Japón (2003)

Japón is Carlos Reygadas at his most aimless and self-indulgent. The film begins great and maintains its quality until about halfway through. What starts as a story of a man going to a small village slowly turns into a story of a man who grows affection for an older woman he wants to receive sex from. It takes such a sharp turn thematically it was hard for me to go along with.

The film shifts from being about a man who is unsatisfied with his life, in the middle of a deep existential crisis, to the man being unfulfilled due to his lack of sex life. I realize this may be a crude and elementary way of looking at the story, but when the actions of “The Man” (Alejandro Ferretis) feel one-dimensional I’m more inclined to think that way. To say his actions are due to a natural primal instinct due to his newly acquired isolation only ends up minimizing his initial, complex issues. It’s an arguably pessimistic and unfair interpretation of human beings. I also don’t think you can write off his feelings for Ascen (Magdalena Flores) as love either because he knows almost nothing about her and proposes sex to her in such an entitled and manipulative way.

Japón has this quality of feeling like everything is spur of the moment and the narrative is constantly shifting. I think this could have worked if what was going behind the camera didn’t feel the same way. The film feels unfocused during the second half. Reygadas’s film eventually starts to feel like a collection of images that don’t always flow together seamlessly. After a while the editing starts to feel choppy.

There’s a weird moment where a non-professional actor addresses the camera crew of Japón. I was instantly reminded of the ending of Taste of Cherry. I personally don’t like the ending of Taste of Cherry, but that had more intent behind it. The one-off line one of the workers utters could have easily been removed or even edited around. It’s such a weird moment.

If Reygadas wanted to remind everyone that they were watching a movie, like director Abbas Kiarostami did, more thought should have been put into it. Or, if the line was completely unscripted – which it probably was – he should have found a way to double down later on the line if he knew he was going to keep it in.

You can expect to see the typical Reygadas flourishes you get in his later films: longer takes, minimal dialogue, and beautiful cinematography. Japón is mostly let-down by his hazy screenplay. He might have been able to save the film if he had a stronger conclusion, but it ends in a cheap way.