[J-FILM REVIEWS] サマーウォーズ (Summer Wars)

I don't know whether it would make sci-fi novelists of yesteryear jump in self-congratulating jubilation, but we've finally entered a time when it's more likely to have twenty people from all over the world chat with you than finding the time to sit down and have dinner with twenty of your closest relatives. So if video killed the radio star, did Facebook and the iPod kill the Sunday family dinner? Going into a roaring tirade on how social networking and ubiquitous Internet is morphing our generation's social dynamics into a strange, unpredictable beast would be rather impractical, considering the fact you can't really escape from this onslaught of technology - and, although you can despise it for all the nefarious things it brought to the table, this black rose is not all thorns, after all. But there's certainly a place for this kind of social commentary, particularly when it's done as brilliantly as in Hosoda Mamoru's latest animated wonder, サマーウォーズ (Summer Wars).

Its premise of an all-encompassing virtual cosmos known as OZ, not unlike the dream worlds of many a sci-fi classic, but also close enough to our near future to ring true, might suggest a majestic cyberpunk opera on the lights and shadows of the communication superhighway. But when you get down to Summer Wars' core themes, it's the little things that shine; messages which gain tremendous resonance, for they're conveyed with spontaneity, and enough confidence not to fear the impact of any convention looming behind the corner. What we're dealing with is essentially the love child of Twitter-era cyberpunk and the quintessential 朝ドラ (asadora), Japanese TV's morning dramas delving into traditional family life and its ever changing dynamics. It's a fascinating juxtaposition, because the abstract, digitally rendered word of OZ and the realistic, more traditional cell-based "real world" should in theory create a visual cacophony, a sensory overload marked by poor transitions which would only hurt cinematic flow. Yet, this mixing of digital and analog is one of Hosoda's greatest achievements, in a way creating a certain symmetry between the two worlds, which at the end of the day are really two different conceptions of the idea of social network and communication. One lives and breathes through fiber, ones and zeroes, the other through human contact and understanding. I call it symmetry, because even though Summer Wars might point the finger at our ever increasing obsession with social networks and the consequences it can bring forth, it never really demonizes the virtual world to the point of demanding for its destruction. It rather suggests us to use "analog" means to deal with a digital world. And therein might very well lie all its brilliance.

What's really striking is how Hosoda and familiar partner-in-crime Okudera Satoko manage to make over thirty characters shine each in their own unique way, even when all they can muster is a dozen lines of dialogue and a few scenes going solo - particularly considering the fact many of them just follow the conventions of the medium down to a T. Then again, there's always a sense of realism, a certain restraint and affection added to the proceedings, which make things resonate a little more effectively. You have the old grandmother full of wisdom, the noisy aunts, the boorish cousin, the Itami Juzo-inspired mysterious son who joins the party late to create chaos (go figure, they're always sons of the pater familia's mistress, be it in traditional Japanese family dramas, or Korean home dramas), and the customary handful of rugrats wreaking havoc and getting out of trouble with a smile. In a lesser work, characterization spread on so large a canvas would only end up hampering the protagonists, adding superfluous weight to their narrative arc. But when you consider what Hosoda is trying to do, then it all becomes clear. What is the most important thing in the world of asadora? What Koreans call 가족주의 (family spirit, or familyism), that traditional sense of family encompassing all other social issues. Most of those family dramas, not only limited to Japan but also including China and Korea as well, tend to focus on a larger number of characters, putting the spotlight on the family as a whole, and letting those overarching themes apply to all those individuals in their own, unique ways.

Sure, you could say we're essentially dealing with shy math-wiz Kenji and his crush for Natsuki, the most popular girl in school, but all the tumultuous episodes which ensue along the way end up increasingly straying away from the individuals, to focus on the whole. How do you do that, without sacrificing narrative? Every single vignette is drenched in thematic consciousness, becoming like a small piece of a greater jigsaw puzzle. Things start off slowly, setting up traits of Kenji's personality which would be generally used for the trite otaku romance: Kenji was "talented" enough to be a candidate for representing Japan at the World Maths Olympics, and I'm sure that sounds terribly exciting to all the girls his age, enough that he's spending a wonderful summer afternoon working part-time within the OZ infrastructure, while her belle is out having fun. Turns out Natsuki needs a makeshift boyfriend to impress her family, particularly her 90 year old grand-grandmother, so he jumps at the opportunity. What he's graced with is a paradisiac old-style mansion in the countryside, for centuries the headquarters of a renowned samurai family (modeled after the real life Sanada clan, for a long time vassals to the Takeda clan's daimyo). With the entire family reuniting to celebrate the clan elder's birthday (one of the very few occasions when the entire twenty-seven members of the clan can get together), Kenji quickly finds himself like a fish out of water, but that soon becomes the least of his problems, when his genial math skills become the incipit of a worldwide crisis ravaging the world of OZ, falsely incriminating him and putting the lives of millions of people at risk.

Again, sounds like a grandiose cyberpunk opera with biting social commentary, but that is not the path Hosoda decided to follow. The story itself might have left red herrings along the way which could have derailed the entire story, particularly when the cancer afflicting OZ spreads to much bigger issues than a few million users being unable to play online. But Hosoda pulls back every single time those elements risk hampering the narrative flow of the film, and he always puts the focus back on the main theme, which is the first and greatest social network of them all, the family and how they together cope with difficulties. As a result, you might even argue that the sci-fi elements of the film are a little too conveniently set aside, to instead deliver metric loads of the kind of tough love only family can make you feel. But, again, the cyberpunk, even OZ itself is just salad dressing to enrich the theme of the film, that quintessential social network of mutual protection called family, bringing our characters to salvation through the kind of communication social networking is increasingly bastardizing. So what is criticized here is not the idea of social networking itself, but the impact it has on communication between individuals, with avatars and nicknames often eliminating all that is breathing and pulsating beyond that LCD screen.

Hosoda and Okudera tread familiar waters, yes, but there is something rather humbling about seeing someone take so many conventions and still create something which oozes spontaneity and creativity from every cell. Sure, it's multi-million dollar technical mastery and visual splendor that you will not easily see elsewhere (particularly the fantastic final fight sequences against formidable villain Love Machine, with millions of little avatars combining into a dark and nefarious whole), but when master storytellers try to communicate something to their viewers, there's no convention that can stop them. Hell, Miyazaki Hayao has been shoving twelve year old heroines down our throats for the last twenty five years. Are you tired of that yet? I sure am not.

What I'm also sure of is that Hosoda might have just cemented his place in the pantheon of all time animation greats with this film. I wasn't too impressed with his work at Toei, perhaps because of the overly commercial and commodified nature of what the mainstream anime industry has become in Japan, drowning in quicksands of creative stagnation that its own popularity created. But everything he has done after, including that charming little gem known as 時をかける少女 (The Girl Who Leapt Through Time) is not just remarkable... it even shows a new path for animation in Japan. I won't mention Miyazaki next to Hosoda, simply because if 崖の上のポニョ (Ponyo) is any indication, I need no heirs and I'd rather see another ten years of the master's "very last film before retirement." But what Madhouse and this madly talented director have created with Summer Wars is the kind of crowd pleaser which manages to tell a story with wholesome themes (never too shallow nor overly sanctimonious) which can appeal to the entire demographic scope, employ technical mastery without descending into masturbatory virtuosism, and divert, thrill and leave a glorious aftertaste without the need for one glitzy explosion every five minutes.

It's the kind of film, in short, that I'd love to watch together with parents and relatives, on those all too rare occasions when family can mean something a little more than sharing a name or a hometown. If what people like Hosoda are fighting for is the kind of film you can show to the crankiest of grandparents and most unruly youngest cousins without getting the urge to run in embarrassment, then so be it. It will still be a war fighting for...

RATING: 9

サマーウォーズ (Summer Wars)
Director: 細田守 (Hosoda Mamoru)
Screenplay: 奥寺佐渡子 (Okudera Satoko)
Produced by: Madhouse
114 Minutes, 1.85:1 Color
Release: 08/01/2009
Cast: 神木隆之介 (Kamiki Ryunosuke), 桜庭ななみ (Sakuraba Nanami), 富司純子 (Fuji Sumiko), 佐々木睦 (Sasaki Mutsumi)