[2.8]
Though filled with interesting ideas and characters, A SPOILING RAIN is let down by its serious, restrained tone. Director Arai Haruhiko certainly has a vision, but he mistakes slow and deliberate for interesting and artistically rich (perhaps due to these qualities being what is so often praised in modern Japanese cinema, like Hamaguchi’s films). Sometimes this style is appropriate for the film. But A SPOILING RAIN is a strange creation, filled with characters and situations that beg for more action and drama, but are continually let down by Haruhiko’s unwillingness to fully embrace the wild side of his scenario. Sure, there is a rather explicit threesome near the end of the movie, but it is too little too late. The most shocking part of this sexual anal escapade isn’t the content itself, but the fact that Haruhiko clearly imagines that this is a game-changing twist late in his narrative. But it comes about so abruptly and tactlessly, it’s hard not to see it as a desperate writerly insertion.
The actors here seem decent enough, but Haruhiko insists on rounding out their edges, so that their performances are sleepy, half-interested reactions. If this were confined to one character, it would be a specific trait; but applied to everyone, it’s horribly boring. The film opens promisingly enough, with out-of-work porn director Kutani attending the funeral of a dead colleague (he tries going to the funeral of the actress who also died in the mysterious double-suicide, but is angrily turned away by her father at the door). Kutani’s monotone glumness seems appropriate, considering the circumstances. But as the film continues, and Kutani is sent on an errand to evict a tenant who is the sole holdout in a cleared-out building, Kutani’s disinterested facade is revealed as his sole defining feature. Kutani meets the tenant Iseki, who at first appears to be a disheveled, punkish rogue who refuses to leave his flat. His bedroom is filled with fish tanks where magic mushrooms are growing, and a young naked woman with earphones on, tripping out alone. As they share a few friendly beers, Kutani warms up to Iseki, and they swap stories of their past romances. Through color flashbacks (the “present day” is all in black and white), it is quickly revealed that both men had dated Shoko, the dead porn actress. But the guys don’t realize they are talking about the same woman, as she had changed enough over time that her actions with her first boyfriend Iseki are different than her later behavior with Kutani. When she gets pregnant by Iseki, she has an abortion because a child would get in the way of her acting career. Iseki is upset, because the idea of becoming a dad could have been a source of accomplishment in his idling life. But when Shoko later gets pregnant by Kutani, she is ready to become a mother, but Kutani coldly refuses to start a family. She miscarries.
The story wants to stress the parallel lives that these two men lead, and how their choices shape their own destinies, as well as Shoko’s. The men go to a bar together, drinking the same drinks, eating the same snack, and when they have to pee, they stand next to each other in front of a bush. The big twist comes in the final few scenes. There is a wild threesome between Iseki, the tripping girl and another random girl, in which the girls play with each other, before one begs Iseki to fuck her in the ass, but he can’t get hard enough until the other girl inserts a dildo into his butt, with Kutani sitting silently observing all. Then Kutani wakes up to find one of the girls on top of him, raping him essentially, with a video camera aimed at his face, and she instructs him to show more emotion. Instead, he flips her around, and aims the camera at her breasts while taking control of the sex. This is the climax of Kutani’s character arc: the moment he finally directs a film again (his main frustration throughout the movie is his years-long inability to direct). Then, he wakes up again, with no trace of the women or Iseki. The apartment is neat and tidy. He goes to his computer and sees a script open. He reads it, and of course it is the dialogue we have already heard before in previous scenes. It’s a bit vague, but it seems as if all the characters have been in Kutani’s imagination, with Iseki existing as a fictionalized version of a younger, more naive Kutani. Perhaps Kutani had taken his own magic mushrooms and tripped himself, imagining all of these encounters he would use to finally write the script he has been unable to finish (the inability to write a script has been the main stumbling block for Iseki’s character). So, Kutani is the one living alone in this apartment building, coping with his grief by trying to become the better man he was unable to be when Shoko was alive. He walks into the hallway and looks at his reflection in a mirror, before a ghostlike Shoko walks toward him and then into the apartment. The final shot is Kutani looking at us (toward Shoko), as a tear drops from his eye.
On paper, this all seems like it should work. It’s a well structured script, with enough clues and parallels to sustain attention. The main problem is that the characters aren’t distinguished enough. Whether or not Iseki is real or simply Kutani’s imaginary alter-ego, he should feel more individual. Iseki’s defining trait is his love for cinema, and he’s constantly quoting movies (using a line from THE GRADUATE, copying the butter-as-lube anal sex from LAST TANGO IN PARIS, and the music from BARRY LYNDON is heard in the background of the bar). So, is it a stretch to see the shape of this story as similar to FIGHT CLUB? Kutani is a sad sack who meets an alternate version of himself. But instead of being wish-fulfillment, Iseki reflects Kutani’s failures. He is bad at sex, lonely, and unable to participate in the film industry in the way he would like. But most of all, he’s just kind of a bland character, like Kutani. Not once did I feel any chemistry between Shoko and Kutani or Iseki (in fact, the bromance between men was more centered in the story than their individual romances with Shoko). There’s no passion or even shared interests between the men and Shoko, so her continued attempts to make their relationship work made no sense, as it never felt like there was any real love at all. Shoko claims in one scene that she wants sex that makes her feel like an animal, with her humanity stripped away and just the feeling of flesh left. But Kutani and Iseki don’t provide this, nor are there any emotional sparks to be seen. Shoko is the sensual fulcrum of the story, but Haruhiko never makes this feel real.
It’s frustrating when a movie should be better. The men here are handsome, the tone promising, and the mystery compelling (at first). But Haruhiko should have condensed the story and played around more with the dramatic beats. How is a movie about a porn director and actress so boring? The movie plays it too safe, too congenial. The mildly graphic threesome shows that Haruhiko can get edgy, so why didn’t he opt for some stronger expressions earlier? As one critic wrote, the film is “an ode to failure”, and it certainly feels like that. There’s a few moments of dry comedy, but mostly the movie and characters wear a grim expression of numbness. [also, why is the film so obsessed with anal sex? It occurs in multiple scenes, all of which fail to use lubricant, much to my horror]. One final thought: filmmakers need to stop putting key emotional beats/scenes during and after the credits. Ending on Kutani’s single tear isn’t strong enough? We have to see a coda of a flashback of Kutani and Shoko singing “Last Song for You” at a karaoke bar? It’s supposed to leave us with an emotional reaction, but it simply emphasizes how the two characters have no chemistry together. Bad editing choice.
burning retina 