The Moon

Yuya Ishii has been one of the big constants of Japanese cinema. He has released films at regular intervals over the past two decades, his work rarely disappoints, but it's never good enough to knock me off my feet completely. The Moon [Tsuki] came with a little extra buzz, but because of past experiences, I kept my expectations in check. Who takes two decades before releasing his first bona fide masterpiece, right? Well, it turns out Ishii did exactly that. It's a divisive film for sure and you might want to read up on it before giving it a go, but I was well impressed.

I've been following Yuya Ishii's career since the early days, back when he still liked to combine drama and comedy. He's an interesting director for sure and he made some worthwhile films along the way, but somehow they always fell short of being truly impressive. Ishii loves to make films about outcasts and people on the fringes of society, but his work rarely has the necessary edge to do them proper justice. And so he's become one of those directors who I don't mind keeping track of, even though my expectations are limited.

It seems that dark drama has made a comeback, and somehow the moon is driving this renewed interest. Whereas the Japanese moon is often a symbol of love and romance (tsuki ga kirei desu ne), Lee's The Wandering Moon and now Ishii's The Moon are doing their best to counterbalance that rosy image. Both are films that are unafraid to deal with uncomfortable questions in the most direct way possible. They challenge the norm, without taking a moral stance, and they offer rather dry and cold takes on contemporary societal issues that are sure to divide the room in post-credits discussions.

Yoko is a celebrated writer who suffers from writer's block. She needs an income, and so she applies for a job in a hospital where they treat the mentally disabled. Her husband finds a job as a cleaner, as his dream of becoming a successful animator isn't working out either. Yoko's job is tough, it turns out she gravely underestimated the conditions of her new job, as well as the apathy of her colleagues. A surprise pregnancy makes her life even more complicated, she and her husband are still mourning the death of their child and Yoko isn't certain she wants to go through that again.

The Moon isn't the most visual film, even though Ishii made a few attempts to make things a tad more appealing. There's a stop-motion segment that is pretty nice and some of the darker scenes play around with lighting to add a bit of visual flair. Other than that though, this looks like a typical Japanese drama, of which there are plenty already. The cinematography is clean and polished, but the colors are a little dull and the camera work is mostly functional. For once though, I didn't care as much, as I was more focused on what the film was trying to tell.

The soundtrack sticks to conventions. For Japanese dramas, that means it is quite minimal, only surfacing during the more critical scenes. The music is a bit darker than usual, it's more string than piano, which adds a bit of extra gravitas. It's a nice enough soundtrack, like the visuals it's functional and on point, but it's not one that sticks or is unique enough to make a grand impression on its own. Not that the film specifically needed that, but I think this is where Ishii could've easily made a bigger impact still, just by giving the drama a little extra support.

The cast is stacked, which is a big bonus for a film like The Moon. There are some rough and tricky characters here, so you need skilled actors to get their core identities across. Even when they're spouting vile and troubled ideas, you can't lose your audience in these moments. Rie Miyazawa is an established powerhouse, but no doubt this will become one of the defining parts of her career. Joe Odagiri and Fumi Nikaido appear in smaller roles and offer perfect support. Hayato Isomura had the hardest task here, the way he opens up throughout the film is nothing less than impressive.

The Japanese are known as a rather quiet, reserved, and respectful people, but watch them more closely and you'll quickly learn they have a razor-sharp edge to them when pushed. There are a few of those moments and monologues here. Ishii revels in them, as characters dryly tear through their fellow colleagues at a party, or meticulously reveal their structured and rational arguments for getting rid of those they deem a burden on society. For people of my generation, it'll give instant flashbacks to the big Festen apotheose, though I do prefer the colder and less drunk-driven take Ishii puts on display here.

The Moon is a film that deals with uncomfortable truths head-on. As a society, there are topics we like to ignore or consider collateral damage, but they are still worth mentioning and facing up to. The core argument of the killer here (some patients are an unnecessary burden on society) may not sway anyone, but that doesn't mean there isn't some truth in there worth revisiting from time to time. It's not the most fun and easy topic to ponder about, but that's why a film like this, which does it without even flinching, is worthy of getting broader attention.

Yuya Ishii has finally done it. After having seen 14 of his films without finding anything truly astounding, The Moon is the one that managed to blow me away. And it's not so much the presentation, though slightly better than I expected. It's a string of impressive performances and an unwavering commitment to handling its delicate themes that sets this film apart, just come prepared if you're easily triggered. I don't think The Moon will change much for Ishii in the end, it's not like he suddenly upped his game, but there's no doubt in my mind this is a bona fide masterpiece.