US and British military strikes against the Taliban in Afghanistan began early this morning. We had prayed that the “dispute” would not intensify, so we can only see this development as deeply unfortunate. This year’s YIDFF saw a variety of peace advocacy actions, including CHANCE! (responsible for the yellow ribbons found at each venue). The morning’s events may mean a shift from “ordinary everyday life” to “tragic daily life,” not only for the people of Afghanistan but for all of us in this world. It is imperative that we ask ourselves what we can do, here and now.

Dwellers of the slums

There’s no doubt that Vanda and her family are in a cruel and negative situation. Because of this, I could have filmed them as the dregs of society, and if I stuck the right kind of music onto it, I’m sure I could have made the kind of negative film people were expecting. But life is more complicated than that, and you can’t just judge things as positive or negative, or as good or bad—it’s not that easy. A film isn’t a police station or a courtroom, so I wanted to convey that complexity exactly as it was. Vanda and her family live according to the very basic, pure notion of “wanting to improve our lives, and not live like dogs.” I just didn’t want to make the kind of film that would betray them.

Speaking about the film

You liked the film, so I don’t mind saying something about it, but I don’t want to talk about it the same way as I’d talk about an ordinary movie, because this kind of film is dying out, but at the same time, it’s also the story of the death of Vanda’s neighborhood. Capitalism is killing them both.... Right now the whole world’s going on about terrorism, but when you even try to talk about my film like an ordinary movie that’s a terrorist act that’s going to kill my film.

Vanda and I

I used to shoot huge productions on 35 mm. That involved production methods, hierarchies and a schedule down to the minute like you’d find in the army. But I don’t like any of that, so I wanted to find a different method of making films, a way that was more gradual and patient. I don’t like leaders with power, so I can’t do that. And then Vanda and her family really do live in a slum, so they’d help me when I needed something, and if I needed money they’d lend it to me. For that reason, I think you could say that they weren’t just actors, they were also part of the crew. The kind of fundamental mutual trust you find in my film between me and the object of the film is dying out in movies today.

We can’t forget about Ozu

Going back to my point about leaving complexities as they are, this film owes a large debt to Ozu. Ozu’s films start from stereotypes, then gradually paint a complex and complicated world. I digested this from watching his films when I was younger, and it’s stayed with me. I think it’s important to stay on this path that continues to lead out from Ozu, and to make films that can be useful to people.

•In Vanda’s Room screens again on Monday, October 8 at 19:20 at Solaris 2.

DB: You chose a social theme, that of “Filipina brides,” so I was surprised to see that you were actually focusing primarily on your own interest in the theme.

AI: If anything, I was trying to make an experimental piece like this. I originally belonged to a theater group, and I was trained to produce conventional documentaries that used narration. However, I’m actually more interested in leaving that all behind and experimenting with new, creative methods that will let me express more personal emotion. So I’m careful not to be restricted by traditional methods. I want to make films in which it’s impossible to say where the beginning and the end are, films that are a kind of mixture, unlike a linear piece that proceeds in order with a beginning, a middle and an end.

DB: I sensed the pain you felt in those women.

AI: I was taught to be politically outspoken at a progressive university, so I was critical of the “Asian Brides.” I have always seen them negatively. For example, I saw them as victims who came to Yamagata believing that they’d found a way to ameliorate their lives, and I saw the phenomenon itself as a form of slave trade. I thought that they were brought to Yamagata without knowing anything. However, as I got to know the women, I began to realize that they made the decision to come to Yamagata on their own, fully aware of the conditions. We cannot judge the women one-sidedly as being the victims, nor can we criticize the men who brought the brides to Yamagata.

DB: Why do you think the brides are so happy and cheerful in the movie, despite being married to an unknown man in a foreign country?

AI: People leave the Philipines because living conditions in their country are not good. So I imagine that the women feel like they want to prove that they are happy in Japan. In reality, they might only be a bit happy. They must have sacrificed a lot to come to Japan. To be brought into an entirely different culture is already a sacrifice. So when you interview these women without making them aware of these things, they all answer, “I am happy to have come here. I have money, a house, kids, and I’m able to wire money back home. I’m happy to be able to do these things.” However, I don’t think they would have said yes had I asked them “Are you REALLY happy?”

Avic Ilagan’s next film will revolve around Matilde, who appears in Sowing Seeds. I am looking forward to seeing her again in Yamagata.

“My friend who used to be so aloof unexpectedly came to me one day and asked me how I was doing with my girlfriend,” said Neeraj Bhasin, director of My Friend Su. “I was shocked, but also felt very happy. A few years later, I heard some not-so-generous rumors about him, so I decided to go see him. In the course of repeated meetings during the six months, he gradually started talking about himself.”

“I am a woman trapped in a man’s body,” says Su in the film. I wondered how the director took his friend’s words. The answer came not from his own mouth, but in the film itself, in the gaze of the camera, apparently bewitched by the charm of its protagonist.

Three of this year’s films from India give insight into male sexuality. A man who sells home-made potency enhancers at a men-only bazaar; half-naked men arduously engaged in drills at a wrestling club.... In Performance, Rahul Roy documents male eroticism and desire, but suspends it just before it is consummated, and shows it as an internal energy. Roy’s ambivalent stance towards the topic is amazingly revolutionary.

Sexual fantasies swirl like smoke in Amar Kanwar’s King of Dreams. Although I translated the subtitles for it, I confess I still can’t bring it into focus in my mind. As I write this article, I am thinking of questions to ask the director at the screening Sunday night.

In the space of one year, these three directors from India, where social and religious control over sex is not weak, have attemped to give insights into sexual desire and male sexuality that are directed to one’s inner self. What changes is Indian society undergoing? Their questions are extremely stimulating to us all, aren’t they?

Ogawa Shinsuke and Robert Kramer must have passed each other somewhere on the sidewalk or in the theater in 1989. I remember the passion with which Ogawa spoke of Kramer and Newsreel, so Ogawa clearly thought highly of Kramer. That said, no one remembers seeing the two talk, nor are there records of any conversation. Whether by people continuing their work or by retrospective screenings, Ogawa and Kramer were brought together again this year. Seeing this, I couldn’t help but imagine the two stopping to talk this time as they passed each other in the aisle. Films and film festivals continue. Let us meet again.