HOPING TO TAKE THE TOP PRIZE EAST
A look at the excellent Asian contingent in contention for the Palme d’Or at Cannes
Asian filmmakers have so far fielded a strong force at the 71st Cannes Film Festival, and when the Palme d’Or is decided on Saturday by the Cate Blanchett-led jury there’s a real chance that the top prize might go to one of the Asian titles — after a Turkish film in 2014 ( Winter Sleep) and a Thai film back in 2010 ( Uncle Boonmee Who Can Recall His Past Lives).
China’s sole representative in the competition is Jia Zhangke’s Ash Is Purest White, a love story set against the transformative decade of the country. Zhao Tao, a serious contender for the best actress prize, plays a lover of a lowlevel village mafia who takes the fall for him after a spectacular street brawl. After spending years in prison — while he walks free — she’s released back into the mid-2000s China that’s fast changing, physically and mentally, and her journey to win him back is wrought with bitter realisation. Ash Is Purest White is a film about a woman’s spirit and strength in a nation that often ignores its females, and the female-heavy jury will certainly see this in their deliberation.
Japan has two solid films, each one a gem in its own way.
First is Hirokazu Kore-eda’s Shoplifters, a moving family drama that sent some hardened Cannes critics out with teary eyes. Kore-eda is a Cannes regular — his films have almost always premiered here — and a common view is that the filmmaker has been making more or less the same film over and over — films in which family members are disconnected and reconnected, in which bonding is frayed and mended, and in which the central question is whether the idea of family itself is a blessing or a burden.
When Kore-eda hits all the right notes the result is exquisite. The good news is Shoplifters is one of his best, and the film will open in Thailand this July.
The film opens with, of course, shoplifting: A boy (Jyo Kairi) is stealing instant noodles from a supermarket under the guidance of his father (Lilu Franky). When they return home — and this is a poor people’s home, cramped and populous — we meet “the family” including two women (Ando Sakura and Matsuoka Mayu) and a grandmother (Kiki Kilin, a familiar face). How these people are related will be slowly revealed, in subtle dialogue, and soon the household adds another member when an abused five-year-old girl (Sasaki Miyu) joins them.
The adults have low-paying jobs — as a construction worker, at a laundry factory, and a “model” in a raunchy peep-show joint. The children aren’t going to school. To all of them, shoplifting is a daily activity, a pastime and necessity rolled into one, and they steal from big stores as well as a mom-and-pop shops, justifying that “what’s on the shelves still don’t belong to anyone”.
Shoplifters proceeds in the familiar Kore-eda manner. This is a gentle, unhurried observation of life and characters set mostly in a house, and in the great Japanese film tradition of Ozu, the entire film is a heartbreak in the making — and when the moment comes and the warmth recedes you’re bathed in cold sweat. The relationship between the members of this unusual family is the key dramatic element (no spoilers here), and the film leaves an indelible weight on your body with its central question: Is family defined by fate or by choice? And: Can we defy that predetermined system?
The other Japanese film in the competition is lighter in tone and yet packs a devastating effect. Hamaguchi Ryusuke’s Asako I & II is centred on a woman — Asako of the title — whose life is forever scarred by her first love. It sounds trifling, but Ryusuke’s script patiently sets out to detail the emotional journey of the Asako (Erika Karata) and shows us how something can never be forgotten, how some feeling marks you for life, without you having any control over it — like an earthquake or a tsunami that lays waste to your soul forever.
As a young woman, Asako falls passionately in love with a boy called Baku (Higashide Masahiro). But inevitably Baku, who carries himself like the coolest hero from a comic book, walks out on her without warning, leaving the girl distraught. Years later, Asako meets Ryohei, a straight-laced salaryman who looks exactly like Baku but without the devilish charm. From here, the Vertigo- like set-up takes us through unexpected turns, and though we see how Asako is happy to have a new man in her life, the shock and awe left by her first love can never leave her in peace.
To some Asako I & II may feel slight — this is just a girl-meets-boy-girl-loses-boy story, a fluff compared to other heavy meat offered by the high-minded competition titles. But to others, this is a profound study of the female sensibility, its folly and strength, its heartache and joy. Ryusuke’s previous film, Happy Hour, is a five-hour epic revolving around several women; this time he focuses on one, and the result leaves another jolting earthquake inside you.
It’s likely that the film will find a way to Thai cinemas. We will keep you updated.
When the warmth recedes you’re bathed in cold sweat
Cannes Film Festival runs until this Saturday.