With a plot that could have been lifted from Noriko’s Dinner Table (Shion Sono 2005) Total Performance, written and directed Sean Meehan, follows actress Cori Sweeney (Tory Berner) who works for Total Performance; a company that helps people to rehearse for real life “problem” scenarios. A relationship in trouble, cheating spouses, a man wanting to fire an old friend, and in a nasty twist of fate, a cheating boyfriend who wants to ditch his girl.
At the start of the film Cori is explaining to Tim (Steven Conroy) how the job works. As an actor, she sees it as practice, she fills in for the person who the client needs to interact with. In the first scenario a man wants to confront his cheating wife.
In the second, Walter Baron (Timothy J. Cox) wants to practice, or rehearse, firing a dear friend from his company. In the third scenario, Cori learns that Tim wants to leave his girlfriend.
Somewhat like the Shion Sono film, the actors in the company fill in for lovers, partners or friends. As Cori tells Tim earlier, they are “sparring” partners for the client.
Meehan has given the viewer a serious/comic look at relationships, lies and people’s inabilities to deal with difficult issues. The idea of a practice run for emotionally fraught interactions is brilliant. In Noriko’s Dinner Table, the premise was filling in for missing family members rather than providing a sort of “counseling” service.
(It should also be pointed out that in the Shion Sono film, this was a subplot used to caveat the main plot line, the film, a “J Horror” was not about the actors but a follow on to another earlier horror film.)
As the female lead, Tory Berner is everything one could hope for. With eyes that captivate and yet still manage to convey rage (in the scene with Paul Locke, as Bruce, her eyes combine teary anger with an impressive intensity) where needed. We believe in this performers role as sparring partner and we also feel for her later in this short film.
The supporting players; Locke as Bruce, Cox as Baron, all feel as real as Tory’s character. Cox always delivers in his roles and his portrayal of the boss who must practice firing a friend is touching as is it amusing.
While the allusion to Noriko’s Dinner Table may only exist in this reviewers imagination, Meehan has given us a world where people have become incapable of either telling the truth (Tim) or handling the more unpleasant aspects of their lives. The fact that a company of actors have come up with a business based on this issue is brilliantly funny and says something about modern man’s inability to cope with real life issues.
Cinematographer Chris Loughran does an excellent job of matching the camera work to the mood and the sets all look spot on. Both the camera work and the set pieces combine to make the film feel like a slice of white collar Americana.
This is Meehan’s eighth effort in the driver’s seat as both writer and director and it shows. Total Performance is a delightful gem, a well crafted humorous and ironic tale of one actress’s “Day” job. The small slice of Cori’s dilemma is well presented and we feel for the young woman by the end of the film.
A 4 out of 5 stars for giving us characters and an outside the box storyline that is comedic but also touching. Bravo.
Suicide club (or Suicide Circle as it was known in Japan) was directed and written by Shion Sono and released in 2001. It stars Ryo Ishibashi (Audition, Brother, The Grudge) as a detective trying to find out the common thread between a wave of suicides that is sweeping across Japan. With leads provided by a female hacker called “the Bat” the police try to track down who is responsible for all the deaths.
The film opened with a large amount of notoriety and controversy due to its subject and the amount of gore depicted on-screen. It quickly became a cult favourite and spawned a sequel called Noriko’s Dinner Table which shows events prior to and after the first film. The film takes place over a six-day period starting on May 27th.
The film starts in the Shinjuku train station at platform 8. Being in the Japan the platforms are packed with people. The camera focuses on a large group of school girls all talking animatedly and entering the platform via the stairs. The girls are wearing a variety of school uniforms that indicates they are not all from the same school.
As the Express train’s approach is announced on the loud speakers on the platform, the girls stop talking and laughing and all line up on the edge of the platform. Watching the Express train as it pulls up to the station the girls link hands and chant, “A-one, and a- two, and a three!” On three they all jump en masse in front of the speeding train.
In true Takashi Miike style there are gallons of blood and body parts a plenty. The train and the waiting passengers are covered in blood and it runs across the platform in a small wave. When I first saw that scene I felt that Sono was paying a sort of homage to Takashi Miike who is well-known for his over-abundant use of blood and gore in his films.
This opening scene still shocks, even though I’ve seen the film at least three times now. It is one helluva opening to a film that both mesmerises you and continually shocks you as the movie plays out.
The next suicide takes place in a quiet hospital where two young nurses are working late. After they both kill themselves, the security guard finds a white satchel with a “roll” of human skin that has been stitched together. Oddly enough the exact same thing was found at the train station. The police have found their first thread.
Running through the entire film is the popularity of songs and music videos by a group of pre-teen (12 and a half years-old according to the detectives daughter) girls who promiscuously dance and sing about love and (it seems) death. When Detective Kuroda (Ishibashi) comes home, he calls a family meeting in the dining room. As his pre-teen son and daughter come into the room, his daughter turns on the television and the pre-teen music group instantly take the point of focus with the two kids.
The group is called Dessert (although throughout the film the name changes repeatedly to Dessart and Desert, part of the problem when dealing with an Independent film company) and the group’s biggest hit at the start of the film is called Mail me. A song about love via the internet with the lyric, “If you don’t mail me, I’ll just die.”
As the film progresses, the group’s hit song changes to Jigsaw Puzzle where the girls sing that “their piece doesn’t fit anyone.” Erotic suggestion aside, the song points out that if they cannot find someone to “fit” their piece, they’ll have to go away forever.
Of course the viewer is immediately suspicious (at least this viewer was) of this little Lolita group (in the westernized sense versus the eastern sense where Lolita’s dress in pinafores and ruffles as a sort of role play) and we begin to wonder if their songs and videos are transmitting subliminal messages telling kids to kill themselves.
The body count begins to escalate. There are a few more “group” suicides but there are also single suicides. Like the mother who chops her fingers off while cutting what looks like a bread roll. Or the chap who throws himself off a building only to hit his girlfriend accidently, injuring her before he expires on the pavement. Of course this incident becomes a plot point that will crop up later.
While the computer hacker, the Bat, is trying to find out more information about who is behind the suicides, she and her sister are taken forcefully by a group of young men who make her to tell the police that she has been kidnapped by the “Suicide Club.” The Bat was the person who discovered a website that appeared to predict how many suicides were going to occur. White dots were girls and red dots were boys. When the 54 girls threw themselves under the train at the beginning of the film, there were 54 white dots. This was the information that she passed on at the beginning of the film.
The Bat, whose real name is Kiyoko (Yôko Kamon) and her sister are taken to what appears to be a small bowling alley that is full of live things tied up in sheets. The sheets are all moving and the smaller ones are making noises like animals in distress. Kiyoko and sis meet Genesis (J-pop performer Rolly) who looks like a cross between a Glam-rocker and a visual Kei performer. He informs the girls that this is his house of pleasure and kills a couple of the smaller covered objects by stamping on them.
He then serenades the girls with a song about “death shining” and has one of his minions rape and kill a girl in another sheet. Genesis wants to be famous and wants to take the credit for motivating all the suicides in Japan. After allowing Kiyoko to start emailing the police about where she actually is, Genesis knocks her away from the keyboard so he can tell the police himself where he is.
The police arrest Genesis, but find that he is not the perpetrator behind the suicides. Detective Kuroda loses the plot and then everything else. The film ends quite ambiguously and does not answer any real questions about what has been going on.
Watching the film for the third time tonight, I could not decide if Sono was inferring that the internet was dangerous to our children or if idolizing pre-teen girl bands was bad for you.
Considering the Japanese’s predilection of fancying the pants (literally) off of school girls it doesn’t seem too far-fetched an idea. Take into account that the internet was just starting to come into its own in 2001, it also makes sense that the people in charge would distrust its wide open access; especially now that the US government alone is pushing for world-wide internet control equal to that of suppressed countries like China and Iraq.
My final analysis, if it can be called that, is that Sono wanted to show how dehumanized people have become. Whether it is through increased use of the internet or the worship of “sexualized” urchins who writhe suggestively and wink knowingly while singing about love and ending it all, Sono appears to be saying that we need to not only wake up and smell the coffee, but, we need to get in touch with ourselves as well.
Not to mention the sub-message about craving fame so much that you perform inhuman acts to attain it. Is this yet another form of de-humanization? Is Sono also warning us of the deadly lure of fame? It could well be, Suicide Club seems full of messages both subtle and not so subtle and this is above the actual message the the film seems to be relating to its characters, or the “plot message.”
Where the plot’s message appears to be that death will get you back in touch with everything and that it is only through this finality that you are able to really live. With my interest piqued even more after a third viewing, I have put the sequel, Noriko’s Dinner Table on my wish list; just to see if it adds anything to the mix that might clarify the film’s overall message, or messages.
A definite 5 star film that should not be missed and a perfect example of just how good independent J-horror can be, check it out. Just for the record, I watched the “uncut” version which has quite a bit of added gore.