Dolls

Write a given amount of film criticism, a given number of movie reviews, a given quantity of fiction in the form of short stories, novels, screenplays, monologues, and a given amount of non-fiction, and in time a certain truth becomes apparent: You are not writing about what is before you but what is within you. You are, in fact, engaging in a most selfish act, and instead of reacting to the world around you you are making the world react to you through the written word.

Not that such antics constitute bad form and equally bad manners--they do not. But it goes to a point: When does a storyteller go from being just a storyteller to, well, being a puppetmaster: One who not only manipulates the emotions of his audience but his audience as a whole?

And it is unethical, immoral to do so? Or does doing so add a new dimension to the storytelling process?

Superficially such questions are philosophical, but considered with due course they reveal a tool otherwise unused by the storyteller: The means by which a given tale becomes more than just a tale: It becomes a personal experience and adventure.

The master of such is a man named Takeshi Kitano, who also acts under the name 'Beat Takeshi", a master of visually based storytelling heavily influenced by moments of violence, balanced by periods of quiet and stillness, counter-balanced by times of reflection and abject loneliness, resulting in original, distinct films and movies.

You may know him for his recent work "The Blind Swordsman: Zatoichi". Now you will know him for his film "Dolls", the story of three tragic relationships.

The title, "Dolls", comes from the Japanese tradition of banraku, or puppet plays: Elaborate dolls are moved about a given stage or setting, with each manipulated by two or three discretely dressed artists, one of which is apparent to the audience, with the others less so. As the puppet moves its eyes, hands, heads, arms, a reader recites the dialogue, often accompanied by music.

"Dolls" opens with a bunraku presentation, and transitions into the first of three live-action stories in which the characters seem moved about the stage upon which their given tale is told--their lives, without wills and freedom of their own. (Pop quiz: Name the Shakespearean play this echoes, and recognizes the democracy foretold that became the United States of America in the 21st century. Prophetic or just a lucky guess on the part of the Bard? I leave you to decide.) The first story presented involves Matsumoto (Hidetoshi Nishijima), who is engaged to Sawako (Miho Kanno). His family, his parents, specifically, insist he break off the engagement and instead marry his boss' daughter. Not surprisingly, he is reluctant to do so, and Sawako attempts suicide when she learns she cannot have the man she loves. Her attempt leaves her brain-damaged, and is relocated to a nursing home by Matsumoto, who devotes his life to being with her, caring for her. Their life together is hardly ideal: They live in a hotel room, in a car, and, finally, in the outdoors. She wanders off, he finds her. She wanders again. He finds her again, and ties her to him with a length of rope. As they struggle to survive in this manner they become known as the Bound Beggars.

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