Matt Cooper Films

Demolition Girl (2019) by Genta Matsugami

High-schooler Cocoa (Aya Kitai) attempts to scrape together enough money to attend college by acting in videos crushing objects with her feet. With her unemployed father (Yota Kawase) spending his days gambling away his benefit money, and her brother lounging at home, Cocoa must work to support her own dreams of attending college. A former friend of her brother, Naoki, films her stomping on trash, cans, balloons, and other things while dressed in her uniform, which he then sells on as fetish tapes to a low-level gangster to distribute. While Cocoa continually strives, using whatever means she can, to support herself; the world seems constantly turned against her, with her father’s recklessness; the school authorities lack of compassion; and the gangster’s selfishness, confounding her hopes at every turn.

“Demolition Girl”, directed by Genta Matsugami from a screenplay by Matsugami and Yoshitaka Kasui, is an interesting take on the coming-of-age drama, with a great central performance from Aya Kitai as Cocoa. Her challenging circumstances, living with her lazy, feckless, father and older brother, create immediate sympathy, along with her determined attitude to overcome them. She has good chemistry with her two schoolfriends, who both come from more comfortable family circumstances, in sharp conrast to her own struggles. The fetish videos are bizarre but get across the point the film is attempting to make about the constant exploitation of the poor by society and how the pursuit of money leads people into degrading states of being. Matsugami’s direction features some fun moments such as the standoff between Cocoa and the gang leader near the end of the film in one long, tense, take.

“Demolition Girl” has several familiar themes which it handles expertly, without being too heavy-handed in its messaging. Cocoa’s ability to pick herself up after every setback is commendable, and sets her apart from the grasping, self-centered immorality of the gangsters and her own family. We see society as deeply flawed, failing to protect the most vulnerable and well-meaning individuals, while illegality goes unpunished. In the end, Cocoa realises that the only way to truly thrive is to stick to your own values, rather than being pressured into forsaking your sense of self-worth or striving to fit societal expecations. Money and power often force people into unnatural self-abasement and the film’s conclusion applauds those who are able to step away from our warped value system towards self-belief and eschewing the twisted morality of modern capitalism.

Matt Cooper Films

Shodo Girls (2010) by Ryuichi Inomata

A high-school shodo club decide to set up a contest to bring new interest to their hobby. Head of the shodo club, Satoko (Riko Narumi), has seen membership declining under her strict leadership, with one of her best friends Mio having left after an argument. When a new teacher Ikezawa (Nobuaki Kaneko) arrives at the school and is put in an advisory role, another member Kiyomi (Mitsuki Takahata) also withdraws from the group, favouring Ikezawa’s passionate style as opposed to the austere reign of Satoko. The remaining girls decide to run a shodo competition, inviting local clubs in a challenge to show off their calligraphy skills.

Directed by Ryuichi Inomata, with a screenplay by Yuko Nagata, “Shodo Girls” is a by-the-numbers high-school club film. The problems the girls face are trivial, mostly involving interpersonal squabbles, and are all easily resolved. Ikezawa’s arrival is intended as a catalyst, but he actually contributes little to the dynamic of the main group, other than being a minor annoyance, perhaps providing an example to be avoided. The humour in the first half of the film is unfortunately one-note, with a repeated gag where people are splashed with ink. The three male members of the club serve as comic relief throughout, with no character development beyond a supporting role. The main cast do a decent job, Mitsuki Takahata’s Kiyomi is amusingly quirky, while Riko Narumi, Nanami Shinomori, Fujiko Kojima, and Rio Yamashita are believable as high-schoool friends, with chemistry and charm. By far the strongest part of the film is the final competition sequence, which shows of the talent and dynamism of shodo in a fantastically energetic way.

Shodo is the traditional Japanese art of calligraphy, with pieces being drawn on all sizes of paper, using ink and brush. There is a duality to shodo in it being both an introspective and expressive art form. This split nature speaks to the heart of Zen traditions in which balance is sought in all things. The girl’s final piece is entitled ‘Rebirth’, and it sees them finally realising their own will and enjoying life for what it is rather than what they expect it to be. Overall, a simple yet moderately enjoyable film about friendship, art, not being discouraged by setbacks, and speaking up for what you believe in, that closes strong.

Matt Cooper Films

King’s Game (2011) by Norio Tsuruta

A class at Tamaoka High School receive text messages telling them they must participate in a series of tests: at first seemingly innocuous things like a student confessing their love for another; or kissing another student. When students refuse to comply, they disappear mysteriously from the world, with only the remaining class members being able to recall their existence. Student Chiemi (Yurina Kumai) attempts to get to the bottom of the mystery as the tests become increasingly violent and classmates begin to disappear leaving few survivors.

Based on a popular mobile phone novel by Nobuaki Kanazawa and directed by Norio Tsuruta (“Premonition”), “Ousama Game” is a mild teen horror that is unlikely to shock fans of the genre. The film’s main problem is that the vanishing students, while inexplicable, is not particularly scary. The film is largely bloodless and the challenges early on are fairly tame. Things begin to get slightly more dangerous as the plot progresses, but the film could have offered more moral conundrums, or terrifying prospects for the protagonists to face. We learn little about any of the characters and instead spend the time waiting for a resolution that never arrives.

The central conceit of “Ousama Game” is an intriguing one, suggesting theological, political and sociological analogies. The presence of an omnipotent, capricious force, that tortures people for its own amusement provides a look at how religion brutalises believers through growing fear and paranoia, while dangling the possibility of an answer before them. However, it is this self-same absence of the possibility of reprieve that also removes from the film any sense of threat. When the realisation comes that there is nothing that can be done, it undermines any potential tension. Also, the rather awkward explanation and attempt at a twist fall flat as the person who is supposed to be suffering an interminable fate is oblivious to that fact, thereby making the entire enterprise pointless. A shaky premise that could have been rescued by some creative deaths or challenges sadly fails to capitalise on its limited potential.

Matt Cooper Films

Su-ki-da (2005) by Hiroshi Ishikawa

After giving up on baseball, highschooler Yosuke (Eita) spends his time after school practicing guitar, hoping to pursue a career in music. His classmate Yu (Aoi Miyazaki) comes to watch him play, although Yosuke seems uninterested in her. Yu is left in tears after kissing him when Yosuke runs away from her. He seems more interested in Yu’s elder sister (Sayuri Oyamada), who has lost her partner in a tragic accident. On her way to meet Yosuke, Yu’s sister is involved in an accident that leaves her in a coma. 17 years later, Yosuke (Hidetoshi Nishijima) and Yu (Hiromi Nagasaku) are reunited when Yu arrives at the music studio where he works to perform the song that he himself created in highschool, finally offering them both the chance for closure.

Written and directed by Hiroshi Ishikawa, “Su-ki-da” is a subtle romantic drama that leans heavily towards realism, with long pregnant silences as the characters sit beside each other, unwilling to express their inner thoughts. Aided by captivating performances by both the younger and older actors, we get a real sense of character, albeit largely confined to nuanced reactions or lack of communication rather than melodramatic set-pieces. Ishikawa’s measured cinematography captures these moments of tension as we wait expectantly for something to happen, creating genuine compassion for the protagonists. The plot is strikingly sparse yet effective, with a contemplative mood that gives the audience time to simply sit and ruminate with the characters.

“Su-ki-da” will not be for everyone, with its languid pacing and narrow focus on the two protagonsists, but there is plenty here to enjoy for fans of slow cinema. The film’s central drama is in the inability of characters to truly connect with one another, and the difficulty of genuine communication or understanding. We see this in the drawn out silences as we ourselves are forced to wonder what the characters are experiencing in these moments. The broad expanse of blue sky above the characters gives the impression of humanity as small, fragile creatures, albeit with dreams that stretch to unknown horizons. The repeated strains of Yosuke’s guitar riff, endlessly practiced but never perfected, are a perfect metaphor for humanity’s failure to realize an ultimate goal. Life is a work in progress, a journey without a destination. The time jump from high-school to adulthood shifts the drama from rural greens to urban greys, indicating a change in the characters from absolute freedom and opportunity to the more constrictive bounds of adult life. The final moments of the film come as catharsis from the mounting tension throughout, signifying not so much an ending as a new beginning. This quiet, contemplative film will deter some, but there is a beauty in its simplicity that speaks to real artistry.

Matt Cooper Anime, Films

100 Meters (2025) by Kenji Iwaisawa

Togashi (Tori Matsuzaka/Atsumi Tanezaki) is dedicated to the 100-meter sprint, believing that winning that race can solve all problems in life. When he meets transfer student Komiya (Shota Sometani/Aoi Yuki), who is passionate about running, but lacks Togashi’s ability, he decides to train him. After Komiya moves away, the pair meet again years later, now both competent runners and rivals for the National Championships. Meanwhile, other sprinters battling their own demons, are also hoping to claim the coveted number one spot: Zaitsu (Koki Uchiyama), the national record holder, Kaido (Kenjiro Tsuda), his long-time competitor, and Nigami (Jun Kasama), a former star struggling with confidence and physical health.

“100 Meters”, based on the manga by Uoto, with a script by Yasuyuki Muto, appears on the surface as a traditional sports film, with our young protagonists working to overcome various obstacles on their path to greatness. However, the film’s strength is in using the 100 meters race as a metaphor for life itself. Characters often discourse on the event, their drive to win, how they cope with failure, the purpose of running, and whether it is all for naught with the solemnity of people in an existential crisis. For them the race is life in microcosm, the joy, pain, suffering, beauty, thrill, the fear and the potential for glory. The film does an incredible job in bringing to life exactly what it means to the characters. Director Kenji Iwaisawa uses rotoscoping to create lifelike movement that seems unfamiliar at first when compared to traditional animation, but becomes vital in realising this world. It also allows for flowing camera movement and some stunning scenes when paired with the impressionistic style that breaks in on the realism at points. The sequence in which the runners prepare to race in the rain, a mix of rotoscoping and artistic weather effects blends both form and feeling in a unique and compelling style. This method of animation also allows for the performances to shine through, with a top class cast capturing the spirit of each character and their particular world view. Alongside, the main runners we also have a great supporting cast including Rie Takahashi, Yuki Tanaka, and Hiro Ishibashi. The music by Hiroaki Tsutsumi, is used at moments of high-drama to add a kick of adrenaline, getting the blood pumping alongside the athletes as we feel the excitement coursing before and during races.

“100 meters” focusses on a specific event in a specific discipline, but could just as easily have been about any individual event. As mentioned above, the main focus of the film is the relationship between Togashi and Komiya. It is wrong to call it a rivalry as we come to learn that they are not really racing against each other but against themselves; something that Nigami’s character almost states explicitly at one point. Komiya’s believes that nothing matters in the world; he runs because the pursuit of new records has become all-consuming for him; but he is disatisfied, no longer seeing any true value in this pursuit. Togashi, in contrast, comes to have a diffrerent view of the sport; and Zaitsu, Kaido and Nigami likewise all appear to be running for different reasons: either to prove something to themselves, to finally overcome their sense of inadequacy, or because it is all they have. Instead of asking “Why do we run?” the audience is forced to confront the more troubling question of “Why do we live?” What is the purpose of life, when we may not achieve our ultimate goal; or always feel second-best; when we are beset with tragedy and trials; when even victory seems hollow? The film’s answer to this question seems to lie in the final smile of Togashi, and for viewers willing to accept it the film provides solace in a seemingly bleak world.