Recently remastered and released into theaters, Tokyo Godfathers provides a darkly surreal take on a familiar genre.
The body of Christmas-themed movies is so large and diverse that I hesitate to describe any such movie as “unique.” While it might not be unique, however, as Christmas movies go, Tokyo Godfathers (2003) is certainly unusual. An animated feature co-directed by the late Satoshi Kon and Shogo Furuya, from a screenplay by Kon and Keiko Nobumoto, Tokyo Godfathers unconventionally combines the dark and the light, the gritty and the fanciful.
The movie’s protagonists are a trio of homeless people who share a makeshift shelter on Tokyo’s streets and work together, not very harmoniously, to survive. The trio are Gin, a middle-aged former family man undone by gambling and alcoholism; Hana, a middle-aged trans woman fallen on hard times after her lover’s death; and Miyuki, a teenage girl who has run away from home—for reasons that are not what you might expect but no less disturbing in their own way.
Scavenging among garbage piles in the city’s Shinjuku district on Christmas night, the three discover something unexpected: an abandoned baby girl. They rescue the foundling, whom Hana insists is a “Christmas present from God” and names Kiyoko. At Hana’s insistence, the three set out on a days-long trek across the city in search of baby Kiyoko’s parents. The search proves more complicated and harrowing than they expect and takes them variously to a cemetery, a yakuza wedding, a drag club where Hana used to work, the hospital (more than once), and many other locations and situations. Death constantly threatens along the way, not least when our protagonists are embroiled in a crazy, high-speed car chase.
The filmmakers were apparently inspired by an old John Wayne movie, Three Godfathers, about some cowboys who must care for an infant. As I watched the movie, however, the closest cinematic parallel and (conscious or unconscious) influence I thought of was the work of Joel and Ethan Coen. Tokyo Godfathers’ story resembles two Coen Brothers movies: Raising Arizona, in which poor people must care for a baby while dealing with dangerous and bizarre events; and O Brother, Where Art Thou?, in which three misfits have a picaresque series of adventures while searching for treasure. Some similarities to the Hudsucker Proxy also turn up. Beyond story elements, though, Tokyo Godfathers resembles the Coens’ movies in its distinctive style of black comedy that blends the grotesque, funny, sad, and sweet.
The movie follows crucial principles from Dwight Macdonald’s essay on effective comedy: “Success depends on traveling light…striking unexpectedly…and getting away fast” (“Whatever Happened to Hollywood Comedy?,” 1965). Tokyo Godfathers is nothing if not light on its feet, propelling the characters along from one situation or challenge to the next and telling its whole story in 90 minutes or so. The filmmakers also continually present us with unexpected changes or contrasts that alter the significance or tone of what we are seeing, often in funny ways. This humor consistently has a mordant, laugh-that-we-might-not-cry quality, however.
Some examples will give a sense of Tokyo Godfathers’ feel. An early scene shows us Miyuki on a building’s roof, amusing herself by spitting on pedestrians down below. We see, from her perspective, the latest victim look up for the origin of the precipitation; the movie then cuts to the pedestrian’s perspective looking up at the building—which is topped by a giant billboard of an angel with a tear running down her cheek. In a later scene, Gin shares some alcohol with an elderly homeless man who is on his death bed; the old man appears to expire and Gin moves to close his eyes; at that, the old man jerks back into consciousness and requests another drink. Still later, the trio search for a house to which they have the key. They reach the relevant address—and discover that the house has been demolished, with only its door still standing. As Hana and Miyuki stand amid the ruins in shock, Gin applies the necessary test: he uses the key to open the door and walks through it into the remains of the house. “I’m home,” he deadpans. Then the door collapses behind him.
The filmmakers also make good use of multiple layers of action: we are frequently shown, unfolding in the background of a shot, significant activity to which characters closer to the camera may be oblivious. When the protagonists are stuck on a crowded streetcar, we get a shot of Gin and Hana talking while Miyuki tries to avoid notice from someone on a parallel streetcar visible in the background. At another point, a scuffle on the street is interrupted by an ambulance suddenly crashing into a storefront behind the struggling combatants. (The alive but stunned driver then asks the onlookers to “call an ambulance.”)
The animation avoids the beautiful and goes for a grungy look. Bright colors are limited to Christmas lights, neon signs, and other features of the urban night. Otherwise, the movie’s palette is made up of browns and other muted colors. The characters are drawn in a generally unflattering and scrupulously un-cute fashion. Moreover, the treatment of characters’ faces is striking. The animators exaggerate facial expressions and movement to the nth degree: every muscle seems to have a (highly energetic) life of its own and faces expand and distort themselves in inhuman ways. Combined with the cast’s generally homely appearance, this approach gives the impression that we are in a world of living gargoyles.
Granted, exaggerated facial movement is not that unusual in cartoons in general or Japanese anime in particular. Because the rest of Tokyo Godfathers is drawn with such comparative realism and even drabness, though, the hyper-kinetic faces stand out. Memorable close-ups and reaction shots abound. See below for just a sampling:
(And yes, I know in my previous post I took the movie Emma to task for its use of mugging, extreme close-ups, and reaction shots. What can I say? Something that comes across as overdone in a live-action adaptation of a Regency-era novel seems appropriate in an animated absurdist black comedy.)
The filmmakers are adept enough at keeping the plot moving and maintaining their funny-bleak tone as to cover up some of the inherent problems with the story. Stripped of its foul-mouthed dialogue and darker or edgier elements, Tokyo Godfathers is of course pure cornball: three lovable hoboes care for a baby at Christmastime! Further, while the movie generally does not contain supernatural or magical elements, it is nevertheless completely fantastical. The plot abounds in contrivances and coincidences, not least in how the characters invariably run into precisely the right person at precisely the right moment—apparently Tokyo is a much smaller city than we have been led to believe. The recurring appearance of women who just also happen to be named “Kiyoko” is another sign that this story is not striving for plausibility.
Tokyo Godfathers is distinguished, however, by two more serious aspects that elevate it beyond just a demonstration of deft filmmaking technique. The first is the running motif of sudden death. Throughout the movie, violence or potentially fatal situations intrude when least expected. An early moment sets the tone for what is to come. As Hana carries baby Kiyoko down the street, she pauses at a crosswalk and turns to talk to Gin and Miyuki. Behind her, a couple proceeds across the street—and they are promptly hit by a motorbike. Finishing her comment to her companions, Hana turns back to the crosswalk and makes her way across the street apparently unaware of the catastrophe that has just happened.
Similar moments occur throughout: a man stopping to do some roadside car work ends up almost crushed by the car; a wedding reception turns into a violent crisis; Hana collapses at one point from a persistent illness; and, in the movie’s most harrowing scene, Gin is cornered by a gang of teenage punks whose amusement is beating up homeless people.
The confrontation with the teenagers epitomizes Tokyo Godfathers creepy-funny style. As the teenagers surround Gin, we get a close-up of their ringleader, who utters some sneering threats and begins to execute what looks like a perfect martial-arts-style spinning kick. Then we cut to a long shot, in which the ringleader loses his balance and falls over, never making contact with Gin. Gin makes a break for it—and is then still caught by the teenagers, who proceed to beat him senseless. The filmmakers thus remind us that even bumbling idiots can be deadly in an unfair fight. (Another surreal, skin-crawling detail of the scene is that as Gin’s beating unfolds, we focus on one gang member who takes a cell phone call to discuss with a friend plans for later that evening.)
What these recurrent explosions of violence underlined for me was the constant, inescapable vulnerability of the characters. For people whom poverty, age, gender, addiction, or other conditions have placed at the bottom of society, death, whether at someone else’s hands or from other circumstances, constantly looms. Safety can never be taken for granted.
The other serious aspect of Tokyo Godfathers is its recognition of its characters’ humanity. Many would write off people such as Gin, Hana, and Miyuki, and we see that all three are flawed people, guilty of callousness, meanness, and selfishness. Yet the filmmakers recognize both their suffering and their capacity for also being loyal, kind, and selfless. This recognition extends to supporting characters, as well. A yakuza member who seems at first like just an amoral sleazeball nevertheless is capable of bravery and self-sacrifice. A troubled young couple with whom our protagonists cross paths are destructive of themselves and others, but they also invite pity and may even be capable of redemption. These more earnest themes contribute to Tokyo Godfathers being not merely entertaining but, at times, sobering and touching as well.
NOTE: For an interesting analysis of Tokyo Godfathers, I strongly recommend the video essay by Yang Zhang of Accented Cinema. Zhang looks at the movie’s spiritual themes and how it draws variously on Buddhist, Christian, and Shinto ideas and imagery.
The Cameraman 