Review of Avalon (2001) by James F — 29 Jul 2008

Mis-marketed and mangled for it's US release by Miramax, who wanted teenage boys to think they were seeing another Matrix rip-off, Avalon is nothing like that overblown popcorn bore. Quite possibly the greatest piece of high art science fiction filmmaking next to 2001: A Space Odyssey and Oshii's earlier Ghost in the Shell, Avalon is Mamoru Oshii's penultimate masterpiece; a live action film that mimics the visual style of anime more approximately than any other, combined with a peerless score from the brilliant composer Kenji Kawai, and a usually literate, philosophically complex script by Kazunori Ito (Ghost in the Shell, the superb 90's Gamera trilogy). It's all trademark Oshii, however: stunning visuals, a meditative pace, meticulously composed background details, and a transcendent central theme about humanity's place in the world, and the desire to ascend to a higher plane of existence.

So immaculately concieved and directed is the film, that Oshii walks an extremely fine line between profundity and pretention, but as is usually the case, Oshii knows how to steer through such artistically complicated waters, and the film comes through a resounding success. Avalon continues the trend Oshii started in his filmmaking with the exceptional Patlabor 2, in that it is cold, layered with numerous shades of meaning, and focuses on strong, detached heroines. So thoroughly intellectualized is the entire film, that even the few action scenes have a detached, chilly quality to them - the film opens with tanks exploding, but the eruptions of flame freeze in midair, so as to deprive the audience of any real enjoyment of destruction. In the film's pre-climax battle scene featuring a giant citadel, the camera pans away from the action, and instead follows the heroine, Ash (Malgorzata Foremniak) as she slowly walks, rifle in hand, for almost a minute before resuming with the gunfire and chaos. Much of the film is composed of such brilliant shots and scenes, where an incident that takes no more than a minute or so is slowed down to last several times longer, such as Ash's visit to a hospital, as the camera tracks her in front as she walks in slow motion, accompanied by a ghostly choir on the soundtrack. The film's climax is a confrontation between Ash and a man she used to know (it is half-implied that they were lovers, but the film leaves it to interpretation), which if shown in a linear, normal fashion, would amount to no more than two minutes of screen time. Oshii, however, intercuts the scene, which takes place outside an opera house, with the opera being performed indoors - a stunning, 12 minute piece by Kenji Kawai that ranks amongst the best pieces of music ever composed for a film.

Avalon is a film that demands numerous viewings to even begin to comprehend the whole picture and the totality of it's ideas. I have seen the film almost ten times now, and there is always something new, tucked quietly away in the corners of the screen. Notice how when Ash exits the Avalon gaming headquarters, there is always the sound of a can being kicked, even though she never kicks a can. Notice how every statue seen in the film is beheaded, or has it's face smashed in. Notice how the majority of pedestrians in Ash's world are completely immobile, or how in the second scene with the bassett hound, the dog is heard, but never seen. Like all of Oshii's films, Avalon is extremely challenging, and densely packed with numerous symbols and visual cues.

It is almost impossible to believe that the film's budget was only 6 million dollars, as it is a classy production indeed. The compter generated special effects are all first rate and rival those of big budget Hollywood productions, the score is performed by the Choir of Warsaw Philharmonic and the Warsaw Philharmonic Orchestra, and the computer-enhanced cinematography is jaw dropping in it's detail and realism. The entire first 2/3rds of Avalon are almost completely desaturated of color, with the film having a greenish-sepia tint with occasional touches of color. With all this visual wizardry on display, is it is a shock when the film reaches it's brilliant twist ending and reveals it's greatest special effect: almost no special effects at all. The finale's rebuff to the glorifying of special effects is a marvelous touch - and one that sets it apart from the dunderheaded whiz-bang likes of The Matrix and other genre pictures.

Miramax's hideous handling of the film is a real tragedy. Oshii's color scheme has been ruined, as the US edition steamrolls right through the film with an overly-oppressive sepia that washes out all the subtler color usage and just makes the film look like piss. The dialogue has been ruined as well; the English subtitles are in fact dubtitles, based upon the needlessly dumbed down English language dub that completely omits one of the film's central metaphors and replaces it with meaningless technobabble, robbing the film of much of it's intended meaning both story-wise and visually. Your best bet for seeing the film as it was intended to be seen is to buy the Korean 2-disc special edition, which is actually a copy of the Japanese special edition. It contains the accurate visual representation, as well as excellent and accurate English subtitles transcribed by the famous author Neil Gaiman (!!!). The film is also available on Blu-ray disc from Bandai Japan with the same picture and subtitles, although it is very pricey.