Title:Kikujiro By: Beat Takeshi Kitano Released by: Sony Pictures Classics Released on: Rating (out of 10): 9 Date: 02/04/2002
Beat Takeshi Kitano
Beat Takeshi Kitano's Kikujiro
Being a longtime fan of Japanese renaissance man ‘Beat’ Takeshi Kitano’s (Fireworks, Sonatine) work, I nearly jumped for joy when I found an English language DVD of his 1999 film Kikujiro sitting in the new releases section at my local video store. Despite the fact that the film isn’t your standard Kitano fare (there are no shootouts to be found here), I rushed home with high hopes—and the film certainly lived up to my expectations.
Originally titled Kikujiro no natsu (which I believe translates to Kikujiro’s Summer Vacation), Kikujiro is a sweet, touching, and occasionally sad film about a boy named Masao and his journey to find his real mother. Once he finds a picture that shows him where she lives, he sets out to meet her—bringing along the cranky ‘Mister’ (Takeshi Kitano) as his chaperone.
But, like most Beat Takeshi films, the point of the Kikujiro doesn’t involve finding the mother, nor is Masao really the main character. Instead, here we find another excellently conceived example of Kitano’s own unique brand of Zen filmmaking—one wherein the journey itself is far more important than the final destination.
While on the journey across Japan, Mister blows all of their money at the bicycle races, which forces our main characters to have to hitchhike across the country. They share numerous adventures, some funny (like when Mister takes Masao to a local fair and cheats at the midway games), others more dark and disturbing (Mister must save Masao from a pedophile at one point)—and all the while, the dour and cranky Mister learns to both love the boy and appreciate life.
The plot is nothing new—we’ve seen countless films over the years where grumpy adults are eventually won over by endearing children—the way that Kitano presents it, both in front of the camera with his acting and behind it with his direction, makes it all seem fresh and interesting anyway.
I’ve mentioned the word ‘journey’ a lot in this review, mainly because I think it’s one of the best words to sum up Kitano’s oeuvre. The man makes films that aren’t exactly linear in terms of narrative execution or visual presentation, but are instead meandering trips through a short time period in his characters’ lives. It’s this approach that allows Kitano’s films to mirror real life in many ways—very few things play out from point A to point B in the real world, we all go on little side trips in life, and often, it’s these little diversions that provide the best memories. Kitano isn’t afraid to become sidetracked—nor is he afraid to give these narrative asides as much screentime as some of the key segments because he realizes that it’s the voyage as a whole that makes life interesting, not just the completion of certain tasks.
If all that’s a little philosophical, allow me to offer my apologies. I don’t think you can really view any of Beat Takeshi’s films without pondering both the philosophy behind them and the one that guides your own life after watching them. This is one of the man’s strengths as a filmmaker—he inspires thoughtful reactions from his audiences time and again.
Kitano’s other strengths are far more grounded in the real world, though. The man certainly has a gift for snatching interesting ideas out of the air like a child catching butterflies on a sunny summer day. Even in his starkest Yakuza films, Kitano’s movies are always filled with a sense of beauty. Kikujiro is perhaps the most beautiful of all, only because the subject matter is so much lighter than many of his previous films. This lighter tone allows a more playful Kitano to emerge—both in front of the camera and behind it. In many ways, Kikujiro reminds me of the beach house segment in Sonatine (where a group of professional Yakuza cavort around like children)—only extended to nearly 2 hours in length.
Visually speaking, the film follows the standard Kitano style—meaning there are lots of long takes of the Japanese countryside where we watch a car move in from the back of the frame, move to the foreground, and then move out of the frame before moving on. I can’t say why, exactly, Kitano does this—but I’ve always thought it was to illustrate man’s insignificance. We move through the world, but once we’re gone, the world is still there. At any rate, it’s a very Japanese approach to filmmaking—and one that tends to confound a lot of western audiences who are used to hyper-edited flicks with a constant barrage of visual stimuli.
One area where Kitano does try something new is in his use of some interesting POV shots. We’re in a glass as liquid is poured into it, we see faces superimposed on a bell, etc. These shots are interesting mainly because Kitano hasn’t really used them in any of his previous films. They’re not anything blazingly original (at least not if you’ve seen a lot of Raimi, Soavi, or Argento films), but they do show a bit of growth on the filmmaker’s part. Couple this with some of the more surreal imagery (including several nightmare sequences) and you get a film that’s always interesting to look at.
Kitano also wrote the script (and edited the film, as well) and it’s quite good despite the familiarity of the idea. If Takeshi Kitano understands anything about the art of filmmaking (and I tend to think he understands a lot of things) it’s that film is a visual medium. Kitano’s films have always been filled with images as opposed to lines and lines of dialogue, another fact that tends to throw off western audiences who are generally used to major information being delivered by a series of talking heads. Here, characters convey the majority of their emotions through their faces—smiles, frowns, contemplative silences, etc. are all used to indicate moods...not conversation. Once a viewer gets used to this approach, you’ll start wishing more Hollywood movies utilized it as well—it simply makes the film more interesting, and in some ways, more open to personal interpretation.
The film also showcases quite a bit of Kitano’s humor (he’s a stand up comic, too). There are numerous funny moments scattered throughout the script, and as a testament to Kitano’s abilities as a comedian, most of them come through loud and clear—despite the fact that they were originally aimed at a Japanese audience. Like all good dramas, there’s a little bit of everything in Kikujiro--some comedy, some sad parts, some action, etc. Plus, it’s filled with a cast of characters who you’ll come to know and like as well.
Regular Takeshi Kitano composer Jo Hisaishi handles the scoring duties here, and like with all of his other work, it’s an amazing soundtrack. Hisaishi is something of a minimalist—making these short little pieces that play over and over throughout the film and manage to fit in many diverse situations despite the difference of the scene’s mood. Simply put, this guy is one of the best film composers working today—it’s a shame that American audiences aren’t more familiar with his work.
I viewed Kikujiro on DVD. The disc features a nice letterbox aspect ratio, good color and sound, and very readable subtitles. The disc features very few extras (basically some trailers for other Sony Pictures Classics films and a brief filmography for Takeshi Kitano), but just being able to see the film with English subs more than makes up for the lack of extras.
In the end, it’s disappointing that more Americans aren’t familiar with Takeshi Kitano’s work. In Japan, his films have brought in lackluster results at the box office despite being hailed by critics—something that’s possibly attributable to the fact that Kitano is over-exposed in his homeland (he’s on several TV shows, and does a host of other things). However, he doesn’t have that problem here in the States. Simply put, this man is one of the five greatest filmmakers in the world today and probably the best filmmaker you’ve never heard of. Kikujiro is a departure from his normal fare, but it’s still powerful and touching enough to please even the fans who only like his hardcore Yakuza films. Pick up a copy of Kikujiro--it’s a journey you won’t soon forget, and one that I look forward to taking again.
