3.5 stars out of 5
First things first: Vanna White does not appear in this film. Having just named Drive My Car my favorite movie of 2021, I was excited to see another offering from director Ryûke Hamaguchi. And this time I’d be judging him fully on his own merits, as there wasn’t a Haruki Murakami story to base the screenplay on.
I must admit to slight disappointment in learning that, like Buster Scruggs and French Dispatch, this was yet another anthology film. (And bigger disappointment to discover that some people are calling them portmanteau films — the comparison doesn’t seem to fit.) It’s not that I’m against cinematic short-story collections, but I guess when I’m sitting in a theater, I prefer to immerse myself in one long story.
Here we get three stories: an unexpected love triangle; a #metoo plot against a college professor; and a mistaken-identity reunion of two women in a post-technology world.
The first segment drew me in with its tale of introverts finding love, and being wounded by infidelity, and the “queen bee” ex who doesn’t want you yet doesn’t want anyone else to have you either. I can relate to all of that! I appreciated that Hamaguchi fleshed out the main character so we didn’t see her simply as a selfish villain.
I found the second segment to be the weakest (of course, with 3 parts, that’s usually going to be the case). We have a young mother cheating with a younger college student, who devises a “honey trap” scheme against a professor he feels has wronged him. (Is honey trap a common term in Japan?) The segment devolves into Black Mirror-lite territory, which, again, is not what I go to the movies for.
In the final segment, after a virus has destroyed the internet (stop watching Black Mirror, Ryûke!), two women who may or may not be acquainted run into each other after a high school reunion. As they talk, they learn that each has something to offer the other emotionally. There was a sweetness to this one which reminded me of “Augie Wren’s Christmas Story” by Paul Auster (already captured on film in Smoke).
I admire that Hamaguchi is delving into the murky areas of the human condition — as he ages I imagine he’ll gain even more insight. And kudos to him for featuring female protagonists, though in the middle segment, a cautionary tale for women presented by a male screenwriter was a little icky. I’d also warn him against making movies that are too talk-y; in the short-film mode perhaps it’s easier to revert to writing a one-act play. But movies let us go bigger. I’m interested to see what this filmmaker comes up with next, hopefully in feature-length story form.
Jack Silbert, curator