2024-10-14

This month, Japan Society presents “So as to Dream: The Eternal Mysteries of Kaizô Hayashi,” the first North American retrospective on the director, with Hayashi appearing in person.

The first installment of my two-part series about this event focused on the filmmaker’s neo-noir Maiku Hama trilogy, starring Masatoshi Nagase as Yokohama private eye Maiku Hama — a take on pulp writer Mickey Spillane’s Mike Hammer. For this second installment, I will discuss Hayashi’s debut feature To Sleep So As to Dream  — described by Japan Society as “a mystical evocation of cinema that would screen at the 1986 Venice International Film Festival and NYFF — presented on a rare, archival 16mm import on October 11th,” and his expressionist tribute to the traveling circus, Circus Boys.

As I discussed in “Japan Society’s “So as to Dream: The Eternal Mysteries of Kaizô Hayashi,” Part 1: The Maiku Hama Film Noir Trilogy,” Japanese screenwriter and director Kaizô Hayashi has shown his affection for genre films many times, crafting tokusatsu features and television episodes, a manga adaptation, and of course his popular Yokohama-set neo-noir trilogy and 2002 television series featuring private detective Maiku Hama. His love for detective noir, silent movies, and cinema itself shines brightly in his offbeat black-and-white first feature, To Sleep So As to Dream (夢みるように眠りたい, Yume miru yo ni nemuritai, 1986).

It’s difficult not to compare Hayashi’s approach to To Sleep So As to Dream with some of Guy Maddin’s work, especially the Canadian filmmaker’s debut feature Tales from the Gimli Hospital (which, interestingly, was released two years after To Sleep So As to Dream). Both of those debuts deal in fantastical worlds that blend humorous, whimsical, and nostalgic elements with more serious themes, as well. Fantasy and reality exist hand-in-hand, and it is often difficult to differentiate between the two. Hayashi doubles down on this approach as his film’s main character, Private Detective Jin Uotsuka (Shirô Sano), at one point states that he will solve the case at hand “ . . . if the whole thing isn’t just a dream.”

Uotsuka and his detective agency partner Kobayashi (Koji Otake) — think Batman and Robin for an easy pop culture shorthand reference for how Kobayashi’s sidekick role is sometimes handled — have been tasked with finding Bellflower AKA Kikyo Tsukishima (Moe Kamura, who also composed the film’s score), the kidnapped niece of silent film star Madame Cherryblossom (Fujiko Fukamizu), who played a prominent role in a silent era samurai film without an ending.

Bellflower was taken by the mysterious organization called M. Pathe and Co., which — another Batman reference here — uses riddles that our private eye heroes must solve to locate the ransom drops and the kidnapped young woman’s location. A recurring problem for all of the good folks involved is that M. Pathe and Co. keep changing the locations and demanding another million yen in ransom each time. Add a trio of street magicians, a kamishibaiya (paper play narrator, a popular form of street theater and entertainment in Japan from the 1930s to midcentury), and other elements that recall a Japan long gone and much missed by many, and you have the recipe for a film that deals in heavy doses of reverent nostalgia.

The retro vibe is strong here thanks to many factors, including Art Designer Takeo Kimura’s gorgeous work, splendid cinematography by Yûichi Nagata and Shoji Taki, Japanese actors of the past, and a film-within-a-film so authentic that it could largely pass for an actual movie from the silent era. The visuals are wonderful throughout To Sleep So As to Dream, and the action set pieces, from the detectives’ battles with bad guys to the showdown in the silent historical-set film, are a blast.

The near-silent–film approach that Hayashi uses is intriguing. The on-screen characters communicate face to face using intertitles and body language, while foley work provides some sound effects, and music is heard through electric devices or similar means. One exception to the use of the human voice is another nod to the cinematic past: commentary by a benshi performer (a person who narrated silent movies for the audience). The sound design is surprising at first but, as the film rolls on, it is quite easy and fun to adjust to.

Give into its mysterious dreamlike qualities and you will yearn nostalgically for Japanese live and film entertainment of the past, even if you never experienced the former firsthand. That’s how powerfully and lovingly evocative Hayashi’s work is in To Sleep So As to Dream.

Hayashi’s sophomore feature Circus Boys (二十世紀少年読本, Nijusseiki shonen dokuhon, 1989) is another black-and-white nostalgia trip — in multiple meanings of the word “trip” — that shows a fondness and reverence for traveling circuses of the past. The tight-knit community often portrayed in circus cinema is greatly present here, as is the decidedly different path of the two titular brothers —  Jinta (Hiroshi Mikami as an adult) and his younger sibling Wataru (Jian Xiu as an adult) — after growing up in the circus.

Jinta broke his ankle catching Wataru when they were children, as the younger brother fell off of a tightrope during practice. Reduced, in his mind, to becoming a mere clown while Wataru went on to become a successful trapeze artist when they are adults, Jinta eventually leaves the circus to strike out on his own, using his gifts of gab and showmanship as a snake oil salesman. He runs afoul of yakuza members with his actions, and is eventually taken in by them, given three rules he must never break, by penalty of death. Kamura costars in the film as Plaything, a young woman purchased by the wife of a yakuza boss to satiate his carnal desires. When Jinta and Kamura meet, one of the three rules is certain to be broken. Meanwhile, the circus family falls apart after the death of its original owner and ringmaster, though Wataru does his best to hold it together.

The affection for bygone circus acts is on marvelous display. Beautifully choreographed, staged, performed, lit, and shot — the latter again by Nagata —  while the dramatic elements in Circus Boys are easy to follow, Hayashi of course adds an otherworldly feel to the proceedings, including a bittersweet symbolic ending that I won’t spoil here.

The harsh reality of everyday life is interspersed with the exhilaration of the circus and even a touch of the supernatural. Like its subplot involving Hanako the circus elephant — the animal is brought to cinematic life using wonderful practical effects — Circus Boys will give viewers great joy but also break their hearts.

To Sleep So As to Dream and Circus Boys screen as part of Japan Society’s “So as to Dream: The Eternal Mysteries of Kaizô Hayashi,” the first North American retrospective on the director, which runs October 11-19, 2024 in New York City. For more information, visit https://japansociety.org/film/.

The post Japan Society’s “So as to Dream: The Eternal Mysteries of Kaizô Hayashi,” Part 2: Nostalgic, Dreamlike Reflections on Entertainment of Bygone Eras appeared first on Diabolique Magazine.

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