a young boy living in the house. The two learn to appreciate each other's company, but when the cleaning lady discovers the hideout of the little people things get a little too hairy for Arrietty's family, urging them to move out of the house.

Visually the film bears the typical Ghibli style. There is some CG, used very sparingly throughout the film, all the rest is hand-drawn. The backgrounds are colorful, the animation is detailed and life-like and some of the set pieces are absolutely lush. The art style itself is not all that original though and Ghibli doesn't seem to be making all that much progress on a technical level. There aren't many instances where the film actually knows to woo its audience with some impressive camera work or character animation. It's not really a problem yet, but I can't imagine them keeping this up for another ten years.

The soundtrack on the other hand is a bit more daring. Joe Hisaishi wasn't invited to the party this time around, instead French artist Cécile Corbel was issued to provide the music for The Borrowers. Her voice is quite unique, which gives the film some much needed identity. Once you're used to it (the first time she starts singing is a small shock) the score is actually quite nice and helps plenty to define the film's overall feel.

The voice acting is traditionally strong. I actually can't imagine Ghibli delivering a sub-par performance here. There aren't that many big names on the cast list (many TV talents), but they do a pretty solid job nonetheless. For those of you who can't stand Japanese, rest assured that there aren't any grating child actors in this film, most of the dialogue is delivered in soft, easy-on-the-ears Japanese.

The first fifteen minutes I felt like I was watching just another Ghibli film. Even though it was nice enough, I really got the feeling I watched it all before. But then the usual Ghibli magic started kicking in and all what came before was forgotten in a mere second. There aren't many companies who can pull this off, usually lack of creativity of chance is a real show-stopper for me, but the feel of a Ghibli film remains quite unique and is pretty much impossible to produce outside the Ghibli realm.

The Borrowers keeps the dramatic tension to a minimum and leaves lot of room for simple, childlike wonder. One of the nicest scenes is where the old lady of the house showcases her old doll house. The scene itself doesn't add much to the plot and could be seen as a pure waste of storytelling time, but it's just amazing to see an old lady relive the past like that. It's these kind of moment that set the studio apart from other players in the market, and what makes Ghibli films so enjoyable and unique.

Ghibli fans will know what to expect when they go and see this film. It doesn't really bring anything new to the table, but the typical Ghibli charm is still very much there and guarantees you ninety minutes of harmless, relaxing entertainment. The film really puts you at ease, leaving you a little sad when you're finally pulled back to the real world. People not familiar with Ghibli should probably look elsewhere for their entry film as the studio produced better films over the years, but I can't imagine many people actively disliking this film. Recommended watching.4.0*/5.0*

Check the subbed trailer, unless you have unlimited confidence in the power of Ghibli

Stop the presses! After an excruciatingly long period of waiting, Redline finally found its way onto the TV sets of those who can read English subtitles. Takeshi Koike's long awaited project took almost seven years to complete, but he made sure every second of that long wait counted. The result is a staggering demonstration of the power of animation, wrapped in colorful pop art and injected with a mean streak of creative madness. And boy did I like it.

In 2004 Japan was experiencing one of its top animation production years, with films like Ghost In The Shell 2, Howl's Moving Castle, Mind Game and Steamboy all being released that year. But Production I.G and director Imaishi had another surprise lined up. When Dead Leaves was released, it took the alternative anime world by storm and smashed it with a force that nobody could have predicted. Never before had there been such a raw, crude and rude film, executed with so much passion, attention to detail and technical brilliance.

Not that Imaishi invented a whole new niche by and for himself, people like Koike had been doing similar things before (the opening sequence of Party 7, the Animatrix World Record short and last but not least, Trava Fist Planet), just never with such intensity, conviction and power. Dead Leaves raised the bar for its small niche, sadly it raised it a little too high for the competition and for 6 or 7 years nobody even came close to the madness of Imaishi's first film. Not even Imaishi himself. Enter Koike's Redline, the first film to actively challenge the title of most crazy animation film ever.

Redline first appeared some 5 or 6 ago in the form of a short teaser. Koike was teaming up with Katsuhito Ishii (Party 7, Taste of Tea, My Darling Of The Mountains) once again, following the same road they traveled with Trava Fist Planet. The duo had more luck this time around (Trava got canceled before it could turn into a real series) and found in Madhouse the perfect home for Redline. There they were allowed the budget and time to expand the initial concept into a true feature-length film.

The result is something that shares many influences and connections to other films, but tops that with bucket loads of its own creativity. The race element bears resemblance to Speed Racer (the live action film) and Running Man (a short from the Manie-Manie/Neo-Tokyo anthology), the Redline universe itself seems like an extension of the Trava world (hence the Trava cameo). And that's not even counting the zillion other small references that seem to be taken from various parts of the wide manga/anime universe. The good thing is that it never feels as if Redline shamelessly borrows these elements, it just pays quick respect and goes on to bury them in it own creativity.

Koike's visual style has earned him much praise before. While it still exists within the realm of Japanese animation it's hard to compare it to other Japanese artists out there. More than just praise, it also earned him some director credits simply because his style is so defining for a project that the director cannot take all the credit for himself. With Redline, Koike was allowed to take his style to another level. He not only functioned as director, but also took upon himself the role of animation director. The result is a rare mix of a crazy art-style with exuberant levels of animated detail.

Koike's style is colorful and detailed, with much attention being paid to motion and speed, playing around with funky perspectives to enhance the dynamics of a particular scene. Most of the secondary animation work was outsourced to Gainax, an animation studio which had plenty of prior experience bringing such a task to successful completion (think FLCL, or the work they did on Dead Leaves). As for the outlandish character designs, those are actually the work of Katsuhito Ishii, Koike's madman in crime.

The music is probably the only weak(er) point of Redline. While it features a pumping soundtrack similar to Dead Leaves, it's still a little too poppy for my liking. The score features some nice kicks and adrenaline-boosting tracks, but it never goes full-out like the animation does. It still surprises me that in this post-Pi era there hasn't been one single film to challenge that film's electronic score. And it's not that the Redline score is particularly bad, it just could've been a whole lot better.

As for the voice acting, Madhouse really left nothing to chance. They hired some of the biggest acting talents in Japan, most notably Tadanobu Asano (the man still has a nose for unusual projects) and Yu Aoi. The voice of main man JP was handled by Takuya Kimura, another old-timer with enough experience to get the job done with the proper gusto. Many of the dialogues feature improvised lines, so having the proper talent on boards really works to the film's advantage.

If you want anything more than simple visceral fun, you're probably looking at the wrong film. The plot is simple, characters are pretty one-dimensional and there is little in the way of morale or deeper meaning. Redline is a film tailored to pleasure and fun. Every little tidbit is added to increase the joy and amusement of its audience, layer upon layer of grotesque action and flat-out weirdness is added just to turn this 100 minutes into one of the most entertaining cinematic moments of your life. And if you're fine with that, it comes pretty close to accomplishing just that.

Comparing it one last time with Dead Leaves, it falls just a little short of Imaishi's masterpiece. The 100 minute running time forces Redline to slow down once in a while, relieving the tension and adrenaline just a little before going full out again in the next couple of scenes. Many people might welcome these short breathers, but I actually preferred the continuous pressure of Dead Leaves. It's hardly Koike's fault, you can't expect the man to put in another 7 years just to make it even more chaotic and with its 100 minute running time Redline is still completely unique, but these real-world limitations are not really the worries of a film's audience.

Redline is a film that could only have been made in Japan. And not just because of its technical and/or creative elements, but mostly because the project is absolutely commercially unrealistic. Koike, a first-time director, was allowed the time and budget to spend 7 years and 100.000 hand-drawn drawing to complete a film that would most likely only speak to a small niche of animation fans. There is no way such a risky project could have been made anywhere else in the world, which is exactly why Japan is such a special creative breeding ground.

People not liking adhd animation, purely visceral cinema or semi-random pop chaos, do stay away from this film. But if you're looking for 100 minutes flat-out entertainment, tailored to be as goofy, crazy and mad as possible, and backed by an amazing technical accomplishment, you'll be hard-pressed to find a better film than Redline. Even after 7 years of building up expectations, the film still delivers and even manages to go beyond some of my initial expectations. It's a unique project, one that will probably not be matched or even approximated in the years to come. So cherish it and make sure you don't let it slip by. It really is that good. 5.0*/5.0*

There's a short trailer, just try to ignore the soundtrack.

The superhero nerd flick is slowly turning into a proper sub genre of its own. First there were films like Defendor, Zebraman, Kick-Ass and Scott Pilgrim Vs The World, now director James Gunn takes a swing at the newly established genre. Beware though, Gunn's lo-fi approach packs a bit more punch than I had anticipated, leaving me stunned on quite a few occasions. Which, in this case, is definitely a good thing.

If I had known Gunn was the man behind Slither I probably would've been a bit more prepared to face Super. Slither was a rather sublime mix of comedy and gore which aptly demonstrated Gunn's rather unique sense of humor combined with his utter lack of subtlety. If you think Super is just another superhero nerd rip-off, better reconsider before watching this because the film holds more than just a few dumb one-liners and nerdy people running around in spandex.

There is a scene quite early on in the film, where Frank sits himself down in front of the TV and zaps to an anime tentacle rape scene. His face shows a mix of disgust and wonder, the time it takes to zap to the next show is just slightly too long. It's small details like these that indicate Gunn is not all that attached to America's traditional Hollywood values system, allowing him to break a few cliches that would be impossible to tackle in similar big budget Hollywood films.

The setup of Super is pretty much familiar territory by now though. Frank is a rather sad human specimen who hits rocks bottom when a flashy pimp steals his wife from under his nose, the only bright spot in his bleak, stale life. Frank decides it's time for a change of lifestyle when he is literally touched by the hand of God and he starts research on what it would take to become a real-world superhero. This of course proves a little harder than expected, even when God himself is on your side.

Visually Gunn keeps everything pretty low-key. No flashy camera work, no overly bright colors and no polished animation scenes. Everything looks rather bleak, there's a pleasant crude edge to the film's look and even though some visual effects could've looked a bit better, they don't really take away from the overall visual experience.

The soundtrack is the only real downer of Super. To complement his lo-fi audiovisual approach Gunn tucked some indie rock track underneath his film. Sadly these songs don't really work well within the setting and draw a little too much attention to the film's background. While the rest of the film feels quite novel and fresh, the soundtrack lacks inspiration and just feels flat and lifeless.

Luckily the acting is spot on. The male roles are strong but a little unadventurous. Wilson and Bacon are allowed to do what we all know they are good at. The females roles on the other hand feature some nice anti-typecastings. Both Page as squeaky sidekick and Tyler as wasted drug-addicted whore are great fun to behold. And if nothing else, it shows they are capable of more than what is usually presented and/or demanded of them.

The first part of Super is still pretty typical genre fare. The humor is great at times, the one-liners are snappy (and stupid) and there a few memorable moments that break free from the norm. The second part of the film becomes a little meaner though, introducing some actual gore and a healthy selection of slap-in-your-face plot twists. Without wanting to spoil too much, Page's fate as a hero sidekick is less than predictable and comes as quite a surprise.

The actual ending is still a bit too soft for my liking, but overall that's just a minor quirk. James Gunn goes a long way in serving something that knows to surprise, blending genre conventions with an utter lack of respect for reigning moral conventions, turning in a film that stands well on its own and differentiates itself from its fellow genre competitors. While comparisons with films like Defendor are still quite easy to make, Super is able to stand its own ground.

Super is an excellent addition to the nerdy superhero genre. Beware that the film could be a bit more blunt and relentless than you might expect based on the advertising and trailers you've seen, but if you can handle that Gunn's film is a real pleasure to behold. Genuinely funny, well acted and packing quite a punch, even though it is "just" a nerdy superhero flick. Good stuff, looking forward to Gunn's future projects.4.0*/5.0*

Check the trailer if you must, but beware of spoilers.

Oxide Pang's solo projects (Basic Love, Som And Bank) are always worth checking out. The Detective 2 is his first solo sequel though, which raises the question whether Oxide Pang would be man enough to withstands the usual pitfalls of sequels and whether he would be able to deliver a worthy successor to his first Detective film. Opinions may differ of course, but I believe he succeeded surprisingly well.

While the Western title doesn't really give away too much about the film itself, the original title is a bit richer in meaning. In B+ Jing Taam our detective has moved up a rank from C+ to B+, making him a little less gullible and overall more serious when it comes to solving his cases. In the first film he pretty much solved the riddle on good luck alone, here Tam puts in a little more effort before catching the bad guys. It's a rather funny bit of wordplay that leaves an interesting opening (A+) for a third and final film in Pang's Detective series.

What struck me while watching The Detective 2 is that Oxide Pang is pretty much making his own spin on the trademark Johnnie To flick here. It may differ a little in style, characters and pacing, but the unique mix of stylish noir with in-your-face quirky interludes is unmistakably there. The quirky elements surface in several scenes, from deadpan comedy to silly Thai pop songs, they clash heavily with its stylish counterparts but somehow the combination of both works wonders.

As for the story itself, don't expect too much of it. The Detective 2 follows a tried and tested pattern where two seemingly unrelated stories are brought together, mixing up a case which is then solved by detective Tam by piecing all the bits and pieces of information together and filling in some notable gaps with magical detective power. It works well enough, but it's hardly the main attraction of Oxide's latest film.

Visually Oxide Pang knows his trade. The Detective 2 might lack a little of the much appreciated experimentation of the first film and its overall look is just a little slicker, but the film still features a very welcome collection of beautifully shot scenes. Detailed and rich backgrounds, wide and well-framed shots, excellent use of lighting, watching an Oxide Pang film is usually a feast for the eyes and once again he delivers.

The soundtrack is, as always, a different story. I was a little better prepared this time around though, and found the quirky intermission songs extremely entertaining. One silly Thai song in particular turns the atmosphere of a single scene 180 degrees around. It's a solid example of the way a soundtrack can influence the atmosphere of a scene all by itself. Classroom material if you ask me, which elevates the film to a whole new (or at least different) level in certain scenes.

The acting is strong too, with Aaron Kwok putting in another solid performance as the main lead. But in the end it's actor Kai Chi Liu that makes the biggest impression here. He's an actor that's grown with age, cultivating strong facial features that allow him to wear deadpan expressions and still look like he's telling a whole story with one single glance. It would be nice to see him carry a whole film rather than have him act as mere support for the leads. Kwok and Chi Liu prove a golden duo once again and play an essential part in the underplayed comedy of The Detective 2.

If you're looking to be entertained by a well-developed detective story then Oxide's film might be a little on the fluffy side. Sure there are a couple of twists and halfway through the film there are a number of valid choices that could all be made into the true killer (these days I don't even bother with trying to guess who's the killer any more), but in the end you've all seen it before, probably even better.

But if you look past its somewhat simplistic plot there lies a lovely film, balancing two very different moods and blending them against all odds into a very stylish and entertaining film. Be prepared though as the quirky elements might come as somewhat of a surprise and might put you off at first. More seasoned viewers (and/or Johnnie To fans) will recognize them as the treats of this film though, settling for a very atmospheric and enjoyable experience.

The Detective 2 is a very solid sequel, somewhat different in tone and execution as the first film, but that's not really a bad thing. Oxide Pang is on to something here and I for one hope that the third film will bet made to complete this grade scale trilogy. If Oxide Pang can get Kwok and Chi Liu on board again for the final instalment, there's very little that can go wrong I think. Recommended, but watch C+ Jing Taam first. 4.0*/5.0*

There's a subbed trailer, just mind the mild spoilers.

Ming-Liang Tsai's films are an acquired taste, no doubt about that. If you plan on watching I Don't Sleep Alone without any prior knowledge of his previous films, I would advise you to reconsider. Not that I Sleep Alone is a (direct) sequel or anything, but even I, a seasoned Tsai fan, felt remarkably lost at some points. Familiarity with Tsai's typical style of film making will definitely help you through those moments.

Tsai's films are often advertised as humorous dramas, but don't be fooled by this categorization. While it's hard to contest the facts (his films are essentially a mix of drama and comedy), Tsai's humor is so dry and absurd that many people won't even pick it up. On top of that the pacing of his films is incredibly slow and the dramatic tension is quite low, so those of you expecting to sit down for an amusing piece of entertainment cinema will end up bored to death.

Even though I Don't Want To Sleep Alone sees Tsai experimenting just a little with his trademark style, it's still very much a Tsai film that will leave haters perplexed and annoyed. Once again we follow the adventures of Lee, who is now roaming the streets of Kuala Lumpur. It doesn't take long for Lee to get beat up and he ends up with a local guy taking care of him.

From there on things get a little vague. Since we only get to observe it's not always easy to keep track of the actual story. Tsai makes it even harder by having Lee play a second character, a rather dubious decision that complicates things a little too much. For a long time I figured the film was making time jumps, turns out these characters just aren't even related to each other.

Visually not much has changed. Tsai cuts as little as possible, playing scenes until they become just a little absurd, or until something genuinely moving happens. Kuala Lumpur provides some welcome variation from the usual Taipei sights, but apart from that Tsai paints his shots with as much precision and patience as he used to.

The soundtrack mostly consists of natural sounds and old Asian pop songs. The best is saved for last though, when a pure voice bursts through one of the most epic images in the whole film and blesses I Don't Want To Sleep Alone with one of the most immersive endings I've seen in a long time. Pure bliss, drawing strength for minimal resources, this is Tsai on top of his game. The beginning is a bit more noisy than I had come to expect from a Tsai film, but that seemed to be part of the Kuala Lumpur flow.

As always Kang-Sheng Lee takes on the lead role. He's been a constant throughout Tsai's films and will no doubt remain like that until Tsai's last film. It's an interesting career experiment that paid off for both parties quite well indeed. The acting is solid as always, though you have to appreciate the lack of dialogue and the more visual (yet still subtle) style of acting of Lee. His character is not all that easy to read, which will no doubt form a serious barrier for many of the viewers.

I Don't Want To Sleep Alone excels in showing the mundane. Simple actions that are usually left out of other films because they are deemed too boring, but which become touching and real when the camera remains fixed on these simple events. It's a somewhat unusual approach to cinema though, and so it's difficult to predict how an individual will react to it. There's only one way to find that out, which is by experiencing it yourself.

Still, the structure of the film is just a little too complex at times, which pulls the viewer's attention away from the core of Tsai's film, trying to find out what exactly is happening plot-wise. Lee's double role plays a big part in this and even though Tsai might have a proper motivation for this choice, I feel the film would've worked better if he had just chosen a different actor, or at least hinted more at the meaning behind the double role.

In the end I Don't Want To Sleep Alone is another typical Tsai film, with some slight experimentations that are in no way big enough to attract new viewers or to push away existing fans. If you're new to Tsai, try some of his earlier films first as they are a tad more accessible while still displaying his trademark style. This is a film that pretty much recommends itself and hopefully it will attract some new fans to the work of Tsai. 4.0*/5.0*

There's a nifty little trailer available, no subs needed, no spoilers.

36 Taipei Exchanges is one of the latest Taiwanese entries in the "cinema that makes you go hungry" category (Rinco's Restaurant, Kamome Diner). A pretty terrific entry too, as it adds some extra spice and flavor to what is essentially just a very simple and subtle light-hearted drama. Just make sure you have something to nibble on while watching as the will to fight your appetite will be tested quite heavily along the way.

If you own a restaurant and you need a promotional video for your business, you're best bet is to hire an Asian director and let him go berserk on your food. They seem to posses a special quality to make food appear even more tasty, almost mythical on film. I admit that it's a rather specific quality that's not very beneficial to the whole of mankind, but if you're planning to make a film on diners and restaurants it sure comes in handy.

36 Taipei Exchanges is a modest story about the start-up of a small café. The café is Doris' childhood dream, her sister is forced into the deal by Doris' rather pushy mom. At first the establishment is nothing special, serving coffee and tasty desserts only. But when the two sisters try to get rid of some unwanted opening gifts, Doris' sister comes up with a strong gimmick that steers the film in a whole new direction.

The opening gifts are put up for trade all over the café. The objects are not for sale (and will not be sold under any circumstance) but can only be traded for other goods. At first Doris is a little weary of the idea, she wants people to come and enjoy her pastry and not for the swapping gimmicks, but shortly after business picks up and Doris' place is becomes the talk of the town.

Like most Taiwanese dramas, 36 Taipei Exchanges has a solid visual foundation. The camera work is subtle and beautiful, the use of color is stylish and the editing soft and dreamy. From time to time Hsiao breaks through this traditional styling with some nifty little animations and a few documentary segments. These add a definite younger and fresher feel to the film, giving it a more unique and differentiating identity. Not a bad thing as many Taiwanese dramas tend to look quite alike.

The soundtrack too is a real asset to the film. Warm, soft and moody jazz-like tunes that slowly transport you to a fuzzy state of trance. It eases the mind and puts you in a comfortable little universe where life is good, the pastry tastes great and problems are never as serious as they would be in real life. The score has an essential part in defining the entire experience of the film, something that is as great as it is rare.

Acting too is solid. The two sisters are quite different in character and are not people you would usually expect to get along very well, but both actresses do pull it off with considerable grace. The supporting cast is rather small and insignificant, but they do a pretty decent job too. The focus remains on bother sisters though, who carry the film with deceptive ease.

At the surface 36 Taipei Exchanges is a simple film about the happenings of a start-up establishment, but there is a little more to it. Along the way the film questions the life choices of both sisters, inserting short street interviews where actual people are presented the same dilemmas. It's an interesting technique that highlights the main themes of the film without muddling them away in secondary layers. 36 Taipei Exchanges remains above all a light-hearted film and Hsiao doesn't jeopardizes that with too much highbrow abstractions or symbolism.

In the end the film reminded me a little of Café Lumiè, not because of the topic or because both directors are called Hsiao, but because both films feature that same dreamy, fuzzy, borderline sleepy atmosphere. 36 Taipei Exchanges allows you to drift away for a short while, feeling at ease and contented, enjoying the delicate beauty of life without too much negativity in sight.

If you like Asian food cinema, 36 Taipei Exchanges is a pretty wonderful addition to your list of must-see films. It's a small, delicate and subtle little film that feels fresher than its peers and excels in just about every way possible. One final note: I found that online people are using "Taipei Exchanges" as the official international title, but the 36 is clearly part of the title in poster as well as intro credits design. Definitely recommended, if you know what you're dealing with. 4.5*/5.0*

There's a subbed trailer available, small spoiler alert but watch it to catch a glimpse of the film's atmosphere.

Oblivion Island (Haruka and the Magic Mirror) was promoted as Production I.G's first real full-CG feature. This should have made it quite a bit easier to market to film to international audiences, but apart from a few festival screenings Oblivion Island failed to make a big international splash. It's not difficult to see why, though in my opinion these very elements only turn the film into a better and more interesting experience.

Production I.G used to be Japan's prime studio for mature, feature-length and quality animation films. There was no studio out there that could equal the level of excellence that went into their films. Once they started to go down the TV series road though, the drop in standards was instantly visible. It's not that they haven't made interesting films since, but somehow they failed to provide the constant stream of masterpieces they used to deliver. No doubt a very conscious decision from the higher-ups, but it was a real bummer for fans of the old I.G.

Oblivion Island may not be a true return to form (it's difficult to qualify it at the same level as films like Ghost in the Shell or Jin-Roh), but it's still a real delight for people who crave creative fantasy films. The story of Oblivion Island may follow the traditional road of a young girl tumbling into a fantasy world by accident (think Alice in Wonderland or Spirited Away), but there's a bit more to it. This particular world is filled with fox-like creatures who live of objects forgotten and abandoned by humans, building their society on what we left behind.

Once Haruko enters the other world and remembers a lost memento of her dead mother, she sets out to find it, trying to reclaim her property. Of course things don't go as smoothly as planned, as an evil baron has snatched it for his personal collection and he proves rather unwilling to return the memento to Haruko. A simple and typical structure that admittedly adds very little to existing fantasy stories, nor does it go through much trouble to provide decent background plots or decent motivations for its characters. If you think that's a bad thing, you might end up more than a little disappointed by the film.

As for the visuals, they are sure to divide audiences into two opposing camps. If you crave technical excellence than you will find quite a few flaws within the film. Even though Oblivion Island primarily features CG-based animation, there are some odd mixes of styles that don't always integrate too well together. Apart from that, character animation can be a little edgy from. But if you're looking for creativity and composition, this film easily beats the crap out of the competition. Oblivion Island's visual style brought back happy memories of Kakurenbo and Noiseman Sound Insect, two gloriously beautiful Studio 4C productions that feature similar detailed and colorful worlds.

The soundtrack is on the safe side, but still fits like a charm. It somehow reminded me of older Squaresoft RPGs (say Chrono Trigger), invoking that same feeling of light-hearted adventure and discovery. It's not the kind of music I'd listen to outside the context of a film, but that's not really what a good soundtrack is about. I can't say that it ever becomes an essential part of the experience, but it does lay a good basis for the adventurous atmosphere the film thrives on.

As for the voice acting, Production I.G never seems to fail there. Well-cast voice actors give an extra dimension to their characters. Never too obnoxious or in your face, the voices blend in very well with their surroundings and sculpt the characters as they move along.

Oblivion Island is not a film that will win many hearts with its elaborate plot or character development. It's a film that is mostly concerned with giving fantasy fans what they're craving for. The fantasy world that Haruka enters is lush, rich and colorful. It's creative, it's beautiful and diverse. Oblivion Island is a true roller coaster ride, trying to show you as much of it's fantasy world as humanly possible, within the tight constraints of its running time. Which, at least to me, is much more interesting that spending time on character development or motivations for the bad guy's actions.

Combine the work of Hayao Miyazaki with the work of Koji Morimoto and you'll have something that closely resembles this film. It's a true fantasy film that betrays I.G's struggle with full-CG animation, but makes up for that with excellent art direction and bucket loads of creativity. It's a fair trade-off and many will not be contented with what this film puts on offer, but I wouldn't have it any other way.

It's still a little sour seeing a production company like I.G focusing on lighter films like these, especially as there's no-one around to fill the emptiness they left behind. But in the end that's not this film's fault, and when judging Oblivion Island on its own merits it turns out to be a surprisingly lovable film. Definitely recommended if you're like me and consider its weaker points as necessary flaws that are aptly compensated in other, more important areas. 4.5*/5.0*

There's a subbed trailer, though I don't think it does much justice to the film.

James Wan (the man behind Saw) is back with a new film. It would be naive to expect him to reinvent the genre with every new horror film he makes, luckily Wan himself is smart enough not to fall into that very trap. Insidious is a film that borrows a lot from others, but originality is not something that is required to make a good horror flick. In the end, it's all about execution, and so there's no need to worry, Wan definitely knows what he's doing.

Whether you liked Saw or not, it's hard to ignore the influence that Wan's film had on the horror genre as a whole. Not only did it spawn a trillion sequels and rip-offs, Saw helped to polish up the image of the genre, urging other directors to use it once again as a springboard to broader recognition of their talent. Dead Silence and Insidious are nowhere near as influential and/or innovative, but as horror films they work just as well.

Wan's latest starts off as a typical haunted house flick. A young family moves into a new house, hoping their lives will make a turn for the better. Of course the house isn't as pleased as they are and before long they start seeing and hearing strange things. Wan simply goes through the motions of genre expectations, but from the very first scenes it's obvious that the man has mastered his trade. Even the simple scares (loud noises and flash edits) are very accurate and to the point, never missing their intended effect.

Halfway through the film Wan gives an interesting spin to the story and we're getting really close to Poltergeist territory. It's an interesting shift in focus that renews the interest of the audience and makes the second half not as obvious as initially expected. It's not that the film becomes wildly original all of a sudden, but the small twist is interesting enough by itself and makes for a more engaging finale.

When I left the theater I was convinced Wan must've had a decent budget to play around with. The camera work is slick, with many interesting pans and shots, the editing sharp and vivid and the general look of the film feels very consistent throughout. I was surprised to find out that the budget for Insidious was hardly any higher than Saw's original budget, and as much as I loved the rawer visuals of Saw, you can only show considerable respect for Wan if you see what he accomplishes with such a (relatively) small budget. Another testament that a film doesn't need a big budget to look attractive.

The soundtrack plays a big part in laying out the foundation for many of the scares and it's an essential part of the overall atmosphere of the film. It's true that loud noises are the quick road to jumpy audience reactions, the real trick is to have the audience accept it rather than have them feel cheated by a cheap scare. Wan's build-ups are near perfect, properly introducing scares, building them to considerable levels and still succeeding in surprising his audience. Of course timing is important, but the soundtrack is key in bringing it all together.

The acting overall is pretty decent, it's a shame that Patrick Wilson is not the most charismatic of all actors. He takes the lead but is easily surpassed by Byrne. A nice surprise was Lin Shaye's addition to the cast, a female horror icon who's perfect for characters that are a little off. Someone should have the nerve to offer her a lead and to go all out. As it stands now, the acting is definitely not the strongest part of the film, luckily it's not the most important part either.

In the second half of the film the tension is slightly broken by the addition of the secondary characters tagging alongside Shaye. It's a small miracle that Wan manages to introduce some lighter moments without touching the tense atmosphere found in the rest of the film. The intermissions are actually fun and entertaining, but their lightheartedness never stretches outside the borders of their respective scenes.

Strictly speaking Insidious is an extremely generic horror film. Apart from the little shift in focus halfway through there is very little that you haven't seen before. But Wan's execution is spot on, keeping away from cheap scares but building up the tension with a lot of patience and class. It would be the perfect genre flick if it had actually stayed within one single horror sub genre, but as it is the film is just heaps of fun and old-fashioned scary. Not many horror films still succeed in evoking such scares nowadays (I'm probably just spoiled), Wan definitely succeeded though.

If you love bitching about horror cliches and lack of originality, you'll have a swell time bitching about this film. But if you have a spot spot for genre films and you can accept its somewhat generic build-up, Insidious is one of the best examples in recent years. Give this film to any other director and I'm sure it would've turned out absolutely trite. Wan puts a lot of class and experience on display here, and proves his worth as a horror icon. Very enjoyable indeed. 4.0*/5.0*

There's a trailer of course, but it's better to go in blank.

There was a time, not too long ago, when every other French horror flick (A l'Intérieur, Frontière(s), Martyrs) was an innovative piece of genre cinema. Ever since new releases have been fighting high hopes of genre fans across the world and only a few have managed to at least approximate those expectations. Enter La Meute, a film that bears the potential to entertain a portion of the French horror wave fans, though others will no doubt walk away from it disappointed.

New French horror films often struggle because they don't hold up to people's expectations. No doubt La Meute will have to fight that same battle, especially because it's not a particularly graphic, gore or tense film. Another big handicap for La Meute is its absurd, dark sense of humor, which will not be picked up by everyone. It's the only film I know of that ever came close to the dark comedic genius of Du Welz' Calvaire, which encountered a very similar reception amongst certain audiences. If you believe Calvaire is mere horror/thriller, I'm pretty sure La Meute will probably not be your cup of tea either.

Furthermore, the film is split in three rather distinct parts, traveling through different subgenres of the horror spectrum. The first part clearly belongs to the freaks in a cabin genre, the middle part tips its head to torture/captivity horror flicks and for the finale La Meute morphs into a creature film. Underlying these different parts though is a constant stream of dark, amusing comedy that contrasts heavily with the grim and depraved setting. No doubt it won't be to everyone's liking, but if you think you can get past these particularities, there's plenty of fun to be had with Richard's film.

The film starts simple enough, with a lone girl picking up a hitchhiker and being led to a remote diner. Things start to get a little weird when she sees a girl in bubble wrap running by, her situation doesn't exactly improve when shortly after everyone in the diner turns out to be an odd mixture of equal parts French and Hillbilly. When the hitchhiker suddenly disappears the girl starts to suspect something is amiss, but by then it is far too late for her to turn back. As I said before, the script of the film travels several different places and none of them are very original or innovative. The story is little more than a mere hook to have some mean-spirited horror fun.

As for the look of La Meute, Franck Richard hits the mark right in the middle. The remote diner, the inhabitants and the environment all look equally barren, depraved and ruined. The camera work is solid, effects are old-style but well-realized and some of the night shots near the end are simply stunning. The film can be a little too dark at times, obscuring some of the visual thrills, but these moments are quite rare and don't spoil much of the fun.

The soundtrack is what you've come to expect from a film like this. Haunting noises, low-hum ambient soundscapes, small and subtle touches of industrial left and right. It's not particularly innovating but it sure works wonders for the atmosphere. It complements the dark and grim look of the visuals and serves as a perfect contradiction with the humorous moments.

Part of what makes La Meute work so well are the actors. There aren't that many, but Richard got his hands on some of the most reputable French (horror) actors available. Philippe Nahon (Haute Tension, Calvaire, Seul Contre Tous) is a legend, but it's Yolande Moreau that steals the show. A Jeunet regular so she must be quite used to playing weird characters, but her interpretation of La Spack here is simply epic. The way she walks, laughs and barges through the film is hilarious and absolutely unforgettable. The attentive viewer will also notice the presence of Matthias Schoenaerts, a cameo as tiny as they come, but still nice to see one of Belgium's finest actors make a small appearance.

There are no real jokes or funny oneliners. Richard's sense of humor is more absurd, best illustrated by the bubble wrap girl or a scene where Nahon is sitting at home, sticking pencils in his ears and nose while the lead girl is being tortured by the diner's patron. Add to that some nice edits and Moreau's comedic talent and what you have is a darkly disturbing yet very funny film. Richard also earns some extra credits with the inclusion of Ghost 'n Goblins footage, what a tough little game that was.

In the end, La Meute is a film that uses it's horror influences to build up the comedy. It's best not to expect to find the thrills of a real horror flick here, even though there's plenty of gore, ugliness and monsters around. The constant current of underlying comedy blocks most of the tension and shock that people have come to expect from films like these, instead you get plenty of opportunities to smirk and to raise some eyebrows in delighted disgust.

I found La Meute to be a very pleasant surprise, but I encountered plenty of disappointed reactions elsewhere. If the humor doesn't get through to you, the film is just nowhere as fulfilling as a good horror film should be. But if you manage to catch a ride on Richard's dark, humorous vibe, La Meute is one of the best horror comedies produced in the last ten years. It's a difficult film to recommend, but it's still worth finding out which side you're on. With a little luck, you'll enjoy it just as much as I did. 4.0*/5.0*

There's a trailer, mind some slight spoilers though.

Wen Jiang films aren't known to be all that accessible. My first experience with his work (The Sun Also Rises) was a somewhat bewildering experience, but it definitely left me with a taste for more. His latest stays true to his trademark style, but turns out to be surprisingly accessible. If you've always wanted to see a Wen Jiang film but were afraid to try, here's your chance. Let The Bullets Fly is an admirably entertaining film that is sure to amuse novice and hardcore film fans alike.

Let The Bullets Fly is Jiang's first outspoken comedy. The Sun Also Rises contained its fair share of humorous moments, but still featured strong dramatic undertones. These are all gone here, leaving the viewer with a simple and rather frivolous tale of rivalry, following the battle of wit between two infamous criminals. It's a Chinese period film, meaning it's not exactly void of any political or nationalistic sentiments, but these are merely circumstantial and never get in the way of the film itself.

Jiang himself plays a small-time thief with big plans. He and his Robin Hood-like gang of crooks are planning to kidnap the newly appointed governor of Goose Town, take his place and rid the town from a well-settled criminal (Huang) who's been controlling the city during the short-lived reign of the previous 52 governors. Things don't go as well as planned though, Huang proves to be a worthy adversary and the dethroned governor seems to possess a pretty sharp mind himself. What follows is a nifty game of chess.

Jiang hired 9 scriptwriters to finish his script, challenging them to integrate Huang as neatly as possible while keeping actor Chow Yun-Fat in mind. This definitely shows in the final result as Huang's character fits Yun-fat like a glove. It illustrates Jiang's dedication to making a good film, even though it is one merely created for entertainment, without any deeper levels or ulterior motives.

Let The Bullets Fly is visually accomplished, though it never reaches the heights of The Sun Also Rises. Jiang's style remains a little too slick for my taste, but that doesn't mean there isn't plenty to admire here. Great use of color, neat editing, great visual pacing and some very well-planned shots. There is some sub-par use of CG, especially near the beginning and ending of the film, but it's all functional and doesn't really detract from the experience.

The soundtrack is quirky and fun, pretty playful in places and goes very well with the overall atmosphere. Sound effects in particular are outspoken and deliberately over-the-top, adding to the amusing vibe that run throughout the film. The score itself is once again handled by Joe Hisaishi who's name is synonymous with quality, clearly audible here. It's nothing too out of the ordinary or mind-blowing, but it just oozes refinement and grants the film an extra boost in just the right places.

As for the acting, if you want to understand Jiang's sense of humor it suffices to observe the way he portrays his character here. Seeing him act in Let The Bullets Fly, I was very much reminded of Takeshi Kitano. Jiang blasts through his own film with that same hint of a smug smile, perfectly aware of the nonsense he is shouting but still putting 200% effort into his role to reach maximum effect. Opposite of him stands Chow Yun-Fat who looks like he hasn't had this much fun acting in a long, long time. The both of them create an epic stand-off between two small-time yet successful crooks, unable to admit defeat and taking the battle one step further each time they face each other. You would almost forget that You Ge is also in here, playing the sneaky governor and acting as a perfect third wheel, boycotting both Jiang's and Chow's plans whenever it is convenient to his own wellbeing. To put it short: the acting is absolutely incredible and a real joy to behold.

It's obvious that Jiang is making full use of his freedom as a director. This is his film and whatever he seems fit will happen. Some scenes don't make much sense, some comedy bits are a little far-fetched, others completely random, but whenever Jiang appears in the frame it's clear he's just toying with his audience a little while still providing all the necessary entertainment. It might be that you don't appreciate such follies, but Jiang never comes of as condescending or pretentious and is simply having a blast making his film.

The ending isn't the big climax you might've expected, it's a little more refined than that, but it definitely fits the film. For all the entertainment value on offer here, Let The Bullets Fly is just not a regular big budget affair that is held down by conventions. It's a remarkable blend of arthouse and commercial cinema that strikes a perfect balance between entertainment and cinematic wonder. In that sense, the ending is just perfect and finishes off the film with a final nod of genius.

Whether this film will strike a cord with seasoned Jiang fans is a little uncertain, you have to appreciate the kind of humor he puts on show here, but I'm certain this film has everything to appeal to a very large and wide audience. It's been a while since I've been this amused by a film, happily taking in all the joy that emits from its every pore. Definitely recommended and I'm already looking forward to his next film. 4.5*/5.0*

Don't miss the trailer, it's short, to the point and subtitled!

Tatsushi Omori's Whispering of the Gods is one of those films that should come with a clear and visible warning attached to it. It's blatant non-entertainment, constructed to leave you with a bad feeling and sure to slap a fair few people flat in the face. It's a string of unpleasantness, bleak and relentlessly presented, that only caters to a very select audience. But if you believe you are up for it, Omori's film turns out to be a real treat.

Director Tatsushi Omori (Nao Omori's younger brother) took no creative risks when releasing his first feature film. Fearing cuts from the Japanese censors, his entourage built a mobile theater and screened the movie there, safe from unsavory characters trying to ruin Omori's original vision. And it worked, as it not only landed him critical acclaim across the world but he was also allowed to screen his film untouched in Japanese theaters afterwards. No doubt a good lesson for Hollywood whiners like Snyder who prefer to point fingers to the studios rather than making sure nobody is allowed to mess with the films they want to make.

Omori's fears were definitely justified as his film is a hard one to swallow. Filled to the brim with broken, unsympathetic characters, placed in a bleak and lifeless religious setting, his vision of humanity is a depressing one. It's a cinematic corner apparently reserved for true authors, which makes it difficult to compare Whispering of the Gods to other films ou there. If you push me towards name calling though, I guess Omori's film can be linked to Grandrieux (La Vie Nouvelle, Un Lac) or possibly Ryo Nakajima (This World Of Ours), sharing a similar bleak outlook on humanity. That's as far as these comparisons stretch though.

The film starts when Rou returns to the Christian community where he was raised as a young boy. What could've been a safe haven for this young man is quickly uncovered as a sexually perverse place of filth and decay. Handjobs, blowjobs and rape are tools in unfair games of power play, animals suffer a similar fate in this miniature struggle of the fittest. There is no clear story arc developing, we just follow Rou through his daily routines of maintaining the farm and abusing those in his immediate surrounding. A slice of life kind of film, but without the laid-back atmosphere usually expected from these type of films.

Whispering of the Gods is not as overtly stylized as his cinematic relatives, yet Omori makes sure the color palette and overall cinematography emit the same bleakness as the rest of the film. No bright colors, no beautiful shots of nature, no sugar coating things. Rou's surroundings are brown, dreary and murky settings filled with withered snow, mud and dirt. This visual style is applied quite consistently throughout the whole film, leaving the audience no room for a little breather.

The soundtrack emits a similar quality and adds plenty to the barren atmosphere. Not quite special or memorable, but fitting and moody alright. Omori mixes a typical dramatic score with menacing soundscapes, a safe combination but one that usually works wonders for films like these. It could've used a little extra spark, but that might've clashed with the more subtle overall styling of the film.

Acting is no less than superb, with a mostly young cast that deserves credit for taking on such daring roles. It's fine if your film gets critical acclaim, but taking on such roles could just as well ruin your further career if you're just starting out. Arai and Sawara do a great job though, sprinkling their characters with just the tiniest bit of humanity while keeping their rock-hard facade intact. You can also look forward to another stellar performance of Renji Ishibashi, that man has played the weirdest parts in his career and doesn't back down from hard parts like this, even at his respectable age.

The first half of the film is mostly reserved for common, straight-forward abuse. As the film nears its climax, things get a little stranger and the perversion level is slowly raised to rather disturbing heights. You're sure to walk away from the film a bit more versed in the ways of the world, but any newfound knowledge is probably best left unexplored. Crazy as it may sound, the perverse finale actually makes the tone of the film just a little lighter (relatively speaking that is), but without sacrificing any of the film's bleakness

Whispering of the Gods feels like the film that Antichrist was supposed to be based on it's pre-release image. It's a bleak, vile, perverse look at human kind and religion, lacking any sign of beauty or poetry. Where Antichrist concentrated its shock and contrasted it with poetic moments, there isn't any of that in Omori's freshman film. It numbs you down and wears you out, leaving you with very little except a strong sense of dread and confusion.

Like I said before, this is definitely not a film for everyone. If you want to be entertained for 120 minutes, just ignore this film. If you get off on perverse stuff, also ignore this film. But if you appreciate Omori's uncompromising and bleak look at our society, Whispering of the Gods is one of the purest films you'll find out there. I for one am looking forward to watching his latest film (A Crowd of Three). Recommended viewing for all who still dare to watch it after reading this review. 4.0*/5.0*

Still interested? Check the trailer.

Even though female directors are on the rise in Japan, they often limit themselves to directing films within a rather strict frame of genres and themes. Mai Tominaga is a welcome exception and seems to feel more at ease amongst directors like Satoshi Miki and Katsuhito Ishii, staging a set of quirky characters within a colorful, manga-inspired universe. After Wool 100%, Rinco's Restaurant is her second full-length feature, and I must say it turned out to be a real beauty.

Tominaga's style is no mere copy of her male companions though, she sets herself apart by introducing an underlying current of tragic emotions, one that actively conflicts with the bright and humorous overtones of the characters and events. That's where she draws her strength from, creating a rather unique niche that only knows distant relatives. At the same time, Tominaga seems to have a little trouble finding a dedicated audience because of her particular style. Her films aren't the easiest to recommend to other people, as you really need to appreciate the mix of the different elements featured in her films.

Rinco's Restaurant may be not as edgy or abstract compared to Wool 100%, it remains a film that should be approached with caution. It's easy to draw comparisons with films like Instant Numa or Taste of Tea (the film features a similar kind of gentle weirdness), but Tominaga's work isn't all about laughs and feel-good. Deep inside her characters are hurting, living a painful life, unable to put past traumas behind them.

Tominaga's latest film sees Rinco returning back home after she got cheated of all her possessions by her husband. The shock turns Rinco into a mute, not wanting to speak to anyone ever again, even to the people close to her. Rinco's mother is somewhat reluctant to take her back and shows little compassion for the girl. Things start to look up when Rinco starts a restaurant of her own, but the relationship with her mother remains difficult and loveless as they are wildly different people with little interest in each other's activities.

Visually Tominaga made good progress. It feels as if she is more in control over the visual elements she juggles around, molding them into a whole while retaining their unique, separate qualities. The film features some very nice animation sequences (not traditional anime mind), brightly-colored set pieces, lushly detailed locations, but also more subtle settings and less deliberately styled scenes. It's a small miracle that they work so well together, but looking back the style of the film still comes off as very singular and definite.

The soundtrack is a little easier on the ear this time around. I must admit that it flows a tad better with the more gentle atmosphere of this film, but at the same time I was also slightly disappointed. The soundtrack did seem to have lost its edge, something that really stood out when watching 100% Wool. It's rare to come across directors who dare to experiment so boldly with music, having lost that here seem like a missed opportunity. People who haven't seen Wool 100% won't notice this of course, but personally I prefer Tominaga's more demanding approach.

Acting performances are all-around strong, with Enami (Rinco) and Shida (Rinco's mom) carrying most of the weight of the film. They find a nice balance between the human and cartoonish aspects of their characters, continuously swaying between fun stereotypes and genuinely moving human beings. Secondary characters are a little less refined and are clearer stereotypes, but none of them feels out of place or intrusive.

While redemption lies right around the corner for most characters, there are still some tough pills to swallow when the films nears its climax. Rinco's Restaurant never becomes depressing or mean-spirited, but Tominaga keeps a consistent balance of light-hearted fun and heart-felt tragedy throughout the whole film. While I consider this a definite strong point, it also means that people who can't get a grip on Tominaga's unique mix of comedy and tragedy won't get many chances to find their way later on. If you're not enjoying yourself during the first 20 minutes, Rinco's Restaurant might prove to be a rather tiring experience.

One final word of warning: make sure you are either pretty well stuffed or you have quick access to food while watching this film. The "restaurant" bit of the title isn't merely there for show, the film features quite a few cooking scenes which are mouth-watering sublime. It's something in the way the Japanese think about food (think Kamome Diner) which turns their preparation of food into an almost sacred art. There is no shortage of people cooking in front of sun-lit windows, enjoying the sound and smells of steaming, sizzling pans in front of them, so beware.

It's hard to say which of Tominaga's films is better. Rinco's Restaurant is definitely more accomplished, illustrating Tominaga's growth as a director. But as is often the case, that same growth means she has lost some of her edge present in her first film, that little spark of uncaring experimentation that often leads to pure genius is just not as apparent here. That said, there is still plenty to enjoy and even more that sets Tominaga apart from her fellow directors. Rinco's Restaurant is an excellent film, which deserves an appreciative and caring audience. 4.0*/5.0*

It's a little spoiler-heavy, but there's a fully subbed trailer.

While Taiwanese cinema isn't the most sprawling well of creativity, it is the perfect breeding ground for first-grade arthouse dramas (Juliets, Eternal Summer, Island Etude). Stilted, subdued dramas are the main export product of the Taiwanese film industry and The Fourth Portrait definitely belongs to the best Taiwan has on offer. If you're looking for a slow-paced yet emotionally powerful and visually stunning film, look no further.

To make it clear from the start, The Fourth Portrait is not a plot-driven drama. Rather it's a vignette of small events in a boy's life, interwoven with visual poetry. There's an overarching back story where 10-year old boy Xiang (who has lost his father to a fatal disease) is reunited with his mother, but this is merely a basic setup, meant as a hook for individual scenes. Some scenes and events might seem a little too detached at first, but throughout the length of the film they do manage to create a very delicate and beautiful portrait of the main character.

Xiang doesn't have a very easy life. His mother abandoned him at a very young age, leaving him to live with his father. When his dad dies Xiang tries to manage on his own for a while, but he is quickly picked up by an old man living in the neighborhood. The old man reunites Xiang with his mother and the both of them decide to make the best of the situation. She has already remarried though and Xiang's step dad is not too fond of having another mouth to feed. Then there is the mystery of Xiang's older brother, someone who only seems to be alive in Xiang's memories, only adding more confusion to the little boy's life.

While this sounds like ideal material for pulling a shameless tearjerker, Chung keeps his film remarkably light-hearted and frivolous. Sure it isn't without its darker moments, sometimes handling rather grim and delicate issues, but the overall atmosphere is quite upbeat and soothing. It's a wonderful balance that is mostly fueled by Chung's exquisite styling and his ability to take the edge of some of the more questionable actions of the characters.

The Fourth Portrait is a true visual masterpiece. It's visually delicate, subtle and controlled, betraying an eye for perfection that is virtually unmatched in this line of cinema (which is quite a compliment). In that sense it may not be all that in your face, on the other hand Chung is not ashamed to spend a whole scene exploring the life of the young boy purely on a visual level. This all results in a fair few magnificently orchestrated moments that set out to create a wonderful atmosphere, providing the film with a serious emotional boost.

The soundtrack emits a likewise quality. In essence it is not all that different from many other similarly constructed films, but somehow it feels more distinguished. Just that little bit classier than its competitors. The music also flows very well with the visuals, creating a perfect blend of audiovisual splendor that drives the film to some exceptional heights.

The acting is traditionally subdued. There isn't too much dialogue and what there is doesn't necessarily convey the actual emotions of the characters. Most of the acting is done in silence, translated through physical actions and cinematic gestures rather than words. The quality of the acting is all around great though. Especially Bi Xiao-Hai does a great job playing Xiang, not a very easy task for such a novice actor.

If you go around looking for other reviews you'll quickly run into a few who'll criticize the film for being aesthetically boring and utter lack of emotion. If you don't pick up the audiovisual, abstract layer of emotions present here than these critiques are no doubt understandable, but considering the poetic undertones of the film it pains me to read such comments. The Fourth Portrait is anything but boring and cold-hearted, quite the contrary really. It just lacks the sentimentality and emotional loudness often found in Western dramas.

As for the laid-back and somewhat vague structure of the film, it reminded me a lot of Á la Verticale de l'Été, which features a similar free-form approach, resulting more in a collection of impressions (hence the four portraits) rather than a fully realized and finished storyline. Some plot points reach a conclusion, others don't, other scenes don't even involve any plot points. Sure, this kind of cinema is not for everyone, but if you like these slice-of-life kinda films than The Fourth Portrait is a pretty safe bet.

No doubt this is one of the best films I've seen this year. It's powerful, poetic, lush, atmopsheric and ultimately gripping. It's not unique or wildly different, but a perfect execution of a popular genre, lifting the film far above the competition. It might not be a good entry film as the film isn't all that accessible, but if you've been looking for another prime example of stilted Asian drama, Chung has made just the film for you. Absolutely recommended for those who know what they're getting themselves into. 4.5*/5.0*

Enjoy the luxury of a fully subbed trailer.

Nintendo single-handedly sculpted the platform game genre throughout the history of gaming. Ever since they introduced Mario Bros on the NES, they controlled the evolution of platform games where others could only follow in Nintendo's footsteps. The arrival of the Wii saw a new step in this evolution, one that even sparked a sequel to quench the thirst of crazy platform fans everywhere. That sequel is Super Mario Galaxy 2.

With every console upgrade the Mario games have expanded in scope. No idea what Nintendo is planning next, but no doubt Galaxy will be pretty hard to top. This game sees Mario travelling between galaxies and planets (small ones though), even inside single stages. This concept allowed the designers plenty of freedom to experiment with the level designs, an opportunity they used to maximum effect. Every single level is unique, which goes a very long way to avoiding repetition and level boredom (something most platform games are suffering from).

How you'll experience this game will depend a lot on whether you've played the first Mario Galaxy game. The mechanics and general concept are pretty much the same, so if you've had prior experience this will make the start of Mario Galaxy 2 a lot easier. I myself never played the first Galaxy game, so I really needed some time to learn how to navigate between planets, working around the sometimes strange and unnatural perspectives in each level and getting used to the controls.

For a novice the game knows a rather steep learning curve, but it does force you (subtly) to get the hang of the basics rather quickly. The game keeps a perfect balance between providing a challenge and forcing players to learn new tricks which can be used to find bonus levels and open up new parts of the stages. It's a bit odd, but it wasn't until the very last stages in Galaxy 2 that I felt I had really mastered the game.

If you fear that Mario Galaxy 2 might still be a little too easy, Nintendo made sure you don't need to worry about longevity. There are 242 stars to collect in total, each star taking up at least a minute or 3 to reach. To get the final star, I spent no less than 2.5 hours slaving away at the final level. All stages contain one or two normal stars and one prankster star. These stars are unlocked by collecting prankster coins, one hidden away in each level. Once you have collected all the gold stars in the regular game, a whole new set of green stars is added which allow you to enjoy each stage on a different level.

The regular stars are usually not that difficult to get to, but the prankster stars require you to finish a level meeting certain requirements (time, not taking damage, ...) which is a whole lot harder to do. Finally, the green stars are hidden in the most unlikely places and are often notoriously hard to reach. Luckily they make a soft sparkling noise, so make sure you listen well when setting out to find them.

Visually the game is superbly executed, rich in color and extraordinarily detailed. You do need to be able to appreciate the colorful, somewhat child-like visual style, but that's just part of the whole Mario charm. The same goes for the soundtrack, which is jolly, upbeat and fun, but might strike a false note if you're expecting anything stylish, or at least something more serious. It's somewhat of an acquired taste, definitely amongst more hardcore gamers, but if you take it for what it is, it houses a surprisingly depth in visual detail.

Not only the level design is varied, the different Mario morphs really add something to the gameplay. There are quite a few different forms (I believe the boulder one is my favorite), each of them aptly developed and receiving enough playtime as to become something more than just simple diversions. And if you like other players to join in, there's a nifty two player co-op mode where the second player can help out collecting power-ups, coins and gems. It's also possible to keep obstacles from getting in your way, even stopping enemies in their tracks.

The main game itself (ie, get to Bowser and kick his ass) isn't too difficult to beat and should be doable for most regular gamers. Collecting all the stars, especially those located in the bonus levels, is an entirely different challenge that will demand a lot from your platforming skills. I'm sure that people who've finished the first Galaxy game will have a serious advantage and will move through the game a lot quicker, but if you fall in fresh there are some rather tough challenges hidden away in this game.

Having spent a lot of time getting all there is to get, I can safely say that Nintendo's Mario series is still on top of the game. It's a perfect platform game that doesn't get stale, is extremely varied and boosts the game time up to RPG-like levels. There are some small nitpicks (like why the camera isn't controllable in all places), but those are minor and have almost no impact on the overall enjoyment. Excellent stuff. 4.5*/5.0*

Don't forget to check the nice gameplay trailer.

Neveldine and Taylor are quickly turning into personal favorites of mine. The first Crank film was a blast, Gamer was right up my ally and having just watched the sequel to the first Crank I can safely say that there isn't anyone in Hollywood that can match their spirit and flair when it comes to explosive action cinema. Crank 2 is every bit as good as the first film and then some. A perfect adrenaline rush with unparalleled entertainment value.

These past couple of weeks I've been busy catching up on American action cinema, but without too much positive result. Sucker Punch was a PG-13 bore lacking any serious action, Predators was a miscast disaster and The Expendables a rather iffy piece of 80s testosterone nostalgia. I still had a few films lying around (In Bruges and Transformers 2 amongst others) but not wanting to run out of steam I picked the remaining Neveldine/Taylor film, knowing the duo had everything to restore my faith in American action cinema.

Crank 2 is really a textbook example of what I believe is necessary to cook up a successful action flick. It is self-aware, exploitive of its own silliness, witty, in-your-face, focused on impact and brutally exhilarating. It doesn't spend too much time building up a decent story and whatever story is in there is exploited for laughs and extravagant action scenes. It does not take itself too serious (story-wise, action-wise it takes itself damn serious), and the film is all the better for it.

The film starts off where the first one stopped. Chev is of course not dead (how could he not survive that drop out of the helicopter), but he is captured nonetheless and brought to a back-room clinic where he is kept alive by people wanting to harvest his vital organs. Chev manages to escape, but not before his heart is replaced by a battery-operated substitute. Not a very pleasant way to live, so Chev goes after the guys who plundered his inner workings while keeping his body electrically charged in whatever way possible. Plausible? Not really. Entertaining? Hell yeah!

If you enjoy your action flicks moderately paced, Crank 2 will definitely not be your cup of tea. Visually there is tons going on, from exaggerated stop-motion running sequences, to on-screen text and strange, unnatural filters. Almost every scene in the film is heavily stylized. The editing it snappy and chaotic, the camera work agile and all over the place. Not everyone will be able to stomach it, it's just too demanding and in your face, but I loved it to bits.

Even though the soundtrack is also quite hyper, it's just not up to par with the visual side of things. It might be that I expected a little too much from the music here, after all the electronic-themed score is pretty decent, but for someone who listens to electronic music day in day out it's just not as challenging and/or wickedly insane as it could've been. On the other hand, it keeps the blood pumping and creates a nice, energetic atmosphere, so it's definitely not all bad.

Jason Statham has a vital part in the success of the Crank franchise, his bad-ass attitude and perfect delivery of one-liners drenched in a lovely British accents are just perfect for his character. While the secondary roles range from plain freaky to quite amusing, they are only their to support Statham, allowing his some severe verbal and manual retaliation.

If you see both films back to back you might be a little disappointed by the many similarities, Neveldine and Taylor often revisit similar ideas in different settings, but in the end Crank 2 one-ups the first film on every level. A few scenes in particular stand out, like the classic Godzilla scene (major geek point earned) and the static electricity scene featuring the old woman, but to be fair the whole film is like a never ending string of memorable moments and one-liners.

You need a particular kind of humor to like the Crank films though, and if you want clean, clear-cut action cinema you could end up being disappointed. Crank 2 is not just rough around the edges, it's all edge from start to finish. There are some rather crude jokes, insanely ADD camera work and the whole concept of suspension of disbelieve is thrown overboard from the very start. To some this will sound like 21st century cinematic hell, to me it's the stepping stone to a rosy cinematic future.

If you liked the first Crank film but thought it was just a little too tame, this sequel will cater to your needs. If on the other hand you hated the first film, don't even think of watching this one as it won't be a pleasurable viewing experience. I myself absolutely loved this film, as it aptly displays the talent of both its directors and takes American action cinema to new heights. 4.5*/5.0*

There's a trailer but it's best to go in blank.

Todd Solondz returns to the silver screen with a semi-sequel to Happiness and Storytelling, two films that are often regarded as modern classics. But the reception for his latest film was rather lukewarm, and even that's overstating it a little. There was a slight buzz when Life During Wartime was announced in 2007, but by the time it found a definite release most people seemed to have forgotten about it entirely. I too plead guilty, but I'm going to make it up to Todd.

Solondz is the king of awkward. That said, he is also somewhat of a one-trick pony so maybe that's why Life During Wartime quickly faded into obscurity. To make matters worse, Life During Wartime is rather big on referencing his earlier works, making it not very suitable to welcome newcomers into the Solondz universe. But as a warm-hearted Solondz fan I can only welcome his latest film with open arms. I don't mind that Solondz keeps revisiting the same themes and characters as there really isn't anyone out there who manages to explore the fragile balance between snide, crude, insensitive humor and the warm, humanistic love felt for the film's cast.

See, it's okay to laugh with Solondz' characters. They are losers, they may have some physical defects (or at least, look a little strange), sometimes they are just plain creepy and perverse, but as an audience we grow to love them like we love our dearest friends. We can laugh at their misadventures and mistakes because there is a bond of trust between the audience and the characters, ensuring that whatever they might have done wrong, or whatever defects they have, we can live with that. There is no other director that manages to balance these opposing emotions like Solondz can.

Life During Wartime starts when Bill, the pedophile from Happiness, is released from prison. His sons are made to believe he's dead but he decides to seek them out anyway. At the same time, Joy is experiencing serious trouble in her marriages and decides she needs some time off from her husband, moving back to Florida where the rest of her family resides. The film doesn't really work up to a climax from there on, rather it follows a particular period in the character's lives.

Visually this is a serious step up from Solondz' earlier works. Almost every scene is dipped in strong, powerful colors that immediately sculpt the atmosphere of the scene. The film feels more idealistic, almost fairytale-like in some part, which makes it a little easier to go along with the strange conversations and awkward characters. Great camera work, aptly editing and simply very enjoyable to look at.

The soundtrack quite nice too. Rather simple, a little frivolous but generally classy. Safe one funny bit featuring an electronic dance version of Hava Nagila Solondz picks an elegant and consistent score that goes very well with the mood of the film. It stays away from overly dramatic tension to keep the lighthearted spirit of the film alive, keeping in tune with the fairytale-like approach of the film.

Acting in Solondz' films is always strong, Life During Wartime is no exception. It must be said that the acting here is a little less life-like, as the conversation and actions are getting stranger and more abstract with every new film, but that only adds to the fun. Actors are chosen as much for their acting qualities as for their distinguishable features, creating a very interesting and varied blend or actors/characters. Most notable addition to the cast: Paul Reubens. Never ever dreamed of seeing him in a Solondz film, but boy did that turn out well.

The pacing might be a little slow and the film relies heavily on his previous films, which makes Life During Wartime a little less accessible that it should be, but fans of Solondz shouldn't worry. Ultimately this film works even without seeing his previous films, just know that you're missing out on a few running gags. Apart from that, Life During Wartime is a logical continuation of Solondz trademark style, so if you didn't like his earlier films you're bound to dislike this one too.

I would advise against making this the first Solondz film you watch, just try Happiness or Storytelling first as these films are a bit more accessible. If on the other hand you feel confident enough to tackle this Solondz there's little to be disappointed about. His trademark style is very much intact and the film received a big audiovisual boost, making it one of the best films he's made yet. As a Solondz fan, I can only hope he'll keep making 'em like this. 4.0*/5.0*

Check out the trailer if you wish, but mind the spoilers.

Say hi to another example of fine European animation. Metropia is a film that sparked my interest from the very first screen shots that found their way online, but after its initial release the buzz around this film quickly faded. Undeservedly so, as Metropia is a lovely little film that caters to animation enthusiasts with a taste for the unfamiliar. Set aside your preconceptions on animation in general and let director Saleh work his magic.

To be fair, there really is no such thing as "European animation". Asian (mostly Japanese) and American animation films usually lead up to certain expectations amongst their respective audiences (and yeah, of course there are exceptions, there always are), but there is no clear bottom line when it comes to European animation titles. Each director seems to come up with a style or theme of his own, leading to an extremely varied if not wildly voluminous selection of titles. European animation ranges from the oddly cell-shaded Nyocker to the black and white overstylized sci-fi of Renaissance. From the strangely innocent-looking revenge flick Princess to the more comic-book like sexual parodies of Blanche Neige.

Metropia fits well into this list, as there really isn't much out there to compare it with. Sure it draws from many other sources, not in the least the Orwellian look of the future where the whole of Europe is connected by an underground metro structure and people are living bleak, controlled lives. But coupled with its distinct look, its unique pacing and quite the novel spin on the setting Metropia stands well on its own two feet.

The film follows Roger, a dull and extremely average guy who's only rebellion lies with riding a bike to his workplace. Something that is actually illegal as people are expected to spend their hard-earned cash riding the metro, feeding the system. But Roger's live is bound to change as he starts hearing voices in his head around the same time he meets up with his dream girl (a shampoo ad girl). While both events seem unrelated at first, they trigger a chain reaction of events that will change the world ... hopefully for the better.

Metropia is a very visual experience. The animation technique used was specifically developed for this film and might take some getting used to. The faces of the characters look frighteningly real, but they are sparingly animated and appear too big for their bodies. The film looks like a dark, realistic spin on the Japanese chibi fascination, which is somewhat disturbing to say the least. But it works well enough and it gives the film a very distinctive flavor on which is able to build. Know that this style is consistently applied throughout the whole film, so if you think it looks quite bland, don't expect to see much improvement further on.

The soundtrack is equally dark and brooding, featuring a layer of dark ambient that flows well with the visuals. It's not as adventurous or exciting as the visual side of things, but it does the job. Voice acting is solid too, with Vincent Gallo taking up the lead role (his soft voice works well for Roger) and Juliette Lewis and Stellan Skarsgard filling in secondary roles. They do a pretty remarkable job as their voices are separated sufficiently from their real-world selves, keeping the characters very much unique rather than have them become an extension of the voice actors (something which happens all too often in American animation films).

If you don't dig the visuals, I'm pretty sure that the rest of the film will have a hard time convincing you of its other merits. While the story is interesting enough to entertain, the pacing is quite slow and the visuals are so very much in your face that they play a large part in the overall impression of Metropia. It comes down to personal taste, but if you're not afraid of people trying something different then there is much fun to be had with Saleh's experimentation.

Metropia is a film that will appeal to people who like a dystopian future coupled with a craving for unique animation. If you fall into that category there's really nothing that will hold you back to discover the full potential of this little masterpiece. But even if you can't find yourself in this description Metropia could still prove to be a welcome surprise as there really isn't anything like it out there. So if you're feeling adventurous and you don't mind the chance of walking out a little disappointed, Metropia is still a very worthwhile bet. As for me, I loved it to bits and I'm already looking forward to Saleh's next project. Definitely recommended. 4.5*/5.0*

There's a nice trailer, English subs and everything. Mind the mild spoilers though.

When Third Window Films acquires a film, it's time to sit up and take notice. This past year they've been scouting the best of Japanese cinema, so when they revealed their newest acquisition I was pretty excited to see how Sang-Il Lee's latest film would fare. Even though the setup of Villain (or Akunin, if you want to stick with the Japanese name) sounds like a pretty standard Japanese drama, there is a lot more going on underneath the hood.

Sang-Il Lee keeps jumping back and forth between comedy and drama in his oeuvre. Nothing out of the ordinary you might say, but there's a really big gap between his fluffy comedies and his edgy dramatic works. When I first watched 69 I was ready to ignore Lee's others films, but Scrap Heaven restored my faith in his talent. Villain ties in with his dramatic side, leaving all the teen comedy follies behind and focusing on more subtle and deeper human emotions.

Even though this film won quite a few prizes in Japan (5 Japanese Academy Awards), it hasn't been doing all that well oversees. Not that I believe the film deserves the poor attention, but I can somehow understand why Western (festival) audiences aren't really lining up to watch this film. The first hour is a tad bland, has a hard time distinguishing itself from its peers and feels a little aimless at times. But stick with Lee's intentions and you'll be more than compensated throughout the second part of the film.

The first hour we get an ill-disguised whodunit focusing on the murder of a young girl. There are two likely suspects but Lee never goes to the trouble to add any layer of ambiguity there. It's pretty obvious who the real culprit is, then again Lee takes his time to unravel all the events so you start pondering about the point he's trying to make. It also makes you wonder how he's going to fill the remaining 80 minutes and where the film will go once the puzzle is complete. No worries though, Lee has it all worked out.

Villain looks nice enough, but it's hard to contest that the current Japanese releases aren't as visually distinct as they were a couple of years ago. The film features decent camera work, some nice shots from time to time, but nothing overwhelming or really outstanding. The pacing is not as slow as it used to be and overall there just aren't as many visual impressions that remain after the credits start to roll.

The soundtrack is not all that spectacular either, though very fitting and still quite atmospheric. Good, solid piano music with a few edgy frills to underline the thriller aspect of Villain. It's safe to say that the audiovisual experience of this film is made to fit the themes and story rather than to dominate and steer the atmosphere.

As for the acting, nothing but praise. Eri Fukatsu has a tough role to play and does so with great conviction, but it's Satoshi Tsumabuki that really blew me away. His character is almost impenetrable but at the same time he's the center of the dramatic complications, so in the end it all comes back to his performance and his ability to transfer the dualities of his character to the audience. It's one of the strongest roles I've seen in quite a while. The supporting cast is nothing but perfect either, though their impact is not as dominant as that of the two main actors.

Once the whole whodunit story is cleared, the second part starts to erase any clearcut impressions and feelings you might have developed for the characters up until that point. Even though their former actions remain, the "good guys" are slowly turning black, while the "bad guys" are slowly gaining the viewer's trust and appreciation. Lee repaints the whole setting and blurs the boundaries of good and evil, aptly illustrating that criminal behavior is not necessarily a logical result of a person's self, just as much as lack of criminal behavior doesn't necessarily make you a good person.

The second half of the film holds the key to the success of this film. While Lee reveals his true intentions, the audience is brought to a state of utter emotional confusion. It's funny to see how the first part of Villain features a fuzzy script with clear emotions, which is then reversed to a clear script with fuzzy emotions. The climax is all the more powerful because of that, leaving you with a mixed bag of feelings and some nice bits to contemplate about afterwards.

Overall Villain is a strong film with a clear goal in mind. Know that you need to get through the first hour, trusting Lee that the second half will be much richer and better. Lee could've payed a bit more attention to the audiovisual side, which is decent but a little underdeveloped, but overall Villain is a strong and powerful film that messes with the viewer's emotional state in a very sneaky way. Recommended watching.4.0*/5.0*

Check out the trailer, no subtitles though.

The magic Hong Kong action duo, (Wilson) Yip and (Donnie) Yen, are back for more. After the first Ip Man film became quite the success a sequel couldn't be avoided, even more so because the current Yip Man hype (with Herman Yau and Wong Kar-Wai joining in) is still raging around the globe. So if you feel comfortable watching 120 minutes more of the same, Ip Man 2 has everything to keep you glued to your seat.

Even though I really liked the first Ip Man film, I was still a bit surprised by the critical acclaim it gathered around the world, even earning fans where you normally wouldn't expect them. I myself prefer the more gracious and dancelike martial arts forms, but apparently audiences also dig the more factual, precise methods of Wing Chun. Maybe because it's a bit more down to earth and it looks doable without a whole set of wires, an often cited critique on films like Hero or House of the Flying Daggers.

Ip Man 2 simply starts where the previous film ended. We get some quick flashbacks to freshen up our memories and we see how Yip Man moves away from his old town to try his luck in Hong Kong, setting up a small martial arts school for Wing Chun trainees. For those of you expecting Bruce Lee to join the school right away, pack up your hopes because his character only gets a little cameo at the very end of the film. This film is all about Yip Man settling down (the first hour) and defending the honor of the Chinese once more (the second hour).

In that sense this sequel follows a very similar structure to the first film, only now the Japanese are traded in for the British and Sammo Hung has joined the crew to liven up the first part of this film. Needless to say, if you're hoping for a realistic, historically sound biopic, Yip's Ip Man films probably aren't really meant for you. Better to wait for Wong Kar-Wai's version I presume.

Visually Ip Man 2 proves a slight step up from the original. The locations, costumes and general setting all look lush and detailed. The camera work is grand and stylish, while the editing perfectly illustrates the essence of the Wing Chun style. Controlled, stemming from defence, but lethal when going for the kill. It really helps the action scenes to flourish and provides a nice change of pace from the dramatic scenes.

The soundtrack is just as grand, only a bit more generic in nature. A bit overblown at times, but subtle and beautiful in other scenes. It's a typical Chinese score which usually goeswell with these type of historical big-budget films. Ip Man 2 isn't really the kind of film to play with originality in its soundtrack of course, but I believe the genre could use some fresh impulses on a musical level. As it stands though, the soundtrack does the job.

Just like the first film, Donnie Yen is absolutely perfect for the role of Yip Man. His slight smile, his compassionate eyes, the perfect control over the martial arts he puts on display ... he's a real joy to behold and quite easily carries the film all by himself. Sammo Hung is still pretty agile for his age (and size), the others don't get much beyond being simple cameos. Sadly, the British actors are complete nobodies with no visible acting experience whatsoever. It's a known fact that Asians have trouble scouting good English-speaking actors, but it's been a while since I've seen such horrible casting. Luckily they are mostly there to get their faces pounded by Yen, so it's not all bad.

Ip Man 2 is very much like the first film, so your appreciation will greatly depend on your expectations. If you watch this film too close to the first one, or if you expect to fully relive the wonders of the first film, Ip Man 2 will never be able to top it's older brother. If on the other hand you can accept that this film is pretty much a carbon copy of the first, only filled with new fight scenes and a slightly different setting/different bad guys, than nothing will stand in your way of enjoying this just as much as the first film.

The acting of the British will probably appal you, the cameos of characters from the first film don't really bring much to this sequel (Simon Yam is incredibly underused) and the schism between both parts is a little too obvious, but all of these critiques fade away when Yen and Hung are battling on a single table top, playing a game of full contact chess.

Ip Man 2 is pretty much what I expected from it, and I just couldn't have asked for more. Visually a little better than the first film, awesome fight sequences where Yen is allowed to shine and a fully satisfying finale where the final blow caused a big fat inner "Yeah!". This is as far as Wilson Yip needs to take the Yip Man saga though, something he seems to realize as well as he's now doing his own take on A Chinese Ghost Story. Good stuff. 4.0*/5.0*

There's a nice trailer, English subs and everything. Mind the mild spoilers though.

We are taught never to bite the hand that feeds us. Generally speaking that's pretty good advise, but what if that same hand is slowly starving you, or giving you food that's spoiled? Now what if we have to pay hard cash for this kind of service? Would you ever consider that a healthy economic model? As a film fan living in Belgium, this is pretty much how I feel, and it pains me to see that every attempt to improve this situation is killed from within the industry itself.

Fellow Twitcher Peter Martin launched a rant toward theater owners for allowing people to ruin the theater experience for others so easily. While I whole-heartedly support his opinion, I was even more shocked to hear that not only theater owners were opposing the initiative to get new films quicker to the people, but a list of reputable directors had the nerve to shoot down this initiative in the most mind-boggling way possible.

Previously attempts by Soderbergh (Bubble) were vigilantly countered and a lot of fuzz surrounded Disney's relatively short theater run window for Alice in Wonderland. Theater owners really don't like the idea of films getting spread to the masses shortly after their initial release, which, if you put yourself in their place, is actually quite normal. For years the theater business has enjoyed the luxury of offering films exclusively to the public for a short period of time, and it will no doubt hurt their business when people can freely decide whether to watch a film in cinemas or in the comfort of their own living room.

But this is the Western world you know, we are supposed to live in a consumer society where the consumer's demands impact the supply, and the voice of the consumer is quite clear on this subject. We want our films quicker, in our own home, when we are ready for them. The consumer is not here to artificially uphold an entire industry we don't really want or need (as a collective group). That's not to say that people don't like going to the theater anymore, but if the business is just too costly to run for the group of people that wants it, there really is no room for that business anymore. That's indeed harsh, but an economic reality that lives in just about every industry today.

There are two things in particular that struck me as completely surreal when reading through the letter. The first is that the people who wrote the letter describe the current distribution model as successful, the second is that they describe the system as "working well for the movie industry". In both statements there's an utter lack of respect for the people going out to buy and watch the movies they produce. The past 15 years have shown us that consumers are not happy with the distribution model of the movie industry, leading to illegal downloads, mass importing and a general lack of confidence in the powers that be.

The internet changed the game, not only because it gave way to illegal downloads, but because it took control away from the distribution of information. From the moment a Japanese production company puts a trailer online, audiences everywhere around the world are sparked to see this film. To some degree the movie industry realized this potential as they slightly improved their marketing strategies (yay, more and better ways to influence us to buy their products), but when it comes to actual distribution of the goods, they've remained mostly unmoving, hoping that their old model would stand all the heat.

As a film fan, I can only hope the current model crumbles quicker that a sand castle struck by a tsunami. While the whole world is buzzing about the newest releases, a lot of people are denied to joy of joining in on the conversation. Huge films like Black Swan are only released in Belgium during the Oscar weekend, for others (Ghost In The Shell 2) I had to wait more than 2 years before they made a theater appearance (note that it was already available on DVD in other parts of the world by that time), other films never appeared at all, not even on DVD. For someone willing to pay for watching a film, the industry is particularly uncaring to provide that most basic service to me.

I know distribution of goods is more complex than consumers see it, but over a period of 15 years time not much has changed for us. What's worse, there aren't even that many initiatives from the industry to change their distribution model. Some parts of the world have it better than others (America has VOD services with a pretty decent database of titles) but there still isn't much of a comprehensive distribution system that comes close to the illegal circuit. To cite a recent example: 13 Assassins is out on DVD in Japan, it's available on VOD for those who have access to it, but in Belgium you still need to wait more than 2 months for it to appear in cinemas. At least, the way the schedule stands now, which is hardly a guarantee for a "small" film like 13 Assassins. And if things turn really sour, it will receive a single-week release in a selection of cities that take longer to reach than it takes to watch the actual film. Is this really supposed to motivate me to wait for a local release?

In essence, film distribution isn't any more difficult that putting your film online and offering it to the world, streamed or downloadable, gradually opening up to new markets when subtitles (or god forbid, dubs) are added. The whole world is your customer as long as they can reach your site. This is of course an ideal customer model where we can see a film as soon as it is uploaded, no doubt there are countless reasons why this would not work as well as described here (outside of the fact that they might earn less - a good time to lower the wages of some actors no doubt) and no doubt it is incredibly naive, but it would surprise me that these problems are actual show-stoppers for an industry as big and wealthy as the movie industry.

See, I as a consumer don't understand why I can't get access to the films I want to see, or even want to buy. Marketing everywhere is getting us high on a buzz, then forces us to wait, sometimes indefinitely. This model worked in a time when only the biggest movie geeks were well-informed about upcoming releases, but with information available everywhere for everyone, this model is just too outdated and restrictive. By now I've had my fill of buying 50 dollar Japanese imports and watching them with a printed translation of the dialogs (Tenshi no Tamago - still no official English-subbed version for an animation landmark film from 1985), how insane must one be to continue such practices only to see the films he cares to see?

The worst thing about the letter though is that it reflects the inability of such a huge industry to acknowledge the actual problems it is facing. People have been yelling for a better, more correct and consumer-centered distribution model for the past 15 years, how is it possible to completely neglect (and even bluntly contradict) this and to state that the current model works "fine". Especially when almost every other official press release is targeted at declining sales and the effect of illegal downloads on our precious hobby.

While the premium VOD model itself doesn't really appeal to me (30 dollars, 60 days after a film is released in theaters, really??) it sounds like an important step in the good direction. The model itself will probably fail because it is incredibly overpriced for a relatively weak service, but it might spark some new life in finding better and fairer distribution systems, restoring some faith in the minds of those who pay for their 300 million ventures about some Smurfs in the jungle.

Then again, maybe I should just consider myself lucky that I know enough English to import my films from Hong Kong or Japan directly, otherwise I probably wouldn't even be an avid film fan. And maybe I should just believe those who tell me to "find another hobby" if I don't agree with the supply. One thing I know for sure though, if everyone out there with a grudge against the distribution model would turn against the film industry, they'd be in a lot more trouble than they are now.

Most anthology films I've tackled so far were composed of a considerable amount of shorts. Juliets is a little different as it only includes three shorts, all of them keeping to a pretty well-defined concept. Juliets compares more to films like About Love or Eros, rather than the ones I usually review here. It changes the dynamic of the project a little, but in this case that's hardly a negative thing. If you want a look at Taiwan's upcoming talent, this film is definitely not to be missed.

The idea behind Juliets is a re-imagining of Shakespeare's classical character in a more modern setting (ranging from the 70s until now). Each short features a Juliet (the second film even has three) and follows his or her romantic misadventures. The re-imagining is quite broad and free-form, but the basic concept remains firmly etched in all three parts. The first two films are pure romantic dramas, the third one is more comical in tone.

The first short, "Juliet's Choice", travels back to the 70s and finds a physically disabled girl working in a little print shop. She falls for a student who tries to get his rebellious school paper printed and she decides to help him out behind the back of the print shop's owner. She doesn't really sit well with the friends of the boy though, and thus she gracefully sacrifices her own safety so the both of them can live together.

Juliet's Choice feels very much like a classical Chinese film. Hints of Wong Kar-Wai and Christopher Doyle are never far away, with lush camera work and vibrant colors set against dark shadowy backgrounds. The short is extremely elegant, stylish and well-acted. Hsu is almost unrecognizable here but she really carries the film well, effortlessly dragging the viewer down with her. It's a perfect opener for this anthology. 4.5*/5.0*

The second short is titled "Two Juliets" and features one real Juliet, a fake one and one that gets converted along the way (they should've named it Three Juliets really). A rather striking story about a girl that sees herself locked up in a mental institution to escape the life of being a wandering artist, waiting for her lover to come back for her. Sadly circumstances prevent him from returning, leaving Juliet alone in the mental hospital. The short reminded me a little of Kitano's second segment of Dolls, as the story itself is told from a similar perspective (the main character 30 years later), but also because the film itself has a rather Japanese feel to it.

Through some lovely flashbacks the relationship between the two young lovers is adequately illustrated, getting you to feel for them in only a couple of scenes' time. Visually warm and beautiful, atmospherically endearing and peaceful, the flashbacks really are the core of this short. The scenes in our current time are all the more dramatic because of them, aptly staying clear from any false sentiments or fake dramatic tension. A truly magnificent short, one which I would definitely like to see expanded into a full-length feature. 4.5*/5.0*

The final short, Middle-Aged Juliet, is quite different in tone and atmosphere. From the very first frames it's obvious that comedy plays a more important role here, trading in dramatic tension for feel-good gaieties. It's no doubt an agreeable short film, but it takes some getting used to after the two previous shorts. The Juliet here is actually a guy turning 40, wrestling with his bad looks and tendency to fall for guys rather than women. But when he finally decides to end it all, his suicidal ventures keep getting interrupted by a local film crew.

Even though there is nothing much wrong with Middle-Aged Juliet, it's far from as engaging as the first two shorts. It's not up to par on any level and so it would've been better if it had been put as second in line. It's a nice breather no doubt, but by the time it gets featured in this anthology I was just expecting something more from the film. 3.5*/5.0*

In between the shorts are some nicely animated intermissions, properly introducing each film. As a whole, the complete package is lovely, featuring three good film of which two are truly outstanding. The quality is solid throughout without any big dips or serious disappointments. Here's to hoping these directors get a chance to release more of their material in the West, earning them the proper international respect. If you don't mind romance and drama, this smart anthology film is among the best out there, definitely recommended. 4.5*/5.0*

South-Africa might not have the most booming movie scene on the planet, from time to time some really interesting stuff is coming from over there. Just last year blockbuster District 9 stormed the world by force, now it's time for low-budget genre flick The Unforgiving to make a name for itself. World domination may be out of reach for this film, but signs of a respectable cult audience are lurking right around the corner.

Director Alastair Orr must've had a clear vision when he started with this film, as it's been quite a while since I've seen a horror flick this bold and brash. From the very first frames Orr seems very much in control of his film and he doesn't let go until the final frames have disappeared from the screen. This definitely increases the love or hate factor of The Unforgiving, but I prefer that over middle-of-the-road cinema everyday.

The concept of the film is pretty simple and straightforward. The Unforgiving starts off with a cop interrogating two surviving victims of a rampant serial-killer. The police has been chasing him for quite some time now, but this is the first time he's left them some clues. From there on the story is told in a way that reminded me a little of Nolan's Following, with regular scenes, flashbacks and flash forwards all mangled up without any indication of which is which. Only time will tell how everything fits together.

Of course you can expect a twist, halfway through the film I was struggling a little to keep up with all the information, but as is usually the case with these kind of films, all you need to do is wait for the ending and at least the crux of it will be properly explained. For more details, a second viewing us usually required. Orr handles it quite well, though I wasn't really blown away by the main twists here. Pretty standard stuff compared to others films out there.

The Unforgiving is a prime example of the digital aesthetic. Very sharp contrasts and strong colors create a harsh yet pleasing image quality that goes very well with the rest of the film. Quick motion and lots of moving on-screen elements (like rain, or running the camera through high grass) result in a somewhat abstract, almost animation-like effect. It won't be to everyone's liking, but I found it very impressive indeed. But most striking are the many close-ups of the character's eyes, which leave a lasting impression. Pretty awesome alright.

Even more striking is the soundtrack of this film. Orr doesn't want to play it subtle, the whole film sounds like one big climax. Usually I'm not a big fan of overblown music, but Orr makes it work. It's not that the music is constantly epic or loud, but at least once every five minutes a sprawling atmospheric climax is reached. Once again this might put people off, if you like subtle this film probably isn't for you in the first place.

The acting performances are a little fickle though, Macquet doesn't look quite at ease in front of the camera and can't really shape his character. Thomson and Opperman do a pretty decent job, the direction of Orr does the rest. Overall the acting suffices, but it would've been nice if the lead had been a bit more convincing. It's not a film that demands too much from its actors and their performances aren't crucial, but Orr shouldn't have had to work so hard to compensate.

The Unforgiving is a pure genre flick, making it pointless to even begin and cite possible influences. Most surprising though is that the look and feel of the action is somewhat reminiscent of Tsukamoto's trailer, good stuff.

Maybe it's a coincidence, maybe people have been spying on each other's work, but with Matsuyama's Liar Game: The Final Stage and Nakata's Incite Mill appearing almost simultaneously, Japan has two conceptually very similar films on offer. The direction takes both films different places, but it remains hard not to compare both films. That said, Liar Game is the clear winner for me, getting much more out of its initial concept.

The title already suggests that this film is part of a bigger franchise. In 2005 the Liar Game manga was serialized, shortly after a TV-show was made. This film serves pretty much as the conclusion of that series, but no worries, even without prior knowledge of the characters or concept the film is pretty easy to follow. The beginning of the film is crammed with all the information you need to know, so you won't feel left out on anything later on.

Liar Game is all about deception and outsmarting the other contestants. A small group of people has gathered into a game room to start the ultimate game of deceit, only one of them will win the 50 million yen jackpot. The downside? If you end the game with a debt, the debt becomes real and should be paid in full to the hosts afterwards. The game itself is quite complex and the explanation at the start may be a little too hasty to take everything in the first time around, but the finer mechanics are adequately explained during the course of the film. Don't be put off if you're a little lost these first 10 minutes, everything will make sense by the end of the film.

All characters get their five minutes of fame, but the main focus of the audience lies with Nao, the most naive and gullible contestant of the group. Rather than deceive, she tries to get everyone together, hoping to maximize the profit of each player. Needless to say, her attempts are in vein and not long after the first of thirteen rounds people are eying each other from all parts of the game room, trying to outsmart the rest of the group.

While Matsuyama goes through great lengths to elevate this film above the visual limitations of TV series material, he doesn't quite fully succeed. The film looks pretty great though: strong colors, nifty camera tricks and a visually lush setting, but the editing and buildups of scenes often resemble the short attention span and hasty climaxes found in TV series. It's a small detail but within the film's 2 hours running time it does start to show after a while.

The soundtrack is pretty decent, high octane stuff that keeps the blood pumping and lends the film the necessary excitement in the right places. It's not something that would ever work outside the film and it's not all that in your face either, but it does work on a more subconscious level, granting the film some extra excitement and a definite sense of tension.

As for the acting, Liar Game is clearly a manga/anime adaptation. Don't expect realistic characters or well-developed human emotions, each character is a clear stereotype that keeps very close to his or her intended purpose. If you can't stand the typical Japanese overacting this will definitely turn you off, but with people like Erika Toda, YosiYosi Arakawa and Toshihiro Wada you have a capable team of actors to get the job done.

Even though the concept of the film is pretty interesting, you might even go as far as to call it original, the film itself is quite predictable. Of course there are a couple of nice turns and twists along the way (some a little far-fetched but that is part of the game really), but the ending is pretty much fixed from the start and the film doesn't make much effort to hide it from its audience.

And even though you could easily cite some films that served as possible inspiration for Liar Game (Battle Royale, The Experiment, Saw - just to name a few), the mix still feels fresh and the setup is more than interesting enough for two hours of tense gaming fun. Once everyone is properly introduced and the players are trying to outsmart each other, the entertainment value stands solid and remains constant for the remainder of the film.

Liar Game has a couple of minor flaws and doesn't quite escape its TV background, but it has plenty of positive elements to erase these minor shortcomings. It's highly entertaining, shamelessly in your face, visually gratifying and overall satisfying. Neat concept, strong execution, barrels of fun. What more could you ask for? 4.0*/5.0*

There's a trailer, no subs though.

I admit, I'm quite partial to big-budget martial arts epics. I wrote reviews for True Legend, 14 Blades and Tracing Shadows before, now it's time to promote John Woo's latest entry in the genre. Backing director Chao-bin Su, Woo delivers a prime example of wuxia wizardry with a serious injection of old-fashioned martial arts genre fun. The result is a nice blend of old and modern which looks stunning and doesn't leave you any chance to become bored.

Opinions tend to differ, but personally I feel it's been years since John Woo managed to direct a truly satisfying film. His Chi Bi project was decent enough but didn't hold up against the competition and his late Hollywood work just isn't good enough to compare to the the highs in his oeuvre. A little ironic as Woo's name seems mostly attached to this film for the guidance he gave Chai-bin (and for obvious commercial reasons of course). Chao-bin is credited as both writer and prime director for Reign of Assassins, so it's really his film.

Plot-wise Reign of Assassins reminds me a lot of the martial arts productions from the early 90s, a golden period for Hong Kong cinema and its martial arts films. The film follows Zeng Jing, an assassin trying to retire from the world of martial arts. Complicating her retirement is the theft of an important artifact, which sets a crew of angry adversaries on her tail.

Zeng Jing is skilled enough to escape them and retires after signing up for cosmetic surgery to hide her old face. She marries and seems to be living a happy life, until fate comes to collect her dues. From that point, it's all battles and twists that make up the bulk of this film. Told in a somewhat atypical chronological order, Reign Of Assassins has a stronger and more developed plot than most peers, most probably because Chao-bin does a great job of handling both script and direction at the same time.

Woo and Su turned Reign of Assassins into a true visual spectacle. The cinematography is stunning, using lots of dark yet powerful colors, trusting the majestic camera work to do the rest. All the fight scenes are a joy to behold and even the more toned-down and dramatic scenes are exquisitely photographed. It makes films like these a lot easier to watch. From the opening to the very last scene, there isn't a boring or dull scene to be found.

The soundtrack is of lower quality, but suffices for a film like this. Sometimes a little over-dramatic, though most of it is pretty bearable. Simple re-workings of classic themes that do fit the mood of the film, but don't go far in defining its atmosphere. Luckily the visuals are strong enough to counter this, otherwise it would've weighed a lot more on the overall feel of the film.

As for acting, I couldn't help but feel a little awed by Michelle Yeoh's performance. She's almost 50 but still kicks serious ass on screen. Her performance is elegant, powerful and stoic, but her moves are still fluent and agile. She easily carries the film as female hero, not many people in Hong Kong (or even outside of Hong Kong) can do that. The rest of the cast is pretty good also, but they are easily overshadowed by Yeoh's presence.

Reign Of Assassins is a pretty good continuation of the martial arts genre. It's not often that female characters get a lead in these type of films, Yeoh demonstrates it's not because they lack the (screen)fighting skills. The only post-80s film featuring female leads I can actively remember is The Heroic Trio, which incidentally also features Yeoh in one of the key roles. I for one think the lack of testosterone is a welcome change of scenery.

The biggest problem is that Reign of Assassins has some stellar competition amongst its peers. It can't battle with the best, but still manages to impress on most levels. It's no new Hero or The Banquet, it simply doesn't push the boundaries as much like these films could, but apart from that (and the mediocre soundtrack) there really isn't much to complain about.

Chao-bin Su and John Woo delivered a great film, filled with awesome action scenes and above-par dramatic filler that stands its ground amongst all the other martial arts films coming from Hong Kong. If you're looking for a quality martial arts epic, look no further because this film has everything to quench your thirst. As long as you don't expect to be totally blown away by, there isn't much that will keep you from enjoying Reign of Assassins. 4.0*/5.0*

There's a trailer, just mind the spoilers.

I've reviewed quite a few anthology films before (Taipei 24h, Genius Party and Beyond, Phobia and Phobia 2, Ten Nights Of Dreams), but quite a few is never enough. Women Play Twice is a little different from regular anthology projects , but still a real treat for those who like Japanese dramas with a dash of romance. Brace yourself for six different women and their peculiar relationships, as seen through the eyes of a novelist.

People usually complain that anthology films lack coherence and consistency. To me it's one of the big perks, but for those people Women Play Twice might be the perfect compromise. Even though there are 6 different shorts, they are all directed by the same director and shot in a very consistent style. Each short handles a different type of woman as seen by one of the passing customers of a small bar. The result is a cozy little romantic drama that uses the variation of the different stories to stay clear from boredom setting in.

I usually write a mini-review for each separate short, that would be pretty impractical though as I would be repeating myself over and over again. There is not much difference in style and execution between the different shorts, keeping the quality of the film very consistent all the way through. Each short has a small climax near the end, but there isn't one short that really stands out or falls short compared to the other ones.

The subject for this film is also quite clear and defined. Each short zooms in on one particular woman who represents a certain type of female. Yukisada does handle his subject with a certain level of frivolity and it never becomes a real statement or life lesson trying to capture the whole female universe in one simple film. The film loses a little depth there, on the other hand I'm sure Yukisada would've lost himself if he tried to accomplish such a thing in the first place.

Visually Women Play Twice is a pretty nice-looking film. Nothing out of the ordinary, but each short features a few beautiful shots and compositions. The camera work is overall solid and controlled, not overly slick but subtle and refined. Yukisada remains quite close to the typical style of Japanese dramas, taking only some risks in the third short (I'm talking about a rather strange scene in a bath house), so if that's your thing you'll find plenty to enjoy here.

The soundtrack is another typical example of an Asian drama score, aiming for soft piano tunes and similarly easy on the ears music. As always, it goes well with the film but it's hardly challenging. It does little to define the film and even though it helps to set a warm and fuzzy atmosphere, I prefer more outspoken music.

Acting is overall good. There are many different actors and actresses here as each short features a different set of characters, but they make the best of the little screen time they have. By the time each short ends there's a considerable bond between the audience and the characters, adding some extra weight to the overall feel of the film. Again no-one jumps out, also nobody stays below the norm. Consistency is key here.

There was only one small thing bothering me when the end credits faded from the screen. Even though this is a film about women, each story is told from a male perspective, essentially becoming a film about how guys interpret women. Directors like Ryuichi Hiroki or Hiroshi Ishikawa get a lot closer to the essence of their characters when trying to bring female characters to life in their films, keeping to a female perspective at all times.

It does pull down the initial concept of this anthology a little, though if you're prepared to see Women Play Twice as a collection of 6 warm-hearted romantic shorts there's nothing to be disappointed about. Real anthology freaks should take notice that there isn't much difference in style and substance between the shorts, so if you're longing to be blown away from all different sides at once, it's better to skip this one altogether.

Considering the film as a whole it's not that much different from a normal feature-length Japanese drama, though the change in characters and perspectives do add some welcome variation. Production values are excellent, acting is great and Yuki