A creeping, monochromatic haze of gargantuan proportions. Taking cues from his fellow Hungarian depressive Bela Tarr, Gyorgy Feher subscribes to a similarly downbeat view of the human condition. This story, concerning a haunted detective’s search for a missing little girl in a remote village where violence and corruption pervade, would in Hollywood be a pulpy noir. To my delight, Feher removes every standardized storytelling practice form the equation and opts for an oppressive, doomy opera of nihilism and anhedonia. The torturous, unforgiving camera work that he utilizes evinces endless unease; almost every single shot in the ninety-minute runtime is dripping with shadows and fog, and most of the close-ups of faces are shown in chiaroscuro. There is no hiding from fate and, just as poignantly, no escaping from the darkness endemic in the hearts of men. Not a film to watch if you like happy pr fast-moving things. Twilight is as cold, bewitching and hypnotic as European art cinema gets, and is bordering on masterpiece status. Need to see more of this director’s work soon.
NEKO-MIMI is a film that acts as a slipstream to almost every emotion possible, floating through time and space from elation to enmity. It sets you adrift in a headspace of beauty and darkness, but Jun Kurosawa effortlessly blends the gorgeously grainy lo-fi cinematography with a full spectrum of hues, tints, and colors that extended to every area of the rainbow so that the mind can feel them. The experience stands as more or less a mood ring of a film, changing palette and filming techniques with the unstable emotions of the characters, who remain lost in permanent thought loops that only lead to their irrevocable self-destruction. In terms of experimental avant-garde Japanese cinema, this is right up there for best I’ve seen. A remarkable gem of haunting surrealism.
