English translation of Shukan Kinyobi review of 'Shinbun Kisha'

I decided to translate an article from my current favourite magazine, the liberal, left-wing weekly, Shukan Kinyobi. It's a review of the movie Shinbun Kisha, and an interview with the director, Fujii Michihito.The original can be found in the 28 June 2019 edition. Written by Saka Kiyokazu.
Apologies to the magazine and author for any inaccuracies.

Interview with ‘Shinbun Kisha’ director, Fujii Michihito

Cabinet interference; bureaucrats’ ‘sontaku’,[1] rape suspicion; doctoring of official documents

Portrayal of today’s conflict between government and media

 Amidst the heated debate about freedom of the media and government pressure, one movie is having a not insignificant impact on not only the cinema scene but also the media industry. It’s called ‘Shinbun Kisha’. The conflict between a newspaper reporter intent on delivering a scoop that exposes the dark side of the state and the government that uses every possible measure to defend itself, and the appearance of a bureaucrat who wavers over the boundary of justice between the two, is portrayed in a breath-taking way. Herein lies a dramatic human drama. It is quiet but forceful.

The director is the up-and-coming Fujii Michihito, well known for a style that is rich in emotional expression and entertainment. However, in the beginning he declined (to direct it). ‘I was interested in the kind of politics that was reflected in my day-to- living, but I didn’t think deeply about politics; nor was I in the habit of reading the daily newspapers. In other words, I was politically apathetic (and this is why I declined it at first).’

However, Kawamura Mitsunobu, the producer of movies replete with social commentary, such as ‘Kazoku no Kuni’ and ‘Aa, Koya’, thought, ‘It’s for that very reason that [Fujii] should shoot the film’ and he insisted that the 32 yr old Fujii, as a member of the ‘generation that doesn’t read the newspaper’ be the director. In response to Kawamura’s offer of the idea that ‘I want to make a movie that deals with how an individual might live their lives while coping with group peer pressure’, Fujii was forward looking: ‘It doesn’t matter what others think if me, for once I want to do something as if my life depended on it.’  

In fact, movies that Fujii has directed, such as ‘Oh, Father’ and ‘Hikari to Chi’ contain a penetrating view of the contradictions within society, and the adversarial ghost of the criticism of these films lingers on. For Fujii, deep down, something else co-existed alongside his entrenched apathy towards politics and the media.  

Before filming, Fujii met with people in many different capacities, including journalists and Ministry of Foreign Affairs bureaucrats. This made him reflect, ‘I was scared at how little I knew’. ‘I was appalled at the things we didn’t try to know, and at the amount of information we have at our hands which, despite living in an era where we are free to sift through it all, we never questioned the significance of that. I began to think about the credibility of the news or information that until then I had only been skim-reading.’

Suspicion about establishment of new university   

Yoshioka Erika (Shim Eun-kyung) is a newspaper journalist who springs to action after receiving an anonymous tip-off indicating a suspicious establishment of a new university. Sugihara Takumi (Matsuzaka Tori) is a junior bureaucrat who entered the Ministry of Foreign Affairs with high ideals and is now on secondment to the Cabinet Information Research Office, where he is ordered by his boss to play the role of spin doctor, creating scandals about those who get in the way of the government. These two characters’ fates are brought together after a tragedy involving a Cabinet Office official who was Sugihara’s superior at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs.

Director Fujii says, ‘I didn’t want to make a smug film that blended documentary with fiction’. Consequently, the material in the original that was closer to ‘non-fiction’ was re-written for the final product. Says Fujii, ‘The most important thing is not to portray reality using real names, but to create a movie that can discuss with viewers how an individual within a group can square up to that group. I argued that, in that case, it should be fiction. I wanted to create a film where viewers would put themselves in the shoes of a journalist or bureaucrat and (directly) question their emotions.  I wanted it to be a movie that sought out the two protagonists’ feelings evoked by the events rather than the actual events taking place.’  

The battle between the Cabinet Information Research Office and the media is cutthroat. Fujii once heard a bureaucrat say, ‘The only way to respond to someone being attacked is to attack’, a phrase that does not problematize Cabinet Information Research Office leaks such as those that manipulate public opinion. ‘Bureaucrats and journalists probably have opposing views of right and wrong. Their existence is mutually exclusive, but their respective commitment to the ideas of ‘for the people’ and ‘communicating the truth’ is, I believe unwavering.’

A sense of distance from journalists 

A bit about the two actors who play the protagonists. Shim Eun-kyung is a talented Korean actress who has been noted for her roles in several Korean films, and who, as of this year, has been active in a string of stage and screen productions. Matsuzaka Tori is an actor whose development as an actor has been conspicuous; his competence is well noted as a result of his representation of diverse characters, ranging from a kind, good hearted young man to an outlaw with a dark secret. Against a backdrop of a complicated past, with her sensitive expressions, Shim shows us what’s going on inside. Meanwhile, Matsuzaka acts with a depth of expression as Sugihara becomes torn between two conflicting ideas of what is right. Director Fujii’s stage management elevates both of them to their highest capacity.

In the first half, the activities of the journalists working at the newspaper are filmed in the shaky camera style, giving a sense of instability. ‘In fact, I deliberately filmed that section from afar with a telephoto lens. It was a bit provocative, but I wanted to show how wide the gulf is between journalists and the audience.’ The story progresses and with each step the journalists take towards the truth, that ‘sense of distance’ changes. ‘It is precisely because it is this type of production that I wanted to take great care with elements such as the sense of distance and the visual technique. I would be pleased if the viewers understood that the director’s message is that we are attempting to bring [the journalists], who seemed so far away, closer.’

The conception of the idea for this movie can be traced to the book ‘Shinbun Kisha’, by the Tokyo Shinbun reporter, Mochizuki Isoko, who has continued asking questions in spite of backlash and blatant obstacles she encountered from government representatives during Chief Cabinet Secretary press conferences.  Scenes such as television footage of round-table discussions between Mochizuki and others, including former Ministry of Education Vice Minister Maekawa Kihei; and recent real-life events, such as excessive Cabinet Office interference, bureaucratic sontaku, official document falsification and rape suspicions are dotted throughout the movie, creating a vivid impression that it is intrinsically connected to ‘precisely now’. One can see glimpses of these even during the fiction sections that are constructed as universal human dramas, and this ‘insistence on sticking to the here and now’ further elevates the entertainment value of the film. This is because while there are movies around the world that depict historic clashes between government and media, there are hardly any that depict the ‘on the edge of now’ events happening in the here and now. Fujii is full of expectations, ‘I have never seen a Japanese movie like this. I’m looking forward to seeing how it’s received by the audience.’   

‘When in a group situation, sometimes you end up twisting your beliefs as a consequence of reading the mood and pre-judging other people’s thoughts. I think contemporary Japanese society, and in particular, my generation, is especially good at this, but I wanted to challenge that. I want each individual to think seriously about how they can go about changing their own lives.’

Fujii Michihito bioblurb:

Born in 1986. Filmmaker, film director, screenwriter. Co-founded ‘BABEL LABEL’ with filmmaker Shima Kentaro. Nihon University College of Art, cinema department, director course graduate. Mentored by screenwriter Aoki Kenji. Debuted with Isaka Kotaro’s ‘Oh Father’. Has also worked on advertisements, such as those for Pocket Monster, and American Express. Netflix original ‘Bushido no Gurume’ and ‘100man en no Onnatachi’ released in 2017. ‘Ao no Kaerimichi’ and ‘Day and Night’ released in 2018 and 2019 respectively.

‘Shimbun Kisha’ info

© 2019 ‘Shimbun Kisha’ filmpartners

Director: Fujii Michihito

Original draft: Mochizuki Isoko ‘Shimbun Kisha’ (Kakukawa Shinsho), Kawamura Mitsunobu

Featuring: Shim Eun-kyung, Matsuzaka Tori, Honda Tsubasa, Okayama Amane, Nishida Naomi, Takahashi Kazuya, Kitamura Yukiya, Tanaka Tetsuji

2019, Japan, 113 minutes.

---

[1] Sontaku was the 2017 ‘Word of the Year’.  It refers to the practice of anticipating another person’s feelings or thoughts even before that person is themselves aware of them. It was word of the year due to its apparent adoption by those in political and bureaucratic positions to avoid ruffling the feathers of superiors and thus enable the illegal activities of those superiors.  (Not in original, added by translator.)

新聞記者

国家を批判する日本の政治的映画？是非見逃してはいけないと思った。一ヶ月程前に日本政治を激しく批判する「主戦場」を見たけれど監督が日系人だった上、映画でなく、ドキュメンタリだった。このような批判する映画が上映するとうれしい。現在、靖国神社にある遊就館で上映している日本会議取材の「忘れられない」のような映画に対して対抗勢力があるから。「忘れられない」はドキュメンタリとして作られているにもかかわらず題名と大きく違って、第二次世界大戦争で行われたことをたくさん忘(、)れている(、、、、)ようで、むしろフィクションとして考えた方が正解かもしれない。

一方で「新聞記者」はフィクションでありながらノンフィクションと思われてもおかしくないほどリアルに描かれているのである。政権とメディアのせめぎ合いの話でまさしく今の政治状況を描いた映画。

メインのストーリーは伊藤しおり記者が安部総理と仲のいい山口敬之記者に対してレイプ犯罪を訴えた事件を元に報道に大きく取れ上げられるレイプ疑惑の話などの実際に行われている出来事を背景にして描かれる。そのレイプ被害者を演じる女性は伊藤さんに似ている女優さんをしたりすることまで等、気骨かつ現在的な感覚が初めから観客を引き込む。

2人の主役は新聞記者の吉岡エリカと若手官僚杉原たくみであり腐敗臭い外務省計画大学の情報を知っている杉原の外務省の元上司神崎が自殺した時に二人がぶつけ合う。吉岡に新しい大学について情報が匿名に漏らす。その糸口を追求することに決心し、神崎が光っている威圧的な国会議事堂が真正面の建物から飛び降りた時、吉岡はそこにある意義を把握し、真実追及でついに杉原と出会う。まだ理想を奪われていない若い杉原は外務省から内閣府情報調査室（内調）に出向中。苦しそうな仕事に覆われている。政権の邪魔になる人の名前を汚すために公文章の改竄等この手もあの手も政権を防護する手掛けに任務させられている。これに迷いながら神崎の死の打撃を受けることで良心の呵責を感じ、吉岡と一緒に正義を追求することに決心した。

吉岡の勤務先は東京新聞に基づいた「東都新聞」であり、同僚は、上司を含め比較的に鮮やかではない男性ばかり。吉岡は実人の望月衣塑子記者を元にした役柄。望月記者は政治家に鋭い質問を投げることだけで「難しい記者」として知られ、望月執筆の「新聞記者」が映画のプロデューサー河村の着想の出発点となった。でも吉岡の役柄は日本人ではなく、日本人父と韓国母でアメリカ育ちである。これは信じ難い。なぜかというと二つの理由がある：まずはアメリカで生まれ育った人は日本で新聞記者として働く言語力があるはずがない。吉岡のなまった日本語からでもそれが目に見えた。二つ目に、英語で話してるシーンは一つだけだったが、とても英語圏生まれ育ちとは思わない片言の英語だった。吉岡の役柄のこれ以上に気になる点があった。それは、なぜ日本人女性ではなく、外国人女性にしたかが不思議。プロデューサーは日本国家があまりにも固くて外圧なしでは何も変わらないという政治的主張をしているのかと解釈できる。確かに吉岡は韓国人だけではなく、アメリカ育ちの本当に意味でのグローバルの人である。しかし、この描き方は望月自身が日本人であること及び「組織内」にでも制度を変えようとしている人がいるという事実を否定しているのではないか。そうしたら、強い日本人女性は映画にそんなに描きにくいのかという質問が浮き浮かぶ。確かに吉岡意外の女性役柄はとんでもなく酷かった。杉原の妻は子供化され、完全に自己犠牲な生活を送っていて夫と子どものために人生を送っているまるで女性の風刺画だった。「政治的批判的」な映画を作る人が描く日本女性はこれでいいだろうか？一緒に見た親友の意見では、自分が所属している組織の底のない汚職に直面する時に沸いてくる入り混じった複雑な感情の中で杉原が感じさせられる「守らなきゃいけない」責任感を強化するために妻はわざとそういう風に描かれたそうである。妻たち（神崎の妻も）の役柄があれだけ卑屈そうに描かれている理由は別として、日本女性はこのような役柄が引き続き現れるのは悲惨である。

概ねの演技はそれほどではなかった。あいにく日本の映画によく見るこわばった、大げさな演技だった。これに対し、撮影術はよかた。省庁の部屋の青く染めた空気は悪意が伝わってきた。それに、「東都新聞」の暗くて散らかっている内装が気骨でリアルな感覚だった。私は半蔵門に住んでいて、時には国会図書館に行ったりするので馴染みの建物と道が映画で見られて少しワクワクした。永田町・霞ヶ関あたりのイチョウの葉っぱがきれいで、秋に撮影することが正解だったと思う。

最後に一言。演出とは違って、国会議事堂が常にライトアップしていない。夜になると暗闇に覆われて不吉な形だけが見えるときも多い。先日の夜にジョギングに出かけたらちょうど電気が消える瞬間を見た。映画の最後の台詞はまさしく意義深かった（全滅されてしまった杉原への助言）：「この国の民主主義は形だけでいい」。

この評論の英訳はこちらです。

Shinbun Kisha

A Japanese political drama critical of the state? For me, this was a must-see movie. The previous month I had watched Shusenjo (Shusenjo: The Main Battleground Of Comfort Women Issue), also fiercely critical of the Japanese state, but made by a Japanese- American, and also, not a fictional account, but a documentary. I welcome critical movies like this—they function as a counter-balance to things like the Nippon Kaigi Wasurerarenai, which is currently showing hourly at the Yushukan (the museum in the grounds of Yasukuni Jinja) at the moment. Wasurerarenai, pitched as a documentary, might be better characterised as fiction, given the narrative it weaves—a narrative that, contrary to the title of the film, seems to forget a lot of what occurred during World War 2.

Shinbun Kisha, on the other hand, is fiction, but might as well be a true story. It depicts the conflict between the government and the media in a gritty and realistic manner. Indeed, the story occurs against a backdrop of real-life events, including a headline-making rape narrative, obviously modelled on the 2018 alleged rape of journalist Ito Shiori by journalist and Prime Minister Abe supporter Yamaguchi Noriyuki, to the point where the rape victim actress even resembled Ito Shiori. It is this gritty real-life feel about it that draws the audience in right from the beginning.

The plot revolves around two young protagonists—newspaper reporter Yoshioka Erika and Ministry of Foreign Affairs bureaucrat Sugihara Takumi. Their worlds collide when Sugihara’s colleague and friend Kanzaki commits suicide harbouring a dark secret about the corrupt underpinnings of the creation of a new university by the Ministry of Foreign Affairs.

Information about the development of a new university is leaked to Yoshioka. She decides to chase the lead and after (in a scene potent with symbolism) Kanzaki jumps to his death off a tall building right in front of the lit-up and overbearing National Diet building, she follows her nose, eventually bumping into Sugihara. Still young enough to be idealistic, Sugihara struggles in this secondment to the Cabinet Information Research Office, where he is put to work reinforcing the protective wall surrounding the government—doctoring official documents and squashing anyone who attempts to expose weaknesses. His conscious reaches crisis point when his friend dies, triggering him to seek out the truth with Yoshioka.

Yoshioka works for ‘Toto Shinbun’, a fictional Tokyo Shimbun and is surrounded by comparatively weak and bland male colleagues, including her boss. Her character is loosely based on the journalist Mochitsuki Isoko, who has gained a reputation for being ‘difficult’ simply because she asks politicians challenging questions, and whose book ‘Shinbun Kisha’ planted the seed for the creation of the movie inside producer Kawamura Mitsunobu’s brain. Yoshioka, however, is not ethnically Japanese. She was born and raised in the US to a Japanese father and Korean mother. The presentation of this was implausible for two reasons. The first was, if she was born and raised in the US, I would struggle to believe her Japanese language skills would be adequate to work as a journalist (and her accented spoken Japanese supports this doubt). Secondly, the one time she spoke English when she bumped into a former colleague of her late father, her English was not that of someone born and raised in the US. More interesting though, is the decision to make this role a Korean woman instead of a Japanese woman. I might interpret this as a political statement by the producer about the rigidity of the Japanese state—a rigidity that, without foreign intervention, does not waver. Not only is she Korean, she is from the US—a true global citizen. But this depiction denies the reality that Mochizuki is in fact Japanese, proving that there are people ‘within the system’ trying to change the system. This then leaves me wondering if casting strong Japanese women in movies is too difficult. Certainly I was appalled by the depiction of the only other women in the movie. Sugihara’s wife was a caricature of a women—infantilised and portrayed as utterly self-sacrificing, completely undemanding and living only for her husband and unborn and then new-born child. Is this really the best a director of a ‘politically critical’ movie can do? A friend suggested that Sugihara’s wife was deliberately depicted as babyish and lacking independence so as to further intensify the ‘protection’ imperative of Sugihara that contributed to his internal struggle that takes place when confronted with the depths of corruption within the institution for which he works. Regardless of the reason the wives (the wife of Kanzaki as well) were depicted so obsequiously, I’m sad for Japanese women that this kind of depiction of women continues unabated on Japanese screens.

The acting was pretty average—wooden and exaggerated. This is par for the course in Japanese movies, and a regular disappointment. I really enjoyed the cinematography though. The blue lighting in the ministry offices made for a strong sinister effect and the dark, cluttered newspaper reporting room had a gritty and realistic feel about it. I live in Hanzomon and go to the Diet library now and then and seeing familiar streets and buildings on screen was a real buzz for me. It was a great idea to shoot during Autumn as the Ginko leaves in that neighbourhood are beautiful.

Contrary to what is shown in the film, the National Diet building is not always lit up. At night it is often shrouded in darkness, only its foreboding outline visible. The other night I was out jogging and I witnessed the exact moment the lights went out. It was very apt that the final line of the movie was (uttered as advice for the by-now crushed Sugihara) ‘This country’s democracy is just for show, and it’s for the best’.

(Click here for Japanese translation)

The Hunger Games

I was reminded of why I don’t normally watch blockbusters when I watched the lame and predictable Snow White and the Huntsman (I might muster up the energy for a review of that later on, but I’m not sure it even deserves one). The Hunger Games, however, is something else. It is a blockbuster that offers entertainment but also has depth, complexity, an inspirational heroine and subtle yet powerful political and social messages. 

The premise of the story is truly horrific. In a dystopian future USA, the evil empire Panem wields its power over its twelve districts in a tyrannical fashion. One of the ways it does this is by pitting districts against each other in the annual Hunger Games, where one boy and one girl from each district are set loose in the woods to battle the elements and each other until one person remains alive. The Hunger Games is public entertainment and is broadcast across Panem, including all the districts. It felt like a combination of the reality television show Survivor and Lord of the Flies, with a bit of The Truman Show thrown in the mix. But it was much more gruesome than any of those. 

The heroine, Katniss, captures the heart of the public from the beginning because of the courage she displays in volunteering for the Games to save her little sister from having to compete. Her little sister, Primrose, would not have survived five minutes in the Games, and everyone, including Katniss, knows it.

Katniss retains the heart of the public by somehow remaining humane during the Games, when everyone else involved (apart from dear little Rue) seems to be ruthlessly intent on killing the other competitors. By the end, she shows up Panem, with her integrity and courage, and comes out a winner in more ways than one. Obviously she can’t avoid killing but she sees there is another way, and although not sure how to pursue it initially, she follows this instinct. She is the most wonderful heroine I have seen in a movie for a long time. In a reversal of what happens all the time in movies, she saves the male lead’s life; she tells him to ‘come on’; she takes control, but never in a domineering or power-hungry way. She’s sensible, grounded and brave. And guess what? She’s not beautiful or sexy—that’s never the point—she’s just awesome.

Initially I couldn’t stop thinking, ‘Why don’t all the competitors band together and decide not to kill anyone – that way they will win and the evil Panem will be ruined! That’s what I’d do!’ But then I realised that these kids had grown up with this. Every year of their lives they had witnessed the Hunger Games. In fact, the pair from District 11 had spent their entire lives preparing for them! The Hunger Games was a part of everyone’s lives. Rebelling against it was not an option. It was outside their sphere of what was possible. For me this was one of the movie’s most important messages: that social oppression of one group by a dominant power often operates in a way that makes the oppressed turn on each other instead of raging against their oppressors. This becomes the focus of rage. But Katniss (and Peeta) represented an alternative—they gave the districts hope—and as the character played by Donald Trump intimated, with hope, the oppressed will see that it is possible to fight back.

The costumes and makeup were fantastic – who can resist Lenny Kravitz with gold eyeliner? I’m aware of the criticism of this film that it was slow-paced and that it attempted to avoid violence. I didn’t feel it dragging for one moment. I watched it twice and even the second time around I found myself surprised to find it ending. As for avoiding violence, I’m not sure why anyone would think more violence was necessary in this movie. It was pretty gruesome and there was enough blood to go around for everyone.  It was a bunch of kids slaughtering each other...you want more violence and gore? Seriously? This criticism makes me think that some people, film critics especially, are desensitised to violence in films. Frankly, if it was any more violent I probably wouldn’t have enjoyed it so much.

The Hunger Games can be enjoyed on a number of levels. As a blockbuster action flick I think it’s pretty good. But it also offers a political and philosophical insight into war and oppression. While the ending is not exactly a happy one because the districts remain under the rule of the despotic Panem, the message offered by the story is ultimately one of hope.

P.S I haven’t read the books :-)

Tokyo Sonata

This movie is a social commentary on contemporary Japanese society. It deals with the following issues: the emptiness and loneliness of the nuclear family, for all members, including the loveless couple and the selfish and isolated children; the lack of hope in teenagers as they realise that Japanese society has nothing to offer them; the collapse of the traditional employment system and the subsequent demise of the salaryman and Japan’s reliance on the US for national security.

This movie deals with these issues quite sensitively, but loses some the plot two thirds of the way in. The significance of the wad of money found in the toilet by the protagonist, the car crash and the trip to the beach by the mother was lost on me. Especially considering that nothing actually changed as a result of these events. Or maybe they did. The final scene of the younger son playing the piano perhaps signified a new beginning for the family. The father had obviously embraced the idea of his son pursuing a career as a pianist, signalling a shift in his mindset about his son’s careers, and perhaps an acceptance of the fact that Japanese society has changed for good—something he has to come to terms with considering his apparent lack of employment options.

I think director Kiyoshi Kurosawa’s decision to cast Koizumi Kyoko as a full-time housewife was old-fashioned. Married women in Japan tend to go back to part-time work once their children are at school, especially if their husbands are not big earners, which Ryuhei clearly wasn’t. The full-time housewife is a thing of the past (and even so, a phenomenon that has always been limited to the middle-and upper-classes). If Koizumi Kyoko’s character depicted a more realistic married Tokyo woman, this would have enabled a better consideration of contemporary married couples, and pointedly, how the shifts in society have affected women.

Educating Rita

Based on the play written in 1979 by Willy Russell, the movie Educating Rita was produced in 1983 and is set in Liverpool. It stars Julia Walters as Rita and Michael Caine as Frank Bryant, her tutor. Its central themes of class, gender, and privilege are timeless, and as a result, it has aged well.

Rita is a 26 yr old hairdresser from a working-class family, married to a working-class man. She is aware that something is missing in her life. She wants ‘choice’, and realises that as an uneducated hairdresser whose destiny is to have children—and soon, as her husband and father keep reminding her—she doesn’t have much choice at all. She decides to attend ‘Open University’ to study literature. Enter her tutor, Dr Frank Bryant. Frank is a failed poet, who, since his wife left him many years ago, has replaced writing with drinking. He is full of cynicism for life, his students, and for university learning.

Rita and Frank hit it off and both of them are enriched for it. Frank admires Rita’s warmth and grounded outlook. Rita looks up to Frank and can see brilliance beneath his weary and cynical ways.

Rita’s controlling husband has never liked her studying. He’s keen to have children, but Rita is secretly taking the pill because she’s not ready. Unable to identify with either her working-class background or with the educated elite, she feels that she’s a ‘half-caste’. Her sense of entrapment is captured in the poignant scene in the pub where she sees her possible future in her mother’s tears, as everyone around them sings happily, but obliviously. Rita decides she wants to ‘sing a better song’ and leaves her husband. She chooses a difficult path for a woman in the early 1980s and turns her back on not only her husband, but her father as well, who also thinks she should stop studying and have a baby.

Her rationale for choosing this path is the unfailing desire to find out ‘about me’. She likes what she finds and sticks with it. Her eagerness to learn initially outweighs her ability, but soon she is talking and talk and writing essays with the best of them. As the quality of her work improves, Frank’s admiration for what he initially saw in her turns to fear and despair as he witnesses Rita become more like him and all the other faceless academics around him. Gone is her naivety and in its place is her ability to adopt the correct jargon, socialise with other students and write essays that will satisfy examiners.

In short, she gains the knowledge that he has. She is able to enter a world that he takes for granted. Frank does not realise that it is his position of privilege that allows him to be cynical. It is precisely because he is educated that he can see ‘culture’ for what it is. Rita, on the other hand, does not have that privilege. Importantly, once she gains that privilege, she will not necessarily take Frank’s position on it. She will not necessarily become cynical like him, or like her flamboyant and ‘classy’, but deeply depressed flatmate Trish.

As a sometimes disillusioned academic, I found this film easy to relate to, very entertaining and extremely thought-provoking. For a simply made film, it has layers and layers of meaning to it that give it great depth.

The King review

I watched The King because I am love with Gael Garcia Bernal. He is, in my opinion, the most delicious-looking man in the world. I want to devour him, and I want him to devour me. Obviously I knew nothing about the film prior to watching (apart from the all-important fact that GGB was in it) because when he started speaking English my jaw dropped to the floor. This was the first time I had heard him speak English. I learnt later that this movie was in fact his first English-speaking role. Honestly, him speaking English took away some of his allure. It must be his swarthy Spanish-speaking ‘otherness’ that I am attracted to.

Nevertheless, he soon took his shirt off and voila, allure back intact. Frailty thy name is women indeed. Or, frailty they name is Emma, at the very least.

GGB plays a young (late teens? Early 20s?) man who just got out of the marines after having served for 3 years. Here we see the predictable prostitute scene of course, cos ya know, men who have been in the armed services NEED to have sex once they are on a break, it’s programmed into them you see – they are big strong men who need to penetrate women to maintain that big strong manliness. Groan.

Once that scene is out of the way (shame on whoever directed it for your lack of originality, by the way), GGB makes his way to his father’s hometown. His ‘father’, David, is a man he has in fact never met. His mother was David’s old flame (a prostitute? I wasn’t clear on this). Since then, David has become an evangelistic Christian, married and had 2 teenaged children. He has also become the pastor of a church. Anyway, disasters of biblical proportions follow, including GGB seducing his 16-yr old half-sister. It could have been a really good movie if the characters had a little more depth. GGB was initially presented as a bit of an enigma but it soon became clear that he was mentally deranged. Yet, this was not explored at all. In fact, I think GGB might have felt a little short-changed in his first English-speaking role—he barely said anything!!!!!!!! Perhaps a little more dialogue would have helped the main characters come to life a bit more.