the perfect swan song for obsyashi. god i love movies

the perfect swan song for obsyashi. god i love movies

“I want world peace. First remove want because that’s desire, and I, because that’s ego, and you have world peace.”

Wow. What a movie. Obayashi, especially in his later films, was truly one of the greatest visionaries to ever grace the silver screen. I mean, what other film starts with an introduction by a guy called Fanta G in a time travelling spaceship. The first half of this movie is pure chaos, everything swirling at a breakneck pace, before slowly dragging off into a slow, drawn out examination of war and film. And that first half is so hard to follow, absolutely frenetic, operating at a pace comparable to only Uncut Gems. Labyrinth of Cinema is a dream that turns into a nightmare, that reverts to a dream, before returning to a nightmare, that turns into a vision. And I feel that that’s the power of cinema, the roller coaster of emotions between films. And Obayashi is so aware of the effect that film has on us. There’s a solid 20 minute vignette in this where I totally forgot that this is a guy inside of a movie, and the character forgets too. Total immersion in every dimension.

Obayashi’s late era visual technique is one of a kind. The dream-like, intentionally blotchy chroma keying, the vibrant, renaissance-esque colors deployed on the frame. When the film turned into a silent movie I lost my shit. It’s awesome. And it’s very autobiographical I feel. As Obayashi’s final film, his swan song, a final plea to the people of the world, a conclusion to the war based quadrilogy he’d been crafting for over a decade, a simple cry to stop the violence, to love thy neighbour. The vignette about the little boy and his drawn-on film feels very much like a personal memory of Obayashi’s to me.

Obviously would recommend this, in conjunction with Hanagatami to anybody. Just some of the most striking beautiful, meditations on war and its effects to ever grace the theatre. Could really be a 5 star in a few weeks after some rumination. Bravo, rest in peace to Nobuhiko Obayashi, one of the all-time greats.

“I want world peace. First remove want because that’s desire, and I, because that’s ego, and you have world peace.”

Wow. What a movie. Obayashi, especially in his later films, was truly one of the greatest visionaries to ever grace the silver screen. I mean, what other film starts with an introduction by a guy called Fanta G in a time travelling spaceship. The first half of this movie is pure chaos, everything swirling at a breakneck pace, before slowly dragging off into a slow, drawn out examination of war and film. And that first half is so hard to follow, absolutely frenetic, operating at a pace comparable to only Uncut Gems. Labyrinth of Cinema is a dream that turns into a nightmare, that reverts to a dream, before returning to a nightmare, that turns into a vision. And I feel that that’s the power of cinema, the roller coaster of emotions between films. And Obayashi is so aware of the effect that film has on us. There’s a solid 20 minute vignette in this where I totally forgot that this is a guy inside of a movie, and the character forgets too. Total immersion in every dimension.

Obayashi’s late era visual technique is one of a kind. The dream-like, intentionally blotchy chroma keying, the vibrant, renaissance-esque colors deployed on the frame. When the film turned into a silent movie I lost my shit. It’s awesome. And it’s very autobiographical I feel. As Obayashi’s final film, his swan song, a final plea to the people of the world, a conclusion to the war based quadrilogy he’d been crafting for over a decade, a simple cry to stop the violence, to love thy neighbour. The vignette about the little boy and his drawn-on film feels very much like a personal memory of Obayashi’s to me.

Obviously would recommend this, in conjunction with Hanagatami to anybody. Just some of the most striking beautiful, meditations on war and its effects to ever grace the theatre. Could really be a 5 star in a few weeks after some rumination. Bravo, rest in peace to Nobuhiko Obayashi, one of the all-time greats.

Considering that this is not only Obayashi’s final film but that it is also the culmination of all his work before, it’s hard not to see this as a masterpiece. Obayashi’s style require you to be open to rampant, destructive experimentation of what film can be (and look like) but once you can meet his requirements you will see some of the most magnificent, beautiful works of art ever made. Labyrinth of Cinema is his final addition to this, mixing his introspection of Japan’s role in WWII from his monumental anti-war trilogy with a historical/deferential view of how movies affect us. He sees them as a means to change our futures and I think he’s correct in that belief. 

Rest in peace to one of the great rebels of cinema.

Considering that this is not only Obayashi’s final film but that it is also the culmination of all his work before, it’s hard not to see this as a masterpiece. Obayashi’s style require you to be open to rampant, destructive experimentation of what film can be (and look like) but once you can meet his requirements you will see some of the most magnificent, beautiful works of art ever made. Labyrinth of Cinema is his final addition to this, mixing his introspection of Japan’s role in WWII from his monumental anti-war trilogy with a historical/deferential view of how movies affect us. He sees them as a means to change our futures and I think he’s correct in that belief. 

Rest in peace to one of the great rebels of cinema.

Shit is wild

Shit is wild

"There's truth in a lie."

A life lived in cinema flashing before one's eyes, a fevered rush of images of Japanese cinema and history (seriously - a working knowledge of the late Edo period of Japan, as a start, might be helpful here lol) made with such excitement and passion that the movie almost threatens to break apart at the very seams, like it can barely contain itself. Cuts are frenzied, compositing and green-screen is clearly hand-done, heavily saturated colors flash wildly, and the real and the fictional interlace at such an exhausting pace that they start to blend together, no doubt the intention.

That's for the first hour, at least - eventually this settles down into something more considered as Obayashi puts the pieces in place for the final message of his career. This is ultimately a rumination on cinema's place in the world, mostly through the prism of Japan's involvement in WWII, made with a genuine belief in cinema's ability to prevent horrors like that. This is all delivered rather bluntly - "characters looking directly at the camera and stating the movie's themes" is a humorous shorthand to make fun of heavy-handed films but that literally happens several times here. But in what stands as Obayashi's last film and epitaph, it's appropriate to want his final message to come off as clearly as possible, particularly since part of it is that we, the audience, must take what we learn from art and apply it - as that is the only mechanism by which art can change the world.

You might even look it as a Japanese Once Upon a Time in Hollywood, in the way it gets at the idea of cinema as fantasy, a way to bend historical tragedy to your liking. That film was a celebration of the fantasy, though it crucially ended on a note that indicated a strong awareness of its limits (I love that movie too and nearly as much, so I'm not throwing shade). Labyrinth of Cinema is more complex, condemnatory, and above all, remarkably concerned with the future for a director who could easily have used his final film solely to look back. This is not a starry-eyed, surface-level expression of movie passion, but a very serious reckoning with the complicity of the medium in the horrors of the past and the responsibility of not just the art itself, but those who experience it in shaping a better future, away from the screen.

"There's truth in a lie."

A life lived in cinema flashing before one's eyes, a fevered rush of images of Japanese cinema and history (seriously - a working knowledge of the late Edo period of Japan, as a start, might be helpful here lol) made with such excitement and passion that the movie almost threatens to break apart at the very seams, like it can barely contain itself. Cuts are frenzied, compositing and green-screen is clearly hand-done, heavily saturated colors flash wildly, and the real and the fictional interlace at such an exhausting pace that they start to blend together, no doubt the intention.

That's for the first hour, at least - eventually this settles down into something more considered as Obayashi puts the pieces in place for the final message of his career. This is ultimately a rumination on cinema's place in the world, mostly through the prism of Japan's involvement in WWII, made with a genuine belief in cinema's ability to prevent horrors like that. This is all delivered rather bluntly - "characters looking directly at the camera and stating the movie's themes" is a humorous shorthand to make fun of heavy-handed films but that literally happens several times here. But in what stands as Obayashi's last film and epitaph, it's appropriate to want his final message to come off as clearly as possible, particularly since part of it is that we, the audience, must take what we learn from art and apply it - as that is the only mechanism by which art can change the world.

You might even look it as a Japanese Once Upon a Time in Hollywood, in the way it gets at the idea of cinema as fantasy, a way to bend historical tragedy to your liking. That film was a celebration of the fantasy, though it crucially ended on a note that indicated a strong awareness of its limits (I love that movie too and nearly as much, so I'm not throwing shade). Labyrinth of Cinema is more complex, condemnatory, and above all, remarkably concerned with the future for a director who could easily have used his final film solely to look back. This is not a starry-eyed, surface-level expression of movie passion, but a very serious reckoning with the complicity of the medium in the horrors of the past and the responsibility of not just the art itself, but those who experience it in shaping a better future, away from the screen.