HIS MOTORBIKE, HER ISLAND (1986)

Her Island, His Motorbike (1986)
Directed by: Nobuhiko Ôbayashi

Starring: Kiwako Harada, Noriko Watanabe, Riki Takeuchi

Now Available from Third Window Films on Blu-ray and to Stream

Part of the Nobuhiko Obayashi’s 80s Kadokawa Years Collection

While Obayashi may be known for his eccentric, and often rather psychedelic, flights of fancy, it’s time to take a relaxing road trip to the countryside. A breezy summer holiday kind of ride where a group of friends are fighting their addiction to Kawasaki engine sizes instead of a supernatural threat. Which isn’t to say that it lacks a particular film-making style this time around, but it’s generally a different kind of experience. Motorcycle culture and karaoke moments come together in a simple, and occasionally musical, tale of duelling egos and youthful obsessions. Is the overall effect too melodramatic or clichéd for those looking for something more outrageous? Let’s examine what’s on offer in this easy going story about clashing personalities.

Ko (a fresh-faced Riki Takeuchi before so many tough guy roles) is a delivery driver in the city, who needs his bike more than he needs his former girlfriend Fuyumi (Noriko Watanabe). He’s recently broken off their romance after claiming she’s only good at ‘cooking and crying’. The whole situation seems more his fault than hers; particularly after a strange incident involving naked motorcycle races at night. He clearly wanted her to be something she’s not even though he was the one making all the moves. Her brother Hidemasa (Tomokazu Miura) works at the same company and is on hand to give him hell for this poor attitude. But after yet another strange incident, this time involving the two colleagues jousting to settle their grievances, Ko decides to get away from it all and rides out into the sticks.

Almost right away he meets Miyoko, (Kiwako Harada) an island girl just starting to get interested in two-wheeled vehicles, and after catching her spying on his engine the two strike up a conversation. Their friendship comes and goes as they coincidentally meet in several different places, and it becomes clear that their interests align. It’s right out of the romantic cliché playbook as Ko finds exactly what he wants after leaving the ‘boring’ girl he left in the city. She’s strange and extroverted, he’s looking for something fresh but isn’t quite as outgoing; you’ve seen it all before. What was Miyoko doing before being drawn to the side of the road by the allure of chrome? Initial details about her own motives are frustratingly vague when they first meet. But it’s obvious that as things go on that her real love is the thrill of speed.

Ideally this theme would be pushed harder as the camera glides over a glittering Kawasaki emblem. Or when Miyoko stops to caress the bike’s rain cover in the middle of a storm. Of course this isn’t some kind of perverse Tsukamoto style experiment about people literally melding with machines or lusting over shimmering exhausts. There are times when you may want it to be, but it’s a more gentle story about the seeds of ambition and how getting what you want might not be everything in life. The real drama is a result of Ko, having met someone who loves riding as much as he does, realising that it’s actually dangerous and Miyoko may be better off living quietly with her grandfather. It turns out he’s not as carefree as he first thought and there are some obvious personal issues that he’ll have to work through.

Fortunately it’s not all tired relationship drama. The bikes themselves feature heavily and are involved in more than one wild law breaking excursion. There’s also an offbeat sing-along vibe to the story at times, without it ever becoming an outright musical. Ko serenades Miyoko with a tune that repeats throughout the film, noting their initial harmony as a couple. Or at least suggesting that he’s started trying harder. In contrast to this his ex Fuyumi becomes a singer and the difference in her performances (right after the break up and then much later) highlights the negative effects of their earlier romance. As a result the music is able to show the difference in personality between the two girlfriends, though it’s clear that acts of selfishness and hubris are the real cause of misery for everyone concerned.

This self-centred outlook is something the style of the film accentuates with its visuals. Ko sees his life as part dull reality and part day-dream, with the sentimental scenes being shown in black and white. When things are going his way he slips into an idealised monochrome view, although reality is always just around the next bend. There are also freeze-frames lending certain shots a picture-perfect look. However, as things progress this aesthetic may just be his way of shutting out the wider spectrum, with the colour red in particular being used to suggest incoming danger, or tragedy. It’s not a perfect metaphor and at times it could have been used more sparingly, particularly in scenes that change in and out of colour too quickly. But it’s an intriguing use of the visual language that turns memory and perception into a ‘movie within a movie’.

Overall it’s a strange affair in more ways than one, while simultaneously being a fairly typical story about passion and thrill seeking. It’s not perfect but the cast are all super charming and the use of music lends it a dream like quality, even without the overt special effects of School in the Crosshairs. It’s a more down to earth kind of story despite some of the typical tropes giving the first half an unrealistic quality. But as a story about idealised memories, and fragments of time that may lack all the original details, perhaps that’s the whole idea. Ko is more than a cool motorbike, or a guy from the city, and Miyoko is more than an island girl, or a product of slower traditional ways of life. But the unreliable narrative turns them into exactly those things for its own nostalgic purposes. Which means that in the end it’s an interesting road trip that’s worth taking.

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