Flavors of Youth, originally known as 肆式青春, Sì shì qīngchūn, is a movie that explores three people in different Chinese cities: Beijing, Guangzhou, and Shanghai.

Each segment did a fantastic job of being original from the others while also keeping to the main themes of growth and nostalgia. When looking at an anime film such as this the three key elements are animation, story and sound.

Flavors of Youth is seen to have amazing backgrounds and animations of food. These are exactly what I would expect from a collaboration between CoMix Wave Films and Haoliners Animation League. CoMix might sound familiar as they were the production company for the award winning movie, Your Name.

This Japanese-Chinese co-production was based around the Chinese idiom 衣食住行, yī shí zhù xíng. This idiom means clothing, food, housing, and transport. It denotes the basic needs of life. The movie focuses three stories around this idea and how mundane things can have huge emotional importance for the characters.

The first story, directed by, Jiaoshou Yi Xiaoxing, explores that. It depicts a young man who seems to have lost a flavor of ramen

he had as a child with his grandmother. It explores his life through the dish and the different places he orders it. This story had the potential to rise and really set a high standard.

However, an unneeded, slightly creepy, unrequited love situation prevents that. Despite this, the grandmother and ramen aspect of the story was enjoyable and even got me thinking of past dishes like my Granddaddy’s applesauce. A flavor that when tried, can bring you back to your childhood.

The second story, directed by Yoshitaka Takeuchi, is plausibly the weakest vignette. It is focused on two sisters who have lost their parents. This story fails to mention or even show key details that would allow you connect with one of the sisters.

The connection to China and nostalgia get lost along the protagonist’s journey of being a model. Ultimately it comes off more of a saccharine sitcom kinda ending than one grounded in nostalgia. This was the only section handled by a Japanese director; which could attribute to the different atmosphere this one gave off considering the movie is based on growing up in China.

The third and final story is directed by Li Haoling, a director who is known for incorporating smooth yet rich animation to many of his works. It focuses on a young man who moves back to Shanghai after many years of being away. He finds an old tapes him and a young love sent to each other and through them they reconnect. However, this one had many stereotypical scenes that never really seemed fully original. It just wasn’t the masterpiece I expected from Haoling.

Flavors of Youth falls short in not only story but sometimes animation as well. The movie seemed very focused on backgrounds.

The cities and towns were simply amazing throughout the film.

A risk that comes with extensive detail in backgrounds is loss of focus
on the characters themselves. This became clear throughout the film, especially
if compared to CoMix’s animation work on Your Name.

One thing that does need to be considered is this was a co-production. An issue that can commonly unknowingly come up is difference in artistic views. While only slight, this can be seen in the three different stories, all of which were handled by different teams.

While this is more effective and time efficient it does come with its issues. This can be seen in inconsistencies in the overall artistic vision and slight difference of atmosphere in the three stories. Many times it was the soundtrack that helped set the atmosphere.

By no means was this a bad film, it just didn’t own up to either of the production staffs previous work. Another huge factor is the fact this was both translated and edited into an ‘international edition’. There are few changes in the story itself, the language doesn’t always translate best it could.

While there were many discrepancies in the film it did do an amazing job of quickly taking you through three lives in different Chinese cities. The animation flowed very smoothly and while the characters didn’t match up to the background it wasn’t anything that took away from the films enjoyment.

Overall, the film did a superb job of exploring showcasing Beijing, Guangzhou, and Shanghai through three lives. This insight, while not as intimate as the production staff had planned for, did do its job it making the viewer nostalgic.

Overall : B-

—————-
Story : C
Animation : B-
Music : B

The post Flavors of Youth: a Tasteful Nostalgia appeared first on KRUI Radio.

Netflix Rating: 2 stars (note: since viewing, The Scribbler has gone up to almost 3 stars)

Personal Rating: 3.5 stars

Film Rating: R

Based on the 2006 graphic novel of the same name, The Scribbler examines the events of a series of deaths at Juniper Tower, a kind of holding-place for mentally unstable patients who aren’t quite ready to be reintegrated into society. The story is told through flashback by the main character, Suki, who is being interrogated by Officer Moss and psychologist Silk. The frequent time jumps – as well as found-footage inserts within the flashbacks – make for a bit of a confusing plot line. Once pieced together, the film becomes quite interesting.

There are two main conflicts in The Scribbler: the violent, mysterious deaths at Juniper Tower, and Suki’s struggle with her multiple personalities. Personally, I found the latter much more compelling than the former, as it has the potential to throw the entire film’s plot into question. Because of her multiple-personality-disorder, Suki is using a new, controversial form of therapy called “The Siamese Burn,” which burns away one or two of her personalities with every session. The goal is for Suki to only be left with her one true personality. As the count decreases and the “Scribbler” personality persists, Suki is forced to face the possibility that the one personality that makes her feel the most insane and separate from reality may in fact be the “Real Suki.”

Another plot product of Suki’s disorder is that she is forced to constantly question reality. Not only do her multiple-personalities make it difficult for her to isolate her true needs and desires, but she often experiences episodes so violent that she blacks out and can’t remember anything she did for hours at a time. As there is a murder investigation happening at Juniper Tower, this proves extremely inconvenient, both on a legal and personal level.

Since I watched the movie, the rating has gone up significantly, as it should. The film’s lack of linear storytelling aside, I have very little criticism. It wasn’t the most realistically-shot film, but I think that fits well with the tone. Everything is so surreal throughout the film – it makes sense that the effects be jarring and inorganic.

I really liked the way mental illness was handled. First of all, it sure as hell wasn’t romanticized. Suki especially knows how terrifying and isolating it is to live every day feeling at war with herself, and that feeling is communicated extremely well. While there are a couple characters who seem to lose themselves in their mental illness, they’re not regarded as heroes. Suki is the hero, and while she does end up embracing her mental illness, doing so liberates her in a way that allows her to finally and clearly separate her strengths and capabilities from her disorder’s.

While it wasn’t exactly romanticized, mental illness was given a certain amount of power. By embracing and accepting their disorders as a legitimate part of themselves, the characters gain personal power – and I’m okay with that. Rather than sending the message that those who struggle with mental illness are nothing more than their illness, this approach screams about the power of acknowledgement. These characters know they’re not “normal”

and they don’t want to be. The way they experience the world around them is unique, and while it isn’t always pleasant, their eyes are opened to certain truths that the “mentally healthy” just can’t see. By acknowledging their disorders, the characters are also able to accept and define themselves on their own terms, rather than be defined solely by their particular disorder. While “The Siamese Burn” does help Suki eliminate the other personalities, no doctor or device is able to bring her any kind of sanity; only she can do that. The alternative is blatant denial and struggle, which – as Suki finds – is more limiting than anything.

Although it is the basis of the plot, the film’s approach to mental illness isn’t it’s strongest feature. That is a title I reserve for the film’s approach to reality.  in general, mental illness has a tendency to screw with reality. However, The Scribbler asks us to examine what exactly reality is. Is it subjective? Objective? Is it dictated by the mentally “sane” or “insane?” Can multiple realities exist at once? What happens when your own reality is questioned by someone else’s? Who’s to say who is right? Does having mental illness invalidate someone’s experiences to the point that their reality itself becomes invalid? The Scribbler poses all of these questions and more, because having nonlinear storytelling wasn’t confusing enough on its own.

If you’re game for an intense watch, The Scribbler is definitely your kind of film. If not, I promise I’ll try to find a lighter, more heartwarming, and equally-as-underrated film for next time. Perhaps the merry, merry month of May will bless us with some underrated comedies. Until then, happy viewing.

The post 2-Star Review: The Scribbler appeared first on KRUI Radio.