Hot Docs 2017
I didn’t expect to watch as many films as I did during the festival, but the student pass certainly helped encourage watching films that I may have otherwise simply passed on otherwise. This is a couple of weeks late, but here are the films I watched in chronological order of screening date.
Raise Your Arms and Twist — Documentary of NMB48
As someone who follows Japanese culture mostly through the lens of it’s otaku fair — anime, manga, jdrama, and variety shows — it’s almost impossible to avoid the AKB phenomenon. Artificially constructed or not, the influence of this idol franchise simply branches out to other forms of entertainment, making them synonymous with Japanese popular culture.
The NMB documentary is in an interesting look at the idol industry because of both its subject matter and the behind the scenes production issues. There have been several varnished AKB documentaries that have been released previously (at least two have been fan-subbed and are available in places where you would watch fan-subbed content), but there is something interesting about following what amounts to the “farm team” in NMB. Whether this depiction of NMB is true or not, the film wants us to believe that of the four main AKB groups, NMB is the least popular — and that even the popularity of the star of NMB pales in comparison to the regular AKB members. The fact that the film is directed by Toda Yoshihisa, who is a legitimate filmmaker, and not by an insider (for example, the HKT48 documentary was directed by a former member and present manager Rino Sashihara) allows for a unique perspective to the film that makes it more than just a marketing tool.
Yes, the film is promotional — there are countless clips of concert performances, perhaps in an attempt to try to push album sales — but there the film shows some of the less glamorous aspects of being an idol, even for one of the biggest idol franchises/factories in Japan. A couple of stories emerge to help paint an interesting picture of being a member of NMB. Ayaka Okita’s struggle to be given the opportunity to appear in one of “senbatsu” songs (what I take to be the Japanese idol equivalent of summer song), only to be told that she has “behavioral problems” that prevent her from being selected. Ririka Suto, whose Nietzsche-filled monologues frame the film for the audience, reveals to the audience that the idols themselves see their role is constructed, that they have no opportunity to self-actualization because they must perform and conform to the roles assigned to them. We also get to see Sayaka Yamamoto, the captain of NMB and the group’s most popular member, toil in the relative obscurity of sister group AKB’s shadow. We also get to see one of the least popular members, Saki Kono, eventually give up her career as an idol when she realizes that she will never have any fans. The documentary provides a very broad spectrum of the idol experience, exposing it to the audience warts and all. That’s not to say that the girls don’t know what they’re getting into — when the film follows Fuuko Yagura, we see that she wants to be an idol because she sees it as a way to earn an income to help support her family.
I wasn’t sure what to expect from this documentary, but it gave me a glimpse into a world that I’ve been curious about but haven’t had the chance to access on my own.
Also, I still can’t get this song out of my head. Durian as a metaphor for love that goes beyond physical appearance, who would have thought?
Tokyo Idols
I was a bit surprised that there were two idol documentaries at Hot Docs this year, but this film ended up being a nice companion piece to the NMB documentary. Tokyo Idols follows the smaller, lesser known, underground idol groups that dot Japan. There are several idols that are documented for the film, but the film’s primary subject is Rio Hiiragi, an Akihabara idol who struggles to get mainstream attention.
Unlike the girls at NMB, Rio has to do everything on her own. In that respect, watching her basically hustle to get fans, I’m reminded of the Western phenomenon of “Twitch stars” (or even Instagram stars), where people have to continually grind out content to keep viewers happy and subscribed to their feeds. One of Rio’s stunts to try to drum up more fans was to tour Japan on a bike, while constantly livestreaming in order to keep her “home” fans updated. It’s not just about looking pretty, because based on the work that Rio puts into her career, it’s very much about her personality and drive as well.
Indeed, the film also follows several fans — including Rio’s fan club — and you see how these people have essentially placed all their hopes and dreams on the success of the girl that they are choosing to follow. It’s both innocent and also somewhat sad, since for these (mostly) male fans, they’re treating these idols as surrogate daughters or sisters to dote on. Rio’s main fan admits becoming an idol fan because he sees her as a second chance — he might not be able to live out his dreams, but maybe he can help Rio achieve her dreams. There’s an implicit understanding that the relationship they have with her will always be platonic — in a Q&A with the director after the screening, she spoke about an incident when a fan tried to pursue a romantic relationship with Rio and how her fan club had to essentially restrain him from coming to any of her shows.
The documentary also provides some more social context to explain the idol phenomenon, it’s suggested that it grew out of the economic recession and people’s desire to try to find something positive in their lives. The film also critiques it examining the model of femininity the idol industry projects to society. It actually reminded me a lot of the controversy surrounding the notion of the beauty pageant in the West, and how commentators have suggested that perhaps a contest where women are judged on their appearance may help project negative expectations of femininity into society as a whole.
One thing that isn’t really discussed in this film is the actual “profession” itself. Since Rio and the girls featured in this documentary are essentially independent, it’s not clear if they write their own songs or choreograph their own dances. In the climax of the film, Rio gets a measure of success when she is discovered by music producer Hyadain who writes a song for her:
But there’s no real indication of where her previous songs come from. I can’t imagine that all of these girls write their own songs, so it would have been interesting to see what it takes to actually perform as an idol.
Jeremiah Tower: The Last Magnificent
Although not part of the festival, I watched it in the same week and it IS a documentary, so… I’m going to count it!
I’ve been moderately interested in modern cuisine ever since I started watching various cooking competition shows. I’m not really qualified to make any judgments about food — I think deconstructed dishes are asinine and I was glad that in a Q&A after the film, Tower himself was fed up with the smears and dabs that you see in fine dining restaurants now — but it was interesting to see where the biggest part phenomenon of modern cuisine came from.
Although the origins are contentious, the film suggests that Tower is the first chef to really celebrate local ingredients. So while he is classically trained, he took his skill and applied it to fresh Californian ingredients rather than simply dole out the same old French and English dishes cooked with frozen ingredients that were expected of chefs at the time. The legacy of that simple revelation can be felt today, as even Chinese cuisine is being reinvented by Chinese chefs with Western training who want to feature Chinese ingredients.
The film also tries to be a biography of the man himself, but it is mostly a surface examination of his life. We get an understanding of his troubled childhood and how he found refuge in food, but for a man who famously dropped off the face of the Earth after restaurant failed, the film almost chooses not to explore this troubled time in his life. Instead, the film simply jumps forward to the time when he randomly came back onto the scene by taking over Tavern on the Green, the famous Central Park restaurant that has struggled to be relevant in the face of the contemporary restaurant scene.
I appreciated the film for enlightening me on a subject I have an interest in, but I’m also not sure if this wouldn’t have just been better off as a TV special or an episode of Bourdain’s show instead.
Living The Game
Admittedly, my initial interest in the film was based on the still above, making the assumption that the film would be about Daigo Umehara. I wanted to get a glimpse of the Japanese competitive gaming scene, but also get a glimpse into the life of a man who is fairly reserved in the public appearances that I’ve seen him participate in.
So at first I was disappointed when I saw that other players were profiled in the film — this includes Luffy, Justin Wong, and Gamerbee — but my doubts were quashed when I saw his footage of Momochi and his girlfriend/partner ChocoBlanka. That’s not to say the other stories weren’t interesting — we get to see Luffy try to juggle his life as an officer worker after winning Evo 2014, Gamerbee giving us a glimpse into his life and the troubled relationship he had with his absent father, and of course Justin Wong’s story (which has already been covered in greater detail in another documentary The King of Chinatown) and his infamous loss to Daigo.
But Takao Gotsu crafted an arc with Momochi. Perhaps it was easier to follow a Japanese player over the course of a year that led to Momochi being the focus of the film, but whatever the reason, it’s clear that he saw some interesting human drama in the brief glimpses of Momochi’s private life that are on display. We see Momochi evolve from a short-tempered, extremely serious player whose dedication is rewarded by the infamous win at Evo 2015, to a humbled man who loses the Capcom Cup title by the end of the year. In his loss, he learns that trying to chase down Daigo shouldn’t be his focus, and begins to focus on the relationship he has with ChocoBlanka — we see a scene where he yells at her and makes her cry because she isn’t properly executing her moves in a practice game of Street Fighter, before getting a scene where he publicly proposes to her and becomes a supportive husband.
Daigo serves mostly to provide context for Momochi’s arc. Daigo is the wall that Momochi must climb, but he can never quite make it over. So while we get some glimpses into Daigo’s life, we don’t really learn anything about him. He practices a lot at home, he practices in an arcade, he practices in a game room with other Japanese players… and that’s about it. But that’s fine, because Daigo serves to make Momochi’s story more interesting. Yes, it’s a film about the Fighting Game Community, but in this documentary you can see a bit of Moby Dick, as Momochi continually tries to catch the white whale that is Daigo. Thankfully, we see that he has a happier ending after he learns to let go of his ambitions and become a better person instead.
(The relationship between the two, even though it’s not hostile, reminds me very much of the big conflict in The King of Kong between Steve Wiebe and Billy Mitchell)
Ramen Heads
I was sold on this film based on a mild interest in the process of making ramen. The film itself admits that it’s a simple dish — born out of post-war poverty — that is made complex due to the particularities of each chef. The comparisons to Jiro Dreams of Sushi are perhaps unavoidable, since part of the film features Osamu Tomita, one of the best ramen chefs in Japan. We get to see his entire process, starting with his work in his prep kitchen in creating the broth and noodles, and ending with how he “plates” each bowl of ramen for the customer. We also get brief snippets of his life outside of the restaurant, with an explanation of his first apprenticeship and a look at his family life. But while Jiro was focused on trying to explore the man behind the food, Ramen Heads only makes perfunctory gestures toward trying to discover Tomita’s philosophy.
Admittedly, perhaps one reason for that difference in portrayal is due to Tomita’s age. He doesn’t have a complicated relationship with a son who is constantly living in his shadow, for one, and neither does he have a (comparatively) hard past to reminisce on. To make up for that though, the film compensates by giving audiences much more context about ramen as a uniquely Japanese cuisine.
The director and crew travel across Japan, finding chefs who are famous for other types of ramen. For most of these chefs, there’s a dedication to the craft that one might expect, but for me the surprise was the oldest chef who didn’t look at ramen as some kind of art. He treated his work as a business and just wanted to sell as many bowls as he can in order to make a living, which is something that can be a bit lost when it comes to cuisine-based documentaries.
The film ends with Tomita teaming up with two other ramen chefs to make the “ultimate” bowl of ramen, and we’re given the impression that it’s a special sight to see the three of them work together. This part was a bit lost on me, but seeing the reactions of some patrons to seeing them together in one place was enough to sell the importance of the moment for me.
It was interesting watching this after the Jeremiah Tower biopic, because I think this is probably more what I was looking for — yes, some insight on the man cooking the food is important, but some emphasis on the food itself is important too.
Hobbyhorse Revolution
The programmers mentioned that theme of this year’s selections was obsession, and of the films that I’ve seen, I think this film fits the bill the best. It reminds me of a contemporary version of Trekkies, a documentary that followed the lives of various people obsessed with Star Trek and the influence that their fanaticism had on their lives (I still remember the woman who chose to wore her Star Trek uniform to jury duty).
The subjects of the documentary treat their hobbyhorses much in the same way that the Trekkies treated Star Trek — it’s something that allows them to escape, however momentarily, the painful aspects of their lives and be consumed in a subject that has strictly defined rules and a seemingly open and welcoming community. For example, one of the girls in the film was bullied and sought solace in horse riding, but when her horse died, she discovered the hobbyhorse and used that to help cope with her depression instead.
The interesting thing is that, at least at the time of this writing, the media seemed to have picked up stories of the popularity of the hobbyhorse in Finland. I’m not sure if this documentary is responsible, or if it just became an interesting news story for people to talk about, but with more than ten thousand practitioners in Finland, it’s certainly more than just a passing fad. That’s probably the one criticism I have of the film — that there isn’t any examination as to why girls in Finland have embraced the hobbyhorse, and in particular, hobbyhorse competitions. It is apparently a uniquely Finnish phenomenon, but it’s something that isn’t addressed in a meaningful manner.
The Silent Teacher
The film is an exploration of the process of donating a body to medical research in Taiwan. We see how these cadavers, referred to as “teachers” (laoshi) by the medical students, are treated — starting with the embalming processes all the way through to cremation after the students are finished studying the body.
It’s an interesting cultural document, since donating bodies to science is an issue surrounding death that is rarely addressed (even in North America, there are many drives to try to get people to become organ donors, but not that many to get people to donate their bodies to universities to be dissected and studied). We also get to see how the family of the donated body copes with delaying putting their loved one to rest, as they must wait a year before the body can even be used in a classroom and then another year before the body is returned to them after cremation. That the family is Catholic also adds a unique dimension to the process of grief, as we see a combination of Catholic and Chinese rituals to help the family process the nature of death.
Sunday Beauty Queen
One of the issues I remember reading about during my time teaching in Women’s Studies is the problematic nature of modern feminism in the current economic client. While women in First World countries are given more rights and are encouraged to enter the workforce, a gap is left in the homes of families with dependents. This is true in Canada, where many of my students had Filipino nannies who took care of them while their parents were out of the home, and it’s certainly true in Asia as well, as more affluent nations import Filipino women to run their households.
This film follows the life of Filipino women in Hong Kong, and the difficult life that they lead as they slave away for their employers. While some of these workers are treated with some form of respect and dignity, it’s clear that many are not — they are expected to live in the home of their employer, and in many cases, forced to sleep in whatever spare space is available. One worker relates a story about how her employer forcibly cut off her hair because she refused to pay for a trip to the salon, while another is fired simply for missing their curfew. We see one of these women eat her dinner, but tucked away in a different room than the family, because the “help” doesn’t share the table with her employers.Their jobs are precarious, because they can get fired for any reason, and if they lose their jobs they must find another employer within 14 days or face deportation.
While they slave away for the entire week, Sundays are their day off. It’s on these days that these women choose to become beauty queens, entering pageants organized by Leo, a domestic worker who has been in Hong Kong for over two decades. We see these pageants are more than just a contest between women, but as the one day a week that these women who are isolated by the difficult nature of their jobs are able to become a part of a shared community. Yes, the pageants they are competing in may be trivial, but it’s a day in their dreary week where they are allowed to focus on themselves and be with friends.
Admittedly, the Chinese employers that do appear on film are thoughtful about the nature of the relationship they have with their Filipino employees. Reminiscent of the reality of illegal immigrant workers in the United States, one Chinese employer acknowledges that Filipino workers are a big factor in keeping Hong Kong a functioning society.
The film also doesn’t shy away from the economic realities of the situation. Many of the women documented in the film are college graduates who might otherwise be white collar professionals in the Philippines. But when they can make twice as much money living in Hong Kong as a nanny than they would as a teacher, nurse, programmer, etc. back home, the choice isn’t that hard to make. We also get to see these women bond with their charges, taking the children under their care to school and making them meals, while their own children are left at home with relatives. While mothers anywhere else might have a tearful moment sending their child off for the first day of school, these women can only send their own children off to school through a shaky Skype connection.
The film is very much about trying to find dignity in a series of indignities, and the strength that these women have to have in order to find a way to live their lives in Hong Kong and raise their families back home.
32 Pills: My Sister’s Suicide
This film follows Hope Litoff as she struggles to make sense of her sister’s suicide by going through her possessions many years later. What begins as a project that is presumably meant to allow Hope to finally come to term with why her sister Ruth committed suicide slowly spirals out of control as Hope becomes consumed with reliving Ruth’s life.
It’s at this point that the documentary turns its lens on the documentarian, and Hope becomes the subject of the film. We see her obsession with her sister made manifest through the ways she handles her sister’s possessions, culminating with a scene where she papers the walls of a room with the pages of her sister’s day planner. More frighteningly, we see the psychological toll the project takes on her as she dives deeper into her sister’s life, resulting in a scene in which she films herself breaking her many years of sobriety with a shot of vodka.
While this project may have started as a documentary about Ruth Litoff and her troubled life, it quickly evolves into a film about processing grief and how one must learn how to let go of a loved one let it destroy your life. Thankfully, Hope learns this lesson, as she checks into rehab and ends the film by honoring her sister’s memory with an exhibition of her photography at Bellevue Hospital.
Rumble: The Indians Who Rocked The World
The festival ended with a free screening of the Canadian audience award winner, which turned out to be a crowd pleasing film about the influence of Native musicians on the American Rock music. The film starts with Link Wray, going through the many sounds that Native musicians introduced to Rock, and how many early musicians had to hide or deny their Native heritage due to the institutionalized racism of the time. We get to see many other musicians, including Jimi Hendrix and the influence that his grandmother had on his music and the way he presented himself on stage, and Randy Castillo, suggesting that his heavy metal drumming was inspired by his childhood experiences.
There’s not much to say about the film itself. It’s a documentary that serves to educate audiences about an aspect of music history that is ignored, doing so in quite an entertaining manner. The directors suggested that they had hours of footage that they cut for time that they could use, and I could certainly see this film expanded with a sequel or through a television series.
There were many films that I wish I could have seen, but Netflix picked up a couple of them which saved me a trip to the cinema — Chasing Coral and Joshua — and I’m looking forward to watching them when they’re available.
