Showbits

Star Trek often serves as a gateway to introduce me to new fiction, as I follow its actors and writers on to new ventures. But rather than new material, the Trek connection sometimes leads me backward to explore the influences that engendered the futuristic franchise. In this case, a recent review of the old TNG episode "A Matter of Perspective" led me to the Akira Kurosawa classic Rashômon.

This 1950 Japanese film is based on a 1915 short story that pioneered (or at least popularized) the literary technique of retelling one event from multiple perspectives, such as recently seen in the 2002 Jet Li film Hero. In Rashômon's case, the story is that of a bandit who lures a woman into the woods by holding her samurai husband hostage. With both people at his mercy, the bandit has his way with the wife … but what happens next? The scene of the crime tells the outcome, but not how the party came to it. The testimonies of the bandit, the samurai, the wife, and a hidden bystander all conflict, casting the characters in very different lights.

Although I am a fan of dramatic older films such as Fail-Safe and Splendor in the Grass, sometimes the gulf in era, genre, and culture is a challenging one to bridge. Despite the degree of style and allegorical and symbolic content, I couldn't connect with Rashômon. Its characters were theatrically, as opposed to realistically, dramatic, and the four variations on the same scene were insufficiently different to keep my interest through the retellings. In Hero, we see the main characters in numerous settings, motivated by unique goals; in Rashômon, we lack that connection to the protagonists, as their stories are recounted by witnesses, and the whole incident of the bandit in the glen was just that — not a mission, not an adventure, but an incident with little impact.

Unlike "A Matter of Perspective", Rashômon leaves the audience with no closure, as the truth of the four tales is never revealed. Perhaps that is where the film's impact lies: in prompting us to question the definition of truth. Its closing scene finally gives the narrators their own story, and the statements made there are more tangible and hopeful than the rest of the movie, offering the audience something more substantial than a Star Trek allegory.

Christmas future is far away; Christmas past is past. Did everyone get what they wanted?

Whether you've a Christmas bonus to spend or you're planning for next year, consider this fun-filled potential stocking stuffer: infinite bubble wrap. I confess to being easily amused and unable to walk past bubble wrap without deflating its purpose… but this commercial suggests a cultural difference far beyond anything I've previously encountered. But hey — if popping plastic from dawn til dusk brings tears to your eyes, all the more power to you. I wish I could be so entertained for only 819 yen!

Tip of the hat to old friend AliTak!

There are few ways I'd rather spend a Saturday night than dancing. So it seemed apt when one of my dance partners recommended the film Shall We Dance?, though she favored the 1997 Japanese original, not the 2004 American remake starring Richard Gere, Jennifer Lopez, and Susan Sarandon. Either story is that of an accountant whose spark for life is little more than an ember, fizzled under the weight of a wife, kid, and mortgage. But a chance encounter is about to ignite the fire in his heart and soles.

Mr. Sugiyama's subway ride home every day brings him past a dance studio, where he sees a forlorn instructor gazing out the window. Enraptured by this Juliet, he signs up for dancing lessons. But he does so secretly, without letting his family or workplace know — for as the prologue states, "Ballroom dancing is regarded with great suspicion in a country where couples don't go out hand in hand, or say 'I love you.'" What happens next is not as simple as a mid-life crisis culminating in an affair, but is about two lonely people who discover their love for dancing and life through, not in, each other. As Roger Ebert stated: "Shall We Dance? is not about love with a tantalizing mirage, then, but about a man losing his inhibitions and breaking out of the rut of his life."

In that regard, the film immediately brought to mind one of my favorite films, Lost in Translation — at first only superficially, based on the setting, but then more substantively, in the parallel desolation each film's starring couple must overcome. Lost in Translation is one of my all-time favorite films, as the sense of alienation the main characters feel is palatable and empathetic. Yet many people have found it to be a real snorefest; I expect that same audience would find little to capture their attention in Shall We Dance?. (Both films have scored at least 90% on Rotten Tomatoes.)

Admittedly, Shall We Dance? is a somewhat slow film, and several extended dance scenes could've been shortened. It could've been worse, though, as 18 minutes were cut from the Japanese version for the American release. These scenes are not restored to the DVD as an optional bonus feature.

What's left is a fun story filled with quirky yet likable characters. The unlikely misfits that compose the dance studio reminded me of the ensemble of Richard Dreyfuss' Let It Ride, in that everyone's happiness seems to depend on one person's. Their threads culminate in an ending that had me smiling… and if you think about how often that happens, you'll realize it's a rare film that has that effect.