Fascinating biopic of photographer Masahisa Fukase

A portrait of the brilliantly gifted and deeply troubled Japanese photographer Masahisa Fukase, “Crows” is an exciting and fascinating fragment of artistic life on the verge of the director “My England” Mark Gill. A blend of dark fantasy and powerful drama, set mostly in the 60s and 70s, Gill frames his take on the turning points in Fukase’s life and career as a love triangle between the photographer; his wife and co-author, Yoko Wanibe; and Fukase’s inner demons and artistic desires come stunningly to life in the form of a giant talking crow. In the main role, the actor nominated for “Emmy” in the movie “Shogun”. Tadanobu Asano As an artist whose work continues to be discovered and celebrated long after his death in 2012, The Crows should appeal to adventurous audiences, whether they are familiar with Fukase or not.

Taking its title from a 10-year black-and-white project published in 1986, The Crows opens with Fukase’s 1982 words: “I became a crow, I am a crow.” According to Gill’s interpretation, this raven is a manifestation of the thoughts in Fukase’s troubled mind and materializes here as a human-sized creature that seeks to push him away from what is traditional and conformist, instead demanding that he seek the risks and extremes that an artist must. explore for truth and greatness.

Bold conceit works from the start. Appearing in the first scene in a dingy bar with photos of young and old Fukase, this creature silently establishes itself as a central player in the story that is about to unfold. An entity that no one but Fukase can see and that he sometimes speaks to when others are present, Raven (played by José Luis Ferrer in a stunning creature costume and speaking in husky English) is a conduit that transports viewers into the mind of an artist who is not always likable , but never less interesting.

Throughout much of the film, Gill’s film is set free, from a drunken, disillusioned and almost forgotten Fukase hanging out at his local bar in 1992 to the events that affect his life and work. With his Raven close at hand, Fukase angers his conservative father Sukezo (Kanji Furutachi) by refusing to take over the family’s photography studio in Hokkaido and leaving home to study in Tokyo, where he intends to prove that “photography can be art.”

Part of the flamboyant avant-garde that flourished in post-war Japan, Fukase first gained attention with his 1961 collection Kill the Pigs, shot in a slaughterhouse in Tokyo. In a striking contrast, Fukase’s innovative work in commercial photography causes a stir among his old-fashioned clients when he asks a female model to “play” the instrument like a guitar and strike a rock star pose while shooting a vacuum cleaner sale. It’s a stunning little moment that speaks volumes about the collision of old and new Japan.

In the throes of his new bohemian life, Fukase falls in love with Yoko (Kumi Takiuchi), a free-spirited nonconformist who becomes his model and wife. In vibrant series set to the beat of the best Japanese pop tunes of the time, Fukase and Yoko create stunning works that lead to exhibitions in New York and on the brink of fame. Gill’s script skillfully conveys the restlessness and anxiety that forever accompany Fukase, who cannot help but be consumed by dark thoughts even in moments of personal happiness and professional success. Shortly after Fukase takes a commercial job to support Yoko’s desire to become more than just his model by studying classical Noh theater, his Raven chides him for becoming a house husband “whose life as an artist is a failure.”

The film pays tribute to Yoko as a true collaborator, for whom the simple definition of wife and muse is not enough. Her relationship with Fukase and his Raven is rightly depicted as a driving force in his work, which continued to produce remarkable images, including his series of underwater self-portraits long after the depression that engulfed him after their divorce in 1976. As his lifelong friend and supporter Morio Shoda (Sosuke Ikematsu) tells Fukase when he complains about Yoko’s New York press attention, “She’s why your work sings.” Takiuchi’s performance lives up to that assessment. Whether playing Yoko, who bounces around as an Edie Sedgwick kind of girl in the Tokyo underground scene of the 1960s, demanding her rights as a woman and artist in the 1970s, or remaining a part of Fukase’s life in his terribly sad final years, Takiuchi is simply wonderful .

Beautifully produced and very well photographed by DP Fernando Ruiz, whose palette ranges from beautifully warm and luscious to starkly cold as Fukase’s emotions swing wildly from one end of the spectrum to the other, The Crows claims to be “inspired by true events.” » The absence of certain characters and events may cause minor controversy among viewers who know the artist deeply, but as a description of the most important forces in Fukase’s life and work, it rings true and gets to the heart of Fukase’s response to questions about his creative process. “Take the camera and then scream and bleed,” he says.