As a seasoned viewer with a keen eye for socially-conscious cinema, I found “Happyend” to be a compelling and thought-provoking masterpiece that resonated deeply with my own experiences growing up in a time of political unrest. Neo Sora’s directorial debut is an exceptional blend of speculative fiction and coming-of-age drama, skillfully weaving together the complexities of adolescence and the looming specter of societal decay.
Exploring speculative fiction as a means of insightful sociopolitical critique, the film Happyend represents an impressive debut into narrative storytelling for Neo Sora, known for his moving documentary about his late father, Ryuichi Sakamoto: Opus. In contrast to its profound emotionality, the movie is subtly humorous and understated. The Japanese writer-director skillfully employs a charming young cast of graduating high school students grappling with, or avoiding acknowledging, an uncertain future. Portraying that pivotal stage when once unshakable teenage bonds start to waver, this film is a poignant drama infused with anger and unease, but also hopefulness.
Sora begins by displaying text that suggests old-fashioned guardians of decaying structures will soon tire, paving the way for transformation. This transition is symbolized through acts of youthful defiance.
The filmmaker closely examines the actions of five close-knit friends and one powerful outsider, portraying their acts of both personal and group defiance against a backdrop of a government veering towards totalitarian rule and a setting where the danger of impending environmental catastrophe is always looming.
cellphone-issued earthquake warnings are now common occurrences, leading the country’s leader to declare increased government authority during emergencies. This is particularly evident when peaceful protests arise, and law enforcement actions escalate to violence.
This setting serves as a backdrop for a subtle depiction of late adolescence, a time marked by enjoyable diversions and growing apprehension about the future. At the heart of the story are two long-standing friends whose distinct reactions to the increasing gloom around them – both in their school environment and in national politics – reveal differences that neither had realized before.
Growing up together, Yuta (Hayao Kurihara) and Kou (Yukito Hidaki) have been buddies since day one, both gifted amateur DJs with dreams of making it big in the world of music production. We’re not just friends, but a tight-knit crew including Tomu (Arazi), Ming (Shina Peng), and Ata-chan (Yuta Hayashi). Our unique style is evident in the way Ata-chan rocks his uniform with a flamboyant, oversized skirt, complementing his white shirt and black blazer. We’re more than just friends – we’re a renegade team of music enthusiasts.
After the bust of an unsanctioned techno bash, we sneak back to our high school under the cover of darkness, using a crafty phone app that mimics a cat’s meow to bypass security. We make our way up to the secret hideout of the “Music Research Club”, where we crank out the tunes and let loose. A while later, Yuta and I find ourselves on the rooftop, puffing away at a cigarette, when the shiny, brand-new yellow sports car parked there catches our eyes – it belongs to none other than the strict principal, Shiro Sano. In a moment of weakness, we decide to mess with it, setting off a chain reaction that leaves the whole school chuckling in the morning, but also brings about consequences.
The authorities are called in, which sparks a strong reaction from student activist Fumi (Kilala Inori), who views the police as “administrators armed,” whose primary role is to safeguard the nation’s riches rather than its people. Kou, the prime suspect due largely to his Korean heritage, faces potential denial of his college recommendation by the principal, who labels the car damage as “terrorism.” However, without any evidence, the disciplinary action shifts direction.
The head of the school has set up a sophisticated security system equipped with facial recognition cameras placed all around the building. This allows for troublemakers among the students to be spotted and given demerit points. Initially, it was met with laughter, as Ata-chan received cheers when he quickly accumulated ten points for making inappropriate gestures towards a camera.
Instead of their beloved, easygoing homeroom teacher, the graduating class encounters a strict, rule-abiding one instead, and the Music Research Club, considered a potential safety risk, gets closed down, with all its electronic gear confined to a storage room.
A powerful earthquake, causing additional harm to vehicles, leads the Prime Minister to enact an emergency order, stating that natural disasters lead to higher crime levels. Fumi persuades Kou to accompany her at protests sparked by this event. The aftermath of fear and anxiety triggers neighborhood watch groups to monitor the streets during nighttime hours.
Kou grows increasingly irritated by Yuta’s immature behavior and his carefree mentality, as if the world’s end is not a concern. As their group bonds are put to the test, one of the most significant moments comes when Yuta shows obvious upset upon learning that biracial Tomu plans to attend college in America, where he has family connections.
The school environment grows increasingly tense as a military instructor is introduced to teach self-defense, and an instance of casual racism occurs by excluding non-Japanese students under the pretense of security. Fumi spearheads the resistance, resulting in change and inspiring others – this defiance is particularly evident in Ata-chan’s graduation attire. However, when Yuta voices his concerns, his bravery comes with consequences.
In simpler terms, Sora skillfully blends the melancholic, reflective mood common in end-of-school stories with a thoughtful portrayal of personal growth, and simultaneously highlights the confining nature of educational institutions, suggesting broader societal issues. The movie keeps its focus on the individual journeys of Yuta, Kou, and their friends while subtly addressing universal concerns that resonate with us all.
As a devoted admirer, I must express my appreciation for the artistic brilliance demonstrated by Bill Kirstein in his cinematic work, such as capturing Sora’s Opus. His unique ability to find beauty in the raw, urban environments of a fictional Tokyo (primarily filmed in Kobe for Happyend) showcases an elegant sense of composition and a poetic touch. Lia Ouyang Rusli’s enchanting score beautifully enhances this visual harmony while effectively encapsulating the vibrant energy of the characters through techno interludes. The young, talented actors, most of whom are newcomers, deliver captivating performances in a film that masterfully balances futuristic settings with contemporary global political concerns.
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2024-09-02 17:55