Before We Vanish (Sanpo suru shinryakusha)

Director Kiyoshi Kurosawa

BEFORE WE VANISH (Sanpo suru shinryakusha)             C+      

Japan (129 mi) 2017  ‘Scope  d:  Kiyoshi Kurosawa        Official site [Japan]    

An overly simplistic sci-fi film bathed in violence and plenty of humor, much of it feeling tongue-in-cheek, though like Hollywood it tends to be skewed towards male adolescent viewers, using an almost comic book sensibility, never really rising to anything more profound, where it’s like Captain America – Japanese style, though it’s adapted from a play written by Tomohiro Maekawa.  While it’s an invasion of aliens movie where three intruders invade the earthly bodies of hosts, sucking out all their brainpower, then leaving them dormant somewhere on the wayside, like a “sunken place,” as if they no longer exist, with the aliens assuming what’s left of their personality as well, though obviously altered, where it takes them awhile to adapt to the new physical characteristics, learning how to move and walk, looking overly awkward, subject to falling often.  Yet the more they take on human characteristics, the easier it is to subjugate the entire human race.  In the opening scene, arguably the best in the entire film, with blood splattered all over the walls, a young teenager, Akira (Yuri Tsunematsu) dressed in a schoolgirl uniform, slaughters her entire family once transformed by an alien in her human body, and can be seen walking awkwardly down a highway, swerving all over the road, with cars beeping their horns, yet seems utterly delighted to cause a huge collision involving a semi-truck that flips over trying to avoid hitting her, all happening behind her as she continues walking straight towards the camera, with a devious smirk on her face, leading to the title sequence.  While some of this is humorous, much more is ridiculous, as none of the characters are standouts, no one is that involving, though the story itself has potential, but was previously explored to better effect in Jack Sholder’s THE HIDDEN (1987), particularly the use of a manic rock soundtrack that matches the raucous misadventures viewed onscreen, as each film comes across with a B-movie mentality, but they obviously had more fun with the idea in the 80’s.  This should be more fun than it is and we can only hold this mercurial director accountable for what amounts to standard fare, as even Hollywood got into the act recently with the more superbly done Arrival (2016), where it just feels like Kurosawa shanked this one. 

What this amounts to is a body-snatching movie by three extra-terrestrial invaders, with Shinji (Ryuhei Matsuda) and Amano (Mahiro Takasugi) as the other two, stealing “ideas” or human “conceptions” with a simple finger to the forehead, where those concepts then belong to the aliens who have come to Earth to subjugate its citizens, all in preparation for a future invasion.  Of the three, two are basically just kids, never viewed as a particular threat, as their belligerence and adolescent cruelty matches the reckless attitudes of many teenagers, while the third, Shinji, is struck by what his Earthly host means to his wife, Narumi (Masami Nagisawa), who is particularly troubled by his sudden change in behavior.  While Shinji is blatantly honest about being from another planet, Narumi finds this hard to believe and just wants her husband back, admonishing him for all the apparently dumb things she finds him up to.  What these invaders do respect, however, is a human guide, someone who is familiar with earthly habits and can help them overcome obstacles.  For Shinji, that is Narumi, and for Amano, a kid who relishes the idea of being a rebellious kid, his guide is Sakurai (Hiroki Hasegawa), a frivolous journalist with ambitions of grandeur, who views the aliens as the scoop of a lifetime, while Akira, Amano’s female sidekick, is the ultimate bad-ass.  What is amusing is the forthrightness of the aliens, who are utterly truthful about who they are what they intend to do, with their guides helping them every step along the way, as they find their stories at first inconceivable, yet by the time the guides realize they mean every word they say, the aliens have formed a kind of attachment with the humans, becoming perhaps their only friend in the entire world, where it’s hard for humans to act against them.  What this has to say about loneliness is unclear, but these humans have an almost Spielberg E.T. affection for their aliens despite their acknowledged plan to take over the world.  Told in parallel stories, we closely follow the developing human/alien interactions between Narumi and Sakurai, as each feels a special sense of importance about being selected as the human guide, as if they have an obligation to represent the human race.

What’s troubling, however, is that Amano and Akira are assembling electronic parts needed for their ultimate weapon, a transmitter that will communicate to the rest of the aliens for the invasion to begin, with Sakurai more than willing to help his alien counterparts, even as he witnesses the casual brutality they are capable of, especially Akira who seems fascinated by guns and firepower, routinely killing anyone that stands in their way, leaving behind a trail of dead bodies in their wake.  While that’s happening, Narumi is on her own mission to recover whatever’s left of her husband in Shinji, who seems like he’s on an opposite track than the other two aliens, as he’s clearly fascinated with Narumi and the kind of special attraction she has for her lost husband, appealing to his kindness, hoping to resuscitate his human spirit from this seemingly benevolent alien.  But that mission is interrupted by his original motive, as he’s contacted by the other two aliens, where the three have to combine forces, integrating what they’ve learned prior to the invasion, with much of this resembling the low tech style of any typical Star Trek (1966 – 69) TV episode.  There are occasional scenes of street hysteria, like aliens on the loose in downtown Tokyo, or ridiculous efforts by Sakurai to inform the world, standing on a soapbox in crowded city streets to announce the presence of aliens on earth in human forms, as disinterested passerby’s ignore every word he says.  This kind of futility couldn’t be more amateurish and belies the power of making apocalyptic announcements on television, which would have a more drastic effect, but this film, amusingly, is all about taking on the alien invasion all by yourself, sort of asking the existential question, what if this were you?  When a military invasion begins, this turns into a different kind of movie, offering a few special effects before becoming sadder and more distant, as Narumi continues to hold out hope that she’ll discover the husband she loves, finally realizing that the only way to do this is to offer her concept of love to Shinji, and allow him to take it, which alters the direction and scope of the invasion, coming to an abrupt halt, though the tragic consequence for Narumi is that she no longer remembers who the hell she is, or her husband, suffering from an inflicted Alzheimer’s like condition of complete memory loss, which is the saddest expression of all.  With Shinji steadfastly remaining by her side in a recovery hospital, this remains an open question asked of the audience, what do we do when we’ve lost our humanity?     

Upstream Color

UPSTREAM COLOR        C+                       

USA  (96 mi)  2013  ‘Scope  d:  Shane Carruth

Despite all the hoopla about this film, and more particularly the filmmaker, this is not a marked improvement over his earlier film PRIMER (2004), one of the low budget marvels of the last decade.  Waiting 9-years to make his eagerly awaited second film, there is a cult audience clamoring for something implicitly deep and complex from this film, perhaps another sci-fi puzzle film, but they won’t find it.  Instead it’s simply an obscure, largely experimental piece that attempts to be more than it is, as whatever narrative there is remains obfuscated by a sketchy design that remains elusive at best.  The problem is whatever themes or subject matter he is attempting to explore just never rise to the level of interest, as characters nearly sleepwalk through their roles, never generating any relevant dramatic connection.  Before he was a film director, Carruth was a math major, becoming a computer programmer developing flight simulating software.  As his two films suggest, guys heavily into science don’t always make the best communicators.  In fact, one might think there is a pervading style of filmmaking where at least part of what it’s about is the difficulty in communicating, for instance teen angst films, or Heath Ledger in BROKEBACK MOUNTAIN (2005), where he takes the hesitant and inarcticulate nature of a young cowboy to an artform, or the many variations of supposedly naturalistic dialogue from low-budget Duplass brothers or Andrew Bujalski mumblecore movies, a fringe movement about post-college or early adult white people with problems that never really connected with mainstream audiences, as they’re not really about much of anything.  Damned if that doesn’t plague this picture as well, where its intentional ambiguity remains a puzzle not worth exploring.  Even if there is a coherent story here, the question is what difference does it make?  How does a film like this have any relevance in our lives?  Wanting this to be about something, like say the enveloping fear and paranoia of THE PARALLAX VIEW (1974), is not the same as making a profoundly affecting film, where the underlying focus sticks with you for days and weeks afterwards, perhaps even a lifetime.  Interest in this film fades quickly.

As best as one can determine, there are two opposing wavelengths occurring here, where one is a high degree of sensitivity and thought, where you’re able to sense things others don’t see or hear, almost like an autistic sensory level, where one’s capacity to reflect upon altered states of existence, or a unique “otherness,” may be completely mystifying to some, but certainly early on we see many gathered together, including at various times both Kris (Amy Seimetz) and Jeff (Shane Carruth) drinking what is believed to be a special (parasite infected) purified water, something to help achieve a state of wellness, where one hopes to feel better than at any other point in one’s life.  The downside is the sacrifice or price paid to achieve this sense of heightened elevation, real or imagined, where you have no memory of what happened and leave yourself open to unscrupulous operators, achieving a near hypnotic state like a cult brainwashing effect where people can take advantage of your vulnerability and steal all your money, leaving you paranoid and in fear, but also angry and demoralized by the entire process afterwards.  But at least initially you want to believe, like the strange Russian sci-fi film Target (Mishen) (2011) that promises everlasting youth, only to ask yourself later, but at what price?  Unknown to each other at the outset, Kris and Jeff are mysteriously drawn to one another, perhaps unknowing why, though Kris is so incommunicative and unapproachable that one has to wonder what’s the attraction?  She wears an enormous large-sized headset at all times in public, listening to who knows what, but obviously to keep other people away.  Nonetheless Jeff persists, as if by supernatural calling, where he believes they are drawn to one another, perhaps to help one another understand what they’ve mutually forgotten, helping each other piece together missing memories, even though they barely talk.  This leads to an intimate relationship, as if by osmosis, where it’s certainly not their unbelievably poor communication skills, where they talk over each other’s words and ignore one another with regularity.  What changes is Kris gets pregnant, or at least thinks she does, as her conscious existence is seemingly tracked by the parasite she swallowed, which ends up at a pig farm.  It’s actually Kris’s pig that gets pregnant, unbeknownst to her, where Kris grows irate when they take the little piglets away. 

There is no explanation for this transference of human consciousness, which goes through yet a third life cycle when the pig farmer wraps several chosen pigs in a sack and drowns them in the river, where the parasite passes through their bodies in a bluish fluid that is released upstream causing exotic orchids to grow.  From these orchids is extracted the original parasite that begins this strange life cycle all over again.  What is certainly bizarre is the state of inexplicable anger mixed with utter indifference by the humans used as guinea pigs, where they do not seem to be in control of their own human faculties, still affected long after the parasites have left their own bodies.  Now if aliens had passed through these bodies, like the high powered, heavy metal infused THE HIDDEN (1987), an over the top, sci-fi story that packs a punch, then you’ve got something to generate interest for decades to come.  But in this dreamy saga of lost souls, roaming the earth in a state of listless apathy, where the true meaning of their lives is apparently stolen by a series of unscrupulous business transactions which happens to block the ethereal wavelengths.  When Kris takes to swimming, spouting gibberish poolside as she dives for stones on the bottom of the pool, Jeff is able to decipher her apparent mad ramblings as quotations from Thoreau’s Walden, of all things, a springboard to freedom if ever there was such a thing.  If it wasn’t so goofy, it might actually be entertaining, but it’s not, as the entire film is cast in such a darkly somber mood, as if the whole thing was the invention of rabid conspiracy theorists who see the end of the world near through genetic mutation.  Damn the scientists and mega corporations for spreading toxic poisons throughout the world altering the face of humanity.  The best thing in the film is easily the atmospheric score written by Carruth, who writes, directs, edits, acts, composes the music, and self produces his own film, an ambitious compilation of responsibilities for what is ultimately a dreadfully impersonal, drearily sad reflection of the human condition in the modern age, where swindlers and snake oil salesmen, aka the capitalist conglomerate enterprises maintain a greedy, monopolistic control over an easily hoodwinked populace looking for a quick and easy fix.  The idea of violating the natural order of things is nothing new, hardly revelatory, and never digs deep enough to matter.  Not sure what the characters are listening to on their giant headsets, apparently tuning out the rest of the world, and the audience with them.