McGill Tribune

A & E

Adrift in Tokyo-a Japanese film by acclaimed director Miki Satoshi-is, as the title simply puts it, about two men aimlessly wandering about in Tokyo. Yet unlike most films of this nature, this film contains no romantic catharses, no life lessons, and no particular plotline.

The film opens with Takemura (played by Japanese heartthrob Joe Odagiri), who, in his eighth year of college, has run up a debt of over 800,000 yen. Minutes later, brutal debt-collector Fukuhura (Tomokazu Miura)-who sports a mullet that rivals Billy Rae Cyrus-comes busting into the apartment, stuffs a sock in Takemura's mouth, and tells him that he has 72 hours to repay his debt. After Takemura desperately looks around town for fast ways to make cash, Fukuhura makes him a better offer: accompany him on walks around Tokyo, and he'll give him the money to pay off his debt.

This already strange turn of events only gets stranger as the two men drift about Tokyo experiencing one quirky encounter after the next. Case in point: they pass by an old watchmaker, when Fukuhura asks how he stays in business, the old man whips out karate moves and the two men begin to fight. They then pass a group of men who are stroking their crotches while saying "It feels so good." In another instance, the two men start doing Tai Chi, and later discuss what it must be like to be a Pygmy Hippo.

Fukuhura soon reveals the reason for his walk: he's killed his wife and is going to turn himself into the police-but not before he takes a trip down memory lane. Meanwhile, Takemura, who was abandoned as a child, has no interest in a reminder of the fact that he has few memories to relive. In one poignant moment however, he comes across the first girl he kissed, and recalls a heartwrenching story in which he made her a fake Lacoste shirt-since he couldn't afford a real one-by pasting the iconic alligator onto an old shirt. However, when she opens the gift, to his humiliation, the alligator pops off.

What's refreshing about this film is that none of these moments are looked upon as particularly strange. Takemura seems to care little that Fukuhura has murdered his wife or that he was stuffing socks in his mouth only a few days earlier, absurd encounters are met with no reaction, and nothing is really accomplished by the end.

However, despite its lack of momentum or progression, Adrift in Tokyo's true genius lies precisely in its post-modern unwillingness to adhere to any popular form or convention. It examines the frustration of trying to close a door that keeps on opening, or of pressing down a coffee dispenser that gurgles but dispenses no more coffee.

With a brilliant cast-Odagiri channels the wild-haired, wide-eyed innocence of Johnny Depp's Edward Scissorhands while Miura captures the nonchalance of the guy who doesn't take crap from anyone-the film subtly forces the audience to examine the idiosyncrasies and nuances of everyday life-if only we slow down to take a look.



Adrift in Tokyo opens April 10 at the AMC Forum 22 (2313 St. Catherine W).