Dir - Shinya Tsukamoto
Overall: MEH
Another ultra low-budget slab of disturbed weirdness with aggravatingly awful cinematography from fringe filmmaker Shinya Tsukamoto, Kotoko finds him collaborating with J-pop artist Cocco on a harrowing journey into a single mother's severe mental illness. Both Tsukamoto and Cocco share many of the production duties as well as having the most substantial roles on screen, concocting a psychological nightmare that is presented as straight-forward as such a thing can be, with little of the director's usual body horror elements thrown in to freak up the experience. As a woman whose emotional anguish is never explained in any kind of backstory, Cocco is still captivating as she suffers a never-ending series of violent hallucinations, to the point where any audience member will be questioning every event that we see, including the existence of Tsukamoto's character who falls inexplicably in love with her singing voice to the point where he willfully undergoes body mutilation and violent outbursts. Cocco's struggling mama may not even be a mama for all we know, but the vagueness of her particularly unnerving ailments is not so much of a problem as is some of the movie's awkard moments, tonal inconsistencies, and the aforementioned out of focus, hand-held camerawork. Singing segments go on for ages and there are dark humor beats thrown in that jive oddly with moments such as Cocco strangling her toddler son and said son having his brains blown out by a machine gun blast.
Dir - Alejandro Brugués
Overall: GOOD
Riding the line of crass stupidity and clever political commentary, Alejandro Brugués' sophomore full-length Juan of the Dead, (Juan de los Muertos), is a mixed bag of zombie apocalypse high-jinks, yet for another goddamn movie about such a thing, it skirts by with what its got. Done on a lousy enough budget that is forced to rely on horrendous CGI effects and sub-par undead makeup, the Cuban setting is wonderfully utilized and serves as the primary focus where a walking corpse outbreak is treated as just some more bullshit for the socialist state to deal with; a state that seems to breed slackers and misfits who are all too familiar with not trusting their government and fending for themselves. This gives it enough of an edge over other zombie comedies out there, as does the hilarious disregard for human life all around. The title character and his rag-tag group of losers are not a likeable bunch, taking capitalist advantage of their situation, murdering non-zombies either accidentally or purposely if they owe them money at least, and remaining degenerate schlubs through and through. Still, Brugués interjects some heart underneath all of the gay jokes, naked escapades, slapstick, and references to other horror flicks, leading to a final act that miraculously has some sincere character moments to root for.
Dir - Sion Sono
Overall: MEH
Inspired loosely by the 1997 murder of Yasuko Watanabe who was an economic researcher that moonlit as a prostitute, Guilty of Romance, (Koi no Tsumi), reveals itself to be an ugly and tragic look into Japan's love hotel district and the women who are drawn to it by various means. Two different versions exist, with the original Japanese cut running a whopping hundred and forty-four minutes, which could push the provocative subject matter too far into redundant terrain for most viewer's tastes. Sensationalized as only a Sion Sono movie could be, it explores the docile Japanese housewife stereotype, spending a good amount of time explaining why Miki Mizuno's mild-mannered protagonist would gradually embrace the sexually liberating side of her femininity. Mizuno narrates the film at various intervals while a flash-forward interjects and broadcasts the inevitable tragedy, letting the viewer in on where the characters are heading so that we can never fully embrace the sexual awakening of an otherwise complacent woman who genuinely loves her well-respected husband even if he treats her more as a docile maid than an equal. It plays as a part cautionary tale and part feminist calamity, with much of Sono's usual depraved strangeness in place to keep the exploitation value where it belongs.
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