Absolutely in a class all by itself: Makoto Nagahisa's WE ARE LITTLE ZOMBIES

Mashing up so many dfferent genres while remaining utterly its own original, WE ARE LITTLE ZOMBIES gave me the most bizarre and special movie experience I've had since first encountering South Korea's lollapalooza, Save the Green Planet. First of all, this film is as witty -- verbally and visually -- as anything you have recently (or even not so recently) seen. It moves like a house afire, telling the tale of the meeting and life thereafter of four children, all orphaned on the same day, and all already fed up with adults and life as they have so far experienced it.

I think it is safe to say that writer/director -- whose first full-length film this is after a single, award-winning short -- Makoto Nagahisa (shown at right) is clearly a born filmmaker. Except that he may soon tire of the medium, since I am not certain what more he could give that he has not already provided via this film. We shall see.

Meanwhile, We Are Little Zombies addresses it all -- love (given, but mostly withheld), death, grief, contemporary life, parenting (mostly bad) -- even as it cleverly, delightfully indicts parents, adults in general, Japan in particular, and consumers and society at large (both eastern and western). Have I left anyone or anything out, Nagahisa?

Yet this indictment is so funny, fresh and endlessly entertaining that movie buffs ought not mind, even if more mainstream audiences may throw up their hands in disarray. Who cares? How the filmmaker gives us these kids and their back stories, those parents and their deaths, the real and surreal, fantasies, facts, fishbowls and so much more will make you grateful you still have eyes and ears.

While a Puccini tune runs throughout the film, its oddball musical numbers are amazing in their own right. For a while the film seems like some old-fashioned videogame come to life, and then around the midway point it takes a turn -- for the even better. Our heroes/heroine become a kid band, complete with their own sleazy/sweet manager (the red-head above),

before moving into the utterly surreal/unreal/too real. And still, the energy and wit never flag. Sweet, sad, profound, memorable and certainly one of this year's best movies,  We Are Little Zombies also proves to be the zombie movie to end them all, even without the de rigueur flesh-eating. (The scene in which we suddenly see the zombies -- and their "attachment" -- proves a perfect humdinger.)

From Oscilloscope Films and running a full two hours (from which I would not have wanted to cut one minute), the movie opens today in virtual and real cinemas all across the USA. Click here and then follow directions to learn how and where you can view it. Oh, and I want to nominate for the Movie Faces Hall of Fame little lead actor Keita Ninomiya. What a face -- and what a beautiful pair of eyes this kid has!

NYC's Film Forum screens the seldom-seen-theatrically Ozu film, TOKYO TWILIGHT

I've only seen a half dozen or so films by the Japanese master Yasujirô Ozu, so the chance to view TOKYO TWILIGHT (from 1957) -- not to be confused with his more famous Tokyo Story (1953) -- seemed too good to miss. Being an Ozu film, it proved just that. Here's the stationery camera, along with the mid-level angles he so loved to use, and most important (it seems to TrustMovies at least) is that quiet pacing at a speed that allows (some might say forces) us to fully view and more deeply understand all that is happening and what this means to the participants.

For those raised on (and who never grew out of) car chases, gunshots and explosions, Ozu (shown at right) will no doubt rate a zero. But for those who want a look at Japanese culture and mores of the pre- and post WWII period, together with family tales that are as close to universal as you could want, this filmmaker is a keeper.

That said, Tokyo Twilight seems to me one of Ozu's lesser efforts by virtue of its a-little-to-close-to-soap-opera plotting, along with events that -- though they certainly apply within the framework of his themes and concerns -- do seem awfully coincidental and, well, a little too easy. Not for the characters to bear, mind you, but simply for good storytelling technique.

Still, the man was a master of casting and drawing wonderful performances out of those casts -- all of which is true here once again. A splendid Chishû Ryû (above) plays the banker father of two now-grown daughters, the mother of whom left early on in the marriage, for reasons we'll slowly learn.

The older of the girls (Setsuko Hara, above), pushed into a bad marriage by dad, is now trying to work her way into a better life, while the younger sibling (Ineko Arima, below) is the one with the problem that becomes the movie's main event upon which much of the plot hinges.

Then there is the older woman (Isuzu Yamada, below) with some connection to the family whose identity becomes rather obvious well before Ozu decides to fully confirm it to us. That said, the departure scene at the train station toward film's end is a kind of classic of gratification more than merely delayed.

There are so many lovely and moving moments and scenes in Tokyo Twilight that it almost seems churlish to complain. Yet by the final scene there have been enough soap-opera situations to give us pause. "A shock that great is seldom heard of," notes one character far into the film. This may have been somewhat true in Japan of the 1950s, but that sort of "shock" had been a staple of movies almost since their inception.

While Ozu has often taken what might initially seem like soap opera and raised it to art, here that art may be a little less apparent. Still, this is quite a lovely, poignant and fulfilling movie. And, really, who's going to complain about anything Ozu? (Except for those action lovers.)

Distributed via Janus Films, Tokyo Twilight -- in a new 4K DCP restoration -- opens for a week-long run tomorrow, Friday, November 8, at Film Forum in New York City. (Shown above is Masami Taura, handsome and sleazy, as younger sister's ratfink boyfriend.)

On Blu-ray/DVD: Masaaki Yuasa's bizarre, boisterous (and eventually pretty profound) anime, THE NIGHT IS SHORT, WALK ON GIRL

TrustMovies doesn't know quite what he expected when he sat down to view THE NIGHT IS SHORT, WALK ON GIRL, the 2017 Japanese anime just now hitting Blu-ray and DVD via the combined auspices of Shout! Factory and GKIDS.

According to the press release, the animated movie is "a free-wheeling comedy about one epic night in Kyoto, in which a group of teens go out on the town." While that description is, yes, more-of-less true, it barely begins to give you an idea of the utter strangeness and (I think) cultural foreignness of what you are about to encounter.

Directed by Masaaki Yuasa (shown at left), the movie -- based on a popular novel of the same name written by Tomihiko Morimi and illustrated by Yusuke Nakamura (the latter also served as the film's original character designer) -- is so full of oddball characters, both human and supernatural, and cultural references seeming perhaps rather bizarre to non-Japanese, that uninitiated viewers had best sit back and simply let the movie flow in, over and through them.

Eventually, during the final third of this 93 minute movie, things begins to coalesce and, if you're anything like me, you may find yourself surprisingly moved by the theme that finally makes itself most felt: that of how important are the connections -- all kinds of 'em -- between people.

In the film's most surprising scene, our heroine explains to an evil supernatural being how his misdeeds have actually connected people so that they -- and he -- are not alone. My god, this might mean there is hope even for someone like Donald Trump. (No, I am going way too far with that prognosis.)

That heroine, a college sophomore, known here as Otome (above), is being followed/stalked (but nicely) by a senior called Senpai (below), a probably decent enough fellow who is coming undone because he can't deal with or understand his mixed feelings of affection, sex, love, caring and all the rest.

The anime is peopled with lots of other characters, many of whom are as bizarre and interesting as all else in this very strange and energetic movie, the animation of which is super colorful and often quite inventive -- more and more so as the movie rolls along.

There's a "used-book ghost/being" (above), a love-smitten character who refuses to change his underpants, and a friendly pervert (below) with quite the collection of erotica (further below, with the sexual organs blocked by colorful florals).

Otome drinks like a fish yet never seems to actually get drunk. She can drink everyone else in the film under the table: This is one of her many "abilities" -- and one reason for parents to make sure they watch the film along with their under-age kids and then try to explain it all later.

The movie compares to little else I've seen (though maybe you're more anime-educated), and I suspect it will stick with me for some time. The combo Blu-ray/DVD package hits the street this coming Tuesday, January 29 -- for purchase and/or (I hope) rental. Enjoy!

A murder mystery from Hirokazu Kore-eda? Yes, as THE THIRD MURDER opens in theaters

Really? A murder mystery from Hirokazi Kore-eda, the fellow who has made all those wonderful Japanese films about family and relationships and philosophy and responsibility? Yes.

And THE THIRD MURDER is indeed about family and relationships and philosophy and responsibility. And also, especially, about justice, motive and character --  that last in every sense that you can imagine for this hugely encompassing word.

Mr. Hirokazu, pictured at right, whose classic Maborosi (the new Blu-ray release of which TrustMovies covered only last week) rather set the Japanese standard for films concerning all of the above themes, has now taken those themes and applied them to the murder mystery genre.

The results will most likely please his current fans a good deal more than they may satisfy those who expect anything remotely like a conventional murder mystery.

The Third Murder begins in a dark and deserted field at night in which a rather grizzly murder (followed by a cremation) takes place. Thanks to Hirokazu's skill and subtlety, sound effects jar us more than the visuals.

It seems clear from the beginning exactly who the murderer is. But who he is in terms of his character and why he has done the deed remain murky yet continually compelling. And Kôji Yakusho, above, who plays this very unusual role is equally compelling.

We learn something of the Japanese justice system, meet friends and family of the victim, as well as of that of murderer's defense attorney (Masaharu Fukuyama, above) -- who initially does not want this case but slowly grows closer and closer to the man he is defending.

What is learned about the victim will hardly ingratiate the guy to viewers, and once we've met his sleazy wife and hugely troubled daughter, this third murder begins to become as understandable as the first two, which we learn of in the course of the investigation.

Still, this is murder, and so justice must be served. But how? The defense attorney's father (above, who is himself a judge) offers one solution, but his son keeps soldiering on, hoping for a way to get his client a life sentence (or less) rather than death.

Religious motifs -- yes, that cross (seen above and below) -- figure in prominently,

as do dead birds, a thank-you note and peanut butter. Motives are mulled over and seem initially promising but then unclear, while truth, as ever, is utterly elusive.

Toward the finale, there is a scene of such supreme visual power, depth and even a weird kind of suspense as our two heroes come as close as possible to "joining."

Now, I have seen this kind of visual done previously on a number of occasions, but never as well as here. The sense of separate entities trying their best to understand each other and become one has rarely been brought to such vibrant, emotional and philosophic life.

If you are in the market for any cut-and-dried procedural or even a mystery with some sort of surprise finale, better look elsewhere. But if the ever-amazing and endlessly engaging ideas of family as both salvation and hell, justice as an elusive goal worth pursuing, and character as something that evolves rather than springs fully formed from DNA, then The Third Murder might just be your cup of chrysanthemum tea.

From Film Movement and running 124 minutes, the movie opens in New York City this Friday, July 20, at the Quad Cinema and on August 3 in Los Angeles at Laemmle's Royal, with other cities to follow in the weeks and months to come.

MABOROSI: Early, much-loved movie from Hirokazu Kore-eda gets Blu-ray/DVD debut

I first encountered the work of Japanese filmmaker Hirokazu Kore-eda (shown below) via his marvelous After Life, a bizarre, philosophic and enchantingly original riff on the post-death experience. Since then I've seen each of his subsequent films (those released here in the USA, at least) and enjoyed every one of them. Yet the movie that brought him to international attention -- MABOROSI, his first narrative film released in 1995, three years prior to After Life -- I am only now catching up with, due to its at last getting a Blu-ray/DVD release, thanks to Milestone Films.

The film is worth the wait. Not surprisingly Maborosi, which refers to a kind of strange light sometimes seen at sea, deals with so many of the themes that are clearly important to its director: family, loss, love and responsibility. Even more interestingly, TrustMovies thinks, is that fact that all these themes are dealt with in a manner even more graceful, subtle and quiet than in any of Hirokazu's later films (which are themselves pretty graceful, subtle and quiet).

While the director usually writes his original screenplays (or occasionally bases one on a manga), with Maborosi, he worked from a screenplay by Yoshihita Ogita (adapted from the novel by Teru Miyamoto). Whether he was deliberately more careful in adhering to the screenplay or it simply worked out this way, his movie is almost exquisitely calm, composed, placid and beautiful.

In telling a tale of disappearance and death, family and obligation, the director makes a rare visual poetry out of loss, grief and only very painful, difficult renewal.

Beginning with the disappearance of a much loved grandmother (above) and then all too soon the apparent suicide of a beloved husband and best friend (below), our heroine, Yumiko (Makiko Esumi), barely able to shoulder the co-responsibility of caring for a young child before her loss, now is forced to do it all nearly alone.

Still, new life beckons, and Yumiko accepts it, as a new husband and his daughter joins her and her little son, bringing them to a small, strange and beautiful -- if pretty desolate -- seaside town.

The movie relies even more on its visuals than on its rather sparse dialog to guide us along, and because those visuals are so beautifully composed (the cinematography is by Nasao Nakabori), we follow effortlessly. And though we are told of those illusory seafaring lights, the film itself is so full of odd, dark and beautiful lighting effects (as above and below) that it very nearly becomes its own "Maborosi."

Our heroine (as well as we viewers) wants nothing more than explanation. We expect that things -- important things -- will be revealed. Nothing ever is. Perhaps that is the point: Nothing conclusive can be revealed.

Yes, the past is always present and always will be -- until memory leaves us. The point is not allowing that past to engulf us but rather moving ahead. All of the filmmaker's work seems to underscore this. The beauty and poetry he gives us in the process is what makes that work so special.

From The Milestone Cinematheque and running 110 minutes. Maborosi arrives on Blu-ray/DVD  this coming Tuesday, July 10 -- for purchase and (I hope) rental.

In Lana Wilson's THE DEPARTURE we meet a one-man suicide prevention center who also makes house calls

The documentary begins in what looks like a club where our hero is dancing up a storm. Then we see him on a motorbike heading out to the countryside and... home. His? Whose? Now he's praying and writing and dressing like... a monk? Yes. Or maybe a teacher. Or both. Soon he is saying to a group of students, "Welcome to The Departure," and training the class regarding what it is like to die. This exercise is a marvelous one, at the end of which, "This is death," he tells the class. Then he's farming (rice, maybe?), after which he's back home with his... wife, child and mother?

All the above questions or surmises will be answered or borne out in the course of an 87-minute documentary titled THE DEPARTURE, directed and co-written (with David Teague) by Lana Wilson (of After Tiller), shown at right. Ittetsu Nemoto, we soon learn, has gone from being a Japanese punk rocker leading a band to near-death to a fellow who, when his mother notices a want-ad for a priest (yes!), she encourages him to apply. He does, and the rest, as they say, is both history and a little mystery. Nemoto turns out to be a one-man suicide prevention center, and he also makes house calls!

For all the good that our guy may be doing in terms of his students (this, it seems to me, is called into question, perhaps unintentionally, by the film as it goes along), it is soon clear that Mr. Nemoto, below, has not at all left behind the self-destructive habits that almost killed him in late adolescence.

"There has to be a meaning in life," someone -- I think it was one of those students -- notes during the course of this doc. As a response, "The river has no meaning," Nemoto reminds them. Yeah? Tell that to the fish who live it in or the folk who drink from it. And while our priest's help and advice to his would-be suicides does appear of some encouragement to those disciples (below), it also seems awfully generalized and non-specific. And even when it is specific -- "Think what your suicide would do to your children!" -- at most this seems ultra-obvious, standard stuff. But then, I may be approaching all this from a westernized standpoint; my understanding of eastern cultures is clearly limited.

Still, I do find it odd that a documentary that begins so well, with so much surprise and seeming importance, would dwindle down to a meandering, "whatever" kind of journey of would-be profundity that eventually simply stops rather than actually concluding. One wonders, given Nemoto's doctor's prognosis (which we are privy to in the course of the film), if this unusual Buddhist priest/monk is even still alive today.

From Matson Films, The Departure opens this Friday, October 13, in New York City at the Metrograph theater, and on Friday, October 20 in the Los Angeles area at Laemmle's Monica Film Center. In the weeks to come, the documentary will open in another 20 cities across the country. Click here to see all currently scheduled playdates and theaters.