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.

Matt Cooper Films

Rurouni Kenshin: The Beginning (2021) by Keishi Otomo

Kenshin Himura (Takeru Sato) joins an anti-shogunate force led by Katsura Kogoro (Issey Takahashi), soon becoming one of their greatest assessins due to his unmatched skills with a sword. Himura meets a young woman Tomoe Yukishiro (Kasumi Arimura), recently bereaved after the man she was due to marry was cut down by Himura. Tomoe, overcome by grief, slowly comes to realise that Himura’s violent image masks a much more kind-hearted soul, and one that yearns for peace.

“Rurouni Kenshin: The Beginning” is a prequel to “Rurouni Kenshin: The Final”, and draws a lot of its tension from the viewing order (The Final being released first). Having seen “The Final”, and previous Kenshin films, we already know the fate of Kenshin and Tomoe, so at times this is a poignant watch not so much for what is happening on screen, but for what we know is coming later for these characters. Despite being a prequel, and the fifth in a series of lengthy historical epics, the film manages to feel fresh and inventive. The story is more sombre and melancholic than pervious entries. The fight sequences see a more brutal, violent, deadly, approach replacing the bombast, acrobatics and large scale battles of earlier films. This is fitting as we are seeing Himura in his previous incarnation as ‘Battosai the Killer’, before he became a peaceful wanderer, when his determination to restore the Emporer saw him on a single-minded mission to eliminate all pro-shogunate forces. The choreography is outstanding again, but with a more merciless edge. The film’s focus on a small cast of characters, the majority of the narrative revolving around Himura and Tomoe’s relationship, allows for a different feel from the ensemble casts we are familiar with, creating a more personal and nuanced drama. Their story is a tragic love story predestined by their political and personal motivations. Knowing what is coming makes it all the more difficult to watch their relationship develop, their mistrust replaced by a growing loyalty. The pacing, score and cinematography all reflect the tragic themes, using the environments to bolster the action; the wintry duel at the end perfectly captures the coldheartedness and silent suffering of the protagonists. Being the fifth film in the series, there is familiarity in the exceptional work of set and costume designers, recreating the historical Kyoto, and for keen-eyed viewers it is interesting to note the small details in every scene.

This film takes us back to before Kenshin became “Rurouni”, when he was still a coldblooded killer, effortlessly dispatching scores of shogunate soldiers. It is somewhat surprising that he still appears as a largely sympathetic character, despite his copious bloodletting and slaughter of hundreds of individuals, but Sato’s performance and the delicate way the script deals with the tumultuous period setting mean that we are able to relate to some extent with the protagonist. The film tackles the thorny issue of whether violence, even murder, is ever justified in achieving political ends. As Tomoe tells Himura, the idea of fighting for peace seems strange. His actions are completely contrary to his stated desire to bring about peace, apparently causing only suffering. As with other Kenshin films, the real history of the period is used primarily as set dressing, and the film has little commentary on the rights or wrongs of each side of the conflict. No doubt, historians will know the significance of shogunate and imperial forces, but for the viewers it is enough to know that our hero is fighting for the emporer, and those trying to stop him are fighting for the shogun. The finale of the film returns us to the opening of the first live-action Kenshin film, a beautiful ending that recontextualises Himura’s actions following the battle of Toba-fushimi. An incredible denoument to the “Rurouni Kenshin” saga, a contemplative drama that gives depth to the character and raises difficult questions about the role of violence in effecting change.

Matt Cooper Films

Flying Colours (2015)

After finding it difficult to make friends at her school, Ayaka’s sympathetic mother gets her enrolled in a top high school. Ayaka soon settles in to her new school and makes a group of friends. Unfortunately, her education soon takes second place to fashion, make-up and having fun. When she is suspended from the school after cigarettes are found in her bag, her despairing mother decides to enrol her in a cram school. Ayaka (Kasumi Arimura) is at the bottom of her class, but the encouragement of the teacher Tsubota (Atsushi Ito) persuades her to apply for the prestigious Keio University.

Based on a novel by Nobutaka Tsubota, based in part on his own experiences, the film is directed by Nobuhiro Doi from a screenplay by Hiroshi Hashimoto. “Flying Colours” is an interesting film in that it begins as a straightforward comedy, complete with jokes about Ayaka’s complete ignorance of even basic concepts and facts about any subject, but transforms into more of a serious drama as it progresses. It is a little unbalanced in this regard, as the jokes tail off almost completely in the middle third only to return later on in the film. Kasumi Arimura is entertaining as Ayaka, going from airheaded teen to conscientious student. Atsushi Ito is also great as Tsubota, dispensing words of wisdom to his students and emboldening them with his own love of learning. The actors portraying Ayaka’s mother (Yo Yoshida), father (Tetsushi Tanaka), brother (Yuhei Ouchida) and sister (Kokoro Okuda) are fantastic and there is a lot of time spent with the family. Also, Shuhei Nomura as Reiji, who is forced to attend the cram school by his overbearing mother. The cinematography by Yasushi Hanamura perfectly captures the magical essence of teen life. In particular shots of Ayaka cycling past a sunset and the camera work with family and friends create an emotional journey that carries you along with the characters.

“Flying Colours” shows a particular subculture of Japan, that will nevertheless be familiar to high schools everywhere. Teenage life is an interesting time and this film captures that uncertainty about the future balanced with the notion that every moment of youth is important to cherish. It is clear that Ayaka is at a crossroads, something that is made clear to her when she visits Keio University and understands that getting accepted could change everything about her path in life. The film also deals with some quite difficult issues surrounding family relations. Ayaka’s father is an almost monstrous caricature of a patriarchal figure who has little to no time for his daughters. He spends all his time focusing on his son, to the detriment of Ayaka’s education and upbringing. The film lays the blame squarely at his door for this failing. Meanwhile her mother is kind and supportive. This male-female divide is a pointed statement on the patriarchal tendency of traditional family dynamics. A hugely enjoyable film with fantastic performances, a great sense of fun balanced with more serious themes, and an uplifting message about trying hard to overcome any obstacle.