Kon Ichikawa’s Kokoro (1955) is based on a famous Japanese novel written in the 1910’s. Now you are probably wondering why I insist on using its original Japanese title over a translated title. The problem is that the word has complex nuances that are utterly lost in the translation and many consider it impossible to come up with a sufficient English title. Even Eureka, the company responsible for Masters of Cinema DVD and blu-ray releases, decided to stick with Kokoro, simply because “The Heart” would hardly do it justice. On a basic level Kokoro means exactly that, but it is also heavily tied with the themes of isolation, guilt and psychological torment – which are explored in Ichikawa’s film.

Essentially, the movie is about the dramatic consequences of a love triangle between two childhood friends and a woman. At first it seems like a rather simple and worn-out premise, but it is approached in a refreshing and sophisticated way. It dives deep into its characters psychological state. Especially the teacher’s heavy burden is given a lot of attention, which has a devastating effect on the viewer – at least it did that to me. In terms of storytelling, Kokoro remains quite conventional until the final third which twists the chronology around a lot. However, by this time the events of the entire storyline are quite clear and the ambitious use of chronology works well to give more emphasis (and more depth) to the film’s themes. It also supports the emotional punch the climax will deliver. Haunting as a character study and tragic as a love story, Kokoro is a fine achievement in writing.

Next to the impeccable screenplay, the film’s form is rather disappointing. It might be intentionally formulaic and humble so that the viewer is distracted by nothing. However, the lighting is simply marvellous and the compositions are pleasant as well – but hardly live up to the high standards the other films from the period have set. It might be an insignificant complaint that the movie isn’t formally more ambitious or interesting, but it’s the only thing holding me from calling it a true masterpiece.

Ming-liang Tsai’s The River (1997) was the third film for the Taiwanese arthouse director. As usual, Lee Kang-sheng plays “himself” in the lead role. This time he suffers from a severe neck injury after floating in a filthy river (as an extra for a film). As silly as that sounds, the film seems to disregard the premise’s irrationality and simply lets its metaphors loose. The River is yet another exploration of sexuality, alienation and loneliness for Tsai and in a way it’s harsher than what he has made afterwards (although arguably less disturbing).

Formally the film is very Tsaiesque as well although his long takes don’t stretch as much as they would in his later films. There’s one thing that does stand out in The River’s form: he uses reflection in his compositions a lot more than in his other films. Especially mirrors seem to be everywhere. Sometimes it’s there so that he can simply avoid cutting (in order to get one take per scene), but sometimes there seem to be different reasons for this. It’s a fascinating thing to notice throughout the film, but that doesn’t mean the rest of the form wouldn’t be interesting either.

I don’t know if it is because I saw Tsai’s recent films first, but I have a growing feeling that I do not appreciate his early work as much. His 90’s films are very good without a doubt, but none of them is nearly as strong as his 2000’s films like What Time Is It There? (2001) and Goodbye Dragon Inn (2003). Maybe I don’t find his unrefined direction as interesting as his completely refined take on the same themes – which I often find funnier even though his early work does not omit comedy. The River certainly falls under the category of “being very good, but it would be quite forgettable without Tsai”.

A Gentle Breeze in the Village (2007) is Nobuhiro Yamashita’s most recent film. It focuses on a small school (only 7 students) and the students’ adventures after a new student comes from Tokyo to confuse their daily routine.  Because Yamashita is the one responsible for Linda Linda Linda (a magnificent film about 4 high school girls forming a band for their culture festival) I set myself relatively high expectations for this film and I will naturally compare it to his earlier masterpiece. To make writing and reading this review easier, I’ll refer to these two films simply as Breeze and Linda.

Judging from the films I’ve seen, Yamashita is interested in youth more than anything and because of that both take place at a school. However, they are structured in drastically different ways: where Linda had a clear goal Breeze wanders completely aimlessly for an hour and after that it tries to get its act together. Without that narrative tension Yamashita’s vision seems to stumble because he is utterly lost during the first hour of the film: bland characters doing bland things in a bland story and a bland romance of utter blandness. The humor works only on a few occasions – otherwise it’s just awkward.

Then, in all of a sudden, something happens. Yamashita finds a thematic current running through the story as the two oldest students of school realize their graduation will happen soon. The result is a mildly fascinating coming of age story combined with a bittersweet meditation on the passing of time, which is still hindered by occasionally weird writing. For example, the final sequence of the film is a complete blunder on all fronts.

Despite the chaotic and flawed screenplay Yamashita’s form is still very effective and interesting. It has that same charm that Linda had. The takes are neither long or shot; he has found some sort of calm average that flows naturally throughout the film. Camera movement is restricted – or at least that’s what it seems like. It does move quite a lot when you pay more attention to it, but it’s so smooth and only moves so little during one shot that it feels more like a restrained camera than a truly moving camera. This method supports the glorious photography which makes the film’s ordinary imagery seem ethereal. The subtle but cheerful soundtrack adds a lovely finishing touch to the visuals.

In overall I can say I feel puzzled over this film. At the same time it is a formal miracle and really horribly written turd.