He's A Nowhere Man: Yellow Submarine (1968)

The story goes that the animated film, centering around the alter egos of The Beatles, known as The Sergeant Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band, was made purely as a means to get the famous group out of their undesired movie contract, yet once they viewed the final product that was Yellow Submarine they were so enthralled and happy by the outcome that they agreed to provide a live-action epilogue as a pseudo thank you.   It takes only moments into this spectacularly psychedelic film to realize why exactly The Beatles would come to love such a film, one that is absolutely extraordinary in what it achieves via hand drawn animation, as well as societal commentary.  It is no small task to make a successful animated film, let alone one that is decidedly geared towards an older audience, yet in the careful hands of George Dunning viewers are provided with something spectacular.  While The Beatles  music has never been begging to be visualized it is clear that Yellow Submarine evokes the words, social outcries and existential angst that came to so obviously signify the work by the group for the latter portion of their career.  Like many of the great films, Yellow Submarine suffered from existing as nothing more than rotations on British television, yet when this particular piece of Beatles nostalgia was revived, a rekindling and remembrance of how truly spectacular this work was emerged.  Furthermore, the accessibility, universality and certainly the trippy nature of Yellow Submarine resulted in a whole new generation coming to love and appreciate The Beatles in a way transcendent of their music, and with a recent bluray upgrade, it only proves that more people will have a chance to discover this seminal work.  A mix of tragedy and celebration, Yellow Submarine exudes a poetic nature that demands its viewing, multiple times and with multiple people, as it truly proves to be something far grander than a film made by The Beatles to get out of an undesired movie contract.

Yellow Submarine begins with an introduction to the world of Pepperland, in which people sing, dance and exist in merriment to the tunes and beats of Sergeant Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band.  The idyllic world of Pepperland, however, comes under attack by the scrutinizing and condemning eye of The Meanings, a group of blue persons who live to causes sadness and depression, while always answering "NO" to any question raised.  Their wave of malaise sweeps over Pepperland causing all those existing within its colorful landscape to turn blue and freeze in time, including SPLHCB, who are specifically trapped in a bubble.  The only person who escapes the onslaught of this attack is Old Fred (Lance Percival) a wily elderly man who in a state of befuddlement takes the town's Yellow Submarine and travels to what we can assume to be Liverpool, since it is there that he meets up with The Beatles.  Of course, this vision of England, shown while Eleanor Rigby is playing, reflects the current state of Pepperland, as each of the band members moves through the streets and houses with a sense of desolation.  After many failed attempts to understand Old Fred whose phrases are nearly intelligible, the group agrees to join him on the submarine and travel to Pepperland.  This journey takes them forwards and backwards in time, even passing their past selves on the journey.  Along the way they pick up a mask wearing rodent whose name is Jeremy Hilary Boob, PhD., or as the members of the group suggest a veritable Nowhere Man as he spouts off poems, ideas and feelings that have no logical grounding.  After losing Ringo at least once, the group eventually makes it to Pepperland where they take on The Meanies, at first finding little success with their music, yet when they release the SPLHCB from their prison and realize that they have an uncanny similarity to them, they attack The Meanies with great success and bring vibrancy and life back to Pepperland.  The film then closes with the song All Together Now, as unity seems to be the suggested course of action for the future.

Yellow Submarine is, as should be obvious, inundated with the feelings and advocacy of social revolution so seemingly inherent in the sixties, especially 1968.  Primarily, this is a film that contests the notion that disconnect and social malaise are positive, particularly if said distancing is the result of heavy conservative values that dismiss any sort of revolution, whether it be rioting in the streets or speaking out politically.  The freezing of SPLHCB represents political suppression to some degree, especially since it is done by The Meanies, whose "NO" spouting ideologies represent the most dangerous variations of conservatism. One can extend this consideration to incorporate the pointing hand that is a weapon of The Meanies.  Its judgmental connotations, reflect another element of conservative values, ones in which individuals find scape goats for their problems, signifying difference as a means to separate, even if their actions harm nobody, or actually suggest egalitarian ideals or progressive actions.  Jeremy/Nowhere Man then becomes an interesting figure in this context because he exists both as a voice to transcend conservatism and the social malaise overtaking Pepperland (The Western Global Community), yet he has become so disenfranchised and disillusioned that any of the theories or ideas he promotes are so incoherent that they seem absurd or almost mocking.  This only makes The Beatles eventual love of their film that much greater, because it shows that they realize their place as musicians to provide commentary to society, one that advocates love and unity and answering "Yes" when possible, and doing so "all together now."

Key Scene:  It is a dead tie between the Eleanor Rigby and Nowhere Man scenes,  both of which are incredibly sad and poetically transcendent.

This movie will surprise you, and if you have not seen it in some time revisit the work, especially post-restoration, it is seriously a thing of beauty.  Grab the bluray immediately.

It's Nice To Fall With A Pretty Woman: The Mirror (1975)

This will not be the first time that Andrei Tarkovsky has received high praise on my blog, and considering he has made quite a few well-received films, many of which found their way on the short list of the most recent Sight and Sound Best films list.  While I have certainly advocated for Abbas Kiarostami being the best reflection of what the title of my blog represents, it is certainly not out of order to suggest that, as a filmmaker, Tarkovsky creates simulacrums of reality, in the case of this film particularly an incredibly personal piece of cinema that its, as always non-linear, non-spatial and flat out transcendental of cinematic tradition.  As a film, The Mirror moves between past, present and possibly future events all with the intent of helping one unseen individual reflect on their life, however, as is becoming the case with every Tarkovsky film I encounter the single human existence appears to be inextricably tied to a much larger conceptualization of human suffering.  Whether it be simple concerns of correcting paper typos or larger realization of coming of age woes, The Mirror shows the ever existing fragility of humanity, particularly in its fleeting and flickering movements.  The Mirror, as Tarkovsky's films prove to be, is incredibly complex, however, it is a thoroughly captivating work, one that traps viewers into his aural, oral and visual poetics that evolve and reemerge repeatedly throughout the film, especially in regards to one female who clearly affects the narrator on multiple levels.  To call The Mirror experimental is to miss the purpose of the film, because while it does contest viewers assumptions about cinematic space, this is not to further our rhetoric of editing, camerawork or mise-en-scene.  Nothing about The Mirror suggests a jarring film, although it is beautiful and visually arresting.  One could find themselves simply putting this on silent and playing it in the background, realizing that it is a continual flow of minor artworks, coalescing in to what may well be the late Russian directors masterpiece.

The Mirror loosely centers on the experiences of an unseen individual named Alyosha (Ignet Daniltsev). These experiences range from simple child hood moments of playing with his sister, to an uncomfortable relationship with a youth spent in the Army.  In many instances his memories are projected through the experiences of others as is quite apparent during the recounting of a woman's terrible experiences dealing with a awful mistake at a newspaper press.  In other instances his memories are even transcendent of space as the visual world imagines the untranslated memories of a Spanish man recounting a famous bull fight.  Sprinkled in between these memories are moments in which Alyosha appears to be talking directly to the individuals in the present, specifically when talking to his lover, who may or may not also be his mother Maria (Margarita Terekhova).  In these moments it works in a point of view manner, although it could be argued that it is always Alyosha's vision configuring the space.  In many moments, the passage of time happens within a single shot, as is the case with the burning house, as a camera captures two children staring out a window, only to pan a bit to the left and depict one of the children slightly older.  The film is also split up by poems, ones that seem to indirectly relate to the narrative.  Eventually viewers are returned to an intense argument between Alyosha and Maria, one that is quickly followed by images of a post-war Soviet Union.   In this moment Maria is depicted at various ages, completely dismissing the already fragmented organization of time and space offered up to this point.

I mention this is perhaps Tarkovsky's best film and while I will stick to my guns on this statement, I should mention that my personal favorite is Ivan's Childhood, the directors debut.  However, what makes The Mirror so significant is that it clearly merges all of the human condition issues evoked in his previous works.  I mean to say that The Mirror takes the issues of coming of age indicative in Ivan's Childhood and meshes it with the existential crisis of worth noted in Andrei Rublev, while also considering the notion of deja vu and memory that emerges within Solaris.  Scenes in The Mirror often do all three, most clearly in the gun training sequence of the film.  However, the magic of this film is not solely in regards to his merging of previous films, but has much to do with how he considers the notion of representation on film.  It is clear that Tarkovsky strives desperately to recreate his world to the best of his ability via film.  However, some elements of humanity simply cannot be procured with a simple shoot and view method and needs poetic grandeur, or a complete lack of color.  The moments of Maria showering, or houses crumbling assure this notion.  Of course, Tarkovsky is not ignorant to the inherent troubles in attempting to make a simulacrum of the fleeting and ever-changing element of human existence.  To accept this challenge, Tarkovsky incorporates several scenes of the characters staring into mirrors reminding those watching that this film while representative of human existence, nonetheless, fails to capture individuality and it is perhaps well overdue that each individual take a good long look at themselves in the literal and metaphorical mirror, after all this is precisely what Tarkovsky is doing to himself in this crowning cinematic achievement.

Key Scene:  Some of the first black and white shots in the film depict a house falling apart into puddles of water, it is poetic subtlety in its most realized form.

This is an excellent film and well worth owning.  The Kino DVD stands as the best option until a bluray comes out in the future, if such a dream even proves reasonable.

The Truth Is, We're All Fighting For Salvation: George Washington (2000)

My recent review of Beasts of the Southern Wild heralded it as something so uniquely its own that I praised it incessantly suggesting that it was indicative of something new in filmmaking.  While I still thoroughly enjoyed that work and still think it reflects a grand change in independent cinema, I had never had the great pleasure of viewing George Washington, a directorial debut by David Gordon Green, whose, unfortunate, movement into stoner comedies has led me to never look into his ouevre.  However, George Washington sat as one of the early works I desired from the Criterion Collection and thanks to a recent subscription to HuluPlus I was able to watch this poetic film.  As for critical opinions there seem to be two fields of thought towards this film, the first suggests that it is a prententious exploitative film that borrows far to heavily from the playbook of Terrence Malick to be considered artistic and a second group who finds the cinematography, storyline and sheer atmospheric magic of this film to be indicative of rural southern life during its movement into a new millennium.  I am firmly within the latter grouping and found George Washington to be an exceptionally beautiful film about coming-of-age in a world of absurdisms, one that causes an individual to have a magical realist outlook towards the world, while also dealing with some intensely real issues.  The images in this film melt off the screen, at times literally peeling away and flow so smoothly despite changing subject matter that the comparisons to Malick are obvious, yet to suggest that this film rips his work off is to both discredit Malick and to misunderstand Green's film.  There are things such as the breaking on the filmic space by causing the image to distort that do not fit within the stylings of Malick, while the poetics and free floating narration of the film are clearly similar.  Yet, where Malick seems to go further into pondering, Green finds answers in the present, all be it ones equally ambiguous.  Furthermore, there exists an underlying humor to George Washington that is currently extinct within the work of Malick, but from what I understand he is to be making a comedy in the coming year...so that could all change.  Regardless, George Washington is a thing of beauty and incredibly visceral, yet understated.  You may have seen moments of this film elsewhere, but its collective offering is purely its own.

George Washington centers around everything but the first president of The United States, and while the main characters name is indeed George (Donald Holden) nothing else about him is presidential, of course this is 2000 well before the election of Barack Obama.  George is a young African-American boy who lives with his fiery-tempered uncle and subdued mother, and voyages around his rural Southern town wearing a football helmet, because of a rare skull condition that makes heavy contact and wetness detrimental to his survival.  His friends include the wise-cracking Buddy (Curtis Cotton III), who has an unusual penchant for wearing a velociraptor mask, Buddy's off and on girlfriend Nasia (Candace Evanofski) and Vernon (Damian Jewan Lee) a large boy who uses his authoritative figure in very few situations.  Aside from the young groups explorations and pontifications we are also provide a semi-regular glimpse into the some of the lives of working class young adults in the community, focusing specifically on Rico (Paul Schneider) who is often seen engaging in conversations with the youth.  The life they young people lead is not particularly easy and constant references to their lower-class living pop up throughout the film and, as such, their adventures often lead them to unusual places whether it be conversations in the pews of churches or the recitation of Shakespeare in a dilapidated community recreational hall.  One of these unusual encounters occurs in a bathroom, in which, George furious at Buddy for knocking him into the wall, pushes Buddy back, ultimately, causing him to slip on some water and bust his head open, an accident that proves fatal.  Panicking the group attempts to hide the body of Buddy in an abandoned house outside of town, only for George to feel guilty and eventually place the body in the river to be later discovered.  While the group never confess to their accidental murder, Vernon, along with a young girl named Sonya (Rachael Handy), who was also present at Buddy's death attempt to steal a car and escape from the city, with terrible results.  On the other hand, George attempts to counter his actions by going out of his way to save lives, donning a wrestling leotard, cape and his helmet he becomes a super hero in his mind.

George Washington manages to catch so many social reflections and philosophical inquiries within what appears to be a rather limited narrative net.  We as viewers are asked to ponder both the state of social equity as it relates to class, race, gender and even regional difference, but most importantly what role one's age has on their ability to confront the tragedies of the world, both affecting them and their loved ones.  George's room is by no accident adorned with a photograph of a smiling George H.W. Bush who appears to linger over his every reflection and action.  As is now well known, Bush, and his successor, failed to properly provide concern for the southern rural poor, despite playing heavily on this identity to earn votes.  By extension, however, George learns of these oppressions by not experience them himself, but seeing them through the pain and suffering of his psychologically troubled uncle, brilliantly named Damascus (Eddie Rouse).  Even George's interactions with Rico problematize notions of oppression, because while Rico is certainly quite open-minded in his race relations, even dating a black girl during the film, his progressive ideals do not necessarily reflect that of his entire town.  When George saves the life of a young white boy, the mother comes to thank George personally, and it is impossible to ignore her trepidation as she approaches the house that to her clearly houses the other.  Yet these elements of the film are entrenched within the eyes of the youth who are its subject, death, poverty and racism are not facts to them, but moments of uncertainty that are better explained by notions of fantasy and humor than grounded reason.  It is perhaps Nasia's professing on challenging god or Buddy's brilliant dinosaur Shakespeare monologue that manage to show that not all their ignorance is unintentional, instead; they choose when to ignore tragedy in life, as some awful things simply must not be acknowledged because no amount of explanation and maturity can justify their existence.

Key Scene:  The film has many, but I will constantly remember the one of Buddy quoting Shakespeare in a velociraptor mask.  It is forever burned into my memory, quite welcomely I do admit.

I watched this on Hulu and while it was a great introduction I cannot wait to purchase a copy and neither should you.

I Am Somebody Who Is Profoundly Attached To Images: Beyond The Clouds (1995)

This Korean bootleg DVD was a blind buy from a local Goodwill, mostly with the intent of reselling, after I did a quick Amazon scan and realized it was worth a few bucks, however, when I further examined the case it came to my attention that the film appeared to be directed simultaneously by Michealangelo Antonioni and Wim Wenders.  At that point I could not resist grabbing the work only to later discover that the film was something initially created by Antonioni, only to be finished by Wenders after the late Italian director suffered another crippling stroke.  This knowledge makes an already cinematic and sweetly saddening film that much more sentimental and profound.  While I know I have professed an up and down relationship with Antonioni, it is works like this that have helped me come around to the director as a whole, particularly in that there is perhaps no better director to map philosophical evolution with than Antonioni, to me he is a director who continually greatened in the works he produced, coming up with some particularly key social work, most notably Zabriskie Point.  In fact, the addition of Wim Wenders to this film is the proverbial icing on the cake, not to mention the ambient soundtrack help of U2, as well as a personal favorite of mine, Brian Eno.  This film begins with its head in the clouds and, as the title suggests, goes some were far above them, questioning lust, friendship and sexual awakening all along the way.  Furthermore, you can easily see the very personal touches in the film despite being an adaptation of short stories, particularly considering that to one degree or another Beyond the Clouds is, ultimately, about imagining and creating movies.  There are a handful of moments that come throughout the movie that had me at a loss for words and catching my breath at the simplistically grand nature of the scenes composition, often the camera lingers in this film capturing lengthy reactions the events unfolding, but do not let the stagnant nature of the cinematography fool you, because this is a film about imagination and desire, two things constantly moving.

While the film is a set of different events, to call it a series of short films or even vignettes would be to miss the entire point of the work altogether, instead, I would argue that it is a series of interconnected moments, neatly and cleverly tied together around the reflections and memories of the main character simply known as The Director (John Malkovich) as he drifts through what we assume to be Italy.  The stories all involve some degree of romantic connection, whether it be the initial encounter between two hesitant lovers, only to reconnect a few years later, with an intimate fire, or two older individuals who meet up after one's wife leaves him as he is meeting a wife who has recently left her husband.  Occasionally, The Director will interject his thoughts on a specific situation, often in hyperbole or roundabout poeticism.  The moments of intimacy are rarely subdued and often become quite intimately intense, as is the case with two lovers who engage after seemingly having nothing in common, the guy an atheist free floating individual and the girl a deeply religious individual who is to commit the convent life the very next day, yet something transcendent of spiritual leanings allows them to connect physically in a new definition of a religious experience.  Even the moments in between seem to consider the possibilities of love, as occurs when one man reflects on the nature of art, recreation and admiration.  Even The Director engages in his own moments of intimate reflection, one that causes him to exit from it with a smug sense of happiness as he looks upon his decision through a window of the very recent past.

Beyond the Clouds is an incredibly poetic film, often taking long moments to consume the landscape, or gauge an emotion, something that does not seem to occur, nor does it ever seem to bode well when directors take this approach, popularly speaking at least, as has been the case with more experimental narratives released by say Soderbergh or Van Sant.  It begs to be asked what can be gained from this approach, and what, if anything, is lost.  Certainly a poetic and surreal approach in a film like Beyond the Clouds allows for multiple narratives that do not require a logical connection, often transcending time, as well as space in order to occur, which is seen from the onset in this film, as new stories often overlap the very places in which The Director resides, perhaps suggesting a multiplicity of times occurring at once, or more likely the physical yearning that so often comes with bittersweet memories.  The notion of memory with in a surreal sense often adds new layers to seemingly simple acts as well, heightening the metaphor of something like riding in a plane or staring longingly at the ocean from a swing seat, events that happen quite beautifully in the films many dreamlike sequences.  This is all fine and well and something I favor as a film viewer and critic, but I am fully aware that such approaches can become a cause for disconnect and discontent in viewers, when such filmic constructions do not have an ultimate unifying force.  Fortunately, Beyond the Cloud unites quite brilliantly and makes viewers long for a continuation even after the screen fades to blue, it reminds those watching that life does end and no matter how greatly one desires to return to its moments of beauty, they are and always will be tragically fleeting, so embracing the moment is quite important.

Key Scene:  It is a dead tie between The Director at the park and the couple falling in love at church.

This movie is a bit hard to come by and the copy I found was purely by luck, unfortunately, the Korean copy I have also censors all full frontal nudity which gets old really quick.  I would say check this movie out if you find a decently priced copy, but for now we will have to patiently wait and hope it gets save from obscurity.

Everybody Loses The Thing That Made Them: Beasts Of The Southern Wild (2012)

If this spectacular indie film is any evidence as to how the rest of 2012 will shape up in regards to film, I am ecstatic.  Easily the best film I have seen this year, Beasts of the Southern Wild is an emotive ride through a rather unconventional world, complete with moments of genuine sweetness and biting reality.    At no point in this film do you feel as though you are losing out on quality and, if anything you feel as though the movie ends far too soon.  Relying heavily on handheld cinematography and gritty imagery, this is a cinematic pseudo-anthropological study of persons residing in a world that has literally been taken off the map.  Vehemently opposed to traditions of filmmaking, Benh Zeitlin creates a world that is inhabited by those often deemed voiceless or inconsequential in film narratives.  Each character is in someway a victim of a societal oppression, whether it be gender, class, race or most importantly place of residence.  Beasts of the Southern Wild is a film about humanity in the grandest of terms that plays out with poetic magnitude and pertinent social commentary.  Furthermore, and perhaps most astonishing is the films focus on a child actor, often a risk, Zeitlin's directing and the films sincere quality help make a tricky method explode brilliantly off the screen.

The story of Beasts of the Southern Wild is the story of Hushpuppy (Quvenzhane Wallis) a young girl who lives in a flooded portion of Mississippi with the eponymous name of  The Bath.  She lives in an incredibly rural world, ruled by bartering and communal help, having only the guidance of her temper-fueled father Wink (Dwight Henry) and the random advice of her school teacher Miss Bathsheba (Gina Montana).  Told through Hushpuppy's point of view, we are shown a young woman struggling with a detachment from her mother at a very young age and a father who is slowly falling apart as a result of heart disease.  These very real problems are paralleled with Hushpuppy's visions of beasts from days of yore rising from the melting snow caps to come prey upon her and her insecurities, something she says they can sense from miles away.  While the films begins in a light-hearted manner, the realities of living off the grid begin to interfere, as Hushpuppy and her community become the point of forced intervention by health outreach programs who see their lifestyle as not only primitive, but dangerous, particularly their living in a world that is constantly threatened by flooding.  Eventually being evicted by government agents, Hushpuppy has a taste of the "civilized" world something that bothers her to such a degree that she sets out to find her mother.  After swimming a great distance she ends up in a floating dance hall/brothel where a woman who very much matches the descriptions of her father's memories.  Sharing fried gator with her she attempts to make her realize she is her daughter, however, the woman leaves without acknowledging this fact, resulting in Hushpuppy returning to the island, with the food in tow, just in time to give it to her father before he dies, resulting in one of the films most heart-wrenching scenes.  The film closes with Hushpuppy spouting words of affirmation to her life up to this point, as she leads the residents of The Bath on a march down the road, in what we as viewers can assume is their dire future, however, no fear exists on the face of this girl who has grown years in the matter of a few days.

Beasts of the Southern Wild is perhaps the most well-executed film bildungsroman since The 400 Blows, particularly in that it manages to transcend the traditional formative youth experiences in favor of something far grander philosophically speaking.  Of course, Hushpuppy does go through the traditional formative moments, whether they be forced acknowledgement of her gender, or the inevitable realization of death and these are necessary to such a narrative.  However, I would posit that the experiences in this film are far more complex and reflective than most films about children, excluding the previously mentioned Truffaut film of course.  I mean to say that Hushpuppy has a few moments of internal reflection that would cause the Buddha to be proud, most notably her acknowledgement that she is a small puzzle piece in a big puzzle, something that is simply explained but difficulty realized.  Furthermore, she comes into contact with her power as an individual when spiteful, in one scene she strikes her father in the chest out of frustration, causing his heart problems to reemerge.  She realizes in this moment that her anger out outlashes can have very serious consequences.  Furthermore, she encounters her mother, or someone similar, an experience which causes her to reflect on the value placed on a woman who, ultimately, left her alone.  This realization inspires courage and self-determination within Hushpuppy, something that allows her to stand face-to-face with the beasts that she so greatly feared, affirming her role as a leader to future generations.

Key Scene:  The movie has far to many great moments to simply pick one.

This movie is emotive and realized.  Under no circumstance should you miss checking this out whether it be in theaters or on bluray it is to be viewed immediately.

Experiments In Film: E No Naka No Shouja (1960)

Nobuhiko Obayashi is perhaps better known for his zany 1977 horror comedy House than anything else.  However, prior to being a noted director and producer of commercials, Obayashi offered the world a slew of experimental films that often were as innovative as they were sentimental.  Often filling the screen with editing tricks and post-filming overlays his films clearly reflect a realized vision from their initial opening to their often poetic closings, and this is certainly evidenced in his 1960 offering E No Naka No Shouja, which has no clear English translation as far as I have found.  However, I am in little need of a translator to realize the meaning and intent behind Obayahshi's work, it is all too clear.  It is a short narrative of a longing memory for a lost love that is matted over sweet piano jazz and images of youthful bliss.  In both grandiose long shots and focused close-ups Obayashi's film is a memory play of the most endearing kind, given its honesty and reflective elements it is hard not to enjoy, let alone be utterly moved by.  It is a filmmakers flowing expression of all that is lost, but not easily forgotten.

The film is a series of encounters involving a young man, and what appears to be a few different women, however, the viewer can never be certain as the women's faces are often shadowed or just far enough out of focus to seem vaguely similar.  The young man, with a sketch pad in hand, attempts to go about recreating the memory of either one, or a handful of girls, however, his drawing is always missing the figure in the center, one that is clearly feminine.  Thus the man's quest through various parts of sub-rural Japan meeting up with multiple women, lead him through an amusement park, a very oneiric playground and a lift that carries him loftily over what could be any village in Japan.  We as viewers always appear right behind the films memory, trying to play catch up to the young man's vision, which is executed brilliantly by Obayahsi as the camera often lingers behind the characters as they walk far off into symmetrical roadways and sidewalks.  Even the obvious aging of the film strip helps to add to the surreal nature of the film as every scratch and scrape helps to make the memory somehow truer, yet never fully realized.  As the film closes the man still lacks the figure for his drawing, and in disbelief closes his sketchbook and continues to wander the roads of Japan lost in something from the past that he still lacks.

For more information on Nobuhiko Obayashi or to watch E No Naka No Shouja click on the film images below: