Aoi Kuruma

Rating: * * * * (out of 5)
Director: Hiroshi Okuhara
Running time: 90 minutes
Language: Japanese
Currently showing
[See Japan Times movie listings]

Plenty of Japanese directors are making films about the way the young live now, so many that I could probably fill this space every week with them -- and drive myself batty. The commercial ones tend toward over-ripe romantic agonizings that are agony to watch, while the arty ones incline toward blank-faced, slow-paced alienation of the slap-yourself-to-stay-awake sort.

Hiroshi Okuhara practices the minimalism favored by directors of the later type -- seldom moving his camera, cutting within a scene, or breaking the harmony of his mise en scene with explosions of emotion or violence. (In his work, a single punch is the dramatic equivalent of the Omaha Beach scene in "Saving Private Ryan.") He is not, however, a pretentious bore, but a keen, patient observer, who can extract drama and meaning from young characters who try their damnedest to be cool -- i.e., unreadable and unreachable by parents, bosses, and the rest of the uncool human race.

As did his two previous features, "Timeless Melody" (2000) and "Nami" (2001), his latest film, "Aoi Kuruma (A Blue Automobile)," focuses on such a character -- a part-time DJ and record-store employee named Richio (Arata). With his spiky yellow hair, wrap-around shades and pale mask of a face, Richio would seem to be the coolest of the cool, an icy moon circling the distant planet of his own regard.

Our Planet

Hikers on a trail in Hakuba, Nagano Prefecture. As extreme heat continues to grip Japan, a tectonic shift may be underway in the nation’s summer tourism scene as more people gravitate toward cooler destinations.
Are 'coolcations' the answer for Japan's heat-weary tourists?

Longform

Tetsuzo Shiraishi, speaking at The Center of the Tokyo Raids and War Damage, uses a thermos to explain how he experienced the U.S. firebombing of March 1945, when he was just 7 years old.
From ashes to high-rises: A survivor’s account of Tokyo’s postwar past