Zachary Heinzerling's documentary is crafted as masterfully as any art film I've seen. The subjects–two Japanese-American artists who work in New York City, Ushio and Noriko Shinohara. Accented by telling moments and minutes of silence, thought, and reminiscences, the film exposes one of the truly beautiful and mystifying characteristics of the Japanese language. So much is exposed in so very few words, but those words are accompanied by expressions of emotion and 'understood' acknowledgments that seem unfinished or cut off to someone who does not speak Japanese. As an appropriate demonstration of the expression of these two lives and the communication they've shared, the film is framed by live creation of art by the two artists. Ushio creates "action painting" by hitting a canvas with sponges attached to boxing gloves, and Noriko composes a story in drawings creating the character "Cutie" based on her own life, but with elements that are only realized in Noriko's fantasies.
One of the most striking things about this film is the fact that it captures moments that seem unbearably awkward to me but are received matter-of-factly by Ushio and Noriko in turn. There is a sense of pride present in Ushio, which he expresses unabashedly at times in the film, but there are also incredibly humbling moments of relinquishing that pride that delivered by an American artist may come off as tongue-in-cheek, but delivered by Ushio is completely straightforward and blanched. His situation is what it is, there is no reason to try to disguise it. Their ceiling is leaking and they may not be able to pay rent this month. Shikata ga nai, "It can't be helped." The two of them were brought together by the connection and agreement they shared when considering their art to be the absolute priority of their lives. This focus unfortunately caused a deterioration in other parts of their life together, particularly when Noriko has a child. The life of these struggling artists seems to have been punctuated by long periods of distraction. Because in reality, especially trying to live in New York City, art cannot always be the 24/7 preoccupation you want it to be, there is an alternative mindset that may take the place of despair, one that colors the world with the colors similar to the artist's palate, keeping the shelf prepped and continuously in view no matter what else is going on. Noriko and Ushio have long ago determined to live their lives the way they alone see their lives. One of full of color and life, necessary sadness and equally necessary resilience. I don't think that their perspectives lack recognition of the regrets they carry with them, as their discussion of their son's alcoholism similar to his father's demonstrates. The film utilizes close-ups of Noriko in particular to highlight the presence of pain, but it does not run rampant in her mind, knocking over tables. Instead it seems like a silent observer, taking in the reality around it without trying to escape in any way.
The varied and abrupt cuts throughout the film create a patchwork that for me makes the film seem like I am looking through a photo album instead of following a narrative, and I like this. It's like walking through an art gallery where many different themes and impressions are introduced and it is up to the viewer to take in what he or she will and to assign relevance where it lies in each mind.
One of the most striking things about this film is the fact that it captures moments that seem unbearably awkward to me but are received matter-of-factly by Ushio and Noriko in turn. There is a sense of pride present in Ushio, which he expresses unabashedly at times in the film, but there are also incredibly humbling moments of relinquishing that pride that delivered by an American artist may come off as tongue-in-cheek, but delivered by Ushio is completely straightforward and blanched. His situation is what it is, there is no reason to try to disguise it. Their ceiling is leaking and they may not be able to pay rent this month. Shikata ga nai, "It can't be helped." The two of them were brought together by the connection and agreement they shared when considering their art to be the absolute priority of their lives. This focus unfortunately caused a deterioration in other parts of their life together, particularly when Noriko has a child. The life of these struggling artists seems to have been punctuated by long periods of distraction. Because in reality, especially trying to live in New York City, art cannot always be the 24/7 preoccupation you want it to be, there is an alternative mindset that may take the place of despair, one that colors the world with the colors similar to the artist's palate, keeping the shelf prepped and continuously in view no matter what else is going on. Noriko and Ushio have long ago determined to live their lives the way they alone see their lives. One of full of color and life, necessary sadness and equally necessary resilience. I don't think that their perspectives lack recognition of the regrets they carry with them, as their discussion of their son's alcoholism similar to his father's demonstrates. The film utilizes close-ups of Noriko in particular to highlight the presence of pain, but it does not run rampant in her mind, knocking over tables. Instead it seems like a silent observer, taking in the reality around it without trying to escape in any way.
The varied and abrupt cuts throughout the film create a patchwork that for me makes the film seem like I am looking through a photo album instead of following a narrative, and I like this. It's like walking through an art gallery where many different themes and impressions are introduced and it is up to the viewer to take in what he or she will and to assign relevance where it lies in each mind.