Director: Japanese Cinema Must Adapt to Survive

Japanese Director Koji Fukada. AFP
Japanese Director Koji Fukada. AFP
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Director: Japanese Cinema Must Adapt to Survive

Japanese Director Koji Fukada. AFP
Japanese Director Koji Fukada. AFP

Japanese cinema needs an overhaul. At least that's what acclaimed director Koji Fukada thinks, calling for less reliance on manga adaptations, more money for arthouse and better treatment of workers.

The 40-year-old's latest film "The Real Thing" was chosen for the main selection at this year's Cannes film festival, four years after he won a jury prize for emerging talent.

The glitzy French gathering was scrapped this year because of the coronavirus, but that has given Fukada more time to reflect on his concerns about the film industry at home.

Among them is what he sees as an over-reliance on adapting popular graphic novels rather than commissioning original ideas, he told AFP in an interview.

He is not opposed to manga adaptations -- his latest movie is one -- but he warns that the genre's ubiquity has "a negative effect on diversity".

"It's difficult to produce non-commercial films in Japan, where a lot of importance is given to their marketability," he said.

Japan's film industry long found the greatest international success through its animated output, most famously those produced by the multi-award-winning Studio Ghibli.

That trend has shifted in recent years, however, with Hirokazu Kore-eda's 2018 drama "Shoplifters" -- the story of an impoverished family forced into crime to survive -- nominated for the Best Foreign Film category in the Oscars last year.

But the country offers no government funds for arthouse movies, and studios prefer to minimize risk by backing what they see as sure-fire hits.

"At this rate, Japanese cinema is going to go down the drain," Fukada warned.

He has made around a dozen films, ranging from his 2010 hit comedy-drama "Hospitalite" to 2016's award-winning "Harmonium".

They tackle subjects from xenophobia and loneliness to regret and revenge, subtly revealing secrets and lies hidden within families.

But in recent months he has turned to activism, launching a crowdfunding campaign for arthouse cinemas in Japan, which he said were "in danger of extinction" even before the pandemic.

"They are often owned by people who barely earn any money and are only motivated by their love of film," he said.

"It's not sustainable. We have to come up with a funding system that can withstand a second, or third wave of coronavirus."

So far, his campaign with fellow director Ryusuke Hamaguchi has raised more than 330 million yen ($3.1 million).

He has also sought to raise awareness of working conditions in Japanese cinema.

"Some directors think that making a film is a battle," he said, describing having been punched, kicked and insulted when he started his career.

While the #MeToo movement and associated calls for better treatment have made their mark on Hollywood and other film industries around the world, Japan still offers "a hostile climate" for those who call out harassment, according to Fukada.

A selection of his work will be screened as part of a special showcase at this year's Tokyo International Film Festival, which kicks off on October 31.

"In the era of coronavirus, we thought that the public should have the chance to review his films," festival director Kohei Ando told AFP, praising Fukada's "critical eye on society and its absurdities."

His films often confront themes of isolation -- now in sharp focus as people are forced to stay home during the pandemic.

Fukada said he has paid close attention to the devastating effect the pandemic has had on society, noting a rise in suicides in Japan in recent months.

"Our everyday life, the things that we cherished, our loved ones, have been taken from us in one swoop," he said.

His work, he said, tries to address universal subjects -- including loneliness.

"It is in every one of us, and we try to live with it, to put a lid on it," he said.

"But there is always a moment where it re-emerges, and forces us to ask ourselves about the meaning of life."



Val Kilmer, ‘Top Gun’ and Batman Star with an Intense Approach, Dies at 65 

Val Kilmer poses for a portrait, Jan. 9, 2014, in Nashville, Tenn. (AP)
Val Kilmer poses for a portrait, Jan. 9, 2014, in Nashville, Tenn. (AP)
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Val Kilmer, ‘Top Gun’ and Batman Star with an Intense Approach, Dies at 65 

Val Kilmer poses for a portrait, Jan. 9, 2014, in Nashville, Tenn. (AP)
Val Kilmer poses for a portrait, Jan. 9, 2014, in Nashville, Tenn. (AP)

Val Kilmer, the brooding, versatile actor who played fan favorite Iceman in "Top Gun," donned a voluminous cape as Batman in "Batman Forever" and portrayed Jim Morrison in "The Doors," has died. He was 65.

Kilmer died Tuesday night in Los Angeles, surrounded by family and friends, his daughter, Mercedes Kilmer, said in an email to The Associated Press.

Val Kilmer died from pneumonia. He had recovered after a 2014 throat cancer diagnosis that required two tracheotomies.

"I have behaved poorly. I have behaved bravely. I have behaved bizarrely to some. I deny none of this and have no regrets because I have lost and found parts of myself that I never knew existed," he says toward the end of "Val," the 2021 documentary on his career. "And I am blessed."

Kilmer, the youngest actor ever accepted to the prestigious Juilliard School at the time he attended, experienced the ups and downs of fame more dramatically than most. His break came in 1984’s spy spoof "Top Secret!" followed by the comedy "Real Genius" in 1985. Kilmer would later show his comedy chops again in films including "MacGruber" and "Kiss Kiss Bang Bang."

His movie career hit its zenith in the early 1990s as he made a name for himself as a dashing leading man, starring alongside Kurt Russell and Bill Paxton in 1993’s "Tombstone," as Elvis’ ghost in "True Romance" and as a bank-robbing demolition expert in Michael Mann’s 1995 film "Heat" with Al Pacino and Robert De Niro.

The actor — who took part in the Method branch of Suzuki arts training — threw himself into parts. When he played Doc Holliday in "Tombstone," he filled his bed with ice for the final scene to mimic the feeling of dying from tuberculosis. To play Morrison, he wore leather pants all the time, asked castmates and crew to only refer to him as Jim Morrison and blasted The Doors for a year.

That intensity also gave Kilmer a reputation that he was difficult to work with, something he grudgingly agreed with later in life, but always defending himself by emphasizing art over commerce.

"In an unflinching attempt to empower directors, actors and other collaborators to honor the truth and essence of each project, an attempt to breathe Suzukian life into a myriad of Hollywood moments, I had been deemed difficult and alienated the head of every major studio," he wrote in his memoir, "I’m Your Huckleberry."

One of his more iconic roles — hotshot pilot Tom "Iceman" Kazansky opposite Tom Cruise — almost didn’t happen. Kilmer was courted by director Tony Scott for "Top Gun" but initially balked. "I didn’t want the part. I didn’t care about the film. The story didn’t interest me," he wrote in his memoir. He agreed after being promised that his role would improve from the initial script. He would reprise the role in the film’s 2022 sequel, "Top Gun: Maverick."

One career nadir was playing Batman in Joel Schumacher’s goofy, garish "Batman Forever" with Nicole Kidman and opposite Chris O’Donnell’s Robin — before George Clooney took up the mantle for 1997’s "Batman & Robin" and after Michael Keaton played the Dark Knight in 1989’s "Batman" and 1992’s "Batman Returns."

Janet Maslin in The New York Times said Kilmer was "hamstrung by the straight-man aspects of the role," while Roger Ebert deadpanned that he was a "completely acceptable" substitute for Keaton. Kilmer, who was one and done as Batman, blamed much of his performance on the suit.

The Times was the first to report his death on Tuesday.

"When you’re in it, you can barely move and people have to help you stand up and sit down," Kilmer said in "Val," in lines spoken by his son Jack, who voiced the part of his father in the film because of his inability to speak. "You also can’t hear anything and after a while people stop talking to you, it’s very isolating. It was a struggle for me to get a performance past the suit, and it was frustrating until I realized that my role in the film was just to show up and stand where I was told to."

His next projects were the film version of the 1960s TV series "The Saint" — fussily putting on wigs, accents and glasses — and "The Island of Dr. Moreau" with Marlon Brando, which became one of the decade’s most infamously cursed productions.

David Gregory’s 2014 documentary "Lost Soul: The Doomed Journey of Richard Stanley’s Island of Dr. Moreau," described a cursed set that included a hurricane, Kilmer bullying director Richard Stanley, the firing of Stanley via fax (who sneaked back on set as an extra with a mask on) and extensive rewrites by Kilmer and Brando. The older actor told the younger at one point: "'It’s a job now, Val. A lark. We’ll get through it.’ I was as sad as I’ve ever been on a set," Kilmer wrote in his memoir.

In 1996, Entertainment Weekly ran a cover story about Kilmer titled "The Man Hollywood Loves to Hate″ The directors Schumacher and John Frankenheimer, who finished "The Island of Dr. Moreau," said he was difficult. Frankenheimer said there were two things he would never do: "Climb Mount Everest and work with Val Kilmer again."

Other artists came to his defense, like D. J. Caruso, who directed Kilmer in "The Salton Sea″ and said the actor simply liked to talk out scenes and enjoyed having a director's attention.

"Val needs to immerse himself in a character. I think what happened with directors like Frankenheimer and Schumacher is that Val would ask a lot of questions, and a guy like Schumacher would say, ‘You’re Batman! Just go do it,’″ Caruso told The New York Times in 2002.

After "The Island of Dr. Moreau," the movies were smaller, like David Mamet human-trafficking thriller "Spartan"; "Joe the King" in 1999, in which he played a paunchy, abusive alcoholic; and playing the doomed ’70s porn star John Holmes in 2003’s "Wonderland." He also threw himself into his one-man stage show "Citizen Twain," in which he played Mark Twain.

"I enjoy the depth and soul the piece has that Twain had for his fellow man and America," he told Variety in 2018. "And the comedy that’s always so close to the surface, and how valuable his genius is for us today."

Kilmer spent his formative years in the Chatsworth neighborhood of Los Angeles. He attended Chatsworth High School alongside future Oscar winner Kevin Spacey and future Emmy winner Mare Winningham. At 17, he was the youngest drama student ever admitted at the Juilliard School in 1981.

Shortly after he left for Juilliard, his younger brother, 15-year-old Wesley, suffered an epileptic seizure in the family’s Jacuzzi and died on the way to the hospital. Wesley was an aspiring filmmaker when he died.

"I miss him and miss his things. I have his art up. I like to think about what he would have created. I’m still inspired by him," Kilmer told the Times.

While still at Juilliard, Kilmer co-wrote and appeared in the play "How It All Began" and later turned down a role in Francis Ford Coppola’s "The Outsiders" for the Broadway play, "Slab Boys," alongside Kevin Bacon and Sean Penn.

Kilmer published two books of poetry (including "My Edens After Burns") and was nominated for a Grammy in 2012 for spoken word album for "The Mark of Zorro." He was also a visual artist and a lifelong Christian Scientist.

He dated Cher, married and divorced actor Joanne Whalley. He is survived by their two children, Mercedes and Jack.

"I have no regrets," Kilmer told the AP in 2021. "I’ve witness and experienced miracles."