Surely Someday

It is often said that "imitation is the sincerest form of flattery." If that be true, then Guy Ritchie should be floored by the level of appreciation that Shun Oguri has shown for his use of slow motion effects and time lapse photography. Yes, the actor best known for playing Hanazawa Rui (Hana Yori Dango) and Suzuran faction leader, Takaya Genji (Crows Zero) has gone to the extent of crafting an outrageous, coming-of-age film that pays homage to [if not totally replicating] the cinematic style of Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels, minus the narrative punch provided by a clever screenplay and the kickass factor contributed by Vinnie Jones or Jason Stratham.

I remember my sister telling me about this movie project in the same breath as sharing the latest rumors about Oguri being a horny dog, but I never really placed much thought into it since: (a) she couldn't tell me the title of the movie at that time; (b) Shun Oguri always struck me as the kind of actor who worked best in an ensemble, which, to me, meant that if he didn't have the draw or star power to carry the lead role, then chances are, he wouldn't have the ability to helm a full-length movie feature; and (c) I couldn't care less about which girl/jpop group member he banged at allegedly took to a motel.

About this time last year, I was doing some prep work for that Arashi post that I've always been meaning to do but never got around to doing, and even though the said post never materialized, I ended up watching a number of Japanese variety shows hosted by Japan's "national idols". One of the shows I managed to catch (thanks to fans who shared the said episode on a streaming site without the permission of the subber) happened to be Oguri's promotional guest stint at Arashi ni Shiyagare where I finally learned the movie title which was シュアリー・サムデイ or going by the boys' phonological speech, "Shuari Samudei".

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In this dramedy of errors, penned by writer Shogo Muto, five high school friends barricade themselves in a classroom with a home-made bomb in protest of the cancellation of their school festival and the corresponding "annihilation" of their dream to perform as a band. Brimming with hope and the promise of being surrounded by adoring fans through their music, Takumi (Koide Keisuke), Kyohei (Katsuji Ryo), Hideto (Ayano Gou), Kazuo (Suzuki Ryohei) and Yuki (Muro Tsuyoshi) mount a successful campaign for the reinstatement of the festival but when they fail to defuse the prop time-bomb  they had set up to facilitate negotiations with the school administrators, the damage caused by the explosion would later prove to be monumental not only to the lives of these boys.

Surely Someday provides a spry yet unbalanced story about how chance encounters and circumstances can produce a ripple effect that would link two seemingly unrelated events that in the long run would produce irreversible consequences. There's a network of people involved in this slapdash tale, such that the connection drawn between these wayward teens and a former prostitute (Konishi Manami) would span a number of years, beginning with a summer childhood adventure to Kabukicho and a botched up sting operation. The film hurtles back and forth between the past and the present as all five find themselves tainted, unable to move on from the incident.

Now a feckless bartender, a third-rate college virgin, a fledgling yakuza, a street busker and a hikikimori find themselves in trouble once again as their past catches up with them. They have no choice but to make amends, find each other and reunite long enough to take care of unfinished business; what's more, they need to retrieve 300 million Yen before yakuza boss Kito (Yoshida Kotaro) sends his men to ice them.

Fun and upbeat, Surely Someday is a film that can not be taken seriously no matter how hard it tries to infuse its storyline with some edgy scenes and grim but oft times, shallow existentialist musings about lost youth and opportunities. It's full of high school hijinks and flailing commentary about people who put their life on hold, set to punk-rock music, peppered with drugs, money laundering, even some violence and undignified [non-metaphorical] boot licking. Decidedly the result of a well-meaning and excitable collaboration, the movie tends to be overbearingly gratuitous in its execution and unbelievably self-conscious in acquiring a modicum of street credibility amidst the fanfare. This is no Go or American Graffiti but a rollicking, hyper-comedic Japanese production containing familiar elements of what made a movie "cool" in the late 90s.

For a directorial debut, Surely Someday is quite a mediocre offering---it comes chock-full of novice mistakes, betraying the lack of vision or originality on the part of Oguri to work behind the camera and instruct his fellow actors towards achieving a good take. He seems to have approached the film as he would a goukon by calling in favors from friends and co-workers (judging by the number of cameos), giving them free rein to act and [over]react as they see fit without any instruction. There are indeed times when the scenes felt like an impromptu comedy sketch, given the hammy delivery of lines and the cast's acting choices.

There's also the sudden shift in tone with very little lead in, thus catching the viewer by surprise as the droll buffoonery of its first act gives way to an adorable yet short-lived segment featuring the characters' childhood, interrupted yet once again by some clumsy action, more melodrama and a failed Sugar & Spice routine set in the present. Oguri's artistic choices do not often work; the overdone 10-second recapitulation of each character's three-year activities, the white footprint suit donned by the yakuza boss,  or even  the slow motion off-target gangster shoot out set to the tune of Schubert's Ave Maria (which brings to mind the game Hitman), tend to be whimsical additions rather than valuable set pieces.

Despite its flaws, Surely Someday is, by all accounts, not a bad movie. There's enough story in it to keep a viewer entertained provided one can overlook the uneven acting. It would have been much better had there been competent and assured direction from Shun Oguri, however as it stands today, it's quite clear that his ambition appears to have exceeded his ability.

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 Photo credits/Movie Stills by Asiabeam and Ramen

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Tajōmaru

Power, greed, lust and envy---this movie had all the ingredients of a Shakespearean tragedy but all it amounted to was a costume melodrama that came with a pop-rock soundtrack, capped off by a  perfunctory ending that's so silly, it's not even worth mentioning. Imagine Edmond Dantès heartbroken and depressed, walking away without exacting revenge on his enemies, if you will. Imagine Alexander Dumas's Count of Monte Cristo adapted on screen by a Walt Disney company...oh wait, right, that happened already.

It's feudal Japan, the Heian period. The House of Hatakeyama is about to be divided as a conflict erupts between two brothers...

Born the second son of the Hatakeyama family, Naomitsu  (Oguri Shun) had long accepted the fact that his  rank in life was lower than that of his older brother Nobutsuna, (Ikeuchi Hiroyuki), who's the heir and future leader of the family. As a child, he knew better than to challenge his brother's authority, he knew early on that his duty was to serve his family with utmost loyalty. As a grown up, he sought neither power nor glory; to him, happiness meant living a life of obscurity and having enough freedom to do as he pleased.

Naomistu went  about his life oblivious to politics, he couldn't be made to care about wealth or be bothered to find out how much influence he could wield. He was blind to the malicious intent and ambition of others around him, and so when the shogun (Kenichi Hagiwara) unexpectedly  issued a decree declaring the marriage to his betrothed Ako (Shibamoto Yuki) a condition precedent to obtaining the title of  provincial deputy, Naomitsu failed to anticipate the trouble that the said edict would bring on to his family.

The shogun's announcement set off a major controversy, leaving Naomitsu at a loss as to how to allay his older brother's fear of being deposed of his position as head of the clan. He sincerely tells Nobutsuna that he's not interested in obtaining gold or the status of deputy. But all is for naught as the latter's mind is slowly filled with lies told by their adopted brother, Sakuramaru  (Tanaka Kei), who's already made his own bid to acquire the power and position held by the Hatakeyama family. Playing Iago to Nobutsuna's Othello, Sakuramaru incites the insecure older brother to betray his only brother; forcing Naomitsu to flee with Ako into the woods where they come across the bandit Tajomaru (Matsukata Hiroki).

Drawing inspiration from Akutagawa Ryunosuke's short story In a Grove, writers Ichikawa Shinichi and Yamamoto Mataichiro's Tajomaru stands as a brave yet clumsy attempt at doing a fresh and innovative take on the original story. What the screenplay does is, it fills in the events that occurred prior and  subsequent to the discovery of the body in the woods and runs [amok] with it-- thereby producing an alternate account of what transpired whilst providing a backstory to the now legendary bandit from which this movie takes its name.

As a period piece, Tajomaru excels in enticing viewers with its grand scale and lavish production, unfortunately, the plot and execution of it all makes it more of a drab assembly of clichés and contrivances than a brilliant reinvention of a classic tale. For while the original material concerned itself with seven varying accounts told in the course of a murder investigation, Tajomaru merely makes use of certain elements in the literary piece and reproduces key scenes in the Akira Kurosawa adaptation, Rashomon, to create a spin-off with a storyline that can be found in no less than a dozen samurai epic films. The fact that it's unoriginal is not even the main issue, the problem lies in its  lukewarm rendering of classic themes such as love, betrayal and revenge, and its writers' seeming inability to recognize when to stop introducing twists so ludicrous and fanciful that it makes the whole thing unintentionally laughable.  

Tajomaru gives its viewers the initial impression that it's a throwback to sword-fighting films of old; it briefly introduces the characters and their motivations, hints at an impending conflict, and generally sets the stage for its hero to fall to the depths of despair in order to subsequently rise up to reclaim his honor and dignity. Its first forty minutes is pure cinematic gold given that it has all the hallmarks of an enduring tragedy wherein a simple misunderstanding breaks the tenuous equilibrium that exists within a family.  That being said, it's set up  rather nicely, as the movie opens with a simple voice over, laced with a melancholy that only comes with narrating things past. It's complimented by breathtaking cinematography that captures the changing of the seasons, for as spring slowly gives way to fall, two brothers are seen to compete to gain one woman's hand in marriage, furthermore, a trusted servant reveals himself to be the snake that he is. Its overall look and tenor evokes that of a Shakespearean tragedy, but sadly, the extent of its hook ends in the setting of its lush landscape and intricately designed costume pieces, because  beneath all that style and gloss is a story that never really managed to make sense of what genre it wanted to belong to, such that its focus kept on shifting every quarter of the film.

The movie is layered with conflict-- it has a virtual blitzkrieg of dramatic events that would lead anyone to believe and anticipate that the protagonist would eventually be given the means and opportunity to seek revenge under a new identity. That in itself would have sufficed, the rub is that as one dramatic event was followed by another, the more far-fetched the story became and the less satisfying was the outcome. There were too many elements in it alien to the story; the pop-rock Robin Hood-esque montage and rap sequence negate the tone and gravity established in the first half of the film, while a last-minute twist merely serves as an overture to a nonsensical trip to hell and back, which was mere padding  for the story. And it literally is a trip to "hell" and back. 

The inclusion of a modern track in the middle of the film would not have been so out of place if this movie had the same flighty humor as director Nakano Hiroyuki's Red Shadow: Akakage or the "ninja-splatter punk" style of Kitamura Ryuhei's Azumi where a freakishly made-up Odagiri Jo played a bishonen assassin. But Tajomaru is not the type of movie to fall under any of the aforementioned category. It presents itself to be more than what it actually is---it's supposed to be this serious film based on a classic story but in reality, all it is, is a melodramatic film that's so turgid, one can't wait for the closing credits to roll on screen. 

Perhaps the biggest shortcoming of this movie is that it has a hero that's content to just pander and coast along without any predetermined goal, direction or zeal. Naomitsu does not have the grit and heart typical of heroes  in this genre, he's easily disheartened and weak without his lady love. He's no Edmond Dantès or Crisostomo Ibarra, that's for sure, as he spends a good amount of the movie looking hurt, betrayed and intensely sissyfied despite the dreadlocks and the fur overcoat. Oguri Shun tries hard to lend credence to such a pathetic character, looking exaggeratedly forlorn and wistful, and at times mad with rage and comically homicidal. He sobs, he snarls in anger, looks dejected and even throws his head back to wail at the sky and survives  what appears to be at least a 12-ft jump before finally deciding take action against the enemy. There's very little character development in this production, so the rest of the cast can't be expected to do any better-- Ikeuchi Hiroyuki plays Nobutsuna with a permanent look of dissatisfaction on his face, showing no hint of affection or consideration for his younger brother contrary to the portrayal of his child version; Shibamoto Yuki looks resplendent in colorful silk robes but her turn as the defiled and self-sacrificing Ako makes for one beleaguered heroine that serves no purpose but to turn this movie's hero into a whimpering idiot. And even though Tanaka Kei gets to play a marvelous villain, the conclusion to the sword fight and his dying words in the end only emphasize how unbelievably moronic this movie turned out to be.

So if you're planning on watching this, be sure to remember the following:  (1) lower your expectations;  (2) have a good laugh; and (3) be done with it. Don't lament having wasted your time and money on it. 

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