I'm probably barking up the wrong tree, but for me this piece reads like an exploration of autism. Asano's character seems to be a classic example of synaesthesia in action. This is sometimes associated with schizophrenia, but I've also heard it mentioned by parents of autistic children. Who knows what goes on in the mind of Christopher Doyle? Maaybe not even Chris Doyle after a night on the grog.
I'm guessing as usual, but I think the English/Aussie bar owner is playing the Doyle role, reborn every day with a slight hangover and a few fresh bruises, and attempting to show that language is just one of the barriers that humans have to negotiate in order to communicate effectively. If you can't get over it, you can always go around it. Or invent an image based filmic language for the global village.
Visually, this movie plays like a roadkill version of Fallen Angels, fractured and displaced almost at random. The soundtrack is as non-linear as the rest of the movie, crashing around like a breakbeat electro dj on dodgy pills. It makes the MTV jumpcut junkies look positively pedestrian when it takes flight, but still manages to explore the rapport between the three principals in a tender, almost polite fashion. It makes very little immediate sense, what with the language and obtuse script, but the gentle absurdity gels quite nicely upstairs in the aftermath.
I doubt that it would be possible to write a spoiler for this movie, because it's unlikely that any two people would ever see it quite the same way. I particularly enjoyed the gargling lady with the guitar, and the piggyback policewoman, although I might have just imagined them. The maguffins were delicious. My compliments to the chef.
I'm guessing as usual, but I think the English/Aussie bar owner is playing the Doyle role, reborn every day with a slight hangover and a few fresh bruises, and attempting to show that language is just one of the barriers that humans have to negotiate in order to communicate effectively. If you can't get over it, you can always go around it. Or invent an image based filmic language for the global village.
Visually, this movie plays like a roadkill version of Fallen Angels, fractured and displaced almost at random. The soundtrack is as non-linear as the rest of the movie, crashing around like a breakbeat electro dj on dodgy pills. It makes the MTV jumpcut junkies look positively pedestrian when it takes flight, but still manages to explore the rapport between the three principals in a tender, almost polite fashion. It makes very little immediate sense, what with the language and obtuse script, but the gentle absurdity gels quite nicely upstairs in the aftermath.
I doubt that it would be possible to write a spoiler for this movie, because it's unlikely that any two people would ever see it quite the same way. I particularly enjoyed the gargling lady with the guitar, and the piggyback policewoman, although I might have just imagined them. The maguffins were delicious. My compliments to the chef.