Japon [2002] [DVD] [2003]

Visually the film fails to live up to expectation. Blending the long takes, static vistas and heightened, organic sound of Tarkovsky's work with a documentary aesthetic is a novel idea badly executed. The handheld camera operation often seems inept, and the blending of this failed verité style with grander, static composition is confused. Too often this seems like a student filmmaker's attempt at combining neo-realism with highly composed modernism without understanding exactly why he is embarking on the exercise. The cinematography is also occasionally over-exposed, which appears to be a mistake rather than a stylistic decision, further calling into question the sleeve quote declaring the film to be "masterfully shot". One swirling, unnecessary helicopter shot, a ludicrous lurch towards a female's behind and an endless tracking and panning shot badly operated do not make dynamic visuals.

This would, however, be less important if the central narrative were stronger or if the characters were better drawn. The influence of Tarkovsky cannot excuse the lack of drama in Japon, for although the Russian director's cinema is quiet, demanding and often intentionally undramatic in form, the work is always supported by interesting characters, exceptional dialogue and an intriguing central idea. Reygadas' film centres on the return of a middle-aged man to rural Mexico, where he intends to commit suicide, and the relationship he develops with an older woman whose house he stays at. Yet the central character is given so little background and such uninteresting dialogue that it becomes impossible to engage with him - depressives are stock characters of art-house cinema, but without any clues, either explicit or implicit, as to what is fuelling this self-loathing we are simply left with a petulant, irritable protagonist who gets drunk and 'plays with himself' for pleasure.

Ascen, the old woman who takes in the suicidal man, is a more successfully drawn character, and Reygadas wisely uses long close-ups to emphasise her simple, god-loving calmness. Yet there is still a lack of any real emotion in the conversations between the leads, and to compare the stilted moments that they share together with the work of Tarkovsky would seem grossly inaccurate. The use of non-professional actors in these lead roles explains some of the difficulties Reygadas has in making these characters believable - Bruno Dumont may be able to elicit convincing performances from first-timers while dealing with risky material, but Reygadas is no Dumont. One can't help but feel that Tarkovsky would never have expected a septuagenarian to perform a sex scene during her first ever experience of film production, especially not if it were merely to add risible drama to an extended travel movie.

Yes, Reygadas does steal wholesale from the opening of Solaris, but without the elements that raise Tarkovsky's cinema above its reputation as difficult and slow, without the sincere religious awe with which he viewed the world, this is a flat film that imitates greatness rather than produces it. And when a director has to show you a close-up of the head of a decapitated bird making futile attempts to breathe, you know you are dealing with a filmmaker who is struggling for ideas rather than one who actually has them. You just can't make up your mind whether this tragic, pointless and cruel image is a symbol of despair in a hopeless world or an act of despair from a hopeless director.

The stars are for the use of sound.

...I work in an 'art' cinema (okay we're abusing the word art here) and every week I must see 3 or 4 films as part of my job. Now, if I retreat into my own video collection at home and start playing Japon and Tarkovsky's work back to back, then all of the comments made above ring true. But stepping outside that world and comparing to the hundreds of films that run at the cinema I can see that this is actually a very unique film. All of the elements that make it derivative and the bits that don't work add up to make this a singular experience, something hard to see in today's film world.

Comparisons with cinema's greatest ever film-maker seem futile. Lets take it by itself and just admit that this is a fascinating and daring film. Something we should encourage. A brilliant counterbalance to the new hyper-kinetic Latin cinema endlessly apeing Amorres Perros.

Film snobs can be their own worst enemy sometimes!