MUBI

I was a bit sceptical when I saw that the short story by Murakami had been turned into a full-length feature film. Having read the story, I could not imagine how it could justify a running time of 76 minutes.

It turns out that director Jun Ichikawa has managed not only to accomplish this feat, but also made a movie that shows more respect for it’s source material than any film adaptation I have ever seen.

The movie can best be described as an illustrated narration of the short story, being driven by a calming voice-over by Hidetoshi Nishijima, and nearly all of the actual dialogue constituted of the characters finishing the narrator’s sentences. This captures and retains the feel of the short story perfectly as it guides us through the story of Tony Takitani’s life. The sober and slow pace gives you the time to take in all the undertones of the narrative as well as the stunning cinematography.

Photographer Taishi Hirokawa has done an absolutely brilliant job in transferring the mood of the narrative to moving images. The colours are washed out almost to the point of being grayscale, and the pictures appear almost two-dimensional, seemingly letting the emotional content of the movie providing the depth of the images. Slow, left-to-right pans with scenes cut as the camera disappears behind objects and walls not only lends itself to this effect, but also alludes to the turning of pages in a book.

Thematically, the film, as the short story, deals with loneliness and it’s effects, as well as the concept of attaching emotional meaning to objects. Tony Takitani, having grown up in the absence of his travelling musician father and a mother who died days after his birth, develops into a man who finds feelings unneeded, perhaps even immature, devoting his artistic skills to technical illustration. His emotionless life takes a new direction, though, when he falls for Konuma Eiko, a woman who fills her feeling of emptiness by buying exclusive clothes.

The clothes of Eiko, who becomes Tony’s wife, serves as the objects onto which they both subconsciously project their emotions. For Eiko they are an addiction, a way for her to fulfil herself, and for Tony a representation of this love toward Eiko. As the unfortunate events in the story unfold, Tony learns that the objects, Eiko’s clothes and later his father’s records and trombone, no matter the meaning that has been projected on them, are still mere objects, and strangely seem less tangible than the emotions they convey.

A stunning piece about love and loneliness, with overtones about the objectified post-war society, this is a movie I cannot recommend too warmly. Having read Murakami’s short story is in no way a prerequisite, but is definitely worth doing none the less.