THE MAGIC HOUR (Japan, 2008)
Directed by: Koki Mitani
Starring: Koichi Sato, Satoshi Tsumabuki, Eri Fukatsu, Haruka Ayase, Toshiyuki
"It's like something out of a movie," hometown "Sukago" girl Natsuko (Haruka Ayase) says near the beginning, marveling at the thoroughly artificial cityscape around her. "Doesn't it remind you of a film set?" THE MAGIC HOUR, a heart-on-its-sleeve ode to movies and moviemaking, just gets more self-reflexive from there. Two parts old Hollywood screwball comedy and one part reality-shattering satire, Koki Mitani's latest celebration of the filmed unreal was a rare domestic blockbuster in Japan, sending typically somber audiences to their feet clapping and cheering, and looks poised to conquer NYAFF next, one perfectly delivered movie cliche at a time.
Dateline: Old Town "Sukago," somewhere out of temporal alignment with the rest of the modern world with one foot in film noir; they drive old roadsters and wear zoot suits while we use cellphones. Reality blinks in and out at the drop of a hat, as quickly as a matte painting can scuttle across the street. At the heart of this glowing soundstage metropolis, meek club manager Bingo (Satoshi Tsumabaki) is in deep with local Boss Tessio (Toshiyuki Nishida, whose character's name is a nod to THE GODFATHER) after getting decidedly untoward with his nihilistic gun moll, Mari (Eri Fukatsu).
To appease Tessio, Bingo promises to deliver famed hitman Della Togashi, master assassin - who no one has ever seen or met (and lived). Improvising wildly, Bingo, Natsuko and friends decide to hire the best washed-up actor they can find, venturing beyond the candy-colored city limits into the real world to hire third-rate ham Taiki Murata (Koichi Sato, the bad guy from NYAFF '08's SUKIYAKI WESTERN DJANGO). Murata's creative choices are questionable at best, but his hot-blooded passion for movies and "the craft" knows no bounds. When Bingo promises him "the role of a lifetime" in a no-budget indie, Murata jumps at the chance to live out his gangster movie dreams as Della Togashi - even if he can't tell quite where the cameras are shooting from in Sukago, and all the townspeople seem confused by his acting advice. Assuming they're all just being Method, Murata dives into his character and stays there round the clock, unaware that his plotting and scheming with Boss Tessio's gang is all too real. Meanwhile, Bingo is stealing equipment from senior citizen infomercials, and running out of excuses for why Murata can't see "the rushes." (Excuse #1: "The world-acclaimed Kitano works like this too!") When Tessio hires a gleefully game "Togashi" to take down Korean arms dealers and off a material witness, all hell breaks loose, and you won't be able to breathe for the laughter.
Think of THE MAGIC HOUR as the gonzo Asian cousin to BOWFINGER, another "movie within a movie" spoof. Koichi Sato is easily a match for Eddie Murphy and then some, tonguing and fellating Boss Tessio's letter opener menacingly not once but three times for effect (Toshiyuki Nishida's deadpan reaction steals the film). The defining line between the two films lies in Koki Mitani's infectious joy for the tropes of classic Hollywood studio filmmaking, and his deep and abiding love for all things movie. The film tops his own SUITE DREAMS for relentless, absurd slapstick, streaming a million laughs per second with no trace of self-consciousness and balls of steel: It's funny, and you're going to love it because it says so. The script is brilliant, the ensemble is perfectly cast, and if there is any justice, Koichi Sato will instantly become an international star. Dripping with sentiment, THE MAGIC HOUR manages to make that cool again, too: We dare you to stay dry-eyed when a disenchanted Murata finally gets a look at his "masterpiece," or stop yourself from cheering when he transmogrifies into celluloid incarnate to save the day, harnessing the full arsenal of movie magic to destroy his shadow self, a golden god in the cinematic "magic hour" between twilight and night, "the best part of the day." Hooray for Hollywood.