A sexist society is a fate worse than death for young Japanese women

The world of theater has given us several promising new directorial talents in recent years, such as Kenji Yamauchi (“Her Father, My Lover” and “At the terrace”) and Masaaki Akahori (“The Samurai That Night” and “The Katsuragi Case”).

Another is Daigo Matsui, still only 31, who has his own theater group called Gojigen, as well as seven features under his belt already. Most of them share an interest in the contemporary concerns of Japanese youth, and his recent works display a particular focus on female characters.

Yu Aoi, left, and Mitsuki Takahata star in Daigo Matsui’s “Japanese Girls Never Die” (C) 2016 "Japanese Girls Never Die" Film Partners

His last two, Gothic Lolita webcasting idol drama “Wonderful World End” and teenage ensemble bicycle road film “My Huff and Puff Journey” were both low budget indie productions with young women as protagonists. As with his third long-form movie “How Selfish I Am,” they also used music videos or recording artists themselves as partial inspiration.

Prior to those films, Matsui’s “Sweet Poolside” perhaps offered the best evidence of his potential as a more conventional filmmaker.

Its provocative poster of a girl clad only in a skin-tight school bathing suit probably attracted and turned off viewers in equal measure. However, despite depicting a sexually-charged arrangement between a pre-pubescent junior school boy and a female classmate troubled by her natural furriness, the film didn’t reduce the girl to a mere object of adolescent ardor.

Her presentation as a fully-rounded character in her own right who awkwardly explores her precocious maturity, and the adroit handling of other more commonplace coming-of-age developments underlined Matsui’s affinity for young people coming to terms with themselves and their environments, especially women, which he would continue to expand on in his subsequent movies.

This is very much the case with his latest, “Japanese Girls Never Die,” which takes his sympathetic view of the plight of his young countrywomen to new, and even militant, lengths.

It was one of two local films selected for competition at this year’s Tokyo International Film Festival, in keeping with its programmers’ efforts to further promote the talents they have championed in previous years (Matsui’s “How Selfish I Am!” was screened in the Japanese Cinema Splash section in 2013.)

Like many downbeat youth films set in nondescript regional cities, it presents life outside major metropolitan centers as a crippling purgatory in which young people are doomed to work in low-paying, unrewarding jobs under chauvinistic middle-aged managers, while trapped forever within their claustrophobic school social circles and hierarchies.

The film’s Japanese title, “Azumi Haruko wa Yukue Fumei” (Azumi Haruko is missing), does a much better job of capturing the frustrated spirit of the film, if not its actual content, as the eponymous central character is present for much of the running time.

The role of Haruko is filled by Yu Aoi, fresh from her commanding performance in Nobuhiro Yamashita’s “Over the Fence” a few months ago. “Japanese Girls Never Die” marks her first starring turn since 2008’s “One Million Yen Girl,” even though shehas consistently proven herself to be one of Japan’s most superb young actresses.

Her co-lead Mitsuki Takahata can also be counted among that number. To date, she has been more prolific in musical theater and television, including a star-making stint as the heroine of Japan Broadcasting Corp.'s (NHK) popular morning drama serial “Toto Ne-chan” earlier this year, but hasn’t received many film roles juicy enough to really sink her teeth into yet.

Nevertheless, Takahata was a standout in the largely male-dominated baseball drama “The Vancouver Asahi,” playing an earnest Japanese immigrant in pre-World War II Canada whose efforts to improve herself in her new surroundings are stymied by local bigotry and the conservatism of her own people.

Her character Aina in “Japanese Girls Never Die” couldn’t be more different: a bubbly and not-too-bright 20-year-old apparel shop worker in love with her egotistical junior classmate Yukio (Taiga), who uses her for casual sex.

They end up bumping into another school acquaintance, video rental store worker and beta male Manabu (Hayama), who harbors an attraction to Aina. Inspired by boredom and Banksy, Yukio and Manabu begin spray-painting stencils of derivative motifs around town, and Aina eventually demands a piece of the action. Their mischief blossoms into a movement when they create a new design based on a missing person poster.

Elsewhere, Haruko (Aoi) is an office worker at a small company where she tolerates daily discussion of her single status at the ripe old age of 27 by her do-nothing male superiors. Her mature female colleague Yoshizawa (Maho Yamada, brilliant yet again in support) ignores their derisive idiocy, while practically running the place herself.

One night, Haruko stumbles across her nihilistic former classmate Soga (Huey Ishizaki) after he is badly beaten by a gang of high school girls rampaging through the city. She takes him back to his run-down house next-door to her family home, where they consummate their flimsy relationship for less lofty reasons than love.

The story flits between their two narratives, and often back and forward in time, so that it is not immediately apparent how and where they fit together. The ending is also open to interpretation, including an animated scene in a cinema, an armed standoff with police, and an eventual meeting between the two leads, none of which may actually be real.

The mysterious high school girl gang in particular might exist only as a fulfilling figment of wishful female imagination, with their powerful punches, kicks and throws, and appearances from out of nowhere making them seem like some “kawaii” superhero team. They’re a far cry from the hardcore delinquent “sukeban” girl gangs of 70s cinema, but those films, being made primarily by and for men, were vehicles for sensational titillation first, and gender empowerment a distant second.

You would be hard-pressed to find a single sympathetic male among the film’s main characters, but that doesn’t make it an “all men are bastards” misandrist screed either. Its women are shown to share a portion of the blame, attaching themselves to self-centered misogynists and self-limiting peer groups, either voluntarily or out of immediate necessity.

What little we see of Haruko’s home life also alludes to the dreary future awaiting her: a mother physically and emotionally burdened with caring for senile parents (a theme popping up more and more in Japanese film, reflecting growing concerns over its aging society), while an indifferent and taciturn father lies around drinking and smoking.

Matsui and scriptwriter Misaki Setoyama, a playwright and theater director in her own right, mesh the gritty reality and wistful fantasy of Mariko Yamauchi’s source novel well, without tipping too far toward excess.

“Japanese Girls Never Die” suggests that misogynistic attitudes aren’t going away anytime soon, with young men simply being less subtle in expressing the discriminatory mind-set they share with their older counterparts, while young women are either obliviously or reluctantly complicit. The only solution for those seeking liberation is to escape. But to where?

To borrow the words of author Flannery O’Connor from her book “Wise Blood”: “Where you come from is gone, where you thought you were going to never was there, and where you are is no good unless you can get away from it.”

(The Asahi Shimbun)