April 10, 2011
An air of touching melancholy hangs over Trần Anh Hùng's adaptation of Haruki Murukami’s Norwegian Wood. The dialogue is often sparse; the cast beautiful yet fragile, like porcelain creatures. An ethereal quality permeates the film, and an apparent intimacy developed through camera work profiles each character beyond the confines of their immediate environment. Scenes are lovingly dappled in shade and colour. This is a film of brooding emotion just beneath the surface, of tender love undermined by noiseless heartache.
Set in 1967, Naoko and Kizuki are childhood sweethearts, and Watanabe (our very occasional narrator) is their best friend. When Kizuki, carefully but inexplicably, commits suicide, Watanabe leaves for Tokyo. Whilst there, he and Naoko resurrect their friendship, eventually becoming lovers. This is where the key themes of the film emerge: grief, young love, and sexual neurosis. Naoko cannot come to terms with her grief for Kizuki, and she retreats – literally - to the hills. Meanwhile, Watanabe begins a friendship with Midori, whose self-confidence hides the pain of her mother’s death and father’s desertion. They are never lovers, but only through Watanabe’s commitment to Naoko, and Midori’s boyfriend, who may or may not exist.
This is a heart-felt and tender film, complemented by Jonny Greenwood’s graceful score, but somehow we are also always kept at a distance. Watanabe is a likeable young man, but a loner who seems to exist independently of friends and wider society - and the drama of Naoko and Midori seem almost dream-like at times. Long tracking shots centre the film, but also isolate its protagonists; whilst the novel is told retrospectively, the film doesn't always use this perspective so we are often fumbling for what Watanabe is feeling behind his often pensive façade.
I enjoyed Norwegian Wood. It’s a serious film, visually arresting at times, but it lacks another element to throw its tragedy into sharper relief.
Set in 1967, Naoko and Kizuki are childhood sweethearts, and Watanabe (our very occasional narrator) is their best friend. When Kizuki, carefully but inexplicably, commits suicide, Watanabe leaves for Tokyo. Whilst there, he and Naoko resurrect their friendship, eventually becoming lovers. This is where the key themes of the film emerge: grief, young love, and sexual neurosis. Naoko cannot come to terms with her grief for Kizuki, and she retreats – literally - to the hills. Meanwhile, Watanabe begins a friendship with Midori, whose self-confidence hides the pain of her mother’s death and father’s desertion. They are never lovers, but only through Watanabe’s commitment to Naoko, and Midori’s boyfriend, who may or may not exist.
This is a heart-felt and tender film, complemented by Jonny Greenwood’s graceful score, but somehow we are also always kept at a distance. Watanabe is a likeable young man, but a loner who seems to exist independently of friends and wider society - and the drama of Naoko and Midori seem almost dream-like at times. Long tracking shots centre the film, but also isolate its protagonists; whilst the novel is told retrospectively, the film doesn't always use this perspective so we are often fumbling for what Watanabe is feeling behind his often pensive façade.
I enjoyed Norwegian Wood. It’s a serious film, visually arresting at times, but it lacks another element to throw its tragedy into sharper relief.
