And And now now for for the the lovely lovely Elaine Elaine and and her her wondrous wondrous look look at at this this other other film film that that has has the the name name GEMINI GEMINI... ... However, However, you you really really have have to to love love her her report report... ... I I know know I'm I'm looking looking forward forward to to this this one one.... Here's Hear's Elaine Elaine.............. ..............

GEMINI (Japan, 1999)

Shinya Tsukamoto‚s latest isn‚t exactly new. It‚s been doing the rounds at festivals for over a year now and may never be released in a cinema near you. Don‚t let that stop you from reading this review, though. It‚s an excellent film, and if you ever find yourself in its vicinity, either in a cinema or a video store, I recommend you see it.

Gemini is Tsukamoto‚s first high-budget production. It isn‚t quite your typical Tsukamoto fare (i.e., gory and violent) but it‚s got a lot going for it. Major stars like Ryo and Masahiro Motoki, of „Mystery of Rampo‰ and „Shall We Dance?‰ fame. Tranquil moments followed by scenes of extreme physical and psychological terror. Suspense. Japanese design extended to include even the most insignificant aspects of the cinematography. Brilliant make-up. Love scenes that look like they were choreographed by Martha Graham. Gorgeous lighting. Doppelgängers. Sadism. Paranoia. Fragments of hauntingly ethereal music. Beautiful costumes. What more could a person want from a film?

Well, er, eyebrows, maybe.

It‚s funny, but you never notice how much actors rely on their eyebrows until you see a film in which all the actors have shaved off theirs. In „Gemini,‰ set in Meiji-era Japan (1868-1912), none of the characters have eyebrows. The absence of this most expressive part of the human face gives the actors a surreal, almost alien quality. It makes them look unearthly ˆ beautifully unearthly, but unearthly nonetheless. The only actor to exude some sort of earthliness is Masahiro Motoki, whose face is so expressive face it doesn‚t need eyebrows to convey emotions. Motoki is a great actor. He has Kitano‚s knack for going from total blank to total menace in a split second, and he uses it to great effect in „Gemini.‰ He goes from one extreme to the other quite a bit in the film. And he‚s playing a double role, too, which makes his performance all the more impressive.

So much for needing eyebrows, then. As for contents, well, „Gemini‰ („Soseiji‰ in Japanese) is based on a short story by Japan‚s foremost gothic writer, Edogawa Rampo (yes, THAT Rampo). Rampo was such a fan of Edgar Allan Poe‚s that he adopted a pen name that sounded like Poe‚s. Edogawa Rampo. Edogaw Aram Po. Edgar Allan Poe.

Right.

As you‚d expect from a film based on a story by a Poe fan, „Gemini‰ is about death, decay and madness. It opens with the trademark Tsukamoto shot of maggots and rats nibbling at a cadaver and goes on to address issues of death and madness in an early-twentieth-century Japanese family in a less cyberpunk-like fashion than we‚ve come to expect from the man who brought us „Tetsuo.‰ Social wrongs are symbolised by a plague outbreak, crime is given an inevitable, naturalistic flavour (that criminal blood also flows through your veins), and the paranoia of a bad conscience is made more than visible ˆ it‚s made tangible.

Sound like Poe? Thought you‚d say that.

Gemini could be called a gothic version of the classic Cain and Abel story. It‚s the tale of two twin brothers, Yukio and Sutekichi Daitokuji (both played by Masahiro Motoki), who vie for the rights of the first-born. Yukio is a doctor at the Hospital of the Temple of Great Virtue. He appears to be a paragon of virtue, but is later revealed to be a snob who decides on other people‚s lives and deaths in a less than sympathetic manner and doesn‚t fight social wrongs so much as remove them from his presence. Yukio is married to Rin (played by model-cum-TV actress Ryo), who suffers from amnesia and can‚t remember the life she led before she met Yukio. For his part, Yukio isn‚t particularly interested in what Rin did before he met her. „Don‚t make an effort to remember ˆ let it go, he tells her at the beginning of the film. Later on, his seemingly loving exhortation to let go of the past takes on a more sinister aspect. „The only reason you are anyone is because I confirm your existence, he snarls at his wife. „You can‚t even remember who you are. Which, of course, raises a few questions about what constitutes a person‚s identity, not to mention epistemological questions of the what-do-you-think-you-know? variety. And paranoia, obviously. Lots of paranoia.

You see, there are a few things the seemingly omniscient Yukio doesn‚t know. One of them is what Rin did before he married her. The other is that he has a twin brother, Sutekichi. He is aware that there is an other,‚ but doesn‚t find out who that other‚ is until well into the film. When he finally does find out, he does so in a gruesome and sadistic manner. He is locked up in a discarded well (shades of „The Silence of the Lambs), where he‚s left to imagine how Sutekichi assumes his identity and sleeps with his wife, and how he himself will lose control over the world he has so carefully built up for himself. What follows is a series of mind games and shifting power balances in which the three leads alternatively try to assert their version of history on the others and have the others‚ versions of history imposed upon them.

The actors manage the ambiguity of their characters‚ pasts and personalities well. Masahiro Motoki turns in a stellar performance as the twins. As Yukio, he is all hypocritical decorum; as his psychopathic twin brother, he exudes a near-explosive lust for revenge and possession. In either case he is totally believable, which is all the more incredible since he cannot make use of his eyebrows to indicate his violent mood swings. As for Ryo (Rin)... well, Ryo simply has the most haunting stare in the world. I‚d shave off my own eyebrows if I were sure it would give my face that same ethereal intensity. Don‚t think I‚ll run the risk, though.

Psychological creepiness and good acting aside, Gemini is notable for its astonishing art direction. For most of the first half, the film exudes that austere atmosphere we have come to recognise as typically Japanese. Bare walls, tranquil gardens, blank faces and natural colours abound. They are filmed in long, static, extremely well-composed and well-lit shots which give the story an amazingly eerie quality. Halfway through the film, the tone becomes more varied. Ascetic scenes of supreme beauty alternate with frantic flashbacks of Sutekichi's and Ran's former lives, featuring bright colours and bizarre costumes. The combination of the bare and the garish makes for an astonishing intensity. And as if that weren‚t enough, there are some astonishingly elegant love scenes and well-timed snippets of ethereal music, which combine to make the film a powerful, overwhelming experience.

Gemini represents a great leap forwards in Tsukamoto's oeuvre. It may alienate the hardcore Tetsuo aficionados, but there's plenty of good stuff left in it for both Tsukamoto fans and art snobs to enjoy it. Beg your local arts cinema to screen it for you or make sure you catch it on video. I guarantee you won't regret it.

Elaine