Japón (2002) – DVD

***/**** Image B+ Sound A Extras B
starring Alejandro Ferretis, Magdalena Flores, Yolanda Villa, Martin Serranos
written and directed by Carlos Reygadas

by Travis Mackenzie Hoover You are hereby warned: there's a sense in which Japón is long-winded, ponderous, and full of dead spots that go on forever. But there's also a sense that without those dead spots, the shining nuggets of value wouldn't mean nearly as much. It's not a story, it's a landscape, there to be explored as opposed to shuttled through in a hurry; if you lose your interest one moment, something will come along to pique it again. Though the keepcase of Japón's DVD release approvingly links it to that other natural wonder, Andrei Tarkovsky, the film is more carnal and less religious than his work: director Carlos Reygadas isn't into the music of the spheres so much as the beauty of the land and sweat trickling down your body. You get distracted, but don't worry: you'll be back.

The thin line of narrative doesn't begin to explain the pleasures of Japón. A nameless man (Alejandro Ferretis) travels from the city deep into the Mexican countryside, looking for a place to die. He finds a tiny hamlet and is more or less billeted with Ascen (Magdalene Flores), an old Indian woman with a strong religious bent and a laissez-faire attitude about what happens to her property. The man enjoys the solitude and the scenery, builds a rapport with Ascen, and puts off his suicidal plans; as unbroken A-B-C events, there's not much going on, but Reygadas is equally interested in the where and the what. You're not supposed to take it as read that the man is revitalized by his adventure–you're supposed to be inundated by the things that renew him.

Whether they will renew you depends on how much you're willing to look. There's no denying the irritation of having to fend for yourself in the sweeping vistas and earthy colours of Regadas's mise-en-scène–after a while, they all look the same, and you begin blanking out for long passages of foliage and rock. But this is merely the point. Once you scramble back to the central bond of the Man and Ascen, the events have more meaning: they've been contextualized in some cosmic sense, making their quiet rapport seem more significant than one more relationship in a sea of people-centric stories. Thus when a people-centric nephew tries to take Ascen's house away, it resonates beyond the loss of property as an upsetting of a way of life.

And just because it's ponderous doesn't mean it's pompous. Despite Reygadas's admitted debt to Bresson, the film has a sense of humour in its austerity, as well as a sexual dimension that keeps it out of the transcendent. Unlike the lauded French master, the film is very much concerned with the here and now, wallowing (if not revelling) in the places away from "civilized" command and taking a stand for the very 'presentness' of existing reality. Although that reality flags from time to time, it's still enough to punch up the essential points, ones the director makes forcefully, if surreptitiously.

THE DVD
Tartan issues the unrated director's cut of Japón on DVD in a 2.60:1 (!) anamorphic widescreen presentation. While the film's highly-saturated images would challenge any telecine operator, that doesn't quite excuse the transfer's too-hot whites and swampy blacks. Fine detail has problems, too, probably due to the abnormally compressed aspect ratio (coupled with the 16mm origins of the piece). The Dolby Digital 5.1 audio, however, is amazingly subtle, with atmospheric wind rustling, cricket chirping, and birdsong variously coming from the front and surround channels. It's a model of how an effects-light soundmix should be handled.

The disc's main extra is a 41-minute English interview with Reygadas, who proves to be a bright talker and a potent personality. He speaks passionately on his affinity for the Rossellini/Bresson/Tarkovsky school, on the use of colourful family friend Alejandro Ferretis and non-professional Magdalene Flores, his rationale behind the enigmatic title, and matters aesthetic–suggesting the whole time someone far more assertive and less angsty than his suicidal protagonist. The film's trailer and a trailer for Bush's Brain round out the platter.

126 minutes; Unrated; 2.60:1 (16×9-enhanced); Spanish DD 5.1; CC; English (optional) subtitles; DVD-9; Region One; Tartan