Drive My Car (2021)

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.

Dennis Martin6 said: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.

🙂

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. 🙂

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.

Dennis Martin6 said: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.

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.

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. 😁

Dennis Martin6 said: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:

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. 😁

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. 😁

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." 🙂

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. 😉

Looks like the proposal didn't pass. 😢

Dennis Martin6 said: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. 😉

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 🤣).

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. 😬

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.

Dennis Martin6 said: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.

I'm telling you—you totally crushed it.

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.

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

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

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.

Dennis Martin6 said:It’s got nothing to do with him being unnecessary to her. It’s actually the exact opposite—just like electriccanyon26 already pointed out:

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.

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.

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.

Dennis Martin6 said: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.

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. 🙂

I see there’s a massive amount of chatter about the plot, and it seems like everyone absolutely loved the film. Personally, I wasn't quite sold.

I spent the entire time wondering, "How is 'Uncle Vanja' actually relevant to this story?" To me, it felt like it could have been any standard drama.

Then again, I haven't read or seen "Vanja," so perhaps the disconnect is entirely on my end.

There is also one specific detail... though I'm not sure if it's a minor point, given how many times they bring it up through different lenses, but still... essentially, the play the protagonist is directing is performed in multiple languages. What is the purpose there? What is the actual advantage? 🤷 I just can't wrap my head around what that adds to the experience. If I were sitting in an American theater, would I really want to watch a play performed simultaneously in English and Tagalog while staring at subtitles? It's completely lost on me.

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.

goldenhound32 said:I see there’s a massive amount of chatter about the plot, and it seems like everyone absolutely loved the film. Personally, I wasn't quite sold.

I spent the entire time wondering, "How is 'Uncle Vanja' actually relevant to this story?" To me, it felt like it could have been any standard drama.

Then again, I haven't read or seen "Vanja," so perhaps the disconnect is entirely on my end.

There is also one specific detail... though I'm not sure if it's a minor point, given how many times they bring it up through different lenses, but still... essentially, the play the protagonist is directing is performed in multiple languages. What is the purpose there? What is the actual advantage? 🤷 I just can't wrap my head around what that adds to the experience. If I were sitting in an American theater, would I really want to watch a play performed simultaneously in English and Tagalog while staring at subtitles? It's completely lost on me.

I think that’s exactly how the director wants to drive home the point that we’re living in this hyper-connected, globalized mess where you can just pull out a smartphone and translate any language in a heartbeat or look up some obscure meaning instantly. We've got stories from every corner of the globe hitting our screens faster than ever before, making language barriers almost non-existent... or at least, they really shouldn't exist anymore, right? 🙂

On the flip side, how much of a way is it to actually bridge those language gaps between different cultures? Especially when you've got a film right in front of you about a husband and wife where, honestly, nothing is working at all.

Dennis Martin6 said: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.

Hope things are going great on your end, too. 😬

Oh, one more thing: that "okusam" term can actually carry this whole middle-aged woman vibe. Maybe that's what triggered her—being stuck in some awkward situation where she's forced to play the part of a wife just to introduce her younger lover?

So, after reading what you wrote above about the meaning of this stuff, I actually went down a rabbit hole online to dig deeper, and I stumbled upon this perfect explanation... It’s exactly like when some guy calls a woman "ma'am," and she’s still feeling young at heart, so she gets all offended and snaps back that she's a "miss." 🤣

I’m just riffing here... but wouldn't this have actually landed if it were just the two of them—just her and Mladić—so he could address her directly? Instead, she’s standing there confronting both of them at once, basically introducing them to each other before reacting like that. Honestly, I think her comment is just this perfect blend of her asserting her independence and proving she isn't some "middle-aged" cliché.

Lisa Cox4 said:I think that’s exactly how the director wants to drive home the point that we’re living in this hyper-connected, globalized mess where you can just pull out a smartphone and translate any language in a heartbeat or look up some obscure meaning instantly. We've got stories from every corner of the globe hitting our screens faster than ever before, making language barriers almost non-existent... or at least, they really shouldn't exist anymore, right? 🙂

On the flip side, how much of a way is it to actually bridge those language gaps between different cultures? Especially when you've got a film right in front of you about a husband and wife where, honestly, nothing is working at all.

Hope things are going great on your end, too. 😬

Oh, one more thing: that "okusam" term can actually carry this whole middle-aged woman vibe. Maybe that's what triggered her—being stuck in some awkward situation where she's forced to play the part of a wife just to introduce her younger lover?

So, after reading what you wrote above about the meaning of this stuff, I actually went down a rabbit hole online to dig deeper, and I stumbled upon this perfect explanation... It’s exactly like when some guy calls a woman "ma'am," and she’s still feeling young at heart, so she gets all offended and snaps back that she's a "miss." 🤣

I’m just riffing here... but wouldn't this have actually landed if it were just the two of them—just her and Mladić—so he could address her directly? Instead, she’s standing there confronting both of them at once, basically introducing them to each other before reacting like that. Honestly, I think her comment is just this perfect blend of her asserting her independence and proving she isn't some "middle-aged" cliché.

If it were just the two of them, he'd never use 'oku-sama.' 😁
Japanese is what you call a high-context language—everything changes based on context and social hierarchy (age, gender, job, family, etc.). It’s all baked right into the grammar. Even though the dressing room setup is informal, the husband is older and holds a higher social standing than the young actor, so the guy uses a polite term for someone else's wife. That’s why the husband doesn't even blink—it’s totally standard for that kind of setup. Only Oto pipes up, probably just because he's full of himself.
If it were just Oto and the actor alone, things would be informal, but since they're in an intimate relationship, there's no hierarchy there. The language would reflect that and be extremely casual. The actor would call Oto something like 'kimi' or just 'Oto' (no suffix). But in the dressing room, he calls him 'oku-sama' and 'Oto-san.' If he accidentally used 'kimi' or 'Oto' in there, the husband would catch onto their little scheme immediately. 😁

We're just waiting on his critique regarding that comment about how Kieslowski's Blue is an overrated festival piece. I’m dying to see what he has to say about this one.

amberfox7 said:We're just waiting on his critique regarding that comment about how Kieslowski's Blue is an overrated festival piece. I’m dying to see what he has to say about this one.

I'm here. Haven't watched it yet—but I will when the mood strikes. Sounds a bit less mindless than those Midwest types who think they're high-class just because they discovered expensive wine and "prestige" cinema.

"That thing he said..."? Cccc, kid, using pronouns to refer to someone else like that is just tacky; you should be thanking me for even talking to you. Unless, of course, you were making some subtle nod to Dennis Martin6's lecture on honorary suffixes.