Sea (2018): Written and directed
by Kensei Takahashi. Starring: Satoshi Abe, Misaki Matsuzaki,
Arisa Sato, Seiya Okuda, and Seijuro Mimori. Running Time: 80
minutes.
Rating: 3/4
Inspired by the #MeToo movement, Sea-
the debut graduation film of its director, Kensei Takahashi- is a
challenging work that tries to delve into the complexities of trauma
and how it can haunt people throughout their lives. It is held back
somewhat by its uneven treatment of what is an extremely sensitive
subject matter, with moments where the filmmaking can't quite match
its own ambition. Nonetheless, it is an impressive and affecting
film, the sort of challenging, thought-provoking examination of a
social ill more filmmakers need to tackle.
The film focuses on Hiroshi, a young
man who witnesses a classmate, Rie, being raped by the school bullies
on the beach one day. Because of the specific circumstances that led
up to it, he blames himself for letting it happen, and time only
increases his guilt and rage. Several years later, at the graduation
celebration for his class, he happens to run into one of the bullies
assaulting another girl, and this time he snaps, attacking and
killing him. The rest of the film then follows him years later,
after he is released from prison and trying to patch his life back
together, until he happens to run into Rie for the first time since
her assault.
On a technical level, the film is
remarkably creative in its use of the camera. The graduation fight
is captured in a viscerally powerful single-shot take, as they fight
and struggle throughout a long, narrow hallway; the audience is
forcefully drawn into a claustrophic, panic-filled moment alongside
the two boys. Extra effort was also made to use different types of
cameras, each with different levels of quality, for different scenes,
an effort to silently imply what sort of mental state Hiroshi is in
at a given time. This was a conscious choice on the director's part,
to convey emotional states through the camera and editing rather than
through music (of which there is none). At its best moments, this
creates a jarring juxtaposition; a scene that starts with the shot
blurry, unfocused, and shaky with suddenly cut to another shot that
is terrifyingly stark, clear, and steady.
The creativity of the technical
process aside, the film stands on shakier ground when discussing the
subject matter itself, given that this was a film primarily written
and produced by men (though they did say in a Q&A afterwards that
they spoke with the women on the production about how to handle the
assault visually). I struggled for much of the film's runtime with
the fact that we were focusing on a man who "merely"
witnessed an assault, rather than on Rie, who was actually assaulted
and (we learn later) saw her whole life upended as a result.
This, too, the director explained
afterwards, was a deliberate choice; he had initially planned to make
a film focusing on a girl who is assaulted and then seeks revenge.
However, as he considered the topic more, he started thinking more
about his own perspective; what if he or someone like him witnessed
or knew of a rape, and tried to react? What sort of aftereffects
would that have?
And, I must admit, that is itself a
complex and messy idea that I don't feel has been tackled that often
in film, as well as one that resonates deeply with me personally. I
am a very large, physically strong, straight man who has never
assaulted someone, nor been assaulted, yet precisely because of that
fact I know that I need to give careful thought to how I listen and
respond to the stories of assault survivors. I think I very much
know what drives Hiroshi in the film. Both I and many other men
instinctively want to see ourselves as the hero who would act
immediately to "save" or "defend" someone being
raped, or hurt, or robbed, or whatever; my gut reaction to an assault
is that those perpetrating violence deserve violence themselves.
Which, in and of itself, is a very human response.
But it's not that simple. It never
is. This salvation complex that I know I carry within me is, I
think, why Hiroshi reacts so strongly the second time he sees the
bully raping someone. Yet, as the film takes time and pains to
emphasize, this doesn't solve much of anything. Yes, one less
assaulter is alive and free. But Rie's assault can't be undone.
Hiroshi's life is altered forever, and he will clearly carry his own
trauma from both episodes for as long as he lives. Is that worth
murder? I think the film is fairly clear in wanting to state that,
no, it is not.
Nor is Rie forgotten. She returns at
the end, and is the focus of an incredible final sequence that leaves
the audience with a gripping uncertainty about what will happen to
these characters going forward. I would not dare spoil exactly what
happens, but it hinges on an assumed switch in audience perspective
that perfectly synthesizes the themes of the movie with its technical
style. For all the quips I have with the rest of the film, that
final moment is something I know I will never forget.
Sea carries within it both the
highs and lows of an extremely ambitious artist creating their first
film. I can't speak for how others will react to the particular way
the film chooses to handle sexual assault, but for my money, this is
a brave and worthy effort that points in a direction more movies
should go in examining how our preconceptions of gender roles and how
society deals with sexual violence.
-Noah Franc
No comments:
Post a Comment