QUICK AND DIRTY: LIVE FROM TALLINN

Soujiro Sanada’s Okamoto opens with a story about a boy’s curiosity towards the naked flame of a candle. It’s a strange type of prologue that drifts into a sped-up black and white montage sequence that is comprised of clips from the film itself. Then, the film’s bright red title with loud music pops up onscreen, before the lurid colours of a kitchen introduce a Yakuza boss who will hunt Manta Okamoto (played by Sanada), a quirky young man, who is close to suffering hikikomori (social withdrawal).

How Okamoto comes to have the attention of the Yakuza is not all his own doing. While he’s never on time for work, he’s the most talented editor at the magazine he works at. This doesn’t help him avoid the angry tirades from his boss, especially when Okamoto is accused of harassment. Often, he just smiles or laughs, then other times he’ll go into the toilet cubicle and savagely lose his temper. When one of his managers offers him a box to look after for a couple of days, a dangerous set of events are set in motion because the Yakuza just happen to be searching for a box.

Okamoto’s bold opening establishes expectations for what will follow. The story, however, is discombobulated by Sanada’s unwillingness to move along. Swathes of the film are afflicted by the lack of a clearly defined narrative or attempt at plot progression. Instead, the story becomes a prisoner of Okamoto and the Yakuza’s larger-than-life personalities, especially Okamoto’s numerical rituals, dietary choices and his gamers point of view. All of this directs the film towards the surreal, while its gonzo approach is a double-edged blade. On the one hand, it allows Sanada and his cinematographer to push for a surreal narrative and characterisation, and the arresting aesthetic they have in mind. There appears to be nothing keeping the director in check and ensuring he articulately communicates his vision. Instead, the film becomes an exercise of flexing one’s creative muscles that propels Okamoto towards its self-destruction.

When a director is so in love with everything in the film that he has lost an objective perspective, and he fails to summon up the courage to “kill his darlings” (remove characters, ideas or drop clutter and dead wood), then it’s time to be worried.

In an ironic twist, the film’s exuberance creates a feeling that the film is moving by quickly, and yet, the 140-minute run time contradicts this. It is unfathomable why Sanada felt he needed so long to tell this story. Instead, Sanada’s indulgent whims are likely to generate a symphony of fidgeting sounds when the audience’s patience wears thin. And if films are regularly accused of being too long nowadays, Okamoto makes the case for the prosecution.

At least the film attempts to create an experience that feels like we’re falling down the metaphorical rabbit hole. Here, however, it feels like we’re a prisoner for 140-minutes of the director’s unchecked impulses. So, we’re not swallowed up by the surreal, instead we find ourselves temporarily stranded in a tedious mess.

Okamoto just premiered in the Rebels with a Cause Competition of the 28th Tallinn Black Nights Film Festival.