Japón

Mexican director Carlos Reygadas has become one of the world’s most important living representative of the so-called transcendental cinema style. His directorial language is strongly influenced by the works of the masters of the field, Tarkovsky, Rossellini, Bresson, Dreyer, Ozu, Kurosawa and Kiarostami, whose influence is strongly present here in Reygadas’ feature film debut “Japón” (“Japan”). The meaning of the film, premiered in 2001, for the cultural field of Mexico is comparable to Estonian director Veiko Õunpuu’s “Autumn Ball”, which also gave a whole generation in that country the feeling that cinematography does not have to be something distant and alien, but also something very own.

On the surface, the plot of “Japón” could be summed up quite simply: a middle-aged man in an existential crisis leaves the hustle and bustle of Mexico City and heads to a remote mountain village where he intends to end his life. He ends up living in the mountains with an old woman of wisdom, Ascen (short for Ascension), with whom he develops an inexplicably warm and intimate friendship.

But like Reygadas, this film is not so much a story or a script, but rather a feeling and a context. This feeling is enhanced by techniques characteristic of Reygadas, such as the use of non-actors living their everyday lives, which makes the situation very documentary. On the other hand, there are big biblical themes, the grainy aesthetics of 16 mm film, long shots and sublime landscapes, which seem to draw the viewer into the reality of the characters being filmed. In this way, ‘Japón explores the subconscious impulses of his characters, which their conscious mind is probably not aware of. As Carlos Reygadas has expressed himself, “My goal is to bring out the individuality of each person or object and capture something of their essence. I’m not interested in filming the mask. All are equally beautiful people. People and filming people as they are is my way of paying tribute to them.”

As with all of Reygadas’ films, Japón has powerfully memorable opening and closing shots that can linger in the viewer’s mind for years to come. And in both cases, the big music plays an important role in the film, which Reygadas generally avoids in the middle of the film, preferring a documentary-like natural soundscape. If Shostakovich’s 15th symphony catches the viewer’s ear in the opening frame of “Japón”, in the final frame, whose visuals can be recognized as a homage to the eternally grassy railway lines of Tarkovsky’s “Stalker”, we hear a very long part of Arvo Pärt’s “Cantus in memory of Benjamin Britten”. In addition, fragments from J.S. Bach and Arvo Pärt’s piece “Miserere” are also heard in the film.

Kaarel Kuurmaa

NB: The film may contain disturbing scenes.

Japón
2002, Mexico, 130′
Dir Carlos Reygadas

The film will be screened with English subtitles.

The Arvo Pärt Centre’s film evenings “Pärt & Film”, taking place from August 22nd to August 24th, exhibit the surprisingly rich and versatile film language of screen works in which Arvo Pärt’s music is used