Shocks as sharp as a knife

Keeping its secrets guarded and living off the shocks of its knife-edge turns, Chime sees Kiyoshi Kurosawa covering more than familiar ground with plenty of desolate moodscapes, recognisable for anyone with even a cursory knowledge of his past output. However, there is something particularly chilling about the oppressive mundanity here, a mundanity to which Kōichi Furuya's digital cinematography adds another layer of dread. It's a dreary madness that slowly begins seeping into the life of its character. Despite its skeletal form and brief runtime, the film ends on a fascinating rupture; the previously ambient evil becoming tangible shifts, terrifyingly, within the realm of possibility and the suggestion of this curse being made concrete becomes overbearing. Relishing in the awful psychological residues of violence while suggesting a lucid dream, the kind of fragmented nightmare you are grateful to wake up from but just as terrified to leave so unresolved.

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Rest in peace Kenpachiro Satsuma, your spirit will live eternally.

To say that Godzilla Minus One is my most anticipated movie of the year is a severe understatement. It currently holds the candle for my most anticipated movie ever. The wait has been agonising, less so for my brother who I brought along for what is our first experience seeing Godzilla on the big screen. For the better part of December seeing Letterboxd members gushing about it has been terrifying. But finally, I managed to catch a screening today, 2 days after its UK debut, by god, it was worth every minute, every second... this is the best Godzilla movie to date, bar none.

Feeling as if he unfairly cheated death too many times, Shikishima, a surviving Kamikaze pilot is attacked on Odo Island along with many war plane engineers by an enormous monster. After the engineers die due to Shikishima failing to distract the monster, an overwhelming amount of guilt weighs on him, especially after a homeless woman and a baby move into his home when he returns. Shikishima, now on a personal mission, teams up with a large group of veterans to finally take down the monster known only as Godzilla.

Having spent the better part of a week watching Takashi Yamazaki's other directorial efforts certainly didn't prepare me for what he would bring to the table with Minus One. Choosing a post-war setting for the movie invited some rather minor scepticism but the film ended up an extension and refinement of his earlier wartime epic, The Eternal Zero. Tension and redemption run high throughout this film, with everyone seeking a path forward in the face of utter destruction and hopelessness.

Yamazaki's proficiency for human drama was not in question, having watched his Always Sunset trilogy the other week, emotions run high and his characters inject so much life and soul into the picture. It's backed by an utterly terrific script, heartfelt and often awe-inspiring and his calling his direction anything less than superb feels wrong.

I still can't believe that Yamazaki and company pulled this off for the money they had, either Hollywood blows their film budgets in all the wrong places or Japanese VFX artists are severely underpaid for the job they do (maybe it's both). Godzilla is one scary-looking bastard, taking his main influence from the Heisei suits but blown up with scales and spikes added into places you didn't know he had, his presence throughout the film is one of constant overhanging dread, cropping up when the characters least expect him and terrifying all who see him. Seriously, the build-ups to his atomic breath gave me constant goosebumps and seeing him standing amongst the ruins of Ginza just sent shivers down my spine.

I could technically accuse Yamazaki of nepotism given how many of his regulars take on roles here but I'm not going to. Everyone gives it their all, especially given the immense weight they had to carry on their shoulders, everyone is incredible, I can't fault a single performance. Ryunosuke Kamiki especially did a stellar job, the emotional resonance of his dialogue leaves you hanging on every word, Minami Hamabe is the rock to his PTSD-ridded life and the two of them share beautiful chemistry.

Naoki Satō's music is just phenomenal, his music carries so much menace and unease but thoroughly compliments Yamazaki's incredible style, there's a beautiful use of pure silence (especially in the climax) to emphasise both creative forces. His utilisation of the classic Ifukube cues is hands down one of the best of the entire franchise, cropping up at just the right time to not feel out of place or irrelevant.

Godzilla Minus One is truly the first of the franchise to make me truly afraid, the Big G's villainous stance hangs over the picture with a looming dread that remains unshaken even when the credits roll. Putting the trauma of history at its core was an inspired creative choice, evoking the original film more than any other since GMK (which Yamazaki lists as his favourite, based). Everything about this film works and exceeds any expectations I had of it, with its emotional heart just as prevalent as its terror. I'm so glad my brother was along for the ride, no way I was experiencing this alone.

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Questionable stance but oh so beautiful

For all of Hero's striking use of colour and landscapes, the drama, characters and ideas are not sufficiently compelling enough to sustain the martial arts. It's easy on the eyes, but too segmented to gather much momentum and too art-directed to convey much urgency. However, I can't deny the result. Both thrilling and thoughtful, offering imaginative and meticulous set pieces as it considers questions of loyalty and the individual's role in history. It is not so much a historical epic as a kind of highly determined ballet: dreamy with bloodless violence, relying less on shades of character than on magnificence of gesture. For all my grievances, the performances of its leads are captivating, Dun Tan's score mesmerising, while Christopher Doyle's photography is overwhelmingly stimulating. Hero is a dazzlingly lensed, highly stylized meditation on heroism even if its ideology is confused.

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Unflinchingly tense

A gripping, often uncompromising look at the Hong Kong drug trade, Protégé takes a tried and tested storytelling formula and marries it to compelling cinematic finesse caught up in a cobweb of drugs, loyalties and deceit. Mercifully unpretentious, the film is directed with remarkable proficiency by Derek Yee, offering a look at both sides of the drug coin: those who profit from it and those who ultimately suffer from it. By keeping it more personal, Yee's film feels more intimate and urgent, more satisfyingly intriguing, helped in no small regard by its star power. A greyed-up Andy Lau is as great as ever, offering up a sympathetic spin on an otherwise purely business-focused drug lord, while Daniel Wu plays off of Lau with a subtle and controlled rage. With its smart script, solid acting and tight directing Protégé varies from intense drama to dreamlike to subtle shades of black comedy yet never feels like an afterschool special or an obvious morality tale.

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Joe Hisaishi's music destroys me

From its hypnotic style to its pessimistic plot, Sonatine is a mesmerizing manifestation of Takeshi Kitano's continued revitalisation of the yakuza movie. It is a largely peaceful, contemplative work, punctuated by moments of extreme violence all delivered with purpose balancing the fine line between gorgeously dreamy and grim reality. Kitano's haunting elegy to the gangster way of life, he spends the film exposing the gangster ideal as the myth, of little boys who forget to grow up, doing so with incredible flourishes of style, playfulness and jarring outbursts of his trademark humour. Having only written four scenes, the vast majority of the film was largely spontaneous, often Kitano finding his feet in the moment at hand. Sonatine sees the bleak suicidal tendencies of Kitano's mind coming right to the forefront, especially since he suffered partial facial paralysis after a motorscooter accident not long after this film's release. One he has often mentioned was an unconscious suicide attempt, this alone lends a massive amount of weight to the Russian Roulette sequences, giving Sonatine so much more emotional levity to its already unconventional narrative. With the addition of another stunning musical score by Joe Hisaishi, Sonatine rewards those with patience, offering up plenty of existential dread among its exceptional beauty.

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Arigato, Ultraman

I genuinely couldn't wait for a second longer in viewing this, I've been so excited for its release for so long that when some heroes leaked it to the internet during October I was over the moon, yet equally annoyed due to the fact I was already dedicated to Spooky Season at the time. But finally, my time has come and Shin Ultraman is everything I hoped it would be and more.

As the threat of giant unidentified lifeforms known as "S-Class Species" worsens in Japan and just when the JSDF and SSSP are pushed to the breaking point, a silver giant appears from beyond Earth's atmosphere.

In this house, we do not stand for Shinji Higuchi erasure, dude had just as much input in the creation of this as Hideaki Anno so it feels morally wrong to completely exclude him from any and all credit he deserves. This film is fucking raw and equally gorgeous, with so many shots of note but the scene of "Ultraman" standing amongst the burning ruins of a city goes hard. Also worth noting is that if you only went to see this or Shin Godzilla due to Anno's name, maybe rethink how you are approaching these movies, just saying.

There's a conscious production design decision by the duo to make Shin Ultraman look as if it was in its genesis and absolutely not concerned with reaching the modern "standards" of polished reboot looks is such a refreshing take. Shin Ultraman looks the part of a brilliant piece of tokusatsu media, a fresh reboot for a new generation and a love letter for long-time fans as both Higuchi and Anno are themselves.

Like Shin Godzilla before it, the visual effects are fantastically stylised. There's a clear love for the original designs and a clever little riff on the reuse of the Shin Godzilla CG model if you know your Ultraman. Shirō Sagisu returns as the composer for the second time, beautifully enhancing the original works of Kunio Miyauchi while adding in works left unused from both Shin Godzilla and of course, fucking Evangelion.

There's so much to be said about the overwhelming success of this film, for a time the highest-grossing film of 2022 in Japan alone and currently sitting at the most commercially successful Ultraman film beating out my beloved Superior 8 Ultra Brothers. It stands tall as one of the finest examples of both a reboot and a piece of Ultraman media, although perhaps not as tall as Brave Love Tiga.

The film doesn't really want to spend time with the politics of its predecessor, as Higuchi has stated in interviews "if we just did the same thing, it's kind of pointless". More power to the man, but the film isn't without a small political commentary on the Japanese government and how they would delineate a situation like this.

There's a little commentary on humanity's place in the universe, and whether we've proven ourselves worthy of continuing as a species. This messaging isn't always elegantly executed but, like so much of the film, it's presented with such enthusiastic sincerity that it's hard to resist. The world may sometimes be a terrible, frightening place, but Shin Ultraman argues that a little decency can still go a long way. I fucking love it, roll on Shin Kamen Rider!

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Seriously underrated madness

One part ET, another part Indiana Jones but a Wong Jing movie in every other sense, Magic Crystal has everything and the kitchen sink cheesed up to the max, but dosed on adrenalin too. Wong Jing's signature chaotic direction, balls-to-the-wall pace, brutal stunt work, cheesy yet ridiculously charming effects and humour that ranges from childish to outright offensive but it's presented in such a way that it remains hilarious. Topped off by an incredible cast that includes the likes of Andy Lau, Cynthia Rothrock and an awesomely villainous Richard Norton all of whom commit 100% to the film's stupidity. It's over the top and knows it, delivering endless, ferocious and well-choreographed action all set to a rocking synth score that has become a staple of most 80s Hong Kong movies. Daft, dumb and oh-so-fun, Magic Crystal is one you owe yourself to watch if you are in any way a fan of shlocky excellence. Then again I also gave 5 stars to Future Cops... so you decide.

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Sammo does John Woo

If you only know Sammo Hung for his more happy-go-lucky roles, then Eastern Condors will be a massive shock to the system, going as far as to tread into John Woo's territory of heroic bloodshed. Taking the idea of The Dirty Dozen but setting it in Vietnam, Sammo got serious with this one, even cutting his trademark hair and slimming right down. There are no mincing words about how brutally violent Eastern Condors gets... Hands get chopped off, Vietcong kids play Russian Roulette and people are shot point blank with no hesitation, in the wrong hands it's distasteful stuff, but Sammo treats it all with sincerity, marking this film out as one of his finest accomplishments as an actor, martial artist and director.

Although the majority of the action is hyper-intense gun fights occasionally punctuated by a familiar moment seen in Western war films like The Deer Hunter or the Rambo franchise, there is a spectacular final bout of full-contact fisticuffs for the patient ones among you. The cast is populated by plenty of familiar names and faces, although I do wish they got a bit more characterisation outside of their nicknames and who plays them, they all commit often coming away bloody and bruised from the hyper-dangerous stunt work. For better or worse, Eastern Condors has a gritty edge that makes it truly stand out amongst Sammo's filmography often feeling like what Heroes Shed No Tears had originally wanted to be, it's an absolute must-see!

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Exhausting

Exceptionally convoluted and deliriously nihilistic, Genocide is appropriately harrowing and periodically bonkers if a little middling around the second act. The second of only two movies from director Kazui Nihonmatsu, having previously helmed The X from Outer Space, Genocide is all over the place with enough hair-brained ideas to fill two movies let alone a single 84-minute one, primarily the hallucinogenic bees being bred by an insane holocaust survivor. Nihonmatsu handles the film with considerably more skill than his prior effort, there's a wider variety of shots and a better building of suspense thanks in part to the photography of Shizuo Hirase and the passable score from Shunsuke Kikuchi. It's very much an accident of a film, suitably ambitious and apocalyptic in its finality, ultimately hinging on the potential detonation of a hydrogen bomb and the single mother who may have to single-handedly repopulate a country. Genocide is an exhausting yet very rewarding experience, showcasing so pretty damn good filmmaking for its small budget but, as noted before, has too much plot for its own good.

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Watch the HK Cut

The answer is Jackie Chan. Who Am I? sees Jackie tackle the amnesiac spy thriller years before the Matt Damon shaky cam series and although a lot of the acting from its supporting cast leaves a lot to be desired (almost to the point of brain dead), the action more than makes up for it. The story feels unnecessarily complex and often messy but makes for an otherwise very compelling mystery (provided you watch the right version) in one of Jackie's more serious turns ala Crime Story. Benny Chan's direction is all pretty solid and Nathan Wang's score is decent if very dated, but seeing it paired with Jackie running around causing mass destruction in the Netherlands all while clad in a pair of clogs was truly a sight to behold. Despite a tepid first half, the film picks up steam with some great action, a fantastic car chase and the usual death-defying stunts in the second, with the rooftop fight easily ranking as one of his best, it's all just as imaginative and energetic as his early works even with Chan's advancing age.

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Another one for the “Toshio Masuda is one of Japans most underrated directors” pile.

There's something strangely perfect about Zero being directed by Toshio Masuda, having been kicked out of the kamikaze in 1944 for being excessively liberal and pacifistic. It's a real treat to finally see another one of his war epics after so many years, this time him and him alone in the chair. Based on a serialized story by Kunio Yanagida, this is the story of the Mitsubishi Zero through the eyes of the engineers who designed the plane and the pilots who flew it.

Shoichi Hamada is a pilot flying the Imperial Navy's ace in the hole, the Mitsubishi A6M Zero, during the first years of the war the Zero is seemingly unstoppable, shooting down almost every type of plane the allies send at them. Hamada's best friend is Kunio Mizushima, assigned to the ground crew, they are both in love with one girl… but will the ravages of war tear them apart?

Toshio Masuda's direction is simply sublime, taking what worked on Tora! Tora! Tora! over a decade ago and bringing it back tenfold. It is clear Masuda had no love for war and thus directs the film with a dash of gritty realism, unflinching in its portrayal of death, bad decisions and ultimate endeavour for a lost cause. By stark contrast when the film isn't wowing you with its climatic and brutally intense battle sequences, it shines with a glorious use of colour.

The plotting is well done, keeping the story of the Zero first and foremost while framing the story of the young pilot around it. Masuda seemingly backhands the naval authorities for using the pilots as expendable property. In general, the film has no respect for higher authorities, portraying most of them as simply using their soldiers, and not caring about their lives. The story is told in reverse, starting from 1944 and going in reverse to 1937. The pacing is well done, keeping everything at about the same level.

The acting is great on most parts, and even the expats seem to be doing well, it's often noted how poor a lot of them were in Japanese films of the era but here they do a standup job. As for the main characters, they are directed with enthusiasm that goes with their youthfulness. The love triangle is directed well but in a way, it's almost like a precursor to the later Michael Bay shakey-cam fest, Pearl Harbour, ending on that usual "war romance" subversion.

Daijiro Tsutsumi as Hamada brings all sorts of emotions to the table, and by the end, it is clear the Japanese war machine has become him. Kunio Mizushima, played by Jun Hashizume, shows clear concern for his friend as well as a great love for the female love interest, Shizuko Yoshikawa. Shizuko Yoshikawa, herself is a very well-done love interest. She clearly has a mixed bag of emotions for the two leads and loves them both on different levels. Tetsuro Tamba's brief appearance as Isoroku Yamamoto casts him as a very sympathetic man, clearly concerned for the lives of his young pilots despite only appearing for about 5 minutes. Shin Takuma does well as Teruo Tojo, the Zero's financier and Mitsubishi Motors president, showing quite a youthful energy and enthusiasm for his character.

The special effects by later Biollante to Destoroyah Effects Director Koichi Kawakita are very well done, clearly showing off just as much enthusiasm for pyrotechnic effects as his teacher Teruyoshi Nakano. The miniatures look great, and it’s nice to see a few Zero miniatures portrayed accurately as white in the opening 30 minutes. The camera angles during the air battle scenes are daring, and Kawakita makes use of frenetic camera movements during the battle scenes to enhance the combat. There is quite a bit of stock footage in the film, all the way from Storm of the Pacific to Kawakita's own Zero Pilot and to The Imperial Navy, but the original effects all look fantastic and blend very well with Kawakita's efforts.

The music by Harumi Ibe has a dated late 70s-early 80s quality that actually works for the film, and the score uses a lot of horns as well as 70s-style guitar work that make it clear Ibe was primarily used to the 70s style of composing and hadn't quite made the jump to the 80s sound design yet. Even then it's a great score and the film's theme song, Dawn, is sung beautifully by Yujiro Ishihara. Befitting the film's historic ending scene well.

Overall, I can't recommend Zero enough. It's clear how much Toho bought their A-Game in 1984, between this, The Return of Godzilla and Sayonara Jupiter, their tokusatsu efforts were on top form. If you ever get the chance to see it, do so.

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Juvenile 2.0

Ghost Book feels deeply reminiscent of Yamazaki's debut film, Juvenile (hell, even the adorable little Tetra makes a cameo appearance), a lighthearted family romp often dealing with some relatively difficult themes for its target audience. There's an element of Pokémon thrown into the narrative with the film's characters tasked with "catching them all", benefiting this narrative hook is the lovely monster design, stellar voice work by legendary voice actors such as Akio Otsuka and Rie Kugimiya; and their impressive realisation capturing the essence of Etsuyoshi Miyamoto's original illustrations brilliantly. Unfortunately, the characters are all exceptionally one note, despite the cast's rather heartwarming performances they are probably the most laid-back group of ghostbusters ever, often characterised by very limited personalities (I swear Kudo is just a few steps away from being a full blow serial killer) or singular traits. There's no urgency with this film, it just kind of chugs along at its own pace, often leaving room for a nice family dinner despite the race to get home. That being said, Ghost Book operates on a level of childish fun, obvious in its sentiment and simplistic in its messages. However, it makes up for its narrative wateriness with a wholesome vibe you can't bring yourself to hate.

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As entertaining as they come

You know your film is off to a strong start when you aren't even 5 minutes in and it's already staging its own lightsaber fights, albeit with fluorescent bulbs. Marking the end of Sammo Hung's greatest period as both star and director with a mighty bang, Pedicab Driver exemplifies the type of cinema that Hong Kong loved during the 80s. What that means is it's a mismatched series of bizarre comedy, heightened emotions, sudden tragedy and yes, incredible fight scenes. The extended fight between Sammo and Lau Kar-Leung in the gambling den stands as one of the film's most memorable moments, despite its complete irrelevance to the plot. Although it seems a little overambitious at times in its storytelling, with several seemingly unrelated threads running parallel, the film does manage to hold it all together in a way that only Hong Kong cinema can. While the story threads are certainly only diversions from the main spectacle, they do enhance the film somewhat, thanks largely to the cast's terrific performances and great music. It all starts happy-go-lucky but by the end, revenge is the name of the game and it is one Sammo delivers tenfold with some fantastic direction. For its uneven mishmash of genres and tones, Pedicab Driver succeeds wholeheartedly thanks to its easily empathetic and loveable characters and their plights, it's as entertaining as they come and features something for everyone. While not quite a masterpiece it is well worth seeing.

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A celebration of love

Falling in love is easy; falling out of love is harder. This is where Comrades, Almost a Love Story succeeds; its tragic beauty is undeniable. It's a heartfelt story of two mainlanders caught in fate's grand design, an incredibly moving film full of soulful looks, lingering glances and averted eyes. Director Patrick Chan and writer Ivy Ho throw every romantic convention imaginable into the film, Chan's direction remains restrained and respectful, holding back from too much sentimentality; while Ho's script is rich with wonderful details, drawing upon the culture and the history of recent Hong Kong. Although she eventually falls upon clichés to bring the film full circle, the plot devices don't feel like plot devices but combined with a beautiful piano-laden score means its no deal breaker. Maggie Cheung is wonderful here; her luminous screen presence just lights up the film, while Leon Lai turns in an admirable performance of his own, although occasionally wooden at times, it's lovely to see him inhabit such a real character. Destiny is a force that fascinates Hong Kong, which is understandable as they've felt themselves swept along by the river of history, with little or no control over their eventual fate. Yes, there's a certain drag to it and sometimes it's even a little melodramatic but ultimately Comrades, Almost a Love Story is a wonderfully beautiful celebration of love and all the challenges it brings.

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