LFM: Libertas Film Magazine

By Joe Bendel. The Japanese dirty movie business has a reputation for being more extreme than its American counterparts, but its boundaries with the legit entertainment world are more porous. Many Japanese pornstars become national celebrities and some even crossover to the mainstream. After helming who knows how many adult features, director Kei Morikawa has done just that with Makeup Room, a mainstream film about the porn industry that screenedas part of the 2015 Japan Cuts Festival of New Japanese Film.

By Japanese Adult Video (AV) standards, this will be a large-scale shoot. Kyoko will have five actresses to makeup and periodically retouch. There will also be some guys in the video, but nobody seems to care what they look like. She is supposed to have an assistant, but the flake never makes it to the set. It is just one of many things that will go wrong, but somehow Kyoko keeps it all together.

We first meet Sugar and Saki, two dependable “specialty” players, who are distressed by the number of lines they must memorize. To further complicate matters, they must switch parts when Sugar’s conspicuous back tattoo disqualifies her from playing the “Lolita” role. Eventually, the star attraction Masami arrives, immediately crashing in the makeup chair. Later, they are joined by the enthusiastic veteran Masako, and a shy ingénue known as Matsuko until the studio comes up with her permanent stage name.

Adapting his stage play, Morikawa keeps the action anchored solely in the makeup room, but he makes a point of letting us hear what happens on the set. He embraces the inherent staginess to emphasize the extreme difference between the two rooms. When the actresses are on-camera, they are sex objects, but when they sit in Kyoko’s chair, they are real women, with their own very particular insecurities and neuroses.

The actresses are all played by real life AV stars and they are each terrific in very different ways. Regardless of the quality of their prior film work, they can act. In fact, Beni Ito and Kanami Osako are shockingly moving as Saki (a part-time prostitute struggling to catch on in the AV business) and Masami (the young diva dealing with the repercussions of her notoriety), respectively. Nanami Kawakami also displays first rate comedic chops as the brash (and still very keen) Masako. Nobody takes it over the top or resorts to shtick, least of all mainstream indie thesp Aki Morita as Kyoko. She gives a wonderfully sensitive and suggestive performance that reveals so little about her character in practical terms, it will have viewers creating their own backstories for her.

Makeup Room compellingly humanizes the AV actresses, but it does not glamorize their business. Except for maybe Masako, nobody is enjoying this career. Some seem to think it is a “sex-positive” film or whatever, but if this empowering, you wouldn’t want to see exploitative. However, it is all quite honest, and messy, and very human. Even though you never see, you will clearly hear, so viewer discretion is advised. Recommended surprisingly highly for mature audiences, Makeup Room screened as part of this year’s Japan Cuts.

LFM GRADE: A-

Posted on July 10th, 2015 at 3:57pm.

By Joe Bendel. Coffee is the one drink that goes equally well with first dates and break-ups. As the setting for a Taiwanese rom com, a coffeehouse is inviting, accessible, and not too expensive to render on-screen. Best of all, if the film is a hit, the fictional brand can be licensed to a brick-and-mortar establishment. Such was the case with Chiang Chin-lin’s Café. Waiting. Love., which screened as part of the 2015 New York Asian Film Festival.

You might think you do not like rom-coms, but CWL, will still charm you silly. It all starts with the relentlessly cute Siying, a college freshman, who is nearly flattened by a bus, but is saved by a handsome mystery man. Naturally quite smitten with him, she takes a part-time job at the titular coffeehouse he frequently patronizes, usually with a bored looking bombshell. Much to her frustration, Siying inadvertently catches the eye of A-Tuo, a seven-year senior, who has developed a scandalous reputation due to all the outrageous bets he has lost. He will soon be liberated from the roller-skates and bikinis that have made him such a sight on campus, but he must still carry around a well preserved head of cabbage.

Adapting his own novel for the screen, Giddens Ko assembles an eccentric cast of dozens, including Brother Bao, a former actor known for gangster movies who now mediates mob disputes, Siying’s roommate A Zhu, who aspires to join the Iron Head Kung Fu club (which is exactly what you suspect it is), and A Bu-si, the sardonic barista who once dated A-Tuo, before coming out of the closet. In addition, there are frequent flashbacks, generous helpings of magical realism, and demitasse cup after demitasse cup of delicious looking coffee confections.

Evidently, Taiwan is the place to go for romantic comedies. Like Hou Chi-jan’s When a Wolf Falls in Love with a Sheep, CWL notches all the rom-com boxes, but it is wildly inventive visually and its narrative is considerably more sophisticated than the boy-meets-girl-botches-it-up-and-then-patches-things-up Hollywood formula.

CWL also boasts an infrequent screen appearance from the technically-still-retired-unless-she-feels-like-making-a-film Vivian Chow, who is absolutely smoldering and heartbreaking as the café proprietress. She is also perfectly matched by Yuan Chen as her younger self in flashbacks. As our POV character, Siying, Vivian Sung is enormously earnest and expressive. Happily, there is nothing shticky or clichéd about Megan Lai’s turn as the acerbic and reserved A Bu-si. In contrast, Bruce Lu-si Bu relentlessly tries to endear himself to the audience, much like a lovesick puppy, but his A-Tuo probably works better for the women in the audience.

CWL is propelled by a goofy sense of humor and a highly caffeinated energy level, but when Chiang and Chow lower the emotional boom, you will find yourself blubbering like a baby. Maybe the most satisfying “pure” romantic comedy since Hou’s Sheep, Café. Waiting. Love. is highly recommended for romantics and sentimental java drinkers when it screens this Thursday (7/9) at the SVA Theatre, as part of this year’s NYAFF.

LFM GRADE: A-

Posted on July 10th, 2015 at 3:17pm.

By Joe Bendel. Given the controversy that once embroiled filmmaker Victor Vu, the title of his subsequent signature franchise is certainly apt. Charges that his 2010 picture Inferno bears suspicious similarities to Wolfgang Petersen’s Shattered have not slowed down his career much from an outsider’s vantage point, while Petersen was probably just shocked anyone remembers Shattered. Regardless, his flashy exploration of fame, jealousy, and media gossip-mongering will upend many people’s preconceptions of Vietnamese film. Fittingly, Vu’s Scandal screens during the 2015 edition of New Vietnamese Cinema at the Honolulu Museum of Art.

Y Linh is an up-and-coming model-actress, who finally starts realizing her superstar dreams after her marriage to entrepreneur Hoang Kiet. Her first films are blockbusters directed by the Spielberg-esque Le Hung and produced by the slimy Thien. Unfortunately, everything changes when her husband meets the home-wrecking singer-model, Tra My. Soon Thien is openly carrying on with Tra My, who also steals the movie roles Y Linh was expecting. To make matters worse, she starts suffering from mystery maladies traditional doctors cannot diagnose, but witch doctors recognize only too well. Concluding Tra My placed a curse on her, Y Linh fights back the only place she can—in the press.

To an extent, one can hear echoes of the Jolie-Aniston tabloid affair in Scandal, but the alleged black magic adds an entirely new wrinkle, at least as far as we know. Despite all the Vietnamese film industry awards it racked up, Scandal is not exactly high art. It is glitzy, glossy, and often shamelessly lurid. Of course, all that scandalous behavior makes for good trashy entertainment.

Vân Trang and Mai Thu Huong (a.k.a. Maya) embrace their inner divas as Y Linh and Tra My, respectively. Frankly, it is just a lot of fun to watch them rage at each other. Khuong Ngoc and Mihn Thuan are not exactly shy hamming it up as the director and producer, either. Clearly, this is not a business or a film for shrinking violets.

Vu’s direction is slicker than slick, while cinematographer Nguyen K’Linh gives it all a stylishly noir sheen. In fact, Vu manages to pull off a rather clever bit of misdirection, thanks to the many extravagant distractions. The sensationalistic melodrama proved so popular it spawned a thematic sequel that will also screen as part of the 2015 New Vietnamese Cinema series. Recommended for those who appreciate vicariously indulgent morality tales, Scandal 1 screens this Friday (7/10) at the Honolulu Museum of Art, as part of their annual celebration of Vietnamese film.

LFM GRADE: B

Posted on July 9th, 2015 at 11:44pm.

By Joe Bendel. Linh is like a Vietnamese Zatoichi, except she doesn’t even use a sword. She can make do with her cane or any staff-like object that comes to hand. She is looking for the man who stole her eyes, but she is already too enlightened for revenge. However, the ruthless One-Eyed Cuong is a different story. A showdown is therefore inevitable in Luu Huynh’s Lost Eyes, which screens during the 2015 edition of New Vietnamese Cinema at the Honolulu Museum of Art.

Linh was born with supernaturally intense blue eyes. Unfortunately, Cuong, a low level thug and general underworld whipping boy, receives magical instructions from a crooked priest allowing him to steal their power to fuel his own ambitions. Even though he sort of botches the job, he still gets enough juice from the ritual to become the top kingpin. Tragically, he kills both of Linh’s parents in the process, but a convent takes in the young peasant girl, where she duly receives instruction in martial arts.

Through her own clairvoyant rituals, Linh’s teacher discovers her mother’s spirit now resides in Cuong’s heart, where she lays massive guilt trips on the savage gangster. If Linh successfully faces the man who stole her eyes, she will see her mother once again. So she does not blow into town for the sake of retribution. However, if she just so happens to get some payback as part of her loftier goal then so be it.

Lost Eyes is a throwback in the best way possible. It is mostly about gritty, grungy street-fighting, but it layers some spiritual seasoning on top, just the way we like it. Frankly, this is the sort of film that built Golden Harvest back in the day and it still works for contemporary audiences.

As Linh, Ngoc Thanh Tâm shows instant star power and profound action cred. Likewise, Binh Minh chews enough scenery to be a worthy nemesis as Cuong. Thúy Vinh (still striking looking, despite the film’s de-glamouring) nicely handles the mystical business as Linh’s priestess-guru. There are also plenty of talented stunt performers, who will get thoroughly smacked around by Linh and Cuong.

This is not a complicated narrative, but the fight scenes are pleasingly down-to-earth and super-charged, in an old school kind of way. Both Ngoc and her character wear well on viewers as the film progresses, making a potential franchise an appealing prospect. Frankly, it is just refreshing to see a new film that is so honest to the martial arts genre tradition, yet still manages to establish its own identity. Highly recommended for action fans, Lost Eyes screened this past Tuesday (7/7), as part of New Vietnamese Cinema 2015 at the Honolulu Art Museum. Anyone planning a trip to Hawaii in the near future should make a point of checking out their film program, in addition to the beaches and volcanoes.

LFM GRADE: A-

Posted on July 9th, 2015 at 11:34pm.