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However––
Back then, after I'd finished watching it, I noticed that I was intoxicated by some mysterious excitement.
The film had made me feel that it was "something" rather shady and that indeed, "this is different from the rest."
But what exactly was so different about it? Back then, the only word I could think to describe it was the "presentation" but…
The thing about that film was that the visuals weren't just there to support the story, it was more like the story was being used as a tool to create a certain atmosphere. It wasn't an homage or a parody or an experimental film and I felt this immense determination to create an episteme that sets foot into some untrodden ground of visual expression.
The director of that film, "Raku," and the head of "Moonrise Mannor" was none other than than the young Ikuhara Kunihiko.
We didn't know each other yet at that point, but after the screening, I had the opportunity to chat with him. I praised the film I'd just watched, but he just let out a deep sigh and muttered, "It's no good." "When everyone saw my name in the director's credit, they all laughed. It's no good."
And then he looked over some people who seemed to be his staff with a dissatisfied expression.
"I guess everyone is against me after all… Well, whatever. It was bound to happen. It was bound to…"
It seemed like, even way back then, he'd already distinctly established the "goal of his work."
I think it was about six months later that I heard rumors that he'd dissolved "Moonrise Mannor."
Several years later, when we reunited in Tokyo––
He had become a professional filmmaker and his bad-boy style of working hadn't changed one bit from his student days, no, I think he'd honed it to an even finer point by then.
His 'job' wasn't laborious to him. And shockingly, he had no hobbies to speak of. It must be pretty intense if anyone knows anything about him.
Last year, for some reason, he took me along to take pictures for his New Year's cards, as was his custom apparently.
I could guess from the coat he was wearing that he wasn't wearing even a scrap of sheer silk underneath. He looked quite majestic.
We endured the whispers and inquisitive glances of some high school girls on our way. When the two of us were alone, we honed in on a pharmacy and without hesitation made off with the mascot, Little Sato, and thus produced that nightmarish piece[3]. I felt really ridiculous to think that even several years later, I'd be cooperating with him on another juvenile prank just like that sketchy movie I saw back when I was a student. What he said me after the shoot left a deep impression on me.
Back then, after I'd finished watching it, I noticed that I was intoxicated by some mysterious excitement.
The film had made me feel that it was "something" rather shady and that indeed, "this is different from the rest."
But what exactly was so different about it? Back then, the only word I could think to describe it was the "presentation" but…
The thing about that film was that the visuals weren't just there to support the story, it was more like the story was being used as a tool to create a certain atmosphere. It wasn't an homage or a parody or an experimental film and I felt this immense determination to create an episteme that sets foot into some untrodden ground of visual expression.
The director of that film, "Raku," and the head of "Moonrise Mannor" was none other than than the young Ikuhara Kunihiko.
We didn't know each other yet at that point, but after the screening, I had the opportunity to chat with him. I praised the film I'd just watched, but he just let out a deep sigh and muttered, "It's no good." "When everyone saw my name in the director's credit, they all laughed. It's no good."
And then he looked over some people who seemed to be his staff with a dissatisfied expression.
"I guess everyone is against me after all… Well, whatever. It was bound to happen. It was bound to…"
It seemed like, even way back then, he'd already distinctly established the "goal of his work."
I think it was about six months later that I heard rumors that he'd dissolved "Moonrise Mannor."
Several years later, when we reunited in Tokyo––
He had become a professional filmmaker and his bad-boy style of working hadn't changed one bit from his student days, no, I think he'd honed it to an even finer point by then.
His 'job' wasn't laborious to him. And shockingly, he had no hobbies to speak of. It must be pretty intense if anyone knows anything about him.
Last year, for some reason, he took me along to take pictures for his New Year's cards, as was his custom apparently.
I could guess from the coat he was wearing that he wasn't wearing even a scrap of sheer silk underneath. He looked quite majestic.
We endured the whispers and inquisitive glances of some high school girls on our way. When the two of us were alone, we honed in on a pharmacy and without hesitation made off with the mascot, Little Sato, and thus produced that nightmarish piece[3]. I felt really ridiculous to think that even several years later, I'd be cooperating with him on another juvenile prank just like that sketchy movie I saw back when I was a student. What he said me after the shoot left a deep impression on me.
Good Haro
over 10 years agoHowever––
Back then, after I'd finished watching it, I noticed that I was intoxicated by some mysterious excitement.
The film had made me feel that it was "something" rather shady and that indeed, "this is different from the rest."
But what exactly was so different about it? Back then, the only word I could think to describe it was the "presentation" but…
The thing about that film was that the visuals weren't just there to support the story, it was more like the story was being used as a tool to create a certain atmosphere. It wasn't an homage or a parody or an experimental film and I felt this immense determination to create an episteme that sets foot into some untrodden ground of visual expression.
The director of that film, "Raku," and the head of "Moonrise Mannor" was none other than than the young Ikuhara Kunihiko.
We didn't know each other yet at that point, but after the screening, I had the opportunity to chat with him. I praised the film I'd just watched, but he just let out a deep sigh and muttered, "It's no good." "When everyone saw my name in the director's credit, they all laughed. It's no good."
And then he looked over some people who seemed to be his staff with a dissatisfied expression.
"I guess everyone is against me after all… Well, whatever. It was bound to happen. It was bound to…"
It seemed like, even way back then, he'd already distinctly established the "goal of his work."
I think it was about six months later that I heard rumors that he'd dissolved "Moonrise Mannor."
Several years later, when we reunited in Tokyo––
He had become a professional filmmaker and his bad-boy style of working hadn't changed one bit from his student days, no, I think he'd honed it to an even finer point by then.
His 'job' wasn't laborious to him. And shockingly, he had no hobbies to speak of. It must be pretty intense if anyone knows anything about him.
Last year, for some reason, he took me along to take pictures for his New Year's cards, as was his custom apparently.
I could guess from the coat he was wearing that he wasn't wearing even a scrap of sheer silk underneath. He looked quite majestic.
We endured the whispers and inquisitive glances of some high school girls on our way. When the two of us were alone, we honed in on a pharmacy and without hesitation made off with the mascot, Little Sato, and thus produced that nightmarish piece[3]. I felt really ridiculous to think that even several years later, I'd be cooperating with him on another juvenile prank just like that sketchy movie I saw back when I was a student. What he said me after the shoot left a deep impression on me.