告白 is based on a novel of the same name, written by Kanae Minato. It describes a sadistic, thanatos-driven Japanese youth beneath the façade of pulp high school innocence put up by Japanese media of all kinds to this very day. Regarding this, it can be considered part of an artistic effort dating back from well-established pieces such as Shunji Iwai's [岩井俊二] リリイ・シュシュのすべて [translated as 'All About Lily Chou-Chou'] (2001). Also, it deals with parent abuse in Japan (which has reached a historic high this very year), bullying, HIV discrimination and all kinds of harsh concealed realities in centemporary urban life. The plot goes as follows: a teacher's daughter is killed by some of her students, and the finding and punishing of them becomes the central driver of a deep dive in the background of various characters; the no easy task becomes highly conflated and ultimately dependent on a hellishly turbulent mix of character issues, brutal social relationships and personal childhood trauma.
Yet, intriguing as the plot progression that unravels (in a nice non-linear scheme) is the cinematographic delivery of it all that really brings the movie together. A somber palette of bluish grey and black jarred by high contrasts reveals itself to be appropiate for themes and general composition, and there is a really intelligent use of both slow motion footage and lighting; an astounding OST flirting with post-rock and gathering from Radiohead to the harsh Japanese experimental band Boris [ボリス], ranging from J-Pop to nursery rhyme-like hits, really does its part to enhance the whole film. And overall Nakashima's personal cadence, capable of mixing the most extreme transitions (from a murder scene to indulgent games, from a brutal flashback to the plainest of conversations), even though already present in the tragicomic Memories of Matsuko, develops in this film outgrowing his previous works, and reappears in his latest ones.
The teacher's character, Yuko Moriguchi [Takako Matsu 松たか子] is pivotal to the movie, and brilliantly leads a whole amazing cast for a film heavy relying on psychology and inner trouble; there are in fact very few locations for the most part, but they are addressed in spectacular fashion. Yuko Moriguchi deals along the film with how to inflict a punishment outside the law, as the murders are protected the Juvenile Law of 1947, which exonerates any minor from the habitual punishment for capital crimes, including murder. In fact the flavor of the matter seems inspired by the scarce yet powerful titulars which often shook a Japan sometimes perceived as indulgent and with a low violent crime rate. Juvenile crime does not always mean petty robbery or drugs: as of July 2014 a 15 year old female student murdered Aiwa Matsuo [松尾 愛和], also 15: she beated her down with an iron pipe, strangled her and then beheaded the corpse. The perpetrator 'was a very candid girl' who 'often started crying when she had an argument with someone'. In Confessions, Yuko's main targets are two
minors: Naoki Shimomura [Kaoru Fujiwara 藤原薫] or Student B, and Shuya Watanabe [Yukito Nishii 西井幸人] or Student A. This is frequent terminology as minor culprit's identity is always concealead in Japan. The also marginal girl Mizuki Kitahara [Ai Hashimoto 橋本 愛] eventually joins their status as not only culpits but also scapegoats for the rest of classmates.
The teacher's character, Yuko Moriguchi [Takako Matsu 松たか子] is pivotal to the movie, and brilliantly leads a whole amazing cast for a film heavy relying on psychology and inner trouble; there are in fact very few locations for the most part, but they are addressed in spectacular fashion. Yuko Moriguchi deals along the film with how to inflict a punishment outside the law, as the murders are protected the Juvenile Law of 1947, which exonerates any minor from the habitual punishment for capital crimes, including murder. In fact the flavor of the matter seems inspired by the scarce yet powerful titulars which often shook a Japan sometimes perceived as indulgent and with a low violent crime rate. Juvenile crime does not always mean petty robbery or drugs: as of July 2014 a 15 year old female student murdered Aiwa Matsuo [松尾 愛和], also 15: she beated her down with an iron pipe, strangled her and then beheaded the corpse. The perpetrator 'was a very candid girl' who 'often started crying when she had an argument with someone'. In Confessions, Yuko's main targets are two
minors: Naoki Shimomura [Kaoru Fujiwara 藤原薫] or Student B, and Shuya Watanabe [Yukito Nishii 西井幸人] or Student A. This is frequent terminology as minor culprit's identity is always concealead in Japan. The also marginal girl Mizuki Kitahara [Ai Hashimoto 橋本 愛] eventually joins their status as not only culpits but also scapegoats for the rest of classmates.
For the whole class in which the murder took place is depicted as not any better than the criminals, and thats the strongest factor of ambiguity when it comes to find out who the perpetrators are. Among the teenage boys and girls bandits, porn dealers and bullies are found. The very start of the movie, an assessment of a regular class in Moriguchi's teaching, is disheartening and offputting in itself. This brutal depiction of teenagers also circles again in Nakashima's 'The World of Kanako': a callousness and deep ennui of boys and girls lingering on the abyss of almost inhuman behaviour. Concerning Kokuhaku, this has very interesting effects: not only dissolves the boundaries between 'good and evil', getting closer to the richness of real life instead of those overused American-cinema distinctions merely based on legality or ethics but also affects Nakashima's assessment of the nature of crime ands its motivations. Even considering the fact that all students involved in Yuko's daughter murder plot suffered from a highly disfunctional family background, Yuko herself is depicted as a lone mother raising her daughter for herself, briging her to the workplace. Therefore this is not about 'how the traditional values and family are being lost'. Moreover, there is a radical and willful contrast between
Yuko's affection and care for Manami and Shuya's raising by his mother: it's not the actual configuration of a family but the particular relationship between its members, asserts Kokuhaku, the driving factor of the maladjustment and out-of-placeness that ends in darkness.
Another big theme would be: fitting in. The never spoken of need for care, attention and participation, for recognition in Hegelian termns. Perhaps the more 'teen' theme of all its repertoire, Kokuhaku's take on the subject is fresh and astonishing in both its simplicity and strenght. Both personal experience and stories on the subject confirmn oneself that never are humans beings as cruel or stupid as when they band together to build a 'friendship' or achieve recognition by others. To make a 'partnership in evil' rather than remain alone is a path that many if not most take early on, and just deepen on it until their very last breath. It is not a decision taken and forgotten: it's an existential path. Nakashima really hits the nail on the subject at many levels. With the characters as augmented cases so to speak, Nakashima traces a vivid picture of contemporary society and its troubled, troubled soul. But not everything in Kokuhaku is bleak: it is also filled with moments of tenderness and true connection. Aside from a truly amazing scene, an amazing feat in film if you ask me, the final might come as unexpected. But of the good kind, I promise.
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