SEVEN WEEKS (2014)

No no nanananoka, Seven Weeks (2014)
Directed by: Nobuhiko Ôbayashi
Written by: Koji Hasegawa, Nobuhiko Obayashi, Tadashi Naito
Starring: Saki Terashima, Takako Tokiwa, Toru Shinagawa

Seven Weeks (2014) Available now from Third Window Films

Part of the Nobuhiko Obayashi Anti-War Trilogy

Given the projects Obayashi directed in the Kadokawa Years trilogy you might be surprised to find that some of his other films are more serious. In Seven Weeks the nostalgic and sometimes shallow elements are replaced by a darker atmosphere of loss and regret. Which isn’t to say that the style of the film is any more realistic, but there’s certainly a more ominous tone to the story. Can this sustain itself for a lengthy running time of nearly three hours without being oppressive? Does it have more depth than those 1980s melodramas? There are some rough moments in the first act but the results are more complex than they first appear.

In rural Hokkaido a town sits near what was once a coal mine. Like so much industrial activity this will be a story about the way things were and how difficult it can be to unearth the past. As a chapter title card suggests this is an exploration of life and death as the shadow of a decades old trauma hangs over a grieving family. Kanna (Saki Terashima) arrives at the clinic she worked in with her grandfather Mitsuo (Toru Shinagawa) to find that he’s fallen into a terminal coma; although even after his death his spirit still lingers in many scenes. Soon a group of dysfunctional relatives gather round and several generations discuss old business and future plans. After a theatrical opening with a strange band of musicians things settle into a mundane reality.

This is the most difficult part of the story to sit through for those wondering about its unwieldy length. Not because of the subject matter but thanks to the way the dialogue is edited. The whole clan is constantly babbling about random subjects; speaking at each other rather than talking, asking questions that are not answered, and making interjections that are cut together to remove natural pauses. Perhaps this is done to portray the lack of emotion involved during things like Mitsuo’s last moments and his wake, but the effect is headache inducing. Fortunately all the present day business begins to be broken up by the ghosts of the past (some literal) and a calmer sense of retrospection.

It also helps that the greyness of hospital walls and funeral shrines is peppered with red skies and snowy landscapes. Smaller moments with characters who seem minor at first also help inject it with personality. Mitsuo’s strange collection of old shoes, a watch that never told the right time, and his interest in poetry and painting all add texture. These scenes are still melancholy but they start to build a picture of how life was at the clinic; even if it’s obvious that certain realities are being obscured. Not everything is sombre as the story introduces priests with ears full of hair, bicycle riding montages, and mourners telling a drunken version of the region’s history. However, while the tone becomes more eccentric there’s often a sense of sadness in the air.

Thanks to events during the final days of the Pacific War, and Mitsuo’s chosen profession afterwards, there are many instances of tragedy in his ghostly memory. Suggestions of suicide, mothers lost during childbirth, and friends lost to the conflict, punctuate the story and are explored as thing progress. At the centre of it all is the mysterious figure Ayano (Takako Tokiwa). Is she part of the family or just an old colleague of Kanna’s? Was she some kind of muse to Mitsuo or something more? Is that even her real name? Despite a large ensemble everything eventually comes back to her life and Mitsuo’s interest in art and literature. There are some gut wrenching twists along the way which are often unexpected thanks to a lot of unreal narration and the flashback structure.

Even the most violent moments are depicted through strange visual effects and sudden changes in the aesthetic. Blood pours from paintings and people fade in and out of bizarre landscapes. It’s a shame that there’s a lot of obvious chroma-key work (indoors and outside) with actors on green screens, some that look more wonky than others. It’s incredibly stagey even if the darkest sequences still have an impact. Luckily it’s often a beautiful looking film as things transition from sadness and death to rebirth and hope. There are even several naturalistic sequences that give it all a history or tourism documentary vibe. Eventually as things move from Winter to Spring all the recurring images start feel more cohesive despite so many disparate visual choices.

In the end that sums up the whole experience; it seems too long, or too opaque, and it often looks pretty strange, but (most) of these ingredients come together. It’s a pretty dour affair but it also tells a story of hope after hardship – there’s a strangely uplifting sense of looking to the future by the time it all comes to a close. Elements like references to the Fukushima disaster, a bit of local archaeology, a romance by pigeon post, and a mock Canadian town, don’t all gel perfectly but there are a lot of broad thematic strokes to be considered. Which is more interesting than your average story about estranged family members coming together for a funeral. It’s a winding and sometimes gruelling journey but it’s got a lot going for it.