Japan Cuts Review: Parade

Posted by Kevin Ouellette on June 24, 2010 10:49pm EDT (2 years ago)

Based on an award-winning 2002 novel by Shuichi Yoshida, Isao Yukisada’s Parade offers a window into the lives of four roommates in a 2-bedroom Tokyo apartment. Although they’re all friends and live in cramped quarters, they each keep certain aspects of their lives closely guarded, maintaining the blissful atmosphere of their living arrangement by turning a blind eye when need be. To call it a comment on modern-day Japanese society would be a bit myopic, as the themes explored apply to just about anyone who doesn’t blurt out their life story to every acquaintance. In truth, we each share what we want to share and hear what we want to hear from others, hiding or ignoring the rest as we see fit.

The film is broken down into four parts, with each focusing on a separate character within the apartment as time progresses forward. Because of this, the viewer’s perspective of their individual lives becomes as incomplete as any of the roommates themselves. We may get a brief peek into what they’re up to at a specific moment, but as one of the characters points out, it’s impossible to ever really know someone completely; we each form a unique perspective of others based on our own experiences with them.

That character is Naoki (Tatsuya Fujiwara), a dependable film company employee who shares a newlywed apartment with three 20something friends. There’s Ryosuke (Keisuke Koide), a college student with an eye for his best friend’s girl; Kotomi (Shihori Kanjiya), an unemployed actress who’s put her life on pause as she patiently waits for her actor boyfriend to make an honest woman of her; and Mirai (Karina), an artist who’s established a reputation for drinking herself into a stupor on a nightly basis.

Although the roommates are emotionally dependent on each other, asking for personal advice on occasion and confiding in each other when necessary, they also make a concerted effort to respect each other’s privacy. After Kotomi helps Ryosuke through his love crisis, she gently prods him for follow-up information the next day, but repeatedly adds “You don’t have to tell” coupled with a knowing smirk. After all, it’s considered polite to mind your own business; live and let live, etc. -- lest someone butt into your life uninvited. However, this philosophy backfires when a blond teenager named Satoru (Kento Hayashi) appears on their couch one day. Everyone asks him who he is -- some politely, some bluntly -- but none really care enough about his answer to be alarmed.

Assuming he’s a friend of Ryosuke’s, Kotomi goes so far as to offer him some breakfast and even heads off to a pachinko parlor with him before being summoned away by her part-time boyfriend. It isn’t until the next day that the roommates gather to compare notes and realize that none of them has any clue who Satoru really is. As it turns out, his explanation for ending up in the apartment involves a drunken escapade by Mirai that she can’t remember, but nevertheless rings true enough that tensions are immediately relieved. With that, Satoru is accepted into their little makeshift community where acceptance is unconditional and nothing is shared unless you really want it to be.

Meanwhile, news reports on television describe the violent beating deaths of young women in their neighborhood. Mirai and Naoki seem to be specifically suspicious of Satoru, but then why do they both willingly invite him further into their lives immediately after their concerns are made obvious? Apparently trust and friendship are not mutually exclusive ideas. Mirai explains the atmosphere of their apartment by comparing it to an internet chatroom: stay and accept everything with a smile, or leave. Still clinging to dark secrets of her own, she’s not yet in any position to choose the latter, nor is anyone else.

Most people would probably agree that respecting the privacy, as well as the sovereignty of others is generally a good thing, but Yukisada’s narrative manages to show how that idea could easily be twisted into something quite disconcerting given the right -- or wrong -- set of circumstances.

Although the film starts as a slacker comedy filled with likable characters and amusing situations, it gradually transitions into something brilliantly insidious. So gradually, in fact, that the thematic elements don’t interfere with what is otherwise quite entertaining as a youth film featuring an ensemble cast of typically lightweight actors who together become more than the sum of their individual parts.

A subtle, good-humored approach is maintained right up until the end when that’s all suddenly traded in for shock value, making the final act all the more impactful and chilling -- even if the intensity is a bit forced in the final few frames. Most will probably suspect the first half of the finale long before it ever arrives, but that’s not necessarily unintended. In fact, it makes the final sequence even more effective as we realize we’ve followed a carefully laid trail of breadcrumbs right into a psychological ambush.

Through clever scripting and skillful direction, Yukisada turns what could have easily been churned out as ham-handed, TV drama-style schlock into what will undoubtedly stand out as one of the best Japanese films of 2010.

Parade will be screened at Japan Society in New York City as part of this year's Japan Cuts festival (July 1 - 16) with Q&A appearances by Tatsuya Fujiwara and Isao Yukisada. See this link for details.

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