Required viewing was in store for Doi Nobuhiro’s Ima, Ainiyukimasu, the biggest Japanese film for 2005 so far, picking up 3.8 million viewers. Despite been unabashedly melodramatic and saccharine, cliched even, *ahem*, I liked it. Perhaps an understanding of the original japanese dialogue added to the enjoyment of the film too. Take it as a guilty cinematic pleasure one indulges in every once in a while. *Mr Mckee, BFI S&S folks frowns disapprovingly*

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Finally.

On many levels, Yomigaeri ( Resurrection ) takes a striking affinity to past films like Soderbergh’s remake of Takovsky’s Solaris, as well as Mimi Leder’s disaster movie Deep Impact. Looking beyond the overt sci-fi setting where all the 3 films share a similar premise, what strings the 3 films into tandem are their nuanced and skilfully constructed plot devices that very successfully coaxes and yanks at the viewers’ own personal latent pool of memory, setting off a very intimate emotional response built on our own experiences, the classic case of “what if I were to live through the same experience” if you may. Think hearing a familiar tune off a radio that sets off nostalgic memories, only in this case you get the entire visual-aura package, enabling one to ease into the character’s plight, full assimilation and empathy, the whole works.

In Deep Impact the impending doom of the earth is rendered realistically enough for us to imagine that very last precious moments we can share with our loved ones, just as the protaganists do in the film, and in both Solaris and Yomigaeri the sudden reappearance of our most cherished people scrutinizes our ability to let go in the event of a death and probe one’s mind like a sharp needle straight through the cerebrum, though that heady, pleasurable feeling associated with the viewing experience can hardly be defined as pain.

When I first read about the plot summary of Ridley Scott’s Kingdom of Heaven at Cinfex.com many months ago while it was still pretty much in production, the immediate thought that crossed my mind was a biased one; how will the filmmakers portray the legendary military general Saladin ? My impressions were swayed in the direction that he would be misrepresented as a tyrant, merciless in his war against the crusaders, given the many instances in past Hollywood films where Muslims are often depicted as terrorists or religious extremists, ie the bad guys. Certainly I am no expert in the history of the Crusade but in watching this film a little background knowledge in the real history behind the story really does make the film significantly more enriching. ( perhaps this is the reason my classmates found the film largely boring, having never heard of Saladin nor the Crusade. )

For example, the famous scene where Saladin offers the king his physicians is a big nod to a real historical event, although it was offered to Richard the Lionheart ( the guy who announces himself the king of England at the end of the film ) rather than Baldwin ( the leper King ). Saladin was also known in history as a chivalric and merciful leader who generally left the Crusader Kingdom – Jerusalem – alone until the Crusaders repeatedly provoked him, attacking caravans of pilgrims, including one, yes, where his sister was travelling in. When they opened Saladin’s treasury after his death they found there was not enough money to pay for his funeral; he had given his money away to those in need.

Its hard to describe in words just how bizzare Ishii Katsuhito’s Cha no Aji ( The Taste of Tea ) is but its delightful combination of queer plot elements and even queerer characters makes for one very arresting viewing experience. I can’t quite remember the last time I was so zonked out after watching a film. Kanarazu mitekudasai.

Hou Hsiao Hsien’s Kohi Jikou ( Cafe Lumiere ) is an extremely quiet and halcyon film ( in fact bordering on extremes, especially to those whose tastes are not attuned to the arthouse ) that however speaks volumes in emotional resonance beneath it seemingly mundane scenes and locked camera shots. Tsai Ming Liang’s What Time Is It There comes to mind. Lee Ping Bing’s photography is remarkably unostentatious and austere, much more akin to his work in Spring Time in a Small Town than In The Mood For Love.

On a more personal level many of the scenes take on a very intimate and immediate feel, the locations been places I am familiar with while I’m here in Japan like Shinjuku train station ( the chime for a leaving train is especially nostalgic ), Yurakucho, and the short trams to Waseda, passing through Sangenjaya where my friend Berni used to live.