Matt Cooper Films

The Sea and Poison (1986) by Kei Kumai

Following the second world war, a captured Japanese doctor is facing interrogation by an American officer for his role in the live vivisection of 8 American captives during the war. Suguro (Eiji Okuda), the well-meaning junior doctor recounts his time working under doctor Hashimoto (Takahiro Tamura) at a medical facility, leading up to their infamous experiments. His fellow junior doctor, Toda (Ken Watanabe), does not share his qualms about the goings-on at the hospital, including lying to patients about deaths in surgery, or their live autopsies, all of which he believes furthers medical knowledge. The doctors and nurses at the facility continue with their jobs under constant threat of air raids and influence from the military.

Following the Second World War, many of the war crimes committed by the Japanese army, including the infamous Unit 731 were uncovered. In “The Sea and Poison”, based on the 1957 novel of the same name by Shusaku Endo, director Kei Kumai attempts to shed light on this, creating a moral drama that is chilling in its revelations and implications. Masao Tochizawa’s black and white cinematography creates a stark visual metaphor in the darkness that gathers in pristine white operating theatres. The hospital, ostensibly a place of hope, is nevertheless swarming with the shadow of death which seem to grow darker as the place is overtaken by concerns other than the health of the patients. The characters themselves are caught between the worlds of medicine and war, of helping to save life and taking lives. Eiji Okuda’s performance as Suguro captures the character’s anxieties and discomfort at what he is witnessing, along with his sense of impotence to stop it. The two scenes where we see operations are shown in gory detail, with exposed organs and viscera reminiscent of the most brutal horror films. Largely dialogue free save from the particulars of the operation, the actors explore the complex emotions of the staff as they witness these events, scientific curiosity; a vicarious sense of revenge from the soldiers; and the moral complexity of doing something so heinous for the greater good. The score by Teizo Matsumura has elements of the macabre and theatrical, with warped melodies alongside operatic arias that reflect the contrast in the film itself of terrible acts and the higher moral concerns of some characters.

“The Sea and Poison” is an important film that discusses the immoral acts carried out under the veil of war and in the name of scientific inquiry. Suguro is not a heroic character, failing to stop what happens or even to decline taking part in the experiments. Nurse Hilda, a German married to the head doctor, asks another nurse about god’s justice, and this is a theme that is repeated throughout the film. The idea that humans are operating without a set moral code, or with one that is flexible enough to accept such atrocities as a natural or unavoidable part of progress is a terrifying one. We see in the film that the military encroach on the hospital, later physically as they crowd into the operating theatre, suggesting that evil is intermingled with good and occasionally overpowers the better natures of people. In its cold, clinical, dissection of human nature the film finally settles on a chilling conclusion, that perhaps evil is as much a part of human nature as good. It offers a faint hope in the character of Suguro, who in his strolls by the sea is able to see society for what it is, suggesting that individuals have within them the power to ignore orders to do evil and are instead able to think morally and rationally outside of the system.

Matt Cooper Films

Suzume (2022) by Makoto Shinkai

High-schooler Suzume (Nanoka Hara and Akari Miura as young Suzume) has lived with her aunt Tamaki (Eri Fukatsu) since her mother passed away 12 years prior. On her way to school one day, she passes a mysterious older boy Souta (Hokuto Matsumura) who asks her if there are any ruins nearby. It seems that their quiet coastal town contains a door that offers a view through to a parallel world and one that contains within it a violent force in the shape of a large worm. Souta has arrived in town to prevent the worm breaking loose and causing a devastating earthquake. Suzume unwittingly removes the Keystone that takes the form of a white cat named Daijin (Ann Yamane) and transforms Souta into a three-legged chair. Feeling responsible for the impending disaster, Suzume sets out to chase the cat across Japan, carrying Souta with her as the two attempt to prevent the worms from emerging through the doors.

Makoto Shinkai is a director who seems to have found the magic formula for creating intriguing, engaging and moving stories. Following the success of “Your Name” and “Weathering with You”, this film brings together many of the familiar elements from those works, combining it with an original story that outdoes both in terms of it’s epic scope and emotional impact. From the first moments, the animation is exceptional, with swaying grasses, glittering water, sparkling constellations, ruins brimming with incredible detail, and every conceivable weather lovingly rendered. RADWIMPS return again to provide the soundtrack to the film along with Kazuma Jinnouchi. There are also a number of pop hits played during a road-trip sequence that are sure to have you tapping along. At this point Shinkai’s sublime animation, the sound design that wraps you in a believable world of wind, rain, chirping cicadas, and bustling background noise, is perhaps taken for granted. The story this time around relies less on the romantic boy-meets-girl plot of previous works, instead functioning as a coming-of-age story for Suzume and containing a much deeper theme relating to the tragedy of the Tohoku earthquake and tsunami that struck Japan in 2011. Rather than referring back to his own works, Shinkai pays homage to Hayao Miyazaki, in the adventurous female protagonist tackling not only a magical world, but also deep seated personal trauma. The Ghibli connection is made explicit in a couple of nods to “Kiki’s Delivery Service”. The road trip approach to the story, taking us from Kyushu, through Shikoku, to Kobe, Tokyo, and on to Miyagi, gives the film a forward momentum, enlivened by the epic confrontations of gods and demons from a parallel underworld, light humorous touches, and the colourful characters Suzume encounters (voiced by a number of great actors including Sairi Ito, Shota Sometani, and Ryunosuke Kamiki.

“Suzume” discusses the trauma of death, both general and specific, in a way that is accessible enough for a young audience without shying away from the harsh reality. By personifying the earthquakes, the film captures the sense of indiscriminate danger caused by them. We learn later in the film that Suzume was displaced from her home, taken to Kyushu to live with her aunt, following the earthquake of 2011, an event that still casts a shadow over many lives. The film treats its subject respectfully and earns the emotional pay off in Suzume’s story, which in less skilled hands could have seemed trite and exploitative. The film also returns to some of the ambiguity and complexity of Shinkai’s earlier works, with a moment of raw drama between Suzume and Tamaki that captures their fraught yet loving relationship. Even for those unfamiliar or not directly touched by the disaster, this story of a girl struggling to come to terms with the sudden, untimely death of her mother, is heart-wrenchingly believable.

Matt Cooper Films

Drive into Night (2022) by Dai Sako

Workers at a scrap-metal plant become involved in a police investigation in this multi-layered, psychological crime drama. Akimoto (Tomomitsu Adachi), spends his days driving around trying to secure scrap iron for his company. One night while out drinking with his co-worker Taniguchi (Reo Tamaoki), the two meet a saleswoman who was at their company earlier in the day and has been for a drink with the foreman Hongo (Tsutomu Takahashi). Following an incident that we don’t see much detail of, the woman disappears and suspicion falls on the company. Akimoto and Taniguchi succeed in placing the blame on Hongo, who must deal with the police enquiries, while the two men involved in the disappearance deal with their guilt over what happened.

The first half of “Drive into Night” is a sleek crime thriller, setting up several everyman characters, complete with their quotidian neuroses, extra-marital affairs, and their mundane, interminable work-life cycle. None of them appear particularly villainous, which makes what happens to the woman all the more shocking. After her disappearance, the film splits in two with one strand following Hongo and Taniguchi as they cover for their crimes and try to understand what is happening; and the other part following Akimoto as he becomes involved with a bizarre organization that claim to be able to create a new life for their followers. Akimoto’s relationship with a Filipino hostess, and entanglements with the Yakuza, suggest that the writer and director would be comfortable making a conventional crime drama, but are choosing to go off-piste and make something far more compelling and thought-provoking. The religious overtones, references to the devil, the ‘rebirth’ of Akimoto, ideas of sin and guilt, come together with the more traditional fare of hidden bodies, an underworld of clubs operated by gangsters, and cheating wives to create a film that is operating on more than one level, a knotted narrative that requires some work to untangle. The pared-back electric guitar of the detective story growls with heavy distortion when we reach moments of psychological trauma, further establishing the film as a bi-partite treatise on both the emotional and physical nature of humanity.

Dai Sako’s stylish direction, with outstanding cinematography by Yasutaka Watanabe, carries the film forward and offers a key to what is truly happening with the characters and the themes. The ultra-modern visual style matches the up-to-the-minute references to coronavirus and a sign proudly proclaiming the beginning of the Reiwa era. The mystery at the heart of the film soon becomes immaterial as we follow its effects on the characters involved, or implicated in the death of the woman. “Drive into Night” succeeds in telling several thematically and tonally diverse stories, which come together to create a fascinating if discordant whole.

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.