Review of Tony Takitani (2004) by Adam A — 10 Oct 2005

It's difficult to write about a movie as quiet and understated as [i]Tony Takitani[/i] without making it sound so simpleminded as to be boring. This is a very small story about a very low-key guy and yet I found myself enthralled throughout.

Tony Takitani's father was a jazz musician who spent some time in a Chinese prison before returning to Japan and marrying Tony's mother. Tony's mother died shortly after giving birth to him. Since his father was on the road with his band much of the time, Tony was raised by a housekeeper until he was old enough to take care of himself. He spent much of childhood alone, yet since this was the only life he knew, he never considered himself to be lonely.

Tony grows up and gets a job as a technical illustrator. He's particularly adept at doing detailed sketches of machinery. Since drawing is solitary work, the job suits him well. Tony develops a sound client base and appears to be quite content. That is, until the day he meets Eiko.

Eiko is a beautiful younger woman who's sent to pick up Tony's sketches one day. Tony is immediately captivated and decides to pursue a relationship. The two fall in love and get married. For the first time in his life, Tony is no longer alone. He and Eiko appear to be very, very happy.

There's only one small problem. Eiko loves to shop. Designer clothes are like crack for her. She buys new shoes and jackets and skirts and coats every single day. Tony converts a spare room into a giant closet just to be able to hold them all, like a private mini-boutique. But Eiko keeps right on shopping. Tony finally asks her nicely if perhaps she can cut back a touch. Eiko agrees. The result is tragic. Tony Takitani is alone once again.

I know, this sounds like a really stupid story when I try to explain it, the ill-fated tale of a lonely man and a shopaholic. But it's more than just that. At first, Tony didn't even realize he was lonely and was comfortable with his solitary existence. But once he became aware of what he'd been missing and felt genuinely happy and connected with another person even for a very short time, he could no longer go back to his old way of living. It's not so stupid at all; it's really kind of sad.

Much of the story is told by a narrator whose soft, soothing voice contributes greatly to the mood of the film even though he's speaking Japanese. Though there's very little dialogue, one of movie's oddities is that the characters often just jump in and finish bits of the narration themselves. Another is the slow panning of the camera from left to right to indicate the passage of time, each scene melding into the next. The film also has a very haunting and pervasive piano soundtrack. I can still conjure it up in my head five days later, though it always seems to morph into Aerosmith's "Dream On" if I think about it long enough.

Though this movie is no longer playing in Chicago, it's definitely worth renting some day, especially if you find yourself in the mood for a haunting little Japanese fairy tale about the perils of loneliness.