Director Sakaguchi Katsumi’s latest feature documentary Songs of Triumph may deal with Hansen’s Disease, more commonly known as leprosy, but it is not about the disease. That is to say, his movie is not a lecture on the disease itself. Like many of Sakaguchi’s works, the focus is entirely on the human subjects, on putting genuine faces to otherwise impersonalized issues. In the case of the Hansen’s Disease sufferers featured in Songs of Triumph, their stories of the persecution and discrimination inflicted upon them by an ignorant public as well as unsympathetic government serves as an important warning of how fear can drive inhumane actions. The timeliness of Sakaguchi’s movie can’t be stressed enough. Human behavior changes very little. The demonization of the disease and/or its source; fear of infection driving suspicion of or discrimination toward those who become afflicted with the disease; misinformation and/or ignorance forming the base for public policies are all currently ongoing. But the human spirit is also indomitable. The strength and will to live life with dignity despite the personal tragedies suffered by the subjects featured in the documentary serve as a powerful reminder that people can choose to become a beacon for the generations to follow rather then succumb to (justifiable) indignation. Ultimately, Songs of Triumph espouses the triumph of its subjects over the stigmas which had and continues to affect their lives as Hansen Disease victims by simply and unobtrusively allowing them to be human beings on camera.
The screening attended was followed by a talk session with SKIP CITY INTERNATIONAL D-Cinema FESTIVAL programming director Hasegawa Toshiyuki who discussed the appeal of Sakaguchi’s style of documentary filmmaking, confirming he himself wasn’t sure about a movie dealing with Hansen’s Disease, but was won over by the beautiful souls of those featured, particularly Yamauchi Kimie who is seen on the poster. The movie will continue to play at Image Forum in Shibuya until December 18th. Meanwhile Sakaguchi and producer Ochiai Atsuko continue to crowdfund for future screenings. The next venue will be at the Nagoya Cinematheque starting in January 2021.
As with all entertainment or media entities, its graphic identity creates immediate visual recognition with its audience while distinguishing it from competitors. Whether it’s the motion graphics preceding movies or merely the production company’s logo, the brand identity expresses the history, philosophies, and/or personality of the company and its work. Clearly communicating what Indievisual represents would involve an exploration in to exisiting identities, selecting the direction appropriate for Indieviesual, and most importantly going through the process of establishing what is Indievisual’s philosophy, attitude, and character in order to create the graphic which identifies it. Working with a limited (that is to say non-existent) budget there were a few challenges to overcome. Ironically, my graphic design background led me on a roundabout journey toward the final solution.
One of the most exciting projects for a graphic designer is creating a complete identity package for a client. Conceptualizing then realizing a identifying mark used across the client’s sphere of activities is one of the pinnacle challenges in graphic communication. How does a single mark or iconography sum up everything about a particular entity? Setting this as the starting point of the initial research, I began looking into existing logos. Because Indievisual is a magazine dealing with the Japanese independent film industry, examples were first drawn from entertainment companies.
These companies have come to be known by their single mark alone through which their productions also become synonymous. They are succint in their imagery and clear in their branding. There are icons which, even without the associated words, can still identify the company such as the CBS “eye”, NBC “peacock”, the Columbia Pictures “maiden” (for lack of a better word), New Line’s “film frame,” or the Paramount “mountain and stars.” Some, however, do have distinct typography as well. The Disney script or the “WB” of the Warner Bros. shield are unmistakable and non-replicable, while Universal’s letters are an element of their overall globe logo. Dreamwork’s young boy fishing on the moon is a strong symbol, but so is the logotype which is featured prominently in the motion logo attached to its productions. This combination of logomark and typography became the initial direction I sought to take for Indievisual’s identity as an iconographic representation seemed appropriate for Indievisual. There certainly was a strong image from which to begin: Japan’s red circle represented in its flag. Film reels are round as well. So exploration began into how to represent Japanese independent cinema in pictographic form.
I dived in further into independent film organizations and production companies.
Yabusame is an exhibition of Japanese horseback archery wherein riders at full gallop shoot arrows at stationary targets. It is said roots of the event can be traced back to the 6th Century. Today, it is both a stunning presentation of power, skill, and pageantry as well as the preservation of tradition, culture, and Shinto spiritualism. It is martial arts elevated to its most pure and philosophical form.
Indievisual interviewee Furuta Wataru was given unique access to photograph Yabusame events held in four places across Japan and has created an exquisite photo book chronicling the archers, the horsemanship, the colorful costumes, and the people who strive to keep this practice alive. Moreover, the decision to publish the eBook was purposefully chosen at this unprecedented time as a means to assist the Japan Equestrian Archery Association and the Takeda School of Horseback Archery which have been impacted by event cancellations due to the ongoing COVID-19 crisis. Holding public exhibitions is the primary source of income for the care and maintenance of the horses, therefore they have been subjected to similar hardships as anywhere else in the world. Wanting to pay back the trust these groups placed in him to document their practices, Furuta is donating a portion of the book sales to assist with their running costs.
If you’re a fan of Japanese culture or Japanese martial arts, the book is a stunning collection of authentic feudal Japan culture preserved for modern times. If you’re experiencing the wonder, beauty, and lethality of ancient Japanese samurai marital arts through “The Ghost of Tsushima,” here’s a chance to see the real-life costumes, weapons, and techniques employed by Jin, Lady Masako, and in particular Sensei Ishikawa, among others captured against the backdrop of Japan’s pristine natural surroundings and interestingly enough urban settings, too.
For international buyers, the “Yabusame” eBook can be found on Amazon’s Kindle Bookstore as well as Apple Books. Domestic buyers can also find it on Kinokuniya, BookLive, Yodobashi, BookWalker, honto, mibon, and RakutenKobo.
There is not much sense in writing too much about Manga Jima director Moriya Fumio’s latest feature. What he has intended and by all accounts succeeded to accomplish is quite different from any yardstick used to measure movies. There will surely be discussions questioning those intentions and debating its accomplishments. Moriya more than anyone understands the gauntlet he has thrown down for himself as a filmmaker and to the audience who views it which is why he has self-labelled it a “controversial work”. But whatever you think those words mean can not prepare you for what you actually experience.
A Girl Under A Tree is two things. First, it is a still life. It recalls Georges Seurat’s pointillist masterpiece ‘A Sunday on La Grende Jatte’ with the vivid details of its outdoor setting. All manner of shades of green interplay with one another as sunlight backlights and shades the flora around actress Yanagi Elisa (Rolling, Ping Pang, Capturing Dad). There are patterns and textures throughout and fine detail revealed through closer, focused viewing. Yanagi herself would seem at home within Edouard Manet’s ‘The Luncheon on the Grass’ as an equally gentle, understated portrait of a girl lounging on a hammock; even more so whenever Yanagi breaks the fourth wall just as the foreground figure of Manet’s painting. However, this is also a motion picture and therefore it changes as time progresses. The subject moves, changes her pose, and there are layered soundscapes to be enjoyed in that way cinema differs from painting. Listen for the sounds of life going on around her as well as a subtle soundtrack which meanders its way throughout the runtime.
Second, the movie is a meditation. Not on any particular subject matter per se, but the movie itself is themeditation. In that sense, it is likely to reveal much about its audience. Who stays. Who leaves. Who finds value in it. Who dismisses it. Who loses themselves to its world. Who rails against it. When Yanagi breaks the fourth wall, what do they see in her gaze or expression? Do they look back? Or do they look elsewhere to avoid that gaze? The movie affords the audience 90 minutes in real-time to spend with Yanagi and see, hear, and possibly feel everything she does. Perhaps more. Moriya leaves whatever is gained from the experience completely up to the viewer. As one, little green sage once advised, what you find there is “only what you take with you.”
Perhaps before COVID-19, Moriya’s movie may have been panned as a self-indulgent exercise. But as people slowly come out from (continue to) quarantine or are still dealing with life mostly cooped up at home, A Girl Under A Tree could redefine “escapism” in a New Normal movie-going experience. Within those darkened spaces reduced in seating capacity, its calming window onto organic scenery and sound beckons the audience to daydream, to momentarily forget the anxieties of the past months and/or the future. This is theater-quality ASMR (Autonomous Sensory Meridian Response). Therefore, it is safe to say participating with this movie in a theatrical or similar setting is most likely what Moriya truly intends. A Girl Under A Tree is one of those cinema experiences only an independent film can provide and Moriya should be lauded for not only daring to make it, but to actually realize it with aplomb.
Notes on the Margin
– Though a single take, the movie took two days to shoot. – Moriya and Yanagi had to agree upon ways to communicate as Moriya obviously could not bark out direction to her. More importantly they needed to confirm beforehand the signal for the two times Moriya wanted Yanagi to move. Though he had an image in his head, he fumbled to express what needed to happen afterward resulting in Yanagi perhaps not fully grasping what he wanted for the movie. – On the first take of the first day, Moriya and the cinematographer noted their camera positioning captured Yanagi too small within the frame. The re-setup cost them 50 minutes and the second take began later than intended, costing them sunlight toward the later section. It was at this point Moriya gave Yanagi direction to look toward the camera and be conscious of the audience beyond. – The morning of day two, Yanagi emerged smiling from a nearby onsen and told Moriya, “I understand”. He assumed she “understood” what he intended for the movie or perhaps the direction to engage with the audience, but he wasn’t sure how she came to that understanding given the previous day’s occurrences. All that he knew is her face was different that day and he wanted to be on set as soon as possible. – The first take of the second day started at 3pm. Yanagi hardly moved. Before long she took Moriya’s cue and sat up and just as if they designed it, a breeze blew and rustled the trees. Yanagi’s movements were exactly as Moriya hoped to see indicating she truly did understand what he intended. During the take the sunlight darkened behind clouds so he decided to let the take continue but keep it for additional material. – Before take two, they readjusted the position of the hammock due to the time of day. Cinematographer Takagi Fuuta said by doing so the sun would come into frame. A check of the monitor showed Yanagi with warm edge lighting giving the scene a floating feeling. That is when they took the still for the poster. – Take two started at 4:50pm. This time Moriya left the timing to look toward the camera completely up to Yanagi. As predicted, the sun’s movement put it in a direct line with the camera lens and the image slowly began to blowout (turn white or overexposed). Moriya turned toward Takagi to ask if this was a problem, but found Takagi instead delighted by what he was witnessing.
Although he remains a Dentsu employee, Nagahisa was mainly assigned unglamorous projects after he joined the advertising powerhouse in 2007. Instead of producing more creative TV commercials, he made video clips to sell beef at supermarkets and TV programs to promote local mascots. Proceeds from such productions were paltry for Dentsu.
“But I wanted to make things to satisfy clients, so I was busy and it was physically demanding,” Nagahisa said.
The stress caught up with him three years ago, and his health fell apart. He temporarily lost his hearing and couldn’t go out because of chest pain.
Determined to do something he wanted to do before it was too late, Nagahisa decided to make the movie he had dreamed of when he was a student. He took a paid leave of absence and shot his first movie, And So We Put Goldfish in the Pool, in 10 days in 2016. The title won the Short Film Grand Jury Prize at Sundance.
Nagahisa Makoto’s situation is emblematic of the visual creator in Japan. Financial stability can be found by becoming an employee at an advertising firm or other video production house–Dentsu happens to be the largest in Japan–where one is a cog. And in Makoto’s case, a cog they couldn’t figure out where to place and how to utilize. On the other hand, going solo as an independent filmmaker carries with it all the accompanying risks making the option a difficult choice when you have a family for whom to provide. But when one is professionally ostracized for being unique, what is one to do? Fortunately, Makoto had a vision and thankfully the drive (as fear motivated as it was) to create the movie he wanted (“Goldfish”). Many filmmaking voices in Japan must struggle with how to be unique and uncompromising in a society which values the exact opposite from newcomers, and even experienced veterans who work often with major studios. With luck, Makoto’s success abroad will be an example for both filmmakers and their employers of the potential they possess.
“There’s a tendency in modern society to just demand what’s right, saying ‘be positive, be serious,’” Nagahisa added. “But I hope the movie sends the message that it’s OK to run away, be a social recluse or go off the rails at times when it becomes too much for you.”
