Ando Lloyd

Kimura Takuya plays the dual role of genius scientist and futuristic android doppelganger in a CGI-laden science fiction series called, Ando Lloyd. Set in what appears to be an alternate version of present day Tokyo, the series takes on a clean, modern visual style which makes it feel different yet oddly familiar. With elements culled from a medley of works about sentient beings and technological determinism, it's a show that takes great pains to capture every bang and crunch of metal with aplomb while being totally oblivious to the importance of a coherent storyline.

Viewers get thrown into the thick of the action, making the series a high octane robot sentinel/assassin-battle extravaganza full of snazzy special effects, slow motion fight sequences and decorative fillers. It's the prime time equivalent of a tokusatsu with a bigger budget and pool of stars. But unlike its meager counterpart, the harried presentation of a back story and the aseptic relationship between its characters, rob Ando Lloyd of its tell-tale, mechanized heart. Things progress at such a rapid rate in the show without much rhyme or reason that viewers might even be justified in requesting permission for  its atomic disposal.

Requesting....
Requesting....

Still here?

As the story goes, Matsushima Reiji (Kimura Takuya) is a genius physicist who has made a breakthrough in his research on time and wormholes. He's come up with a theory that has given him access to the future, specifically, information on the place and time that certain people meet their deaths, including his own. Unable to alter the sequence of events, Reiji dies vowing to protect his fiancée, Ando Asahi (Shibasaki Kou), from the same group of assassins who got him. In his stead, an android dead ringer rises from the year 2113. Its mission is to keep Ando Asahi out of harm's way, under instructions that keeping her alive would significantly impact the future.  

Along with a cheeky repair unit called Suppli (Honda Tsubasa), the said android performs its task with unmatched certainty. Things, however, get complicated once its presence is discovered,  forcing it to assume the role of Reiji in front of a terrified younger sister (Oshima Yuko) and an inquisitive detective (Endo Kinichi). This proves especially problematic since it doesn't have any regard for the life of other humans, much less their feelings. 

The threats to Asahi's life keep on coming, while elsewhere, an unknown foe dispatches another android with higher technical specifications to watch and wait for an opportunity to eliminate Reiji's proxy. 

It sounds amazingly simple and forthright but the presentation of this story about how an android becomes the embodiment of love's transcendental nature is anything but. Ando Lloyd is such an ambitious series that it tries to pack in an unbelievable amount of detail and embellishments to a universe or mythology that is underdeveloped. A lot of the special effects utilized is indeed impressive for a television production but they're no more than accommodations---integrated to showcase the jdrama's coolness factor even at the expense of numerous continuity errors.

In this makeshift world, androids can wreak havoc and destruction without the notice of the general public, they can bend and break one moment, then inexplicably bleed the next. Equally puzzling is that human consciousness can be stored in a microchip even a hundred years after their physical death; much more, androids get decimated and miraculously resurrected without a backup system using a 3D-printer situated inside Reiji's desk drawer and a temporary OS upgrade can be triggered using an intra-cardiac injection, when in theory androids don't even have a cardiovascular system to speak of.  

The series looks and feels like it's written on the fly, operating under tractable rules, causing the viewer to raise questions, of which there are no satisfactory answers. The explanation provided to the compound question of why Asahi is so important to the future of mankind, as well as the why and how an android was utilized to protect her, comes off as hackneyed, sentimental blubber. In addition thereto, the love story in it doesn't really take root given Reiji's sudden departure. It takes five episodes before supporting characters are given something to do and another five episodes to sort out the main villain's agenda. And while it might be fun to see Kimura Takuya prop up and fall down like a broken toy without blinking, the whole cast is somewhat wasted in this because the whole project--- despite its gloss and energy---doesn't really make a lot of sense.


RATING: 
STUNNING VISUAL EFFECTS FOR TELEVISION
AMBITIOUS AND SLEEK EXECUTION
INCOHERENT SCI-FI POTLUCK 
WASTES ITS CAST

Read More

Hirugao

Hirugao provides a beguiling yet woefully trite profile of a Japanese housewife's life of quiet desperation, having for its subject matter the alleged popularity and propensity of domesticated women to engage in mid-afternoon trysts. Opening with a strong emotional hook, it effectively garners sympathy for its main character, playing out like an anatomy of an extra-marital affair. Be forewarned however, that the the story in itself is nothing special for stories about adulterous women tend to follow the same course and reach the same outcome. The series delves into scenarios so familiar that it's almost on par with scandalous blather found in gossip rags or spread through the neighborhood grapevine. 

In terms of dramatic style and tone, it's quite similar to Cheap Love and Majo no Jouken which convey a certain restlessness in its characters who are far from content with their personal lives despite the artifice of leading a perfect life in suburbia. At its best, Hirugao draws attention to a double standard created as a result of a well-entrenched code of conduct that values duplicity and its corresponding effect on the family as the basic unity of society. This social commentary is eclipsed only by an overarching love story, so immediate and spurned by passion though admittedly short-lived. And while all this may seem initially intriguing, the series falters midway and falls prey to its own devices, resorting to tired melodrama. 

Hirugao brings together two married women, from vastly different backgrounds, and sees them through their respective love affairs. Sasamoto Sawa (Ueto Aya) is a plain housewife who's been married for five years. She works part-time at the local supermarket and waits on her husband (Suzuki Kosuke) hand and foot, even though she's often ignored and left cold in the marital bed, on top of being pestered by her mother-in-law to produce grandchildren. Sawa gets entangled with Takigawa Rikako (Kichise Michiko), housewife to a rich publisher, when the latter is caught in the company of her lover during a parking lot incident.

To avert any suspicion, Rikako wrangles Sawa into keeping up the pretense of being fast friends, coercing the younger woman to act as her cover. In doing so, Sawa learns more about Rikako's afternoon exploits and is likewise encouraged to pursue a relationship with a mild-mannered high school teacher (Saito Takumi) that she's taken a liking to. Meanwhile Rikako sets her eyes on a new target---a struggling artist (Kitamura Kazuki) who appears to be intent on rebuffing her advances.

What starts off as a game turns into something more serious as both women unwittingly find love outside of their marriage. There is nary a carefree moment, with Sawa and Rikako often scrambling to cover their tracks. It doesn't take long for them to realize that every stolen encounter with their paramour comes at a cost and the world is about to punish them for coveting that which belongs to another...

Capturing a rather hefty set of reasons as to why married women and/or men are driven to infidelity, Hirugao provides an almost alluring yet bittersweet take on women who dare to don the scarlet letter as a sign of protest. Writer Inoue Yumiko adapts a simple story, showcasing complex personal and gender-based issues, taking into account the cultural peculiarities of Japanese society. The overall result is that the series in itself takes on a divided stance despite being way more interesting when guided by its subversive rationality. At one moment it seems to advocate woman empowerment by referring to such extra-marital affairs as a form of equitable cheating, but for the rest of its run, it's all about the oppressive nature of staying in a loveless marriage. Despite all the talk about random hook-ups, truth and audacity, the show really is just another take on forbidden love.

Sawa's conversion from unwilling accomplice to unapologetic adulteress is a sight to behold. The first few episodes document her loneliness, hesitation and guilt beautifully, providing a romantic overture to the love affair. The temptation and seduction of engaging in the affair prove more potent than the actual transgression, as can be seen from Sawa's rejection and Rikako's stripped down and vulnerable plea in the rain.

Both women display an underlying resolve to seek happiness but they're never rewarded for wanting or dreaming of more, instead, they're condemned for their selfish behavior. Emancipated from her husband, Rikako falls into the same dilemma of being objectified to the detriment of her children, while Sawa irrationally runs away and awaits divine punishment. Ueto Aya tackles the role of Sawa with a maturity never displayed before, even if she doesn't exactly fit the bill of a dowdy bride. Meanwhile, Kichise Michiko and Kitamura Kazuki play up the sex and drama (at times to an unrealistic extent) against a cast that provide credible support to an overworked storyline.

For a series that begins and ends with a raging fire, Hirugao lets all sentiment and equity go up in smoke. It starts to drag as the two women make poor choices and act out like lovestruck teenagers at a time when they're called to address the situation like adults. Gone are the naughty innuendos that represent the repressed housewife and the rebellious streak that proudly enunciated the familial benefits of having casual relations with strangers. What prevails in the end is a certain feeling of helplessness that goes against the insurgent musings and actions of the show's women.

RATING: 

INTRIGUING FIRST HALF
ROMANTIC PRELUDE TO THE AFFAIR
IRRATIONAL AND DRAMATIC WIND UP

Read More

Lost Days

Six college friends go on a winter holiday trip to relish what they deem to be their last carefree days of youth, only to find their so-called friendship tested and fractured by malice and jealousy. Conceptually, Lost Days explores the seemingly delicate nature of relationships; bringing to the forefront suppressed feelings of anger and uncertainty that each person feels when they're seeking acceptance within a group. The series takes place in a mountain cottage and covers a 10-day period within which these individuals sort out their issues with dire consequences.

It begins with a road trip organized by tennis club president, Shino Yuta (Seto Koji) and his best friend Takano Natsu (Yoshizawa Ryo). With them are model student, Rinka (Treindl Reina), level-headed Mana (Kojima Fujiko), sassy junior student, Satsuki (Miyoshi Ayaka), and resident good girl, Miki (Ishibashi Anna). They spend a fun-filled afternoon at a ski resort, laughing, joking and snowboarding before deciding to retire to a mountain cottage owned by Miki's parents. Upon arriving there, they are surprised to find Miki's older brother (Kiriyama Ken) already taking up residence. And though Miki appears visibly troubled by her brother's presence, the rest of the gang, at first, does not find anything particularly unusual about having an  unexpected companion.

They all try to make nice with each other as night falls but things soon take an unexpected turn when the power goes out, the keys to the car go missing, and personal affairs get exposed. Cabin fever kicks in and tensions rise as the characters find themselves forced to confront each other with malign intentions at play. Busy fighting and accusing each other of suspicious and repulsive behavior, these six individuals remain unaware of a murder that took place in the mountains and an ongoing manhunt for a killer on the loose.

When one of them almost freezes to death after being locked up in a tool shed, Yuta takes it upon himself to investigate who's orchestrating the group conflict and why this person appears to be hell bent on driving a wedge between his friends. He finds disturbing evidence that point to the involvement of Miki's brother but is unsure of how to proceed with the safety of his friends being a major consideration.

Lost days basically finds a group of friends engaged in a leisure activity and brandishes them into a scenario that would allegedly turn deep-seethed  insecurities into an act of violence that would result in the untimely death of one of these bright-eyed youngsters. However, despite its promise of suspense and peril, what it is really---is an excruciatingly slow-paced drama that insinuates a far ominous series of events than what actually unfolds on screen. Each episode drags on as if it's longer than it's actual runtime, making its viewers feel like they lost an indeterminate number of hours.

The series tries to build up suspense by playing up the paranoia of its six characters, invariably spending time to showcase their agitated dispositions. With the exception of the two boys in the club, a lot of what's said and done by their female counterparts is misunderstood, further emphasizing the superficial and feeble nature of their proclaimed bond. There's an apparent lack of empathy and an unwillingness to listen, even if the the conflict presented could have been easily resolved by placing insecurities and doubts out in the open. More than one person is guilty of sowing discord in the group and though it's easy to speculate the motive behind fomenting distrust, the explanation provided at the end of it all is petty and, in the alternative, underwhelming.

Lastly, given the offhand introduction of an unknown variable (i.e. a serial killer evading capture), it's easy to assume that a much sinister cause for concern is afoot but this promising storyline is squandered and inexplicably left to the last few minutes, untouched. Lost Days takes too much time tracking the movement of frenemies engaged in childish spats, with whole episodes allotted to thresh out matters of no real consequence. And even though there are allusions to creepier and more disturbing elements such as voyeurism and an unhealthy form of sibling attachment, all of this is overtaken by flimsy romantic entanglements that do not pay off in the end. Seto Koji and Treindl Reina are the best of the lot but their efforts to lend a sense of realism or urgency to the supposed tragedy that would later befall the group is lost in an uneventful string of sluggish storytelling.

Read More

Pinjo no Merry Christmas

Pinjo no Merry Christmas is a three-part miniseries that came out in 2012. The production itself is primarily light and colorful; lending a sense of frivolity even if the story is yet again about a woman desperate to find love in time for the holidays. It incorporates an array of materials that can be found in your local stationery store, being a cleverly disguised ad campaign and a wistful tribute to writing paraphernalia that, of late, seem to have been consigned to the use of a limited segment of the market (i.e. the random scrapbook enthusiast). The mini-series offers an interesting marriage of product placement and metaphor, ultimately drawing on the idea of how falling in love---like greeting cards---can be a hard sell past a certain age. 

Holidays can be doubly hard for singletons. It's the time of year when they're forced to reexamine their solitary existence, when joyous festivities heighten the need to share one's life with someone, and with the cold winter comes the need to hold that special someone close. With Christmas just around the corner, Matsubara Kaede (Kanjiya Shihori) is experiencing both an emotional and professional slump. It's been years since her last relationship and she terribly misses the giddy feeling that comes with being in love. To makes matters worse, she's been tasked by her superior to come up with a promotional slogan that would set hearts aflutter and boost sales of greeting cards at a time when she's devoid of inspiration. 

During a routine dinner hosted by high school friend, Irie (Tsukamoto Takashi), fellow guests and confidants, Rinko (Hiraiwa Kami) and Akari (Tanimura Mitsuki) come up with a plan for Kaede to fire up her love life. They send an email blast to all of her contacts, informing them of a change in address, hoping to come up with a list of prospective dates, if not an actual love match. The scheme works and soon enough Kaede's forced to explore the possibility of establishing a new relationship with either a dapper business associate (Hirayama Hiroyuki), whom she's worked with a year earlier, or an extremely friendly office courier (Nakao Akiyoshi), six years her junior. 

Taking the advice of her friends, Kaede ventures into the dating scene but turning on her "love switch" proved to be difficult when the seemingly perfect gentleman fails to make her heart skip a beat and when polite pleasantries are misread as an indication of romantic interest. She genuinely wants to find love but finds the whole process tedious and bothersome. She's not even sure if she'll ever fall in love again. In an effort to recapture that elusive feeling, she accedes to an invitation from an ex-boyfriend (Kaneko Nobuaki) to meet and catch up, maybe even rekindle an old flame.  

Like any romantic comedy intended for the holidays, this mini-series has its Christmas elements and love dilemmas down pat. Sets are awash with lights and festive decors, while all the characters are warmly clad in cardigans and sweaters. The ceaseless push of stationery and writing paraphernalia as egregious metaphors and narrative pieces are a mixed bag---at times amusing and thoughtful but likewise disagreeable when utilized repeatedly without direction or purpose. Nevertheless, during its most dismal turn  (with the heroine drowning her sorrows in wine and crying her eyes out) such devices secure audiences into thinking that no ending for this mini-series would suffice except a happy one.

The uncertainty and embarrassment that comes with Kaede's purposeful search for love is depicted through plausible scenarios and though her misadventures can feel rather tedious, at least they're resolved  without excessive drama. The mini-series ultimately resorts to the trope of having Kaede find Mr. Right under her nose with the resulting match (though not totally convincing) being an acceptable outcome. Pinjo no Merry Christmas rightly dodges the need for a big romantic reveal, opting for quiet moments that exhibit genuine affection, expressed through comfort food and constant companionship. It would have been more winsome had the one true pairing been more apparent from the very first episode, but the third act does try to make up for the lack of gumption.

Overall, Pinjo no Merry Christmas is interesting in the way that it forces the use of office and art supplies, including related merchandise, into the thick of the drama. Its very premise seems to argue that love, as all other things of personal importance, is worth all the fuss. And what's the best way of showing that you care? Well, the message is simple---take the time to send a greeting card!

Read More

Olympic no Minoshirokin

Set against a backdrop of rapid urban development and socio-political upheaval, Olympic no Minoshirokin is a fictional account of the metropolitan police department's efforts to stop a dissident from sabotaging the 1964 Tokyo Olympics.

Based on a novel by Okuda Hideo, the drama special is basically a systematic chronicle of the 56-day investigation conducted by its lead detective which spares no effort in recounting how events and characters directly and/or indirectly contributed to the efforts of one man to hold an international sporting event hostage.

Olympic no Minoshirokin benefits from the sheer draw of its star-studded cast but is nevertheless bogged down by its slow depiction of events which is an unavoidable result of its attempt to give justice to the source material. And while its period setting may provide fertile ground to thresh out back stories and exhibit scenic vistas in contrast to civic growth and development, the main premise carries with it a primary weakness in that the declared threat that would fuel the suspense and mystery is actually inconsequential and fruitless. It does eventually give chase and provide a modicum of action, but it seems more interested in being a meditation on progress and the inequitable distribution of wealth in post-war Japan.

*     *     *

The year is 1964, the whole nation waits in anticipation of an international event that would show off Japan as a modern industrialized country to the world, having proudly risen from the ashes of war to emerge as a superpower. However, in the midst of preparations for the upcoming Olympics, two explosions rock the capital and place the metropolitan police on high alert.

The two incidents are claimed to be the act of terrorist bomber, Soka Jiro, but forensic analysis of the ransom notes left at the scene reveal it to have been done by a different perpetrator. In order not to alarm the public, the bombings are declared to be unrelated accidents caused by a gas leak. When the culprit declares his intention to disrupt the opening ceremony for the Olympics, Detective Ochiai Masao (Takenouchi Yutaka) and his squad are called upon to attend to the case discreetly.

From hereon, the drama special follows the pattern of a typical detective story wherein Ochiai gathers individual testimonies and conducts background checks in order to establish the means, motive and opportunity for the commission of the crime. The results of the initial inquiry identifies three suspects---the rakish son (Hayami Mokomichi) of the Police Commissioner whom eye-witness reports have placed to be in the vicinity of the first explosion; a leftist student leader activist (Kiritani Kenta) who's had his own brush with the law; and an unassuming student (Kenichi Matsuyama) serving as a blue-collar worker at a gunpowder factory, where 25 sticks of dynamite used for construction were reported missing. To further complicate matters, the detective's sister, Yumi (Kuroki Meisa), is not only connected to all three, but likewise appears to be personally involved with the primary suspect.

Of course, it doesn't take the viewers long to figure out who's behind the bombings. The drama special is not so much concerned with identifying who the perpetrator is, but instead spends considerable time explaining how the infractions were committed and why. As such, the show's strong suit can be summed up to include the methodical way in which the elements of the crime are presented and the compelling interplay of characters that brought about the situation at hand. The production can also boast of  excellent set designs and bucolic shooting locales on top of having a constellation of actors in '60s period garb to replicate the mood and mindset of the nation.

But looking past its aesthetic components, Olympic no Minoshirokin is impaired by its own plot. For instance, it doesn't make sense for Ochiai to let his sister cavort with a known fugitive. His stubborn refusal to consider Yumi a lead when the stakes are high and the danger imminent just served to prolong the manhunt when the show could have done away with a little less than its 4-hour runtime. What's more, since the incendiary device used is so rudimentary, the scenes to deactivate the same turned out to be so unimpressive and clumsy that any person could have dispatched it. But what really hampers the enjoyment of this drama special is that the bomber, which is painted as an anti-hero, is rightfully given sufficient reason to rebel but the scheme employed to express his dissatisfaction with the system is something which is difficult to empathize with. No amount of emotional or moral persuasion will allow viewers to condone it. It is destined to fail. So while the cause is just and the perpetrator resolute---the plan to hold the summer Olympics for ransom makes this show's ending a foregone conclusion.

Read More

Umoreru

Winner of the 6th WOWOW Scenario Grand Prix, Kousaka Takahashi's Umoreru is a multi-layered drama examining the intrinsic value of one man's pursuit of the truth and the cost of exposing it. Packaged as a nifty character study flanked by a commentary on public trust and corporate responsibility, the story in itself is deceptively simple, but truly, it is bursting at the seams. Behind every incident and commonplace utterance is a mystery waiting to be unearthed, and it's up to the viewer to decide who is in the wrong and who's right. And at best, it's an evenly composed special that speaks of personal regret and corruption.

Umoreru finds its protagonist, Kitami Toru (Kiritani Kenta) settling into his new job at a ward office following a corporate misconduct exposé where he figured prominently as the whistleblower. Dubbed as a local hero but despised by his former co-workers, he's now ruminating the merits of what he thought at the time was a righteous act. His first assignment as a city official is to check up on a condemned house owned by an elderly woman named Kayoko (Midori Mako) who is said to have suffered a tragedy. For some unknown reason, Kayoko refuses to speak but has decided to hoard garbage on her property. After an ocular inspection, Toru is surprised to learn that his first love, Asao Yoko (Kuninaka Ryoko), is now a single mother who lives next door with a 13-year old son (Mochitzuki Ayumo). 

For its overall theme, the drama special challenges the wisdom behind the belief of the truth as a liberating force that brings about positive change. It essentially questions the value accorded to its pursuit and exposition as a necessary extension of what is deemed to be just by presenting viewers different instances that may argue for its suppression.

The story actually comes in two tiers, and as a springboard to the above premise, a scenario is offered---the most apparent one being a story of a man who has yet to come to terms with the consequences of his decision. Here, the writer levels good intentions and wide-eyed idealism against bitter pragmatism and harsh reality; first, in depicting the painful aftermath of the consumer scandal in which Toru was involved in and second, in reiterating that sometimes, there are just things that one is better off not knowing.

Toru is shown to be a man looking for ways and means to assuage his personal guilt and self-doubt. He's placed in a position where he's asked to make the same choice at work---when confronted by corruption in the selection of contractors---and his personal affairs---when indirectly asked to turn a blind eye to the commission of an unspeakable horror. Everything that he's lost and everything that he stands to gain boils down to a solitary plea to leave well enough alone. What makes this conflict particularly interesting is that the choice to be made will ultimately determine his true nature. This, after the fact that events have demonstrated that his moral compass has failed him before.

The second tier is slightly more elaborate than the first. It's the culmination of random images, seemingly unrelated events and offhand statements scattered all over this slow-simmering production. Umoreru for its first few minutes takes on the complexion of a political drama but while it has elements that refer to social issues, it's really more about the characters, their contrary point of views and individual motivations. 

The drama special takes on a cool, calculated visage. And although it carries a lot of weight, viewers that are used to fast-paced and stirring exchanges might find the show's slow countenance not much to their liking. Another thing to consider is that viewers are not made privy of its strong undercurrent until the last section of the show when the pieces fall together to reveal a story of two women and an ongoing conspiracy to cover up a crime. 

The understated performances of its cast match the overall tone of the drama, adding a malignant air to an otherwise abnormally languid atmosphere. A single look or a few choice words, carry such great import to the extent that the central mystery is made out to be more chilling if given further thought. As a whole, the writer's main gambit of confining the screenplay to a question of what lies beneath works, even though it's mockingly too literal in some respects. Nevertheless, still waters do run deep---don't let its placid exterior fool you. 

Read More

Without Stars/There We Have Been

Dark, beautiful and heartbreaking are just some of the words used to describe Haruki Murakami's novel, Norwegian Wood. Unlike his other works that are dreamlike and seemingly set in an alternate realm, immersed in magical realism, this particular novel has more widespread appeal because of its straight narrative.

A wistful tale of love and loss, of lost youth and maybe new beginnings, how could one resist?

All things considered, it's an accessible piece of literature, and the one most likely to be adapted to another medium. It's been made into a beautiful mess of a film by auteur Tran Anh Hung in 2010 and now it gets another incarnation through a twin bill production by independent British choreographer James Cousins.

Taking inspiration from the intense but tumultuous relationship of the characters in Norwegian Wood, the dance piece Without Stars tells the story of a man torn between two lovers---different as night and day. 

Complemented by the ingenious use of light and sound, the dancers bend, fold and get enveloped in each other's arms just as easily as they break free and get untangled. There's a push and pull dynamic that's apparent in the movements displayed and it's visually effective in capturing the inner struggle between the trio. Furthermore, it is able to convey that unshakable feeling of desperation and helplessness between its characters that can't be alleviated by companionship or love no matter how hard they try to hold on to each other. It doesn't really matter if you've read the book, it's three people caught in a love triangle, it's the simple. 

The follow up piece, There We Have Been  is a bit trickier though. It may be subject to numerous interpretation but contrary to the press release, it fits in nicely as a tailpiece, providing a conclusion to the rendering of the story. Of the two, it's a gimmicky showpiece but it's also felicitous in a way that elevates the art form and the way it can be perceived. 

In an amazing display of grace, strength and endurance, the relationship between Toru and Naoko is portrayed through a dance duet wherein the female dancer is held up by the male dancer in a variety of positions and poses, the former never once touching the floor. Some reviewers find it symbolic of the female's delicate disposition; of her dependence on her partner to keep her grounded while she is drawn away by an unseen force. It basically tracks the development of Naoko and Toru's relationship following Kizuki's untimely death and Naoko's subsequent battle with depression. 

This particular viewer, in the alternative, would like to think of this final piece as a representation of Toru's devotion to a girl long lost. A girl, who has spent her last few days on earth, desperately courting death, despite all the love willingly offered to her. 

There We Have Been not only captures the nature of their relationship but also its lasting impact on Toru as a person. In this segment, she hovers around and above him like a spectre. The memory of her weighs on him, recounting the times that he's tried to hold onto her even when her whole being appears to yearn for something else...or rather, someone else. And he carries this memory and his love for her like a burden, at least until he decides to let go and move on. This is, after all, Toru's story. And as much as Norwegian Wood may be considered a tragic tale of love, it's also about growing up and choosing to live on. 

--------------------- 

 Photo by David Foulkes available at www.theplace.org.uk

Read More