Matt Cooper Films

On the Edge of Their Seats (2020) by Hideo Jojo

Two friends in their final year of high-school, Asuha (Rina Ono) and Hikaru (Marin Nishimoto), arrive to watch a baseball game, a sport they know very little about. They are joined by fellow student, Fujino (Amon Hirai), who used to play but has since given up, and later the studious Miyashita (Shuri Nakamura) whose reasons for being there are less clear. Despite the urging of the enthusiastic English teacher, Mr. Atsugi, the four are at first uncomfortable cheering on their team who are playing much stronger opponents.

“On the Edge of their Seats” plays out almost as a one-act theatre piece, with the majority of the action taking place on the bleachers at the baseball game. We never see the field or players, instead the camera is firmly fixed on these often indifferent spectators, creating a unique dynamic as we see their reactions to the game and their discussions, and attention, wandering to and from the baseball. The actors are believable in their roles, with their naturalistic performances helped by a well observed, lightly comic script from Tetsuya Okumura. The story moves deftly from the humour of Asuha and Hikaru’s complete ignorance about the sport they are watching to themes of strained friendships, broken dreams and unrequited love. We learn that Asuha and Hikaru are members of the drama club, their hopes of participating in regional finals dashed by Hikaru catching the flu at the last minute; Fujino is pining for the quiet Miyashita; top student Miyashita is dealing with losing out on top place on a recent test to her romantic rival Kusumi (Hikari Kuroki). The script builds all the elements quietly, slowly introducing new strands to the story and creating believable characters who have a good chemistry together. It cuts away from the stands occasionally, using the setting of the baseball stadium well to break up the action.

A fun, coming-of-age film that takes a unique approach to its familiar themes. The friendship of Asuha and Hikaru being tested; the faltering romances of several characters; the stress surrounding test results; and teenage angst, are all encapsulated in a single afternoon spent watching baseball. Although we do not see the game, baseball is used as an allegory for life throughout. The idea of the outfielders, paid little attention until they make a mistake, or the incompetent batter who nevertheless remains determined to succeed, provide parallels with the way society treats those unlucky individuals who fail to make centre stage. The idea of the characters as observers, rather than players, emphasises this idea, with them sitting as far away from the ‘action’ as they can. The teacher character of Atsugi, as might be expected in a teen drama, offers several words of wisdom throughout. The four characters, who have largely given up on their dreams, are shown that it is not the result but the effort that is most important; and that people should continue chasing their dreams no matter how many setbacks they encounter.

Matt Cooper Films

Organ (1996) by Kei Fujiwara

Police officers, Numata (Kenji Nasa) and his partner Tosaka (Takaaki Yoshimoto), are undercover investigating an organ harvesting gang. When their cover is blown, Numata manages to escape the ensuing gunfight while Tosaka is captured. The organ thieves, Saeki (Kimihiko Hasegawa) and Yoko (Kei Fujiwara) continue their murderous activities, evading capture by the police and repercussions from the criminal gang who are unhappy with their operation being discovered. Tosaka’s whereabouts are being investigated by Numata and Tosaka’s own identical twin brother.

Written and directed by Kei Fujimoto, who also stars as Yoko, “Organ” is a gruesome blend of police action and body horror. The visually grotesque sequences of organ harvesting and transformation, reminiscent of Tsukamoto’s “Tetsuo” (which Fujiwara acted in), are effective in establishing the depraved criminality of the antagonists; and highlighting human vulnerability and mortality. The special effects, helped by close-up, handheld camerawork and lighting, are stomach-churning, bringing even the more outrageous concepts to sickening life. The film’s direction is often disorienting, packed with close-ups in cramped quarters, the editing intercutting between sequences, and the blending together of three subplots that rarely overlap. This gives the whole film the feel of a Frankenstein’s monster, dissected and reassembled from parts; a story that becomes easier to understand the more we see of it. The inclusion of flashbacks showing Junichi and Yoko’s troubled childhood are a good example of a scene that seems to be spliced in, but without which much of the emotional connection to the characters would be lost.

As the film progresses, the plot becomes clearer and the characters more well-defined, but “Organ” remains a film that works best on an experiential or metaphorical level. In one of the weirder sequences we see a humanoid figure emerging from a cocoon. It comes from nowhere and is not apparently referencing anything literal in the film. We see Junichi struggling with some strange condition, turning into a monster before our eyes, perhaps a nod to the idea of his sins manifesting physically. The strength of the film is in what it says about human frailty, and what constitutes morality when we live in such a fragile state, at the mercy of disease that is as ruthless as the criminals in the film. “Organ” also delves into psychology with the notion that Junichi and Yoko’s past may have forced them down this path of destruction, or at least taught them not to value human life. A curious film that works as a simple action-horror, but contains darker truths if you scratch beneath the surface.

Matt Cooper Films

Re/Member (2022) by Eiichiro Hasumi

A group of high-school students are tasked with reconstructing a body to stop a monstrous curse in this teen action-horror. Asuka (Kanna Hashimoto) is an introverted high-school girl who struggles to fit in after an incident in her early school life left her ostracised from the popular groups. At midnight one night she finds herself transported to a chapel by the school, along with five other students, Rumiko (Maika Yamamoto), Rie (Yokota Mayu), Atsushi (Fuju Kamio) Takahiro (Gordon Maeda) and Shota (Kotaro Daigo). The bookish Shota is able to shed light on their situation, explaining that they must recover several severed body parts and lay them in a casket in the chapel. They are hunted through the school by a bloodied child carrying a teddy bear, the victim of an historic murder. Failure, often due to being killed by the bloodied child, results in the six being returned to the morning of the previous day. In order to break this cycle they must work together to find all the parts of the body.

Re/Member starts out strong, with some brutal horror and excellent direction by Eiichiro Hasumi perfectly capturing the creepy vibe. The group of school-children being hunted by a supernatural horror is a well-worn story by now, but the gruesome deaths, eerie night-time chases around the school, and the mysterious past of the monster are stylishly woven together. The film’s main failing is in the fact that the story removes most of the tension by explaining that they will repeat the same night over again if they are killed. This wouldn’t be an issue if not for the fact that the characters themselves soon seem overly relaxed about their predicament, taking time out for a fun day at the beach, and even moments of romance, seemingly unconcerned by being brutally murdered night after night. The lack of threat undermines the elements that are well done, with some fun action and excellent special effects. The earlier monster of the young blood-spattered child is replaced by a less effective antagonist later in the film. Threat is added later on when the teenagers’ mortality is re-established, but this could have been included from the beginning. The horror score creates a sense of dread that manages to recapture some of the terror that should be felt. If you can put aside the large plot-holes and inexplicable story elements then “Re/Member” is a fun teen horror. The film is based on a web novel, with a screenplay by Harumi Doki.

One element that the film strives to bring out is the relationship between the characters. The notion that the monster is the personification of their loneliness is an interesting element, but one that fits poorly with the fact that it is trying to tear them limb from limb. The solidarity and comradeship the six require to defeat it is a positive message, but again the questions over exactly what the purpose of the ‘Body Hunt’ is for stands in the way of any other considerations. Much like the dismembered corpse, it is a film that seems put together from several popular teen move tropes. Although it is not particularly original, the cast and set-piece action moments are strong enough to make for an enjoyable action horror.

Matt Cooper Anime, Television

Junji Ito Maniac Tales of the Macabre (2023)

Junji Ito’s superlative manga have been portrayed on film several times (Uzumaki, Tomie) and this new anthology series allows the creators the opportunity to explore a number of stories, varying from surrealist, psychological, paranormal and gory horror.

The sheer number of fresh ideas presented here makes the series endlessly entertaining. We have tales of weird science, playing on notions of quantum physics where people pass through solid objects alongside more traditional horror fare of ghosts and poltergeists. The series also delights in twisting a familiar tale into something more surreal, such as the episode in which a suspicious ice-cream man takes children for a ride around the block in his van, with the the twisted revelation somehow being more disturbing that the imagined terror. The film takes uncomfortably familiar situations such as stranger danger like this and then distorts it into something graphically surreal. Some of the endings are slightly laughable, but nevertheless strangely unsettling. Another example of this sort of outrageous, logic-bending horror is in the giant head-shaped balloons that appear and begin strangling people; again merging the bizarre with the genuine terror of suicide. Rationality is often left at the door, with the inclusion of inexplicably creepy characters in an otherwise normal family, such as a boy who walks around with nails dangling from his mouth.

Ito’s style is immediately recognizable and the show does a good job of replicating it with the character and art design imitating the wilder elements of his peculiar ouvre. It is a world of almost permanently overcast skies, dull colours, and people who seem scarily at home with the preternatural terror they encounter. Overall the anime is understated, slow, and relies more on the queerness of the particular situation than overt graphic violence. There are no jump-scares, or graphic shocks, instead the episodes rely on a creeping fear and the sheer oddness of the setups. Episodes end suddenly, often without completely explaining or resolving the central tension, leaving the audience with that lingering uncertainty not only about what happened to the characters, but often what the significance of the events were. With its narrative creativity and left-field take on the horror genre “Junji Ito Maniac” is well worth a watch for fans of Ito or horror in general for

Matt Cooper Films

Call Me Chihiro (2023) by Rikiya Imaizumi

Chihiro (Kasumi Arimura) is a former sex-worker now employed at a street bento shop, where her previous profession makes her popular with their male clients. Being estranged from her own family, Chihiro’s upbeat demeanour leads to a series of friendships with people she meets. Firstly, an elderly homeless man whom she rescues from gang of children; a young boy Makoto (Tetta Shimada), whose single-mother is rarely home to care for him; Okaji (Hana Toyoshima), a schoolgirl who finds her formal family life stultifying and unsatisfactory. Chihiro’s older friendships include her surrogate mother Tae (Jun Fubuki), the blind wife of the bento shop owner who she is visiting in hospital; Basil (Van), a singer at a show pub; and her former boss (Lily Franky). Through these connections, Chihiro discovers the value of friendship and the true meaning of family.

Based on a manga by Hiroyuki Yasuda, “Call Me Chihiro” is a quiet character study of several lonely individuals, who stitch together for themselves a surrogate family, bound by their mutual feelings of isolation or abandonment. The cast do a wonderful job bringing these characters to life, with their nuanced stories all brought together by the central theme of loneliness. Kasumi Arimura’s Chihiro is burdened by her estrangement from her family, and unknown difficulties in her past, but putting a brave face on it. Her charisma masks a deep sadness and Arimura’s performance perfectly captures this shimmering surface hiding darker truths. The supporting cast are all exceptional, and a sequence late in the film when they enjoy a rooftop meal together brings home the extent to which they manage to build up genuine connection with each other and the audience. Rikiya Imaizumi’s relaxed direction, often framing the dialogues simply and allowing the actors to perform without distraction, helps build a sense of realism and emotional realism. The script grows organically from the interactions between the characters, slowly pulling together their stories and the similarities between them becoming evident as things progress. We don’t discover much about Chihiro’s past life, aside from a tense phone call with her brother regarding their mother’s death and a few flashbacks; similarly the script and performances succeed in giving lots of information about the characters without explicitly stating it (one example of this is in Okaji’s family dinner scenes, which show the relationships and attitudes of every member of the family through an everyday situation).

“Call Me Chihiro” explores the idea of social isolation, with many characters commenting on Chihiro’s loneliness. Despite her apparently being personable and making friends easily, she remains distant from those around her, struggling to make genuine connections. Food plays an important part in the film as a symbol of affection. Makoto’s hunger when he is locked out of his apartment; Okaji’s emotionless family meals; Chihiro’s enjoyment of solitary meals, all take on a deeper significance when considering the character’s need for love or lack of it. This link between food and love is well done, connecting together several of the stories without being an overly forced metaphor. The film also raises the idea of individuals as permanently isolated, suggesting that humans are aliens from diverse planets inhabiting similar physical forms. Only those lucky enough to find a soul from the same planet are able to find true companionship, with the rest doomed to live out a life in which they are never fully able to relate to others. You can choose your friends, but you can’t choose your family, is the central premise of the film, with Chihiro finally accepting her assumed name over her birth name Aya Furusawa, symbolising her determination to be the person she wants to be and to seek out meaningful relationships rather than societally obligated ones.