Woman on the edge of a colourful breakdown
Tetsuya Nakashima is a bear of a man. Imposing and bearded, the chain-smoking 46-year-old's voice barely fluctuates even when he's stressing a point. Such stoicism belies a vivid, near-anarchic imagination.
Both his latest films revolve around strongly independent women who strive to carve a niche for themselves in a traditionally patriarchical society.
The first, Kamikaze Girls, is a kitsch and gaudy tale of the bond between a rough, no-nonsense biker and a mild-mannered Lolita figure who daydreams about living in baroque-era Europe. Extreme as it is, Kamikaze Girls has been upstaged by Memories of Matsuko, a colourful reworking of the tale of an abused woman delivered through comic dialogue, ethereal visuals and music.
What makes Memories of Matsuko remarkable is the way Nakashima enlivens a story that began as an epic tragedy in Muneki Yamada's novel, The Life of Despised Matsuko. The narrative backbone of the original remains unchanged - Matsuko is still seen spiralling towards a sad and lonely demise at the hands of wicked men - but now her journey to destruction is spiced with a series of outlandish visual spectacles. Spurning ordinary melodrama, Memories injects what is essentially a chronicle of unbearable human suffering with a joie de vivre.
'The original is about what an awful life Matsuko leads, as she is depicted falling further and further into despondency,' says Nakashima. 'But when I got around to reading the book I didn't find it an outright tragedy: I think it showed Matsuko's vigour even in times of despair.'
The character's magnanimity and determination is remarkable, given the suffering she endured through decades of abusive relationships, prostitution, violence and imprisonment before her final years of solitude and a brutal death.
Rather than depicting the long-suffering protagonist in harsh, lifeless settings, Memories is a vivid carnival of colours, illustrating Matsuko's steely defiance when the patriarchical world tries to knock her down.