Yu, an employee at a clothing boutique, lives with Kei, an out-of-work actor who lives off of her. Battling listlessness in his daily life, Kei decides the only way to bring legitimacy to their relationship is to get married. However, when proposed the question, Yu withdraws and Kei further dwells on his own misery. “2/duo” covers a turbulent period in the lives of a young couple and the fallout thereafter.
“2/Duo” is Playing as part of Metograph's Hachimiri Madness: Japanese Indies from the Punk Rock years
An intimate portrayal of a relationship reaching the point of exhaustion, “2/Duo” is a film that will resonate with those who have struggled with similar feelings of stagnation. In fact, its minimalistic approach feels semi-perverse in the way the viewer is given a front-row seat into the lives of two individuals at a breaking point. Yet, capturing this level of intimacy marks “2/Duo” as a deeply engaging work that relies on a minimalistic yet intimate approach, a strong script, and ideal casting.
Notably, the performances from Eri Yu and Hidetoshi Nishijima come across as both sincere and realistic. Coupling this with the 3rd wall breaking where the couple will talk to the director and discuss their feelings, the two embody the tragedy of their characters and force the audience to follow along in their reasoning. Eri Yu, in particular, conveys uncertainty with an anxious energy that sees her movements accurately exaggerated to convey heightened stress/emotions. Complimentary to Eri Yu's performance, Hidetoshi Nishijima, as Kei, conveys a man on edge with vague notions of where his strong feelings are coming from but unable to articulate them to himself or his partner. The two play off of each other in a masterful fashion, bringing legitimacy to the emotions explored between the couple. This is, undeniably, the most memorable and defining aspect of “2/Duo”.
The strength of the script and the performances allow the minimalistic production design, sound, and editing of the film to feel intricate to the experience as opposed to a limitation. Furthermore, every moment of heated and uncomfortable dialogue lingers between the couple to both establish a sense of realism as well as make the viewer slightly uncomfortable as a third occupant in a cluttered house that plays the stage of a deteriorating relationship. The absence of sound in intense moments captures feelings of isolation, and the minimal yet beautiful score acts more to transition between scenes than attempt to escalate the tense interactions. The pace of the production makes the work less palatable for a general audience but for those who appreciate nuance, Nobuhiro Suwa works wonderfully within these self-imposed restrictions.
“2/Duo” can be an uncomfortable experience given its intimate approach to exploring the breakdown of a relationship. Yet, it also poses a valuable reflection on the human spirit to navigate and grow through the most difficult of times. It is a film that is deceptively complex, which requires the viewer to place a certain amount of themselves into the story. Not everyone will relate to it on any level, and more will be deterred by the pacing which is less focused on the story than on constructing an experience. However, Nobuhiro Suwa's “2/Duo” is deserved a watch for fans of unconventional cinema; if the work does resonate it marks a cathartic and unforgettable watch.
