KUMIKO, THE TREASURE HUNTER: The Tragedy of the Impossible Dream?

Kumiko, The Treasure Hunter is nominated for three Independent Spirit Awards and will be released in the US on 18th March courtesy of Amplify.

A lot of the time, it’s not the destination that counts, but the journey in getting there. To many an intrepid adventurer, the prize at the end is the most tantalising aspect of their endeavours. But more often than not, our relentless quest to understand ourselves will see us climbing over the corpses of the less successful to get to the top of mountains, and brave temperatures as extreme as the wildlife to reach some previously uncharted corner of the world — all for fortune and glory. Testing humanity’s endurance to the limit usually results in us learning something new about the world, as well as ourselves, allowing us to evolve even further along the path to… enlightenment?

Or at least a lucrative sponsorship deal.

Certainly, that seems to be the point of most movies. The more successful films establish a goal for our hero to attain, but are more interested in seeing characters develop and grow as they encounter new trials, make allies and defeat villainy in its myriad forms. Luke Skywalker grows from whiny farm boy with dreams of becoming a hero, to seasoned Jedi who finds inner peace once he discovers the girl he fancied was actually his sister, and his father was a cybernetic, genocidal maniac. Indiana Jones learns throughout his adventures that all that fortune and glory is for naught when absolute power corrupts absolutely — never seeming to get his hands on those magical, archaeological treasures he so desperately wants to plonk on a museum shelf and charge 10 bucks a pop for the public to gawp at.

Usually because of these fucking jerks.

We expect some kind of character development, our protagonist evolving as they head towards their narrative resolution. But should we? And what happens when we don’t get that? These thoughts were swirling around my gin-soaked mind as I sat through the strange and rather frustrating experience that was Kumiko, The Treasure Hunter.

Inspired by a true story that spawned an urban legend, the Zellner Brothers latest feature sees Rinko Kikuchi (off of mecha-Mexican wrestling comedy Pacific Rim) as the chronically shy Kumiko, a Tokyo office worker obsessed with the Coen Brothers film Fargo. Believing the suitcase of money buried by a bloodied Steve Buscemi in the Minnesotan tundra to be real, she sets off on a seemingly impossible quest to America to find it, braving the harshest of wintry conditions and encountering helpful local folk who epitomise the word ‘altruism’ along the way.

Helping the mentally unstable Japanese is the American Way.

Whether it’s some past trauma, or the oppression of a patriarchal society that views a woman’s greatest achievement as getting married and having kids, we never really get an idea as to why the almost-mute Kumiko deliberately disconnects herself from society. But as the resourceful treasure hunter makes her way across the world in search of the unobtainable, there is the suspicion that she is less the wide-eyed, charmingly naive innocent on a voyage of discovery we were perhaps expecting, and more the deluded, self-interested opportunist in need of psychiatric help.

Thanks to Rinko Kikuchi’s multi-layered performance, she is, perhaps, both. Ms Kikuchi’s considerable thespian talents are one of the main reasons why Kumiko, The Treasure Hunter just about keeps your interest — along with her astonishing resilience as the Zellner’s get her to traipse through freezing Midwestern America in a bright red overcoat and sopping wet duvet. Her fascinating turn anchors the slight story, compelling you to stick with Kumiko’s ill-fated odyssey, even as your empathy for her plight fluctuates as she takes advantage of the kindness of strangers in an obsessive search for Buscemi’s fictional stash of cash.

Although feeding noodles to rabbits is going too damn far.

Kikuchi’s sterling efforts are ably supported by the Zellner Brothers’ sometimes wryly amusing take on Japanese social mores and small-town American eccentricities. The film’s dreamy, atmospheric vibe is enhanced by electronica outfit The Octopus Project’s ethereal synth noodlings and cinematographer Sean Porter’s on-location shooting, stylishly juxtaposing the twin alien landscapes of sterile suburban Tokyo and the frozen, eerily beautiful wind-swept scenery of Minnesota.

Yet for all its style and Ms Kikuchi’s acting prowess, Kumiko can’t avoid the usual traps these kind of quirky indie flicks fall into, being slow of pace, mumbly of dialogue, and self-consciously inward-looking. A couple of jarring surreal flourishes see Kumiko’s single-minded escape from soul-crushing normality in pursuit of fantastical treasure shift from peculiar road movie into allegory, and seem cynically slotted in to add needless layers of ambiguity to a story that doesn’t really require it. And if you’re searching for a conventional plot where the trials of the main character lead to personal change and lessons learned, then look elsewhere.

Put monkeys in anything, though, and I’m sold.

It’s possible that the Coen Brothers may be quite amused at the thought of a film based on a true story that became a taller tale featuring a film purportedly based on a true story that turned out to be anything but. Whether you feel Kumiko’s insane treasure hunt is a touching ode to humanity’s tendency to dream the impossible, or a tragic tale of the steady decline of a lonely, mentally ill woman unable to discern fantasy from reality, at least it succeeds in sticking in your head as you mull over either option.

But an inquisitive audience may be left wanting. Like the misguided Kumiko, we’ll rifle through David and Nathan Zellner’s cinematic version of a borderline autistic Little Red Riding Hood Walking in a Winter Wonderland (where the wolf is perhaps the brutal elements, or her own foolhardiness), searching for hidden meanings that may not be there and learning little along the way. There’s nothing wrong with a film uncovering more questions than answers. But, in the case of Kumiko, The Treasure Hunter, when those questions fundamentally challenge the point of our anti-heroine’s insular wanderings, you wonder if it was worth accompanying her on her fateful trip of a lifetime in the first place.