Cherry Blossoms taps into the popular vein of the Western exoticisation of Japan, old and new, both perceived as equally alien. The film is not a critique of this tendency, however: director Dörrie is as much prey to this fixation as, say, Sofia Coppola with
Lost in Translation, except without the self-defensively ironic stance. And to cap the fixation, the first half is an unacknowledged retread of Ozu's
Tokyo Story: an elderly couple from the boondocks go for a last trip to visit all their estranged children in the big city and bemusedly find themselves slighted as inconveniences by their self-absorbed offspring, only accommodated by those who are not their blood relatives. Ok, the theme can be seen as universal, but it really is a carbon copy, more than Claire Denis's transposition of Ozu's
Late Spring in
35 Rhums.
The second half does strike out on its own as Elmar Wepper, as the staid patriarch blooming too late in life, seeks resolution in Japan. But, a couple of fine character readings notwithstanding, it remains too flat to really involve, a fact not helped by the choice to opt for drab video throughout when some of the key images cried out for a wider range of tones.
5/10
No comments:
Post a Comment