Showing posts with label awards. Show all posts
Showing posts with label awards. Show all posts

14 June 2016

Dear Deer (ディアーディアー, 2015)





Dear Deer (ディアーディアー, 2015)

Takeo Kikuchi’s debut feature film, Dear Deer (ディアーディアー / Diā Diā, 2015), won the Nippon Visions Jury Award at this year’s Nippon Connection.  The film was recommended to me by festival curator Atsuko Morimune because the opening sequence features animation by Atsushi Wada, who was my NC animation guest in 2012.


A young woman (a much too short cameo by the wonderful Rinko Kikuchi) is alone in the exhibition space of a local museum at closing time.  She presses a button several times in order to watch a video installation but it does not play.  A few moments after she walks away in frustration, the film plays for the cinema audience.  Animated with Atsushi Wada’s signature style, the short film tells the story of the local Ryōmō sika deer (sika deer are known as shika in Japan), a type of sika deer famous for its antlers, which used to be found in the Ryōmō district of Tochigi Prefecture.  The film claims that the deer used to be prolific until invading foreign species, industrialisation, and hunting drove them into extinction by the Second World War.  Fifty years later, three local children spotted a deer and took a blurry photograph of it.  The people of Ryōmō celebrated this sighting, but as no Ryōmō deer have been spotted since, many believe it to have been a different species of deer (see note at end of review for deer facts).


The story begins twenty-five years later when the three siblings who spotted the Ryōmō deer reunite in their hometown because their father is dying.  The eldest son, Fujio (Kōji Kiryū), stayed at home to run the family business but the economic downturn and his father's hospital bills have left him burdened with debt.  The second son, Yoshio (Yōichirō Saitō), has lived away from home for a long time and is jobless and struggling with mental health issues.  The daughter, Akiko (Yuri Nakamura), has also lived away since leaving school and is trying to divorce her husband.


This family reunion is fraught with problems as each sibling is in turn confronted with issues that they have avoided for much too long.  Fujio is under pressure from a local developer to sell his land to make way for a shopping centre.   Fujio knows he cannot save the business and he needs the money to pay his bills, but he is under pressure from the community not to sell his father’s factory. 

Although his family seems to think that he is mentally ill, Yoshio’s main problem seems to be an inability to take responsibility for the mistakes he has made in his life.  This issue manifests itself in the form of an incident that occurs when Fujio lets Yoshio take the wheel of their father’s car.  His neglectful driving leads him to run over a dog.  Rather than trying to find its owner and apologize, Yoshio buries the dog, and tries to cover his tracks with a series of lies.

Similarly, rather than using the time at home to come to terms with why her marriage has failed, Akiko throws herself back into a toxic high school affair.  As layer upon layer of the weaknesses of these siblings is revealed, we are hooked into the storylines by our curiosity to see whether or not the central characters have an epiphany about their lives, or if they will continue in a downward spiral.

The extinction of the deer and the disintegration of the family serve as metaphors for the decline of small towns all over Japan which are suffering because young people and businesses have moved to larger city centres.  The film was shot in the director’s home town of Ashikaga in Tochigi Prefecture and was produced by the lead actor Kōji Kiryū with his own production company Office Kiryu (オフィス桐生).

The most intriguing thing for me about this film is the fact that I identified more with the minor characters – Akiko’s underappreciated writer husband Seiichi (Yurei Yanagi) and the poor family who lost their dog – than I did any of the central characters.  I dearly hope Kikuchi does a sequel about the life of Akiko’s writer husband who cooks her a wonderful breakfast before walking out of her life to a future unknown.

On a final note: although the deer works as a wonderful metaphor within the story of the film, this is a fiction.  There is only one species of deer in Japan, so if Ryōmō has or had its own regional deer it would be a subspecies of the sika (cervus nippon) such as C.n.nippon.  In real life, the deer is not a very good metaphor for threatened species in Japan because deer and wild boar in Japan are a nuisance to farmers due to over-population.  Deer are overabundant in Japan because of a combination of conservation efforts, a reduction in hunting and the 19th century extinction of the native species of wolf.  The only subspecies of deer under threat are the Kerama deer (C. n. keramae) which are native to the tiny Kerama Islands of Okinawa.

Takeo KIKUCHI (菊地健雄, b. 1978) was born in Ashikaga, Tochigi Prefecture.  He is a graduate of Meiji University and The Film School of Tokyo (Eigabi).  He apprenticed under Takahisa Zeze before working as an assistant director for many years under various directors.  Dear Deer is his debut feature film.  

2016 Cathy Munroe Hotes

21 February 2015

The Old Man and the Sea (老人と海, 1999)


The Old Man and the Sea (老人と海/Rōjin to Umi, 1999) was the first of two times that the Noburō Ōfuji Award for innovation in animation has been won by a non-Japanese director.  This Russian-Canadian-Japanese co-production qualified for the award because it was co-produced by Japanese companies.  One key figure among the Japanese producers is the animator Tatsuo Shimamura, president of his own studio Shirogumi, and professor at Kyoto University of Art and Design.  Shimamura had won the Noburō Ōfuji Award one year previously for the Shirogumi animated shorts Water Spirit (水の精/Mizu no sei, 1998) and Kappa Hyakuzu (河童百図, 1998).  Since the dissolution of the Soviet Union, most independent animators in Russia have had to look to international co-productions in order to finance their work.  In addition to support from Japan, the creative team at Montréal’s  Pascal Blais Studio (Pascal Blais and Bernard Lajoie) were at the heart of this production, and went on to collaborate with Petrov on many commercial projects. 

At the time of the production of this film, the Russian director Aleksandr Petrov (アレクサンドル・ペトロフ, b.1957), had long been admired by fellow animators and animation fans around the world for his superior paint-on-glass animation films.  This involves the painting of a picture and photographing it, then erasing/altering the picture to make the next frame.  This under the camera animation technique requires a great level of skill and planning, because once a scene is started it cannot be corrected.  There have been few practitioners of paint-on-glass, with Petrov being top of the list alongside Vladimir Samsonov (Russia), Caroline Leaf (USA), Georges Schwizgebel (Switzerland) and Witold Giersz (Poland).

Petrov’s Adaptation

Petrov began his adaptation of Ernest Hemingway’s popular novel The Old Man and the Sea with a detailed storyboard.  According to a short documentary Petrov made about his techniques as an animator, he had his father (Nikolai Sergeievich) dress up in the role of the “Old Man”, Santiago, and re-enact the movements Santiago would make in the boat.  His son Dima filmed the re-enactment and this footage was used as a reference in the studio.   



On the whole it is a faithful adaptation of Hemingway’s tale.  As a short film, obviously the story information has been streamlined, but the key elements are all there.  Petrov’s artistic style, which critics often call romantic realist suits the subject matter perfectly.  It is realistic in the sense that the character movements and events are depicted in a realistic manner, but romantic in terms of the painting style.  For me, Petrov’s style is like an Impressionist painting in motion.   In the live action adaptations of The Old Man and the Sea, there is a heavy reliance on voice-over narration to express the spiritual aspects of the old man’s relationship to his environment.   With animation Petrov is able to capture this visually in such sequences as the dreamy flashbacks to the African animals of Santiago’s youth, the dramatic arm wrestling flashback, and the dream sequence of Santiago as a youth swimming with the marlin.  




Awards and Honours


In addition to the Noburō Ōfuji Award, The Old Man and the Sea won the Oscar for Best Animated Short for 1999, the Grand Prix and Audience Award at Annecy, the Jutra Award for Best Animated Film (top film prize in Québec), and a Special Prize at Hiroshima (2000).  The film additionally won top prizes at the Montréal World Festival, the San Diego International Film Fesitival, Krok, Zagreb, to name but a selection of honours.

Availability on DVD:



Geneon Universal’s 2002 DVD is only available second hand in Japan. It features Erik Canuel’s Genie Award winning 20-minute documentary Hemingway: A Portrait (Canada, 1999). Both films are dubbed in Japanese.

 In the States, the 2005 DVD of The Old Man and the Sea is currently out of print, but some second-hand copies are available.


 In France, there is a 2004 release that features French and English dubs. Order from Heeza or amazon:




 An Italian release is available with English and Italian dubs and subtitles.
 

 2015 Cathy Munroe Hotes

02 February 2015

Crazy Little Thing (澱みの騒ぎ, 2014)


This year marks only the second time that a woman has won the prestigious Noburō Ōfuji Award for innovation in animation at the Mainichi Film Concours.  The first was the puppet animator Nozomi Nagasaki for N&G Production’s Home Alone (るすばん, 1996) nearly two decades ago.  Now, Japan’s oldest animation award has been won by recent Geidai graduate Hana Ono (小野ハナ, 1986), who goes by the pen name Onohana in English.  Onohana is from Iwate Prefecture and completed a degree in Art Culture at Iwate University (2009) before doing her MA in Animation at Geidai (2014).  

Order Geidai Animation 2014
Crazy Little Thing (澱みの騒ぎ / Yodomi no Sakagi, 2014) is Onohana’s graduate film from the Geidai programme, where she was supervised by the 2007 Noburō Ōfuji Award winner and Oscar nominee Kōji Yamamura  According to a short “Making of” Doc made by Geidai that I picked up at Hiroshima last year, Onohana began with an incomplete vision which she developed as she went along.  Once she got stuck in, she explains that the story seemed to take on a life of its own.  She storyboarded the 10-minute short and then made each frame by hand using pencil on paper.  The entire film is in a sombre black and white with very little dialogue. 



The film opens with a shocking scene of a girl, possibly in her early teens, sneaking up to a sleeping man on the sofa.  She slips a noose around his neck and strangles him.  All the action happens in the background, while in the foreground loom tall, dark liquor bottles.  We soon see the space from a ceiling shot as the girl moves to tidy up the room with the hanged man looming over her.  This shot allows us to see that in addition to bottles, the table is littered with beer cans.  She takes the bottles to the kitchen where the floor is teeming with bottles.  The girl’s sad face staring over a sea of bottles tells us all we need to know: this poor girl has been brought to such desperate circumstances by the alcoholism of her father. 



The girl puts on her coat and rushes out into the snow to check the mail.  She cuts a small, forlorn figure against the vast white garden.  The front gate and the house are distorted to loom over her, emphasizing her smallness.  When she steps back into the house, the phone is ringing.  She doesn’t answer immediately, and is shocked by the sound of her father’s voice snarling at her to answer the phone.  He has an open can of beer in his hand and is watching her closely.  The phone goes to the answering machine and we hear the voice of the grandmother.  The father tries to get to the phone, but is blocked by the girl and then the vision from the past disappears and we see that the father is still hanging from the noose. 

Thus the story begins to weave in and out of reality and the imagined, the concrete and the symbolic, as the girl deals with her fluctuating emotions.   At times she is in a rage at her father, at other times she seems to be calmly mourning his passing.  There is even a brief scene that looks like the man mourning a funereal photograph of his younger self.  The story comes to a head with a tree growing symbolically out of the father’s corpse.  The house floods with a black liquid and the girl must climb the branches of the ever growing tree to escape, hopefully to a better future that the horrors of the past. 


It is a deeply troubling film that examines the growing problem of individuals living in isolation in Japan since the collapse of traditional family structures.  Stylistically, Onohana uses a lot of shots from directly overhead that show the floorplan of the house.  When you go to the real estate agent in Japan, you don’t usually see photographs of the apartment but rather such floorplans since space is at such a premium.  Not only do these scenes add visual interest, but they emphasize how the girl feels trapped in that space, like a guinea pig in a cage.  It is a powerfully moving film that is not for the faint of heart.

Crazy Little Thing has screened at many festivals over the past year including Nippon Connection, Tokyo Anima!, SICAF, Fantoche, Anilogue, and Geneva. The film received an honourable mention for the Walt Disney Award for Best Graduation Film at Ottawa.  It appears on the DVD Geidai Animation: 5th Graduate Works 2014

Learn more about Onohana on her official website or follow her on twitter, tumblr, and vimeo.  Onohana also belongs to the animation group Onionskin along with fellow animators Toshikazu Tamura, Ai Sugaya, and Yewon Kim.  In addition to their indie work, they make music videos and commercials. 

Cathy Munroe Hotes 2015

19 March 2012

VGF Nippon in Motion Award

In collaboration with the Frankfurt am Main transportation authority VGF (Stadtwerke Verkehrs-gesellschaft Frankfurt am Main), Nippon Connection 2012 is awarding the Nippon in Motion Award to the best short-short film spot for the festival.  The winning film will appear on video screens in U-Bahn stations throughout Frankfurt in the run-up to and during the festival and the winner will be awarded a cash prize of 250€.  

Everyone can participate in the voting process by going to the Nippon in Motion webpage and voting for your favourite.  The eleven finalists use a variety of techniques from stop motion animation to montage editing.  Click on the images to watch the short clips in a pop-up window.  To vote, click on the Facebook "like" icon.  The voting concludes on March 31st when the winner will be announced.

11 March 2012

Isamu Hirabayashi’s 663114 (2011)



The artistic response to the devastation wrought by the Tohoku earthquake and the ensuing tsunami and nuclear fallout at Fukushima over the past year has been immense.  The Yamagata International Documentary festival was inundated with documentaries addressing a wide range of responses to the events of March 11, 2011.  Some artists, such as TOCHKA have become directly involved in the effort to restore a sense of normalcy to the lives of the people of the region.

One of the most profound responses to the disaster is Isamu Hirabayashi’s Noburo Ofuji Award winning animated short 663114 (2011).  The environment and the problematic nature of the relationship of human being to the environment has been a recurring theme in Hirabayashi’s experimental films from the highly allusive piece A Story Constructed of 17 Pieces of Space and 1 Maggot (2007) to the overtly political Conversations with Nature (2005).

The title looks like a code, but it is actually a collection of significant numbers.  The Fukushima disaster occurred 66 years after the dropping of the atom bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki.  3/11 marks the date of the Tohoku earthquake and tsunami, and 4 are the number of reactors that were damaged at Fukushima Daiichi.

On the surface, 663114, is a simple, straightforward animation, but upon closer examination one finds that it has as many layers as a tree has rings.  An ancient cicada crawls slowly up a vertical surface, which we learn through the first person narration is representative of a tree.  The tree’s surface is decorated with inkan (印鑑), the familiar red stamps that are used in lieu of signatures in Japan.  The cicada tells us that he is 66 years old, born the film implies, at the time of the atom bomb. 

In addition to being spoken aloud in a deep, guttural, masculine voice, the narration also appears in shaky, black handwritten English:

Once every 66 years,
I emerge from the ground, leave offspring and die.
Before mating,
I shed my hard shell at the risk of my life.
Our ancestors have continued this cycle countless times.
The soil of this country is very fit for us to live in.
It is free of strong pesticides and there are no landmines.
The water is delicious so the sap is delicious as well.
I will climb as high as I can.
Aiming higher and higher.
It is our natural instinct.
To survive and leave offspring.
Since the moment of shedding skin is life risking.
We choose a tree that is tall, sturdy and won’t shake that much.
Our ancestors have continued this cycle countless times.
Through the various hardships.




Though slow, the cicada’s pace is steady and its movements repetitive.  In contrast to the reassuring movements of the cicada and its narration, the music and groaning voices of the soundtrack create a growing sense of unease.  Soon, the cicada pauses and begins to moult.  Just when he is at his most vulnerable, moments after emerging from his skin, the earthquake strikes.  The vertical surfaces representing the tree are thrown off kilter, and many of the red inkan stamps go flying. 

The cicada, resilient creature that he is, has survived this initial onslaught by clinging to his shed skin.  He says that he needs to stretch his wings as soon as possible, but before he can do so the tsunami strikes.  Black waves resembling claws reach out towards the cicada and soon the screen is awash with black undulating waves.  The terror of the tsunami is expressed on the soundtrack in guttural growls and the haunting cries of voices that are suggestive of the thousands of innocent victims of this natural catastrophe.

The waves recede and the cicada, though injured, still clings on with one remaining leg to the damaged husk of his shed skin.  “I won’t die” the cicada declares, determined to survive and leave offspring as his ancestors did before him.  A buzzing sound announces the arrival of a black, inky cloud signifying the radiation from the manmade nuclear disaster. 

Black rain and deep-voiced throat singing accompany the closing credit sequence.  When the rain has passed and the credits are complete, the screen goes black and then reprises the opening credit sequence.  However this time the inkan stamps are muddled together and blurred, and the voice is no longer deep and masculine but distorted and echoing.  We hear the approach of the cicada before we see him this time, and when he appears on screen we see that he has been altered beyond all recognition by the nuclear disaster. 

I am a 66 year cicada.
Once every 66 years,
I emerge from the ground, leave offspring and die.
66 years ago, when I was born
I’ve heard that there was a big earthquake and a big tsunami.
There was also a big accident.
I will risk my life to shed this hard shell before mating.
Our ancestors have continued this cycle countless times.
The soil of this country is very fit for us to live in.
I love this country.


It is significant that Hirabayashi chose a cicada to represent the living creatures, human and otherwise, of Japan.  Insects hold a special place in the hearts of the Japanese, and the cicadas are one of the important signifiers of summer.  One cannot imagine a summer in Japan without the song of the cicadas and children delight in discovering and examining the skins of the cicadas when they moult.  It is a symbol of reincarnation, appearing metaphorically in many significant works of literature such as The Tale of Genji.  Cicadas are also a symbol of longevity as they are one of the longest living insects who spend much of their life cycle underground (normally 2-5 years). 

The film looks like a cutout film made of washi paper and ink, but Hirabayashi made it using images and textures that he found on the internet.  The inkan stamps on the surface of the tree are metaphorically significant in the film.  In Western culture, we do still use rubber stamps to make documents official, and this tradition gave rise to the English idiom “to rubber stamp” something, which is usually used to describe a bureaucrat approving something automatically without proper consideration.  In Japan, the stamp culture runs even deeper with individuals, artists, and corporations all using stamps as their signature.

When watching 663114 the first time, I was reminded of the common hanko (判子) stamp that one would use to sign for the post, or to sign into work, and I thought that each of the stamps stood for individuals affected by the disaster.  But then I realized many of the red stamps were more complex than the kind used by individuals so I contacted Hirabayashi to ask him about their significance.  Hirabayashi told me that the inkan are a metaphor for contracts [of the kind we would call “red tape” in English].  He went on to explain that after the war in Japan contracts have been given preference over the feelings of people.  In the aftermath of Fukushima, he feels that this bad attitude has risen to the surface.  

Therefore, the red stamps in 663114 represent the negative force of bureaucracy, the rules that govern a society, in contrast to the enduring life force of the cicada, who struggles to survive at any cost.  It is a powerful film, and although it addresses a very specific Japanese historical moment, the universality of its message has not been lost on international festival audiences.  It received a warm reception at last year’s Viennale and it also got a special mention in the Generation Section at the Berlinale.  The jury in this division is made up of eleven children and seven teenagers.  They said of 663114:

Visuals and sound melded together flawlessly to create a philosophical and layered masterpiece. The director conveys his message, beyond all conventions. Through a simple metaphor he portrays the survival of a culture, even in the face of catastrophe. (source)


Hirabayashi used the platform to remind people around the world of the seriousness of the crisis in Fukushima: "Children are being exposed to dangerous radioactivity a year after the earthquake. It is our responsibility as Japanese adults to protect the children."

The soundtrack of the film is an artwork all of its own.  It was composed by Osaka-based sound producer Takashi Watanabe.  During the Viennale press conference for 663114, Watanabe explained that they approached the soundtrack as if it would be an offering to a temple.  He looked to Buddhism and Shintoism in his desire to create a new kind of sacred music.  Keitarō Iijima (Studio 301), the sound producer on 663114, explained that they used Japanese food for making the soundtrack including nattō (fermented soybeans), dried Japanese noodles and also cabbage.  He echoed Watanabe’s sentiments about the sacredness of the project for them, emphasizing that he tried to have a sense of respect for the food that they used throughout the production.

663114 will be screened at Nippon Connection in May.  Check out Hirabayashi’s website and youtubechannel to learn more about this fascinating filmmaker.

Director: Isamu Hirabayashi
Music: Takashi Watanabe
Throat: Hideo Kusumi
Voice: Midori Kurata
Sound Mix: Yusuke Toyoura
Sound Design: Keitao Iijima
Foley Assistant: Momoko
Art Director: Ken Murakami
Animation Assistant: Mina Yonezawa

This review is part of Nishikata Film Review’s ongoing series on Noburo Ofuji Award winners:


Film review by Catherine Munroe Hotes 2012

24 February 2012

Atsushi Wada wins Silver Bear at the Berlinale




It was been a great week for Japanese independent animation with Atsushi Wada picking up the Silver Bear at the Berlinale for Best Short Film for his latest work The Great Rabbit (グレットラビット, 2012) which was produced by the French company Sacrebleu Productions.  The Jury commented:

This dreamlike film uses a unique, surreal language to tickle our unconscious while showing us the confusion of the modern world in animated form. Using a delicate hand drawn style, Atsushi Wada decodes reality with absurd sequences of characters caught in time. (source)

The Japan Times, who have a wonderful photograph of a smiling Wada accepting the award, quoted Wada as saying “I am proud to win this award. I feel relieved because I used to think my works were rather hard to understand.” 

The film has been hand drawn frame-by-frame on paper in Wada’s signature style, which you can learn more about in my November 2010 interview with him or in my review of his CALF DVD Atsushi Wada Works 2002-2010.

Many top animators have won the Silver Bear in the past including Norman McLaren and Evelyn Lambart in 1956 for Rhythmetic, Paul Driessen in 1981 for On Land, at Sea and in the Air, and Ishu Patel in 1985 for Paradise.

Here is the official trailer for The Great Rabbit:


Isamu Hirabayashi’s beautiful animated short 663114 (2011) also received a nod at the Berlinale in the Generation Section in which the jury is made up of eleven children and seven teenagers.  They said of 663114:

Visuals and sound melded together flawlessly to create a philosophical and layered masterpiece. The director conveys his message, beyond all conventions. Through a simple metaphor he portrays the survival of a culture, even in the face of catastrophe. (source)

Hirabayashi used the platform to remind people around the world of the seriousness of the crisis in Fukushima: "Children are being exposed to dangerous radioactivity a year after the earthquake. It is our responsibility as Japanese adults to protect the children."

I am proud to announce that I am curating the animation selection for Nippon Connection this year.  Atsushi Wada will be our special guest and we will have the honour of screening Hirabayashi’s 663114.


You can order Atsushi Wada's DVD from CALF (JP/EN), British Animation Awards (UK), or Heeza (FR/EN)