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Tony Takitani P.S.
Date: 7/27/05 at 6:43AM

Thank god for the malleable, expandable internet. Its amorphous properties perfectly suit my writerly hankering to revise and supplement. After re-reading my Tony Takitani review for indieWIRE this morning, I remembered something I left out, an obvious observation, perhaps, but, I figured,what else is a blog but a clearinghouse for stray thoughts?

Another reason to love Tony Takitani other than those I mentioned: Its conception of loneliness entwines itself inseparably from the excessive consumption of modern society. In its wafting, tragic way, it becomes an allegorical meditation on the dangers of material lust. The theme lies latent in the main thrust of Murakami’s story, as well as in Eiko’s description of her clothing addiction as a way of filling a hole inside herself: “When I see beautiful things, I can’t not buy them.” Though aesthetically and temperamentally far away from David Fincher’s more blatant consumerist takedown, her sentiments carry echoes of Fight Club, bringing to mind the scene where Edward Norton’s Everyman talks about having been nearly “complete” – at last possessing the proper Ikea furniture and A/X clothing - before the destruction of his apartment and everything in it.

As anyone who’s been to Japan, particularly Tokyo (Bladerunner realized), knows, the Japanese are even more of a knee-jerk consumerist culture than uber-capitalistic America. Having spent two years living in the country, and growing up in Hawaii (a prime destination for Japanese tourists), a lot of ambient cultural noise sounded as I watched Tony Takitani. Random things, like Japanese gift-giving etiquette - whereby anytime anyone goes anywhere, they’re expected to bring back omiyage (presents representative of the visited place) for everyone – popped into my mind, as did working the morning shift at the merchandising counter in Waikiki’s Planet Hollywood one summer (shut up! I was young!) and witnessing daily the long line of Japanese tourists that would form outside the Prada store across the street before its opening.

Director Ichikawa adopts Murakami’s nonjudgmental distance, so the movie, of course, doesn’t play so pointedly. But in a culturally-transferable way (at least between economic powerhouses America and Japan), Tony Takitani suggestively links the hollowness of contemporary life to our obsession with objects, and it’s a subtle critique that makes this mournful ballad even more poignant.

- km

Now, whenever I have an inconsequential bickering session with my life-love (I hate the term “boyfriend” – it’s always struck me as so juvenile-sounding, even when I was juvenile), I’m going to think of penguins, and chill with my bad self. In March of the Penguins, director Luc Jacquet captures stunning images of the adorably rotund Emperor penguins of the Antarctic (are any animals as simultaneously humorous and dignified?) as they overcome immense odds associated with the annual trek to their breeding grounds. Narrated by, natch, the mellifluous Morgan Freeman – thank god they didn’t, as in the original French version, choose to have actors voice the penguins - the footage is an astonishing document of the lengths to which the creatures go in order to fulfill the inexorable drive towards procreation.

In frigid temperatures way, way below zero (plus a nasty wind-chill factor), the monogamous penguins select a mate for the year and, once an egg emerges, begin trading-off duties in an awe-inspiring undertaking to which many humans aspire: a truly equal partnership. While the mother makes the long hike (over 70 miles) back to the ice shelf in order to feed, the father remains with the egg in what Freeman aptly describes as “one of nature’s most endearing reversals” (and one can’t help but ponder what a different world it would be if men necessarily took as active a role in bringing a baby to term). Battling the inhospitable - a vast understatement - climate, the males gather together in a mass huddle, taking turns in the warmer center so each has some relief. Months later, when the female returns with sustenance for the newly-hatched chick, the father – having gone without food himself – makes the journey back to the ocean while she stays behind to care for the offspring.

Of course, Jacquet couldn’t resist mass-appeal anthropomorphic tendencies, attributing love rather than instinct (not to denigrate the obvious bonds that develop amongst the temporary family) to the penguins’ single-minded purpose, in a manner more cutesily off-putting than inspiring. And with a few too many extended close-ups on the newborns to warrant artistic admission, he clearly goes in for cheap audience “awwws” (of which there were many, including one woman who felt it necessary to exclaim “They’re so cute!” after each and every such shot), but the fact remains that March of the Penguins is an amazing achievement. As much as you wonder how the penguins do it, you wonder how the filmmakers did.

- km

Don’t forget: Tomorrow - July 14th - marks the start of NYC’s two-week long Asian-American International Film Festival, beginning excitingly with a One-on-One with Maggie Cheung. Not that it matters unless you were lucky enough to somehow snag tickets to the sold-out event at the Film Society of Lincoln Center, which I was not, despite having an inside source and going to the box office within a week of the announcement (not that I’m bitter or anything, she’s just one of my favorite actresses in the world is all). You can always console yourself the next day by making your way to Clean, the Opening Night movie. Directed by then-husband Olivier Assayas, it stars Maggie as a down-and-out ex-druggie trying to regain custody of her son from her late-husband’s family. With a gruffly gentle (like a bear) Nick Nolte as the father-in-law and fine performances all-around (as if it needs saying, Maggie is, as always, amazing), it’s measured and graceful and manages to portray a woman getting her shit together without succumbing to corniness. As for me, I’ll be catching two from their late-night viewing series, AV - on the recommendation of a friend – along with Takashi Miike’s newest, Izo. Hope to see you there.

- km