Kotoko is the latest film from Japanese auteur and master of intimidation – Shinya Tsukamoto. Japanese folk musician Cocco stars as the titular character unable to tell the difference between the imaginary and the real due to disturbing mental neuroses. Tsukamoto’s depiction of mental illness collects leading lady Cocco’s own experience and twins that with the nightmarish imagination of the Tetsuo director to create one of the more thoughtful titles in an iconic filmography which is far more invested in the visceral than the cognitive.
One of the manifestations of Kotoko’s mania is an inability to distinguish between the real and the imagined, one which poses a threat to her and her baby boy. A child who is in great danger as she often behaves violently, hitting the doubles. Whether rightfully lashing or not, her mental distress makes it impossible to stay in one place too long. This cycle of emotional violence leads the Japanese social services towards taking her son away, putting him under the care of Kotoko’s sister away from the chaos of Tokyo and into the relative quiet of Okinawa. A decision that is the right way for her child, but leaving her alone with her distressing violent thoughts, she is in the worst place she could be.
Tsukamoto has used shaky cameras at multiple points in his career. Still, in the 2010s, it was more common in action cinema than in films from the Japanese auteur’s world. The wild camera work that Tsukamoto has adopted is to stress the loose grip that Kotoko has, the chaos that is her mind. While difficult to follow, it is wholly effective in placing the viewer in the head of its titular character. It’s nauseating cinematography as a tool for empathy.
She brings a vulnerability and savagery that feed off each other. She shows total confidence in her director and together they have put one of the great début performances of the 21st century.
KOTOKO
The only respite she gets is when she sings. Relief from her psychoses only comes whenever Cocco sings. A simple act that morphs the all-consuming darkness into something hopeful – likewise for the scenes in Okinawa. Through her let-up’s she meets who appears to be a stalker in author Seitaro Tanaka (Tsukamoto). He only wants her to be happy, even if he is overtly frank in expressing his feelings. Unfortunately for Tanaka, Kotoko has deep-seated issues with men and seeks to express her malcontent with violence, making a bloody pulp out of him on more than one occasion. These attempts to escape her mental torture provide the brightest moments. The film is relentless, with 90 minutes of mental strife, graphic imagery, threat, and violence – Kotoko is always hard to watch.
There is a sequence where it seems as if her son is torturing her by running away from her around the apartment complex, forever just out of reach. This dreamy tete-a-tete between mental health and violence is framed with visceral camera work that consistently threatens to teeter over the edge. The most experiential of Tsukamoto’s readily available films, albeit an experience that would overwhelm most. And all of that is mere foreplay to the climax her mental illness has in store. Throughout the film, mysterious body armour-wielding characters have been blurring the lines between cogent thought and mania. Knowing what Shinya Tsukamoto is capable of – we expect him to pay off with this. He implies that something terrible could happen at the peak of her mental distress and fatigue, and we are right on that line. And then the scene happens. Usually, an edit would pull away, or a contrivance would prevent such a horrific act from happening. Obviously, Tsukamoto wouldn’t have got his reputation if he wimped out – and then he drops one of the most graphic shots in his entire filmography. It is not often that a film has me shout out in shock.
Kotoko is Tsukamoto at his most thoughtful and visceral. He may have offered more disturbing images in his Tetso movies or Tokyo Fist. Those films live by violence and chaos – there is no divorce from reality; he places the viewer in the thick of things. The film’s potency comes through a ferociously naked and honest performance by Cocco. She shows total confidence in her director, and together they have put on one of the great début performances of the 21st century. While unpleasant, nasty and horrifying, it is also nothing less than vital. In his depiction of mental trauma, Shinya Tsukamoto has directed the best film of his career.
Kotoko is available on Blu-ray from Third Window Films
Reblogged this on Karakui – Okinawan Pop Culture.