Posts by Dennis Martin6

Lisa Cox4 said:Thanks for the deep dive. 👍

But that’s exactly what I was getting at... she "snubs" him, "rebels," and "reprimands" the kid for addressing her as "woman" in the context of "a female being dependent on an influential/dominant husband" right in front of Kafuku. Even in the translation I have, they put "woman" in quotation marks just so people don't misinterpret the nuance. 🙂

Look, here's the thing... those are just standard ways to refer to someone else's wife. People don't take offense at stuff like that. He isn't "addressing" her from some high horse—it's actually the opposite: he's putting her above himself by using that "-sama" suffix. You'd use that for royalty, for instance. That's why I said it sounds a bit like a butler. By using that "-sama" register, he's also creating distance between them. She pulls him closer with that warning, and then he shifts to something softer and more informal, though still polite, using "-san."

Language register depends on context—and here, the context isn't "womanly dependence on an influential/dominant husband," it's "an informal situation in the dressing room after a show." Oto is playing it a bit cool here; her ego is coming out—first she snaps at her husband, then she snaps at this kid acting all polite. She's hierarchically above the young actor, so she uses her privilege to lecture him. It's just female ego, if you ask me.😁

edit: one more thing: 'oku-sama' can also carry a connotation of a middle-aged woman. Maybe that's what triggered her in a situation where she's introducing her young lover to her husband.

Lisa Cox4 said:I’d go as far as saying it’s pretty obvious. But then again, we can't know for sure (since we don't know who the stories are actually intended for) because maybe a younger lover thinks the exact same thing when she serves up those same tales to him; we're only seeing one perspective here—her and the husband. I mean, what was that whole scene in the dressing room about, where she snaps at the young lover and tells him not to tell her she's a wife to Kafuku (before Kafuku even enters)?

Same goes for how she makes it crystal clear to her husband that these are just her infantile "fantasies" (I don't know at what age you reach adulthood in Japan, but her story involves seventeen-year-olds... they even make jokes about being teenagers). And when I say he isn't 'necessary'—well, he is the most important person to her (that's clearly the perspective the film gives us), but he isn't the *only* one... and that's the part the "male ego" just can't seem to wrap its head around.

Rewatched that bit—he actually addresses her as 'oku-sama.' It’s an incredibly formal version of 'oku-san,' and honestly, it carries this slightly patriarchal weight because it implies a woman who watches a man's back. It traces back to feudal history where the landowner's wife lived "deeper" (oku) inside the house—further from the entrance and the outside world than the men. She's basically someone tucked away in the shadow of her influential husband. Plus, by using that '-sama' suffix, the young actor ends up sounding more like her butler or some servant. Later on, he switches to 'oto-san,' which is less formal, more intimate, and way more appropriate for the situation (which is why she doesn't complain). To me, her outburst is less about being "Kafuku's wife" and more about him using such a stiff, weirdly formal register.

Lisa Cox4 said:P.S. One more little detail I forgot to mention earlier, where it’s crystal clear that he isn't actually "necessary" to her creative process.

Scene: the two of them are in a car in the morning, basically co-authoring the story they were talking about last night—a story neither of them actually knows the ending to. When he asks if she knows what happens next, she plays it off, saying she's just curious and has no clue. Then, he catches her in a lie, only to find out later that her lover is the one who actually knows how the story ends.

There you go, again. 😢Can someone please explain—where is this even coming from?

It’s got nothing to do with him being unnecessary to her. It’s actually the exact opposite—just like electriccanyon26 already pointed out:

electriccanyon26 said:Monologues take the place of dialogue. Instead of objective storytelling, everything is filtered through the protagonist's perspective, which eventually extends to how the actor experiences the script itself.

The fundamental issue is that there was never any actual dialogue between him and his wife. Their communication—or rather, his version of it—was nothing more than a series of monologues and his own one-sided interpretations. She would try to open up and share her stories after they had sex, but he’d just check out, reacting mechanically because he'd rather just go to sleep. Then, the next day, he recounts those same stories back to her, adding new details she never actually mentioned. He processes her life, reframes it, and hands it back to her; she simply accepts his version as the truth. What she does with the actors is superficial at best—the text is what matters, and in this case, he holds all the cards.

That’s how their relationship functioned, but you can draw a direct parallel to the way he runs his theater productions. As a director, his system is built on stripping actors of their autonomy. They aren't allowed to react instinctively; they have to wait until they know the entire script before they are permitted to shape a response.

It’s the same system he uses to manage his private life. On the cassette, every character in the play is condensed into a single monologue delivered by his wife. He experiences the story through his own lens, inside his car, interpreting the world within a space where he feels in control. (Before the driver arrived, he used to immerse himself in the text; when she first showed up, he recited it mechanically, much like his actors during rehearsals, until he felt he could trust her "objectivity.") His car is quite literally his comfort zone—a sanctuary where he attempts to interpret his marriage and settle his own guilt on his own terms, using a role and a script that he completely dominates.

Look, when we talk about Kafuku—as the director—he’s the one actually processing and interpreting her stories. They're meant for him, not some random lover she's having an affair with. It'd be pretty interesting to find out who that guy actually is—the one whose house she breaks into. Personally? I'm betting it's the husband, not some lover. Period.

Lisa Cox4 said:Looks like the proposal didn't pass. 😢

I don't get why there's this final comment again after I already made it clear at the start that I was speaking from "my own personal experience of the film"
plus the implication that I'm calling the film "great" just because I'm diagnosing sexists by watching it. Instead of actually engaging with the people in this thread, you just label them personally the whole time—sorting everyone into "types" like they're characters in a script. Am I supposed to write that even the lead actor can't accept that she loves him and is cheating on him at the same time, just so this whole conversation can hit rock bottom? 🙂 😢

I never once said I didn't feel or experience the complexity or the nuance, whether in the tiny details or the big picture... but I did say it also felt like a total revelation. For instance, how he gets uncomfortable when he's playing an actor and acts all messy, whereas he's totally methodical and systematic when he's in director mode (like that scene where he carelessly tosses his "costume" aside after acting, followed immediately by the one where he neatly packs his clothes in a suitcase). Or right at the beginning of the film when she’s telling her story and says... "how she hears the silence, and... the amplified silence, like a hearing aid filling the room" which could be seen as an allusion to their relationship, where they are constantly listening to each other while simultaneously maintaining this "sick" silence. Then, when he catches her cheating, everything unfolds through a mirror with such incredible finesse. And when she snaps at the young actor in his dressing room, saying "don't speak, woman" when they first meet... and so on. Likewise, despite the fluid and soothing pace, there are moments that are raw to the point of being painful, like a slap in the face (especially that bit with the cookie acting as a "messenger," or when she tells a story about having her own rules—that you can enter the house, but you can't masturbate in it 🙄 or that legendary moment with the candle 🤣).

You’re tripping. That whole "people see what they want—and what they can" thing is about the protagonists—it's one of the subthemes. I already laid that out at the start of this thread.

Lisa Cox4 said:Looks like the proposal didn't pass. 😢

I don't get why there's this final comment again after I already made it clear at the start that I was speaking from "my own personal experience of the film"
plus the implication that I'm calling the film "great" just because I'm diagnosing sexists by watching it. Instead of actually engaging with the people in this thread, you just label them personally the whole time—sorting everyone into "types" like they're characters in a script. Am I supposed to write that even the lead actor can't accept that she loves him and is cheating on him at the same time, just so this whole conversation can hit rock bottom? 🙂 😢

I never once said I didn't feel or experience the complexity or the nuance, whether in the tiny details or the big picture... but I did say it also felt like a total revelation. For instance, how he gets uncomfortable when he's playing an actor and acts all messy, whereas he's totally methodical and systematic when he's in director mode (like that scene where he carelessly tosses his "costume" aside after acting, followed immediately by the one where he neatly packs his clothes in a suitcase). Or right at the beginning of the film when she’s telling her story and says... "how she hears the silence, and... the amplified silence, like a hearing aid filling the room" which could be seen as an allusion to their relationship, where they are constantly listening to each other while simultaneously maintaining this "sick" silence. Then, when he catches her cheating, everything unfolds through a mirror with such incredible finesse. And when she snaps at the young actor in his dressing room, saying "don't speak, woman" when they first meet... and so on. Likewise, despite the fluid and soothing pace, there are moments that are raw to the point of being painful, like a slap in the face (especially that bit with the cookie acting as a "messenger," or when she tells a story about having her own rules—that you can enter the house, but you can't masturbate in it 🙄 or that legendary moment with the candle 🤣).

I'm telling you—you totally crushed it.

Lisa Cox4 said:Looks like the proposal didn't pass. 😢

I don't get why there's this final comment again after I already made it clear at the start that I was speaking from "my own personal experience of the film"
plus the implication that I'm calling the film "great" just because I'm diagnosing sexists by watching it. Instead of actually engaging with the people in this thread, you just label them personally the whole time—sorting everyone into "types" like they're characters in a script. Am I supposed to write that even the lead actor can't accept that she loves him and is cheating on him at the same time, just so this whole conversation can hit rock bottom? 🙂 😢

I never once said I didn't feel or experience the complexity or the nuance, whether in the tiny details or the big picture... but I did say it also felt like a total revelation. For instance, how he gets uncomfortable when he's playing an actor and acts all messy, whereas he's totally methodical and systematic when he's in director mode (like that scene where he carelessly tosses his "costume" aside after acting, followed immediately by the one where he neatly packs his clothes in a suitcase). Or right at the beginning of the film when she’s telling her story and says... "how she hears the silence, and... the amplified silence, like a hearing aid filling the room" which could be seen as an allusion to their relationship, where they are constantly listening to each other while simultaneously maintaining this "sick" silence. Then, when he catches her cheating, everything unfolds through a mirror with such incredible finesse. And when she snaps at the young actor in his dressing room, saying "don't speak, woman" when they first meet... and so on. Likewise, despite the fluid and soothing pace, there are moments that are raw to the point of being painful, like a slap in the face (especially that bit with the cookie acting as a "messenger," or when she tells a story about having her own rules—that you can enter the house, but you can't masturbate in it 🙄 or that legendary moment with the candle 🤣).

Let’s get real—this whole labeling thing kicked off with that "critique" you linked, where some critic used nothing but vague nonsense to accuse the director of sexism—and you just swallowed it whole without a second thought. I tried to point out that things aren't nearly as black and white as this "critic" is trying to force on us. Doesn't matter if I didn't manage to prove it, though.

Lisa Cox4 said:Looks like the proposal didn't pass. 😢

I don't get why there's this final comment again after I already made it clear at the start that I was speaking from "my own personal experience of the film"
plus the implication that I'm calling the film "great" just because I'm diagnosing sexists by watching it. Instead of actually engaging with the people in this thread, you just label them personally the whole time—sorting everyone into "types" like they're characters in a script. Am I supposed to write that even the lead actor can't accept that she loves him and is cheating on him at the same time, just so this whole conversation can hit rock bottom? 🙂 😢

I never once said I didn't feel or experience the complexity or the nuance, whether in the tiny details or the big picture... but I did say it also felt like a total revelation. For instance, how he gets uncomfortable when he's playing an actor and acts all messy, whereas he's totally methodical and systematic when he's in director mode (like that scene where he carelessly tosses his "costume" aside after acting, followed immediately by the one where he neatly packs his clothes in a suitcase). Or right at the beginning of the film when she’s telling her story and says... "how she hears the silence, and... the amplified silence, like a hearing aid filling the room" which could be seen as an allusion to their relationship, where they are constantly listening to each other while simultaneously maintaining this "sick" silence. Then, when he catches her cheating, everything unfolds through a mirror with such incredible finesse. And when she snaps at the young actor in his dressing room, saying "don't speak, woman" when they first meet... and so on. Likewise, despite the fluid and soothing pace, there are moments that are raw to the point of being painful, like a slap in the face (especially that bit with the cookie acting as a "messenger," or when she tells a story about having her own rules—that you can enter the house, but you can't masturbate in it 🙄 or that legendary moment with the candle 🤣).

That "critique" was an absolute joke—honestly, it doesn't get any lower than that. 😬

Lisa Cox4 said:Can she even direct her own creation without him? I mean, what if the stories started coming to her when she was seeing other guys? 🙂

Road trips always carry those tired old metaphors about life and journeys—you know, "letting go of the wheel" and all that cliché stuff. There's even a bit of irony here with a man who has stopped moving entirely despite how much time is passing. But what I'm picking up is that being stuck in the backseat for a while, getting far away from everything familiar—maybe even traveling all the way to Hiroshima just to reconnect with himself, his grief, and finally drop that "male ego"—was actually good for him.

I think that’s the whole point of the film: things aren't as sharply binary as you and a few others are trying to make them out to be.

I'd suggest we don't reduce personal experiences of a film to this kind of "communication." 🙂

Look... I wasn't trying to "show anyone" anything; I was just writing down my own internal experience and how the film felt to me. I think I made it pretty clear by using the word "me" enough times above. 🙂

Then again, that's exactly what I'm "complaining" about—the lack of subtlety. I just called it rawness.

On that note: in Japan, there isn't this single Creator. There is no God. Maybe that's why they don't have a problem with things like dicks in temples and other raw practices. 😁

They might not, but maybe a better example in the context of the film would be the Japanese "geisha culture."

Instead of shamanic, I'd call it a Japanese method. You know, like when you show up as a young apprentice to a sushi master and spend four years just washing rice. 😁

Whatever, I stuck with that terminology because it paints a picture. Asceticism, steady methodical effort, rhythmic repetition... that's not some uniquely Japanese "invention" used to achieve spiritual or artistic "growth." 🙂

Those lovers are nothing more than extras—literally just actors in their story. Kafuku and Oto are inseparable, which you can see right in those dialogue exercises where they play every single character in the play. As we find out, he's only in love with her (even if he stays distant), and she's only in love with him (even while she's cheating). We jump from that intimate paradox to this massive symbolic look at how individuals fit into society (the whole staging process), until the film ultimately turns into a meditation on what it actually means to grieve in a rigid, hierarchical society where everyone knows their role.

To wrap it up—to me, this feels way too overlayered just to boil down to sexism and male ego. But, you're absolutely right that people see whatever they want to see, or whatever they're capable of seeing. Which, honestly, is kind of what this film is about too. 😉

Lisa Cox4 said:To me, it doesn't feel like she's giving birth at all because there’s zero struggle involved; if anything, it's the opposite. 🤣 I'm kidding a little, but let me try to break this down. 🙂

Art is essentially a creation that an artist channels... the truth is that he's effectively "in awe" of her because that flow comes naturally to her. She just lets the energy pass through, whereas he’s a total control freak who has to resort to exhausting "shamanic methods of rhythmic repetition" just to "hit a trance" and eventually unleash some creation. (Can you feel how raw that sounds? 😬 )

On the flip side, a work of art is always a form of self-expression—that’s exactly what he wants to micromanage and constrain in her (which is why he casts himself as the filter and the "editor"). He’s "jealous" of the fact that she doesn't actually need him to unlock her creativity (classic male Ego). Basically, the guilt he feels for not being there to "save" her—because he intentionally stayed out late—comes from his own realization that he acted entirely out of ego. And he doesn't stop there; he keeps leaning into that ego by basically weaponizing her lover against her. And so on...

in other words, I think that rawness isn't even about the male-female dichotomy, but rather the fact that we're in the Far East in this film, not the West. Over there, those raw, biological, "base" aspects are integral to transcendence (and I’m talking about Chinese influence here, not Indian).

Humans have always tried to use their creative powers to bridge the gap to being a Creator... but personally, this level of rawness feels like those fringe artists who decide to paint with semen instead of oils.

He isn't limiting her, he's directing. If you want to look at it that way, he's channeling her energy and giving it shape, which dictates the content too. We have no clue if she even needs him. Actually, word is she was an actress first and didn't even start writing until she married him. That totally tracks with how this film shows creation as a collective effort rather than just some lone genius having a sudden epiphany.
I think that's the whole point of the movie—things aren't such black-and-white binaries like you and a few others are trying to make them out to be. Speaking of which:

Lisa Cox4 said:To me, it doesn't feel like she's giving birth at all because there’s zero struggle involved; if anything, it's the opposite. 🤣 I'm kidding a little, but let me try to break this down. 🙂

Art is essentially a creation that an artist channels... the truth is that he's effectively "in awe" of her because that flow comes naturally to her. She just lets the energy pass through, whereas he’s a total control freak who has to resort to exhausting "shamanic methods of rhythmic repetition" just to "hit a trance" and eventually unleash some creation. (Can you feel how raw that sounds? 😬 )

On the flip side, a work of art is always a form of self-expression—that’s exactly what he wants to micromanage and constrain in her (which is why he casts himself as the filter and the "editor"). He’s "jealous" of the fact that she doesn't actually need him to unlock her creativity (classic male Ego). Basically, the guilt he feels for not being there to "save" her—because he intentionally stayed out late—comes from his own realization that he acted entirely out of ego. And he doesn't stop there; he keeps leaning into that ego by basically weaponizing her lover against her. And so on...

in other words, I think that rawness isn't even about the male-female dichotomy, but rather the fact that we're in the Far East in this film, not the West. Over there, those raw, biological, "base" aspects are integral to transcendence (and I’m talking about Chinese influence here, not Indian).

Humans have always tried to use their creative powers to bridge the gap to being a Creator... but personally, this level of rawness feels like those fringe artists who decide to paint with semen instead of oils.

In Japan, there isn't this single Creator. There is no God. Maybe that's why they don't have a problem with dicks in temples and other raw stuff like that. 😁

Lisa Cox4 said:To me, it doesn't feel like she's giving birth at all because there’s zero struggle involved; if anything, it's the opposite. 🤣 I'm kidding a little, but let me try to break this down. 🙂

Art is essentially a creation that an artist channels... the truth is that he's effectively "in awe" of her because that flow comes naturally to her. She just lets the energy pass through, whereas he’s a total control freak who has to resort to exhausting "shamanic methods of rhythmic repetition" just to "hit a trance" and eventually unleash some creation. (Can you feel how raw that sounds? 😬 )

On the flip side, a work of art is always a form of self-expression—that’s exactly what he wants to micromanage and constrain in her (which is why he casts himself as the filter and the "editor"). He’s "jealous" of the fact that she doesn't actually need him to unlock her creativity (classic male Ego). Basically, the guilt he feels for not being there to "save" her—because he intentionally stayed out late—comes from his own realization that he acted entirely out of ego. And he doesn't stop there; he keeps leaning into that ego by basically weaponizing her lover against her. And so on...

in other words, I think that rawness isn't even about the male-female dichotomy, but rather the fact that we're in the Far East in this film, not the West. Over there, those raw, biological, "base" aspects are integral to transcendence (and I’m talking about Chinese influence here, not Indian).

Humans have always tried to use their creative powers to bridge the gap to being a Creator... but personally, this level of rawness feels like those fringe artists who decide to paint with semen instead of oils.

Instead of calling it shamanic, I'd call it the Japanese method. You know, like when you show up as a rookie to a sushi master and spend four years doing nothing but washing rice. 😁

Lisa Cox4 said:🙂

I'm not sure if it's raw, but storytelling within a story is basically baked into the DNA of narrative itself—we've been doing this since Scheherazade and the Arabian Nights, like I mentioned before. Besides, this film isn't just some adaptation of a single short story, it pulls from another one in Murakami's collection 'Men Without Women'—specifically 'Scheherazade' which covers that whole vibe of stories plucked from the edge of orgasm and memory.

If I know (this part is underlined). 🙂

Mystical or transcendent states belong to a specific set of human experiences that have been recognized in every culture since ancient times, from shamanism to Tantra. Take Tantra, for instance; it's built on the idea that we can access "God through sexual ecstasy," or as Tantrics poetically put it... the drop merging with the ocean. 🤣 But there's a razor-thin line between "Tantra and pornography," and that distinction comes down to just one thing: the state of consciousness.

In this film, we see two people who—acting almost "like shamans"—use rhythmic repetition (the mundane daily grind) to enter a trance "every single night" and thereby "access the beyond." And for her, it works every time during sex. I don't know, it feels a bit raw to me... and honestly, I feel like maybe only a male mind could dream up or fantasize about something like this. 🙂

She's portrayed as the creative force in the relationship—she writes plays and invents stories, while he just adapts others' work (Brecht, Chekhov). Personally, I see zero issue with linking that energy to sex. Instead of leaning into shamanism or Tantra, if we're going the mystical route, look at the positive view of femininity in Chinese 'Tao Te Ching,' where fertility is a symbol of creativity. This couple doesn't have kids, sure, but they have these stories she "gives birth to," if you catch my drift. 😬

In other words, I don't think this rawness is really about some male-female dichotomy. It's more about the fact that (in the film) we're in the Far East, not the West. Over there, those raw, biological, "lowly" aspects are baked right into the process of transcendence—and I'm talking about the Chinese influence here, not the Indian kind.

whatever, it's fine 😁

I don't know if it's raw, but storytelling within stories—it's been part of the game since Scheherazade and *One Thousand and One Nights*, just like I said before. Besides, this film isn't just some adaptation of that one short story; it pulls from another piece in Murakami's 'Men Without Women' collection called 'Scheherazade.' That whole vibe of pulling stories from the edge of an orgasm and hazy memories? It all comes from there.

Nah, it’s just that they have the longest tradition because of how their society, culture, and language actually work. Europe mostly obsesses over social issues, while America is all about that individual impulse. The Japanese are the only ones systematically making films that holistically bridge both worlds. That’s what I was trying to do—expand the debate beyond just some shallow, emotional "this guy is a jerk" realization. But then Zrinka Pavlić's spirit possessed the thread and everything just went totally off the rails. 😁

amberfox7 said:Look, I’m just as fed up with these Murakami-esque male leads—the ones who are handsome, kind, endlessly patient, and ready to forgive everyone, yet somehow "tough" at work. They have sex without ever breaking a sweat or smelling bad; they just look even more beautiful afterward, because apparently, sex is the only thing that matters in the universe.

But this particular critic—one of the last ten I've seen—is absolutely embarrassing herself while remaining utterly convinced she actually understands something about films or series.

The core "philosophy" of the film: no matter how you treat a woman, she’ll eventually betray you, but that's when she loves you most—because that’s what a woman *is*. How deep. How mystical. How gorgeous. It's all about love. You had to tap into your deepest emotions just to understand her, but you never will, because you simply lack the depth required to grasp something as complex and mysterious as a woman. Whose fault is it that you foolishly believed she was noble and good?

It's just these stunted, male visions of the "femme fatale"—pure, unadulterated misogyny.

And that's why it gets four Oscar nominations.

you're such a Zrinka Pavlić.

amberfox7 said:Sure, she wants him to be someone he’s just not—she refuses to accept him for who he is, which gives her all the excuses she needs to cheat. That’s why she stays. It’s comfortable to live with a loyal, steady man who actually has his act together and won't hurt you. She’s the one who’s a coward and a conformist, not him. He’s just the idiot who didn't hold out for a better woman.

And he wants her to be someone she isn't by idealizing her. 😉

Like I said, it all comes down to that uchi/soto dynamic—the public vs. private self. He's a bit detached socially, objectively speaking, and emotionally too—that's his private side. He stays formal even with her just because it's "proper" and "clean." That uchi/soto concept even applies to the threshold of a home—it's that rigid rule everyone follows where you absolutely have to take your shoes off at the door. She, though? Sometimes she actually wants a little "dirt" in the mix.😁

The whole point of letting him drive is all about shifting the perspective—throwing a totally different light on his complaining. It’s basically those tiny little steps that kick off a turnaround leading to some personal catharsis by the end.

For some reason, I feel like the dynamic between the couple isn't hitting home for everyone. It’s actually pretty straightforward: she wants him to show some actual desire for her, but he thinks doing that would make him too exposed and vulnerable. They're both right. So instead, he builds this perfect, pure image of her in his head—and that kind of idealism just leads straight to alienation. Looking at it through the lens of Japanese culture, you could argue it's that classic theme of *uchi* (inside) vs. *soto* (outside)—basically the private self versus the public persona. In Japan, the "self" is contextual; it's shaped by the group rather than just the individual.

amberfox7 said:The chauvinist in me caught onto the underlying theme here: this movie basically argues that women can be whatever they want, and men just have to stoically endure it if they want to be loved or enjoy their lives.

By the end, he’s even blaming himself—yeah, it’s your fault because she enjoyed using young actors as warm bodies on your couch, and you're the bad guy because you didn't explicitly tell her it bothered you. I guess we live in an era where we just glorify being unfaithful.

Jokes aside.

That whole subplot about the young actor hitting photographers is just cringe—a cheap, lazy writing shortcut. I honestly expected something more Hitchcockian, maybe the protagonist snapping and murdering the kid in a fit of madness; that would've been something. The initial outburst at the photographer worked okay as a character beat, but turning it into this repetitive cycle? Without spoiling too much, it was a massive missed opportunity. It should have gone in a completely different direction.

The car scene where the young actor wraps up her narrative is hands-down the worst acting in the film; you can literally see the kid struggling, just staring blankly into space.

The last thirty minutes are a slog—emotionally hollow and frankly pathetic. And that moment where the driver explains how she, spoiler, killed her mother? Just lame.

It’s like Batman—ninety minutes too long.

That said, there is merit here. The husband's performance, playing the silent actor, is Oscar-worthy; top-tier talent right there. The lead actor is also flawless throughout—he absolutely crushed it. The direction and framing are very polished and soothing; I genuinely enjoyed the shots of the city, the roads, and the landscape. That bit with the tunnels felt like a lovely nod to Tarkovsky.

I have to admit, I'm getting tired of these films that feel like filmed stage plays, but it's alright.

Anyway, it’s a forced experience. Realistically, it’s a 6/10. It falls apart way too much.

p.s. I won't even touch that nonsense about her "pre-orgasmic" ideas for drama; it feels like a solution cooked up by some adolescent playwright obsessed with erotic thrillers. However, the sex scenes with the husband were beautifully directed, so I'll let that slide.

Give me a break, that would have been beyond cringe. 😁 Luckily, Hamaguchi isn't Chabrol.

amberfox7 said:The chauvinist in me caught onto the underlying theme here: this movie basically argues that women can be whatever they want, and men just have to stoically endure it if they want to be loved or enjoy their lives.

By the end, he’s even blaming himself—yeah, it’s your fault because she enjoyed using young actors as warm bodies on your couch, and you're the bad guy because you didn't explicitly tell her it bothered you. I guess we live in an era where we just glorify being unfaithful.

Jokes aside.

That whole subplot about the young actor hitting photographers is just cringe—a cheap, lazy writing shortcut. I honestly expected something more Hitchcockian, maybe the protagonist snapping and murdering the kid in a fit of madness; that would've been something. The initial outburst at the photographer worked okay as a character beat, but turning it into this repetitive cycle? Without spoiling too much, it was a massive missed opportunity. It should have gone in a completely different direction.

The car scene where the young actor wraps up her narrative is hands-down the worst acting in the film; you can literally see the kid struggling, just staring blankly into space.

The last thirty minutes are a slog—emotionally hollow and frankly pathetic. And that moment where the driver explains how she, spoiler, killed her mother? Just lame.

It’s like Batman—ninety minutes too long.

That said, there is merit here. The husband's performance, playing the silent actor, is Oscar-worthy; top-tier talent right there. The lead actor is also flawless throughout—he absolutely crushed it. The direction and framing are very polished and soothing; I genuinely enjoyed the shots of the city, the roads, and the landscape. That bit with the tunnels felt like a lovely nod to Tarkovsky.

I have to admit, I'm getting tired of these films that feel like filmed stage plays, but it's alright.

Anyway, it’s a forced experience. Realistically, it’s a 6/10. It falls apart way too much.

p.s. I won't even touch that nonsense about her "pre-orgasmic" ideas for drama; it feels like a solution cooked up by some adolescent playwright obsessed with erotic thrillers. However, the sex scenes with the husband were beautifully directed, so I'll let that slide.

It's not an erotic thriller; it's more like Scheherazade and *One Thousand and One Nights*. 😉

northerncrane4 said:It also adds some much-needed weight to that character, which makes sense since the sequence right before the epilogue belongs to her. There’s plenty of other stuff to pick apart here. First off, that 40-minute exposition could have been cut short! For instance, the crash and his glaucoma feel completely redundant—unless the director was trying to suggest that the theater in Hiroshima somehow had access to his medical records and forced this specific driver on him, but even if that were the case—so what?

Dennis Martin6, are you seriously arguing for the total dismantling of cinematic storytelling? Every one of those monologue segments is actually a fascinating little film within a film, yet we're denied them and forced to just stare at people reciting lines. It's the exact opposite of what a movie should be. Do you think there's a deeper reason for this, or is it just lazy?

I think they gave a pretty mundane reason for why he hired the driver, and honestly, I bought it—given that whole mess with the other director earlier. But purely through association, I can’t stop linking it to the story his wife is writing—that bit about the girl walking into her friend's room—and how surveillance cameras show up in the final version of that tale. I don't have some logical, airtight explanation for why those two things connect, aside from the obvious visual symbolism. Maybe it's just a continuation of that tension between subjective belief—what you personally perceive—and objective truth—the automated way the world sees us. It feels like an extension of his wife Oto's and Kafuku's obsession with reconciling those two planes of reality... basically, trying to accept what's actually there. (By the way, Oto literally means "sound.")😁So she loved him AND was cheating at the same time? Real smooth.

northerncrane4 said:It also adds some much-needed weight to that character, which makes sense since the sequence right before the epilogue belongs to her. There’s plenty of other stuff to pick apart here. First off, that 40-minute exposition could have been cut short! For instance, the crash and his glaucoma feel completely redundant—unless the director was trying to suggest that the theater in Hiroshima somehow had access to his medical records and forced this specific driver on him, but even if that were the case—so what?

Dennis Martin6, are you seriously arguing for the total dismantling of cinematic storytelling? Every one of those monologue segments is actually a fascinating little film within a film, yet we're denied them and forced to just stare at people reciting lines. It's the exact opposite of what a movie should be. Do you think there's a deeper reason for this, or is it just lazy?

Look, this is totally subjective and I get where you're coming from, but I actually loved that idea of handling dialogue through monologue. There are probably a million ways to read into it, but here’s what jumped out at me: there’s this specific thing about the Japanese language where the verb always lands at the end of the sentence. Practically speaking, if you want to know exactly what someone is trying to say, you're basically forced to let them finish their thought. That’s how these characters talk—it’s actually what makes it feel realistic—but then it gets stylized into these occasionally massive, extreme soliloquies. It's the total opposite of how American or European films handle "realistic" dialogue, where "realism" usually just means people constantly cutting each other off and overlapping. This feels more like an Altman extreme—taking that concept and turning it into a legit signature style.

Plus, I’m a huge fan of that relentless, obsessive style of storytelling—you know, where the monologue just swallows everything else whole. Characters, plot, psychology... it all gets devoured. Take Thomas Bernhard, for example; his stuff is basically one massive, crushing monologue. I haven't picked up Rachel Cusk yet, but apparently she does a milder version of that same thing—she recently put out that "Outline" trilogy.

electriccanyon26 said:Man, I don't know if that's a thing, but we should probably add it to the dictionary. 😁 The part with the silent woman felt unnecessary to the overall story. I rewatched the final third today, and maybe it's because I watched it in isolation without being fully immersed, but that whole sequence of mutual confessions at the end of a cigarette instead of a candle felt kind of cringe. To me, the entire section where they articulate everything we've already figured out could have been coldly cut. The final scene—the play scene—is powerful and cathartic enough on its own.

Oh, please—that scene is actually great! 😁 Sure, it doesn't serve much of a narrative, psychological, or symbolic purpose, but life isn't all about being utilitarian. People are just hanging out—the silent woman is essentially "talking" to herself in her own way, the driver is messing around with the dog, they're having a good time. Plus, it’s a killer contrast to the first half of the film, where the husband and wife are so detached that their communication is basically reduced to this weird fetishized interaction mediated by pre-recorded dialogue (which are really just monologues anyway).

I caught that Finnish candidate movie, Compartment No. 6, about a young Finnish woman traveling by train toward the remote Russian north. It's like a millennial version of 'Brief Encounter' for the 21st-century digital age—people who are nostalgic for the analog vibes of the '80s and are pretty sexually fluid. 😁
The characters are a bit—well, as electriccanyon26 would put it—basic. I wasn't a fan of the whole "thug turns into a sensitive soul" transformation, and that sneaky Finn guy? Total cringe. Generally, it felt like the short film's metaphor was just "hug and smile, distance and closeness." They needed more of that old lady who only counts redheaded Irishmen. 😁 It ends up being just okay.

Dennis Hall41 said:Dennis Martin6, I've got Pharoah Sanders on rotation this weekend. Honestly, I'm gonna need to be hammered just to deal with all that space-peder energy.

Chill out—just grab my hand and let's drift together like a single star orbiting some cosmic anal sphincter!

Lisa Davis46 said:I checked out the Virgin Mary coverage on CNN... 🤦

Good grief. Honestly, the best move right now. The glory of America is fading fast.

redbear12 said:The way Robert Gorl titled this album and designed the cover—it looks straight out of some indie gay flick. 🐔

I just rolled up after finishing my Master's, looking for something decent to check out, and instead I get hit with this blatant, unapologetic rainbow of suggestions! 😲

ΑΠΑΓΕ ΣΑΤΑΝΆΣ

Lisa Davis46 said:you listen to everything and clearly know your music

why are you being so sarcastic? 😁

Deux Filles ‎– Silence & Wisdom (1982)

redbear12 said:They’re basically trying to musically raise the younger generation. 😬

It's all fine—until they lose their grip and start thinking they're some kind of messianic savior.🙂