Japón (2002)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Japón (2002) – C. Reygadas

Full of confronting images that seem to declare “this is real life, don’t look away” but also gentle meditative and scenic – it is hard to know what to make of Carlos Reygadas’ debut feature (now 15 years old).  A man travels to a remote canyon telling those that take him there that he aims to kill himself (evoking a Mexican version of Kiarostami’s Taste of Cherry). He rents space in a barn from an old woman who lives high up above the town.  Reygados uses widescreen 16mm which gives a strange faded texture to the image which the light often bleaches out; the images are beautifully composed or startlingly odd (in form and content).  One can’t help thinking about the choices that the director is making. Although slow, the film casts a hypnotic spell as the story unfolds and grand themes (eros, thanatos) jostle with the rough and simple life of the Mexican peasants (nonprofessionals, all), occasionally to the strains of opera heard on the protagonist’s headphones (there are many point-of-view or subjective shots).  We wait to see what the man will do, wondering what has driven him to this faraway location, but he slowly begins to feel concern for his landlady, Ascen (for Ascension), and the issues she faces in her community.  Perhaps his subsequent “intervention” into her life amounts to despoiling or tainting, resulting in the final tracking shot (which I only gradually understood). However, other interpretations may be possible; this is definitely a film where viewers are left to draw their own conclusions. Personally, I couldn’t shake the feeling that the natural world portrayed here is a harsh one and that we humans must do what we can to cope with it.