Japanese Reviews Reviews

Film Review: Nipponia Nippon – Fukushima Rhapsody (2019) by Ryo Saitani

Ryo Saitani uses various styles to take us on a wild ride through the complexities of post-disaster Fukushima in "Nipponia Nippon - Fukushima Rhapsody"

It's probably fair to say that is something of a cinephile. Having studied under “Samurai Assassin” director Kihachi Okamoto, he set up various companies and institutions to showcase manga, anime and Japanese cinema classics. But, it was not until 2015, well into his sixties, that he made his directorial debut. His new offering, “Nipponia Nippon – Fukushima Rhapsody,” is a melting pot of styles and influences – no doubt gained over the years – but this rollercoaster ride has a clear and definite message.

Nipponia Nippon – Fukushima Rhapsody” is screening at Winter Film Awards International Film Festival 2020

Kokuhei Kusunoki () is a local government administrator transferred to the Naraho regional office. A 90 minute commute, the town is in close by the Fukushima Nuclear Power Station damaged in the 2011 Triple Disaster. His new job? Deputy Chief for Disaster PR.

At weekends, he stays in Aizuwakamatsu with his daughter, Umi () and daughter-in-law, Haruka (Miri De Couto), while his son is away in Germany. But during the week, he is in Naraho, finding ways to reinvent the city that bears the brunt of the disaster, with the town evacuated and bags of contaminated soil everywhere.

He does this with the support of Town Controller Murai () and his team of eccentrics, brainstorming ideas of open-top bus tours around the area and going into the nuclear site. But they are working within a ghost town where people's lives have been destroyed. No-go zones are a daily reality, with fishermen unable to fish and elderly women fighting off officials from TEPCO offering compensation. The impossible task of rebuilding destroyed lives.

But “Nipponia Nippon – Fukushima Rhapsody” is much more than just its story. It is a mix of animation, theatre and musical; comedy and horrifying images; literary references and political rhetoric. It could perhaps be said that Saitani is trying to force too many elements into the runtime, especially for a novice at the helm, despite his elder years.

There are various animation, theatrical and musical styles present, taking inspiration from throughout Japan's history, as well as external influences. Literary references are dotted throughout, but mixed with a comedy style seemingly out of the 1970s. The editing has a musical rhythm running through every scene, while the comedy is almost choreographed.  

But what is noticeable is the approach Saitani takes towards Fukushima. The aftermath – approaching a decade on – is now very much an everyday part of life. Rather than sensationalising the impact, it is presented simply. When entering the “no-go” zones, we are presented with documentary-like footage of ghost towns shot from the car window, while Murai narrates the images. This has now become the only landscape Murai knows.

Murai, as the voice of the town, makes a combination of jokes and controversial opinions regarding the region, but always makes a point worth hearing. His comparison of how far more people dying in car accidents than were killed by radiation from the nuclear power station has a logic of someone who has spent each day there, though are perhaps made in jest. He jokes that there is no longer a problem, as there is no longer anybody here. The team also joke about eating radioactive food as a way of coping. The situation has become very much normalised.  

But as the film develops, so does the real message behind it. Throughout, animate and musical sequences ironically acknowledge the impact on the natural environment and wildlife, as a scientist discovers abnormalities in the local butterflies. Meanwhile, Haruka nurses a little boy whose family were killed in the disaster, now suffering from radiation poisoning; and Kusunoki's asthma starts to get noticeably worse. 

But more anger is directed towards the government. “Safe” contamination levels are raised from 1mg to 20mg to give the facade of safety in the region – compared to the lies of a street hustler's trick. And this is something Saitani examines as a more deeply-rooted problem with Japanese society. Kusunoki's son Ichiro, living in Germany, writes to him about his experiences. Over shots of the holocaust, Ichiro narrates how Germany apologised for its mistakes and has been able to move on. This is something that Japan hasn't yet done.

The finale is a big song-and-dance number by power company employees and politicians alike, celebrating their own self-defined successes. Even with the clear-up operation, outsourcing of the work means that profit is to be made at the tax payers' expense. Either way, the businessmen cannot lose. The disaster is not something that requires anyone to take responsibility – it is merely another way to make money. Songs claim that the Japanese are easily led and will go along with what they're told, resulting in little actual change.   

The Nipponia nippon of the title is the Japanese crested ibis – a bird that is now endangered. Could a lack of human responsibility result in nature becoming endangered? Saitani may throw in a lot ideas that are difficult to digest with “Nipponia Nippon -Fukushima Rhapsody”, but then humans are a complicated species.  

About the author

Andrew Thayne

Born in Luton, Gross Britannia, my life ambition was to be a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle. But, as I entered my teens, after being introduced to the films of Bruce Lee and Jackie Chan (at an illegal age, I might add), it soon dawned on me that this ambition was merely a liking for the kung-fu genre. On being exposed to the works of Akira Kurosawa, Wong Kar-wai, Yimou Zhang and Katsuhiro Otomo while still at a young age, this liking grew into a love of Asian cinema in general.

When not eating dry cream crackers, I like to critique footballing performances, drink a beer, pretend to master the Japanese and Hungarian languages and read a book.

I have a lot of sugar in my diet, but not much salt.

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