Review for Shinji Aoyama's 'Eli, Eli, Lema Sabachthani?'.
Whatever Aoyama's basic route to this particular setting, the story of '...Sabachthani?' is told within the relatively close-quarters of 2015, but society has shifted at the hands of a suicide-inducing condition (Lemming Syndrome) which reacts to beauty and encourages uncontrollable desires for suicide. Far from being unnecessarily or extravagantly removed through the usual Science Fiction cliches that are all too common in films, It's simply a future that's more grounded in reality for the similarities to current life remain, a possible Science Fact rather than a Science Fiction that comes from one mans' imagination. Unfortunately, with a limited budget, a clunky script, and not enough time focused on the devastation of the population, it's not a convincing post-Apocalyptic Society, more a tale that works to portray isolation effectively, and a stunning audio-visual display that's more than memorable story that has music as a main theme, to great effect.
Although it fast became a cliche in The West thanks to the nature of much of the material that trickled across the globe from Japan across the decades, the present relative torrent of material that comes out way shows that Japan has an obsession or unavoidable link with Post-Apocalyptic Societies, the truth is that it seems the idea is far from a cliche born simply from delving into one persons' particularly successful portrayal of such a life. It's the post-World War II psyche, the Japanese variation of The Human Condition, something you're not going to escape - a scarred collective conscious from the massive destruction and regeneration that goes beyond our own experiences - rather than something just cycling through numerous creative works through no apparent substantial reason. If it's truly a cliche, and it seems to be, then we must remember that cliches are (at the heart) born of truth in many instances. It would be a shame to stop at that first, most obvious hurdle, and deny yourself the chance to experience this film.
Though this kind of film and story is often grown from a low-budget production needing a way to fight for its' creative aims, and often hidden well within a story of great substance, it is that truth we always know about - it's a small film with big ideas, a concept at its' heart - and we hope for the illusion to hold out. Generally, many Japanese film makers manage this with great skill. A performer (like Asano, for example) is ideal at a giving the viewer a sense of a reality, naturalistic to the core is his style. Unfortunately, with Aoyama's clunky, almost cringe worthy dialogue, the illusion is broken. Not convincing, I fear it's the flaw the film will be remembered for - a flaw that's unavoidable and fundamental, almost spoiling the film at times.
Thankfully the dialogue is incredibly minimal, almost non-existent, but it's the fatal flaw in the way the narrative is portrayed. None of the actors seem entirely able to get beyond what comes across as a set of functional plot-points all too easily revealed through this dialogue, and the script ultimately doesn't serve them well. As elements in the more important side of the film, its' saving grace, they're ideal, and they're removed enough to make them relatively open to interpretation for the majority of the film, and the closeness to the current way of life makes the convincing nature of their collective situation more graspable. It still teeters on the edge of failure at times, but overall it comes through incredibly well.
What seems to have happened, what must have been visible or open to being sensed within the script initially, is a film and its' central premise which requires a much more sensory approach, a viewing followed by consideration rather than momentary analysis as the film progresses. As an exercise in almost pseudo-documentary atmospherics, an ambience that grasps the viewer and drags them in, I think it works incredibly well. The dialogue serves as a necessary explanation, and it's almost as if Aoyama admits his failings and knows the necessity of a story (or lacked the confidence or conviction to go for a dialogue-free route which I think is heavily hinted at as having been a possibility at one time), but also is torn towards creating what essentially looks and feels like a piece of Installation Art, a collection of audio-visual sequences that tie together to make an argument that wouldn't quite be explained (not with ease as far as I can personally sense) without the compromise of the unfortunate dialogue.
Stunning use of visuals, a richly-understood portrayal of sound that goes way above the usual use of a soundtrack at its' heart, and a story that attempts to explain many issues with this stunning marriage. In one sense the film gives as good an argument for the use of creative exploration and heavy abstraction in sound and music as you could hope to find. If you're a fan of the less literal end of music, there's a great use of it to be found here and you could be swayed. If you're not charmed or engrossed by the coastal setting, the very typical slow pacing and relaxed drip-feed of story elements, then you might find it a pointless exercise that doesn't have much to say - perhaps Aoyama is a little too convinced prior to filming about what he want to discuss and convince the viewer of to truly make a two-sided objective argument. Personally, I think it's an impressive display that's fundamentally flawed.
Aoyama's lingering shots of creative exploration work as the best parts of the film, simply letting the camera move side to side or sit statically on scenes is incredibly mesmerising. The Science Fiction elements drag it down, but they're apparently inseparable as a method for explaining the central idea, and with a better script it wouldn't necessarily be any more worthwhile. As a so-called mood piece, as a scriptless set of sequences creating a much headier audio-visual experience it would have risen to near-masterpiece territory. You can't avoid such elements such as the use of the Lemming Syndrome, the condition which is killing the population, as it brings a Kiyoshi Kurosawa-like obtuse doubt into the story. Either the brain takes the ugly-beautiful nature of the music Stepin Fetchit create as ugly enough to overpower the disease, or it reveals the beautiful truth behind the apparent ugliness, and the illusion of simplicity behind what's beautiful and what's ugly is shattered.
This abstract opinion-oriented part of the story makes it possible to come to various conclusions about the truth behind what their society seems to be experiencing - it could be a virus, it might just be hypochondria of the highest order - is fascinating, and it's serves as part of the argument for such apparently pointless work which many seem to get, but the majority in need of its' potential cure fail to click with. For me, as a music and a film fan, there's an experience here that's of great value. Whatever the faults in the story and the limited way in which the resources (the script and the ability of Aoyama to Direct dialogue, the too-removed from Science Fictions' typical elements for it to entirely appear as such) block the convincing nature of the background story, the argument that immerges as a whole, the music, the noise, the beauty in the impressive understanding of how to meld music and visuals together is very touching. Essentially incredibly beautiful, but a little clunky at times.
Links from The Gomorrahizer's extensive coverage at ScreenAnarchy :
For more information on Eli, Eli, lema sabachthani?, see ScreenAnarchy's third, second, and first articles on it.
Eli, Eli, lema sabachthani? official website.
BIFFF: Eli, Eli, lema sabachthani? (English).
Midnight Eye: Review of Eli, Eli, lema sabachthani?
Variety: Review of Eli, Eli, lema sabachthani?.
