Introduction

Daisuke Miyazaki first impressed international audiences in 2016 with his film Yamato (California). Yet, one year later, his travel-film Tourism failed to fulfill the promise he showed in 2016. Luckily, his next project Videophobia (2019) succeeded in affirming his talent. Can Plastic, his latest film and fictitious vehicle for Ide Kensuke and producer Yo Ishihara’s latest musical project, corroborate his talent once more?

Review

August 2018. During a seminar at an observatory, Ibuki (An Ogawa) learns that the year when the U.S send a message into space was the same year that her favourite glam rock band Exne Kedy broke up. On her way back to school, she happens to pass a street musician, Jun Kamata (Takuma Fujie), who is singing the same song by Exne Kedy she was listening and singing too. 

Not that much later, after spending the afternoon with her friendsId, she happens to see Jun taking some records to a record shop. She decides to follow him and find out what he’s up. Due to a sudden earthquake, their eyes happen to lock and a chance to speak with each other arises. 

While some might wrongly frame Plastic as a coming-of-age narrative, Miyazaki’s latest is, at its heart, a romance narrative (General-note 1). Yet, Miyazaki’s unique approach, clearly inspired by the latest musical project by Ide Kensuke and Yo Ishihara, ensures that the spectator is given anything but a traditional Japanese romance tearjerker. 

Rather than structuring the narrative around the phantasmatic possibility of a sexual relationship that can be written, Miyazaki’s Plastic puts emphasis on visualizing, with a certain nostalgic sadness, the very impact of a failed inter-subjective encounter on a relational dynamic. In fact, with his evocative narrative, Miyazaki touchingly shows that while a shared interest can bring two subjects together, this interest can not, by itself, give rise to a space where subjective speech can be exchanged (structure-note 1).

An unspoken conflict of desires, fought out in silence, is ultimately destructive for the relational bond. So what is Jun’s desire? As he starts to hang out with Ibuki, he soon tells her that he was in a band until he punched an indie label producer, who was asking him to leave the band to increase the band’s chances of success. The psychological dynamic of the punch should be evident: it was nothing other than a violent affirmation of his desire. Yet, such burst of violence – a final act to radically state his desire, ultimately short-circuits it radically. Instead of forcing the Other to take his desire seriously, this transgression leads to his exclusion from the societal structure that supported his desire to create – i.e. his band. Yet, this painful experience has not stifled his desire to become a professional musician. Yet, can he find a place within the societal field for his desire or is he chasing an impossible and ultimately destructive dream?

While the former question lingers within the narrative, Plastic ultimately turns around a more pressing question: can Jun find a societal or relational support for his desire? Ibuki, who soon becomes his girlfriend, is unable to see the viability of Jun’s attempt to make a living of his music. Echoing a motherly figure, she demands Jun to not take any overly-hasty decisions that can sabotage his own future and destroy their future as a couple. Yet, Jun fails to hear the desire to be loved within her concerned demand. Can Jun, who is not willing to back down, convince Ibuki to support his seemingly impossible endeavour?

The sudden distance between Ibuki and Jun is, as should be evident, not merely due to the conflict of desires, but due to the inability to speak to the other with one’s subject. Their subject does not show up in their clashing signifiers. Yet, the awkward silences between them do not only signal the very absence of an encounter that can be called inter-subjective, but also reverberates that something of a subjective order wants to be expressed. What can possibly close the schism that has grown between them, resolve the emptiness where nothing subjective reverberates (Narra-note 3)?

In the second half of Plastic, Miyazaki explores the impact of the corona-virus on the societal fabric – the economic as well as the educational field – and its ability to support subjective desire. As the corona restrictions sort a negative effect on the entertainment industry (e.g. the live-house bars and their performers), many subjects start searching for other opportunities (e.g. venture companies) that can provide a different source of income (Narra-note 2). With the societal field short-circuiting many subjects’ path of chasing their desire, a sudden need arises to either put one’s desire on hold or to shift it. Yet, can subjects like Jun so easily give up on their desire?

Fans of Miyazaki’s cinematic work will be happy to hear that he retains the same attention to multicultural elements that pervade the Japanese societal fabric (e.g. the multiple references to foreign countries and artists, the inclusion of the kebab-bar, the diner, … etc.) as in his other work. This attention is one element by which Miyazaki expresses his own subject through his cinematic work and creates a narrative that can only be his. 

The composition of Plastic offers a balanced blend between static and dynamic shots and the thoughtful use of cutting. By fluidly concatenating static and dynamic moments – within shots as well as in the succession of shots – creates a visual fabric that remains interesting to watch throughout. By denoting Miyazaki’s use of cutting as thoughtful we merely mean that he chooses not to use the cut when a simple static shot or the insertion of a dynamic moment suffices. Moreover, his choice to limit the cut also allows him to create more pleasing visual moments in his composition.   

What truly elevates the composition and the narrative is the incredible pleasing soundtrack – another defining element of Miyazaki’s cinematic work. The musical pieces do not merely create an incredible satisfying mood, but also enhances the visual elegance and the scopic pleasure of his vibrant dynamic camerawork (Cine-note 1). The created mood, furthermore, allows what remains unsaid by speaks through one’s presence to truly reverberate with the spectator. 

This mood, as dictated by the musical pieces and their lyrics, is furthermore supported by the naturalistic colour-schemes and the lightning design. It might be strange to say, but the visual feel of the composition enhances the evocative effect of the musical pieces and allows the spectator to feel, beyond the field of vocalized signifiers, the subjective effect of what remains unsaid.

Plastic proves that Miyazaki’s unsatisfying Tourism (2018) was merely an exception – a misstep never to be repeated. By bringing his love for music together with an evocative composition, Miyazaki creates a moody narrative that highlights the equivocal functionality of music for the subject as well as the destructive impact of not being able to create an inter-subjective between two ego’s in love. 

Notes

General-note 1: The reason why we avoid calling this film a coming of age narrative is due to its ending. Miyazaki avoids giving the spectator the answer as to whether Jun and Ibuki have radically changed. It is up to the spectator to fantasize what will happen.

Structure-note 1: Miyazaki’s narrative can feel quite fragmentary at times. Yet, whenever Miyazaki refuses to explicitly return to certain narrative elements (e.g. Jun getting approached by a producer), the silence or visual changes that follow within the narrative allows the spectator to guess the ultimate resolution. 

Narra-note 1: It should be evident that the only reason why Ibuki hooks up with Haoran (-), a Korean DJ, after breaking up with Jun is because he channels him in  a certain way. He is but a mere substitute for the subject her desire still goes out to. His substitute character calms her desire without ever being able to transform into love.

Narra-note 2: Plastic introduces a venture company that aims to cultivate microorganisms that can break down plastic and contribute to environmental protection.

The title of the narrative is obviously linked with this narrative element, but it does not fully explain the resonances the signifier has after watching the film. 

Narra-note 3: Let us just say that the only thing that can reignite their romantic interest in each other is of the order of the imaginary.

Cine-note 1: The music also makes the more ‘touristic’ moments in the composition – e.g. the female trio going shopping, dancing in front of the shopping street’s arcade, … etc. – that much more satisfying. The pleasant integration of such moments proves that Miyazaki has learnt from less satisfying film Tourism (2018).

Cine-note 2: While he does not utilize slow-motion that much in the narrative, it never misses its effect.