Haru (Rinko Kikuchi—always a pleasure to see her on the big screen) is already prone to fantasy long before life’s harsh realities come knocking. One need only consider how she feels when engaging in her favorite pastime: ballroom dancing. When Haru (and her beloved husband Luis, played by Alejandro Edda) take the floor during a local competition in her native Tokyo, she imagines them soaring into the sky, literally dancing above everyone else.
Haru is thus living in her own world when reality abruptly intrudes—and, in the context of her celestial fantasy, comes crashing down—robbing her in an instant of both Luis and her passion for dance. What follows is a drama about grief of a unique sort: part melodrama, part telenovela, yet entirely original and deceptively light in tone. Not every step may be perfectly executed (insert ballroom dance metaphors here), but *Ha-Chan, Shake Your Booty!* possesses an effervescent spirit often missing from stories of this kind, anchored by a charming performance from Kikuchi.
Director: Josef Kubota Wladyka
Writers: Nicholas Huynh, Josef Kubota Wladyka
Stars: Rinko Kikuchi, Alberto Guerra, Alejandro Edda
It marks a radical departure from filmmaker Josef Kubota Wladyka’s previous movie, the hard-hitting boxing drama *Catch the Fair One*; yet the warmth the director brings to both the character of Ha-chan and the film itself stems from genuine affection: the movie is dedicated to his mother. While not strictly based on her life, the film aims to honor her spirited nature (and her love of ballroom dancing)—qualities the filmmaker highlights in the official press notes. She seems to have been a wonderful woman. So, too, is Haru.
When we first meet Haru and Luis, they are already fully settled into their life together. Her husband is Mexican, and their home reflects their multicultural lifestyle: they enjoy *oyako-don* with jalapeños, cozy sarape-style blankets are scattered throughout their modular home, and their extensive record collection brings together all their favorite artists. Although Haru takes dancing a bit more seriously than Luis—often making the couple review rehearsals on her iPad while having dinner—it is clear that both love to dance, especially together.
Haru and Luis’s professions are never mentioned; the film (written by Kubota Wladyka and Nicholas Huynh) focuses instead on how they live, whom they love, what they are passionate about, and how all these elements intertwine. It is refreshing to see this in a film centered on a middle-aged woman (Kikuchi is 45; Haru has been given a slightly older look, largely due to a hairstyle her family disparagingly calls an "afro") and her experience with decidedly bleaker matters. After Luis leaves, Haru falls into a depression that lasts for months (dynamic chapter titles hint at what is to come).
After nine months, something has to change. And it does—albeit slowly. The screenplay by Kubota Wladyka and Huynh, which is surprisingly concise (the film runs just over two hours), offers small clues about what else Haru has lost: her beloved dog now lives with her sister Yuki (Yoh Yoshida)—the sensible one in the family—and Yuki’s household; a birthday has passed without Haru celebrating it; and her lively cousin Hiromi (YOU) has arrived from the United States for an extended visit. And she doesn't dance. Oh, and she also keeps seeing a giant raven everywhere (no, seriously: huge, like a plush sports mascot planted right in the middle of her living room), clearly representing Luis and her inability to let him go.
All of this is handled delicately and eventually steers Haru’s energy in a new direction: Fedir (Alberto Guerra), a sexy dance instructor. The mere fact that Haru has returned to the dance studio is a triumph in itself, and Fedir’s added appeal reinforces the feeling that—hey—maybe moving past this grief is possible. Or maybe not? As Haru embarks on a pursuit of Fedir—one that is dynamic, fun, effervescent, and ultimately unsettling—darker emotions naturally begin to surface.
Many of these feelings take a back seat to wonderful, fantastic dance sequences (with Haru and Fedir taking center stage; a nod to *Dirty Dancing* is a particular delight), though increasingly outlandish plot twists threaten to derail the film and obscure our understanding of Haru’s spirit and heart. Even so, grief is a chaotic process, and Haru’s attempts to work through it—even without her realizing that is what she is doing—feel deeply human. That alone makes the film worth watching; it is a work that, while lacking the lightness it might have aimed for, gains quality and richness precisely because of it.
Comments
Post a Comment