Big Bang Love, Juvenile A (aka: 4.6 Billion Years of Love) — movie review — he-said, she-said
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HE SAID
Ah, Takashi Miike. I think I’ve covered him enough in previous reviews to forgo the usual introduction. I mean, his popularity has grown to the point where I’ve even heard little children mentioning his name in excited tones at the local video store (I would imagine he would have it no other way). So it’s safe to say you probably know who he is, and if not, shame on you.
But even if you know Miike, and know how out of left field his oddest of odd projects can be, you might not be prepared for Big Bang Love, Juvenile A (aka: 4.6 Billion Years of Love). This time around he presents a gay prison love story/murder mystery by way of Dostoyevsky, Carl Sagan, and Peter Greenaway. It is beautiful, strange, violent, tender, raw and intriguing piece of cinema, infused with elements of science fiction, the supernatural, detective procedurals, and avant-garde stage play. Attempts at describing the myriad of disparate but surprisingly integral elements will prove daunting to any viewer (even to this critic) but for your sake, I’ll do my best.
The story concerns two convicts, Jun Ariyoshi (Ryuhei Matsuda, 9 Souls, Rampo Noir) a young man in prison for murdering, and subsequently mutilating the body of his abuser, and Shiro Kazuki (Masanobu Ando, Battle Royale, Tokyo Eleven) an all around miscreant incarcerated for rape, murder, and other things. The former is a bit of a quiet feminine type, sensitive to even the subtle refractions of light, which allow him to see into the future and into the past depending on his illuminated location. The latter is the macho-rebel personified. And, therein lies an intriguing contradiction. For, at the start of the film we find that the meek Ariyoshi has murdered the imposing Kazuki, caught red-handed by the prison officials, his hands clasped round the neck of Kazuki’s lifeless body. The rest of the film looks back at the relationship between the two men, their respective histories, and the evidence surrounding the case. As is often the case with a (quality) Miike film, the answers aren’t completely obvious, nor do they make complete logical sense, but they are certainly enough to make you want to revisit the piece a few times more.
An adaptation of the “incomprehensible” novel by Ikki Kajiwara and Hisao Maki, Big Bang Love, Juvenile A is easily Miike’s best work, seeing him at his most artistic, mature, and inspired. Even his former artistic best, The Bird People In China cannot hold a candle to it. The films locales more often than not involve stage setups, tables, chairs and other props against pitch black backdrops, simple floor outlines to indicate larger structural entities, and spotlighting to highlight important action. Those that aren’t stagey seem to utilize abandoned industrial complexes, and simple green screen effects. Surprisingly the transitions between the three are completely transparent, with even a brief animated sequence, taking place in the middle of a field framed by a ziggurat and a spaceship seeming perfectly in line with everything that has come before. But lest that statement lead you to believe the film is all about flights of fancy, let me reiterate that it is in the simple scenes where Miike’s inventiveness comes out to play. A small example: Miike’s known for his violent sequences, and one here, where black clad men run in and out of a black backdrop (think bunraku puppeteers with their faces exposed) attacking one of the main characters, has to be one of his most arresting yet.
And, while not exactly stellar, the two leads do an admirable job at bolstering the project’s visual panache. Ryuhei Matsuda manages to be a little more emotional than usual (Kris and I call him “the creepy guy” in our house, but apparently he has a large female following.), possibly doing a mashup of his Taboo and 9 Souls roles, while Ando manages a little more layered menace than his usual comic cutouts and handsome-quiet-guys (see: Sakuran). The supporting cast members are not too shabby either. The usual gang of J-Cult regulars are all here and accounted for: Kenichi Endo, Ryo Ishibashi, Jai West, and Renji Ishibashi. All do their usual shticks, with their familiarity being completely welcome.
I won’t bother delving deeper into the symbolism of the story this time around, as I’ve only had time to see the picture once. Suffice it to say that depending on your background, from Japanese folklore or pure science, the film can have radically different interpretations. And I guess a note would be in line for those of you for whom the “gay love story” aspect has left a bit squeamish: You need not be worried, as the only pounding on screen is of fists on faces (Hoowa!) — no Brokeback pushups to be found anywhere. But in all seriousness, it’s pretty subdued and underplayed (save for some rather funny dialog bits), quite like the typical Japanese unrequited love romance dorama.
In closing, the release of Big Bang Love, Juvenile A is Miike’s best, most thoughtful, most artistic, and most technical film to date. If you are, or ever have been a Miike fan, you owe it to yourself to check it out. If you’re one of the two people who’ve never heard of him, it’s a wonderful place to start.
SHE SAID
Shrouded in vivid yellow drapes like a landscape of nameless Tibetan monks, so loiter the prisoners of Big Bang Love, Juvenile A (aka: 4.6 Billion Years of Love). But monks go the peaceful route; prisoners placed through unspeakable violence. Both monks and prisoners are dutiful, strict in their routines, of course one voluntary the other forced into absolution. Even though there are no iconic references to theology in Big Bang Love, Juvenile A, the serene methodical way Takashi Miike captures space and time serve as a feasible link. Also fitting since the film revolves around a theory set in the opening scene describing time suspension induced as one approaches the sun, allowing one to simultaneously see the future and the past depending on his/her direction. Of course, scientifically this is dependent upon physical direction, but throughout Miike’s tale, we are almost lectured in apathy as the narration explains that impoverished neighborhoods/peers often cyclically produce societal scum. This could be the “direction” or path that an individual is led upon or must fight against, when he is mature enough to envision the future while ruminating on his past. In Big Bang Love, Juvenile A, we see Kazuki’s plight, his inner struggle as he literally transforms into a young boy before Ariyoshi’s eyes; Ariyoshi perhaps the only one who can see this innocence, or wants to see it. Also note the difference between seeing with your own eyes versus a collective vision/ignorant blind curse.
To me, Big Bang Love, Juvenile A (aka: 4.6 Billion Years of Love) was not only a film divulging individuals, but an insight into how society unwittingly and intentionally molds us as individuals, until it robs us of our very identity, only allowing us to become what we as a whole can easily predict. For poor Kazuki, he probably realized that he could never attain freedom from the life his family and peers chose for him, and allowing his life to cease was the only form of control he would ever muster. With all that strength, all that physical prowess, Kazuki was truly powerless.
Oh, I could go on and on, but suffice to say that Big Bang Love, Juvenile A (aka: 4.6 Billion Years of Love) is well worth your time.
———————-
The DVD
First an equipment update. Over the Christmas Break my Sony DVD Player/Receiver crapped out on me (The third stupid Sony product to die just after the warranty expired. I’m never buying their equipment again.), so DVDs for the time being are going to be reviewed on my X-Box 360 (This too has failed once and been replaced. It’s connected with S-Video cables, so not bad), and my laptop. Sound is in plain old stereo for me, so I’m unable to really say anything other than “it sounded good/bad to me”. So, on with the show.
AnimEigo presents Big Bang Love, Juvenile A in a pristine transfer preserving its original 1.85:1 aspect ratio. Seriously, this is the best transfer AnimEigo has ever put out. This is ultra clear, ultra sharp, and even looked great on my simple S-Video hookups. There are lots of blues and yellows, deep shadows and bright whites. All held up quite nicely throughout, with no bleed or fuzziness to be found. Very nice. Subtitles are the usual awesome AnimEigo variety, literal with supplemental notes, and this time come in your choice of white or yellow.
Included on the extras disc are a making of documentary, a lengthy video interview with Takashi Miike, production notes, actors bios, and a supplemental on the history of ghosts in Japanese film. The making of and interview are quite nice, while the ghost history provided a lot of info that aided my understanding of other films. Very cool. There’s also a few slides concerning The Butterfly Effect, thus demonstrating the wide open nature of the film and its interpretations. Here I was just thinking of the butterflies as standard representations of souls. Go figure.
The DVD features a number of teaser trailers for Big Bang Love, the theatrical trailer, and trailers for other AnimEigo releases including The Wolves, A Hardest Night (omg, the new translation is far dirtier than the Japanese R2 DVD), and Graveyard of Honor.
AnimEigo’s release of Big Bang Love, Juvenile A marks their best DVD offering yet, and provides a more than adequate home remedy for the January theatrical doldrums. Do yourself a favor and pick this one up.
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i didn’t think this was miike at his best, but it was miike in impressive form.
for me, the most artisticly successful miike is at work that’s deceptively familiar, straddles between commercial appeal and unusual hidden details, when he takes little money, little time, genre work that he seemingly bashes out and then gives us a very impressive display of how powerful compromise can be - ley lines, rainy dog, shinjuku triad society, blues harp, for a few examples - and not in the overtly artistic stuff, the potentially pretentious but certainly-of-value (and intelligence) stuff like izo or big bang love, juvenile a.
still, there’s always a trap, and that’s the blend between miike himself and the writing he puts his identity onto, as it creates an identity associated with him that’s regarded as much more diverse in aspects than it can be described as being when you begin to try and pull the two parties apart. you can easily describe it as though this practice wasn’t happening, because we’re perhaps far more used to director-initiated projects that are also intended to be sold and identified as coming from an individual (again, the director) before they’re intended to be judged as projects in their own right. still, good film… i enjoyed the behind-the-scenes stuff in particular.
Very true. I guess first I might clarify my determination of “best film” as it being Miike at his most focused, deliberate, and purposefully artistic. I too quite enjoyed his quieter attempts with Ley Lines (my personal favorite of the shinjuku triad trilogy), as well as Dead or Alive 2, but there moments in these where Miike got sidetracked with self indulgence (like his tendency to parody, and even incorporate Japanese porn fetishes into his stories. But, that’s the subject of a whole other essay.). This one still had the little lapses into head-scratching vignettes, but for the most part he seemed pretty restrained. Furthermore, best for me doesn’t always equate to my favorite. As much as I enjoyed this film, I don’t think it has eclipsed my uber-fondness for Zebraman. I guess I could say that Big Bang Love is the film deserving of the most arthouse praise.
But back to your point, I do mention Miike saying something to this effect as well. In particular, in his brief commentary on the Ichi the Killer disc he mentioned how when he was instructing Tadanobu Asano and Nao Omori for their rooftop fight as Kakihara and Ichi, he just told them to do what came to them. He said that by that time they had spent so long in their respective characters’ skins that for him to tell them what to do would render the sequence completely inauthentic. I was impressed with his humility, admitting that in such times he just captures the magic between the talented actors he’s working with. The only other director that I clearly remember downplaying their own importance was Mathieu Kassovitz for The Crimson Rivers. He said that while people always see the director, it was really the editor that makes the magic happen. He even went on to say essentially that without his editor his work was useless. The editor can salvage a terrible performance, can make or break the pacing,and on and on. So, long story short, yes, I definitely agree.
glad you defined what you meant by good here. i’d say that this and ‘izo’ are perhaps the two most overtly artistic films - this is certainly clearer and more interesting, at least initially, than izo, i think - but i’m keen on miike blending far more than i am in the issues which become clearer over time, and are initially so well put across in tom mes’s book agitator.
there’s a point in the ’she said’ section which reminded me of thoughts i was having during the film : that society doesn’t necessarily intend for prison to be a cure for bad characters, that prison identifies and isolates those that end up in prison in order to create or highlight a contrasting way of life you could fall into. it’s a warning shot, not a solution, and it defines the 99% of the population that avoid it simply by it’s existence. it was interesting to me, as you can see that ultimately there’s no escaping crime, there’s nothing to do to avoid people going bad as it can come from such activities as you’d associate simply with being alive and young. it’s a great film, but i’d tread more happily towards getting a chance to see things like ‘waru’, ’sun scarred’ and ‘like a dragon’… roll on ’sukiyaki western django’ and ‘yasha ga ike’ anyway.