Matsuko attempts to disguise herself as one of her dolls

Memories Of Matsuko (Kiraware Matsuko No Issho) (2006) Dir. Tetsuya Nakashima

Most Westerners associate contemporary Japanese films with truly terrifying horror films like The Ring, shocking films like Ichi the Killer, animated films like Spirited Away, or historical samurai films such as Zatoichi. But a film like the highly inventive Memories of Matsuko which is decidedly neither of these (though it does contain some animation, albeit in the form of Disney-like animals and flowers grafted onto live-action scenes), could perhaps be more representative of  contemporary Japanese culture even if it is less marketable. It is a film which has been highly awarded in its own country but sadly remains largely unknown outside of Japan, I in fact hadn’t heard of it till I accidently stumbled upon it on good old Film4.

The premise sounds unlikely to work, combining as it does Sirkian melodrama, elements of film noir, fantasy, bright digitally altered Amélie-like visuals, animation, comedy as well as some memorable J-Pop musical numbers (elements also seen in previous outing Kamikaze Girls (2004)). It is certainly a genre unto itself. The story itself concerns the tragic life-history of Matsuko (a wonderfully versatile Miki Nakatini) who is introduced by an investigation into her death (very Sunset Boulevard) and by the curiosity of her layabout nephew Shou (Eita).

The film starts off with Shou who we see in his cluttered dirty apartment living a life filled with regret as he dwells on his recent break-up (and in one scene tries to find a lighter that actually works, resulting in a comic singeing by a lighter that works too well). He is unable to feel purpose in his life with the loss of his relationship and his beloved guitar lies in a carpet of dust. He is also disconnected from his father, who only comes to visit him as his aunt Matsuko has died. Finding out about Matsuko’s life is then what fills him with new purpose and makes him appreciate his life again.

And what a life she has. We see her from when she was a girl unhappy with the attention lavished on her sick model

"Who's that stunning redhead?"

sister (Mikako Ichikawa) and the neglect she feels because of this. She then becomes a gifted teacher adored by her pupils and sought after by a dashing gym-instructor with ridiculously white teeth. But her happy career ends when an errant pupil steals money from a local shop and Matsuko takes the blame. The fact that she also was fired because she inadvertently pulled a silly face (a trick she picked up to please her cold father) also lets you know that even in moments of crisis the film refuses to takes itself too seriously.

From here her life descends into working in a seedy massage parlour. Here she does make friends with fellow masseuse Megumi (the beguiling Asuka Kurosawa) but this does not stop her from cutting herself off from the world and falling in love with sadistic and unfaithful men (and in Nakashima’s world even domestic violence is made cartoonish here with one scene showing a lover alternately beating then embracing Matsuko); including the errant pupil Ryu (Yusuke Isaya), now a Yakuzi member, who had caused her downfall. All the time believing that loving them alone will be enough, the musical numbers reflect this girlish innocence and show how Matsuko tries to be the ideal lover dressed up as a fifties-style housewife, while others show her pure joy and faith in the power of love.

If that wasn’t enough she also murders her pimp and goes to prison, her time there also turning into a great hip-hop style music video. Her later life holed up in flat filled with rubbish like a fortress, eating junk and worshiping a cheesy pop band is heart-breakingly sad too, as is her undignified death. But we also aware of the value of her life and the life-affirming lessons to be learned through Shou.

If there is a negative Nakashima does makes the visuals so garish and fantastical that for some it could push the film into the realm of being far too cute for its own good. However the pathos inherent in Nakatini’s moving performance as someone who is fatally flawed but still sympathetic, as well as the risqué jet-black humour, constantly reassures us that this film is far from being cloyingly sentimental. Even if some songs may come dangerously close. What we get is a uniquely complex film that like the best Hollywood musicals makes us laugh and cry, but also allows us to see the strong sense of irony and fun it has in playing with genre and reference points, making this entertaining film a delight to discover.

Priscilla Eyles