Sakura Ando gives an outstanding performance in a film that fails to match her levels, and ultimately frustrates. Director Masaharu Take seems unsure of the journey our protagonist Ichiko is on. She is introduced to us as a recognizable hotchpotch of archetypes from recent Japanese cultural output - the slacker, the parasite single, the socially withdrawn hikikomori, the thirty-something virgin, the dame-ren unable to hold down regular employment, playing video games all day instead. When her family has finally had enough and turfs her out, she finds a dead-end job in a 100-yen convenience store. Her boss is over-bearing, and a particularly creepy co-worker takes a sinister interest in Ichiko. When she spots Yuji (Hirofumi Arai) at a local boxing gym, she finally shows a spark of interest in life beyond just existing.
These are the ingredients, but it is uncertain that writer Shin Adachi knows how to combine them into a satisfying dish. The creepy co-worker rapes Ichiko, an episode that is simply glossed over. Tonally, there is too much uncertainty around this incident. Does the film not examine it in order to offer up the banality of evil? Or are the filmmakers simply glib and tone deaf?
This is indicative of an unevenness, a cartoon-ish approach to cause and effect, that permeates the film. Ichiko is kind, offering expired food to hungry beggars, but these beggars are more Dickensian scamps than social commentary on contemporary Japan. Yuji abuses Ichiko terribly, yet she meekly goes off hand-in-hand with him at the end. Are we supposed to think that this woman who has been abused by the only two men she ever dated has now turned her life around? Ichiko's failure to break free at the end, taken at face value, is Chinatown bleak indeed. Despite her acquired prowess in boxing, emotionally she is worse off than when the film started.
It would be interesting to see what female filmmakers would have done with this protagonist. Ando's performance is faultless, but that is not enough to save this film against the mountain of problematic elements.
These are the ingredients, but it is uncertain that writer Shin Adachi knows how to combine them into a satisfying dish. The creepy co-worker rapes Ichiko, an episode that is simply glossed over. Tonally, there is too much uncertainty around this incident. Does the film not examine it in order to offer up the banality of evil? Or are the filmmakers simply glib and tone deaf?
This is indicative of an unevenness, a cartoon-ish approach to cause and effect, that permeates the film. Ichiko is kind, offering expired food to hungry beggars, but these beggars are more Dickensian scamps than social commentary on contemporary Japan. Yuji abuses Ichiko terribly, yet she meekly goes off hand-in-hand with him at the end. Are we supposed to think that this woman who has been abused by the only two men she ever dated has now turned her life around? Ichiko's failure to break free at the end, taken at face value, is Chinatown bleak indeed. Despite her acquired prowess in boxing, emotionally she is worse off than when the film started.
It would be interesting to see what female filmmakers would have done with this protagonist. Ando's performance is faultless, but that is not enough to save this film against the mountain of problematic elements.