CONFESSIONS (2010) REVIEW & ANALYSIS
Tetsuya Nakashima's Gruesome Poetic Justice
Director: Tetsuya Nakashima
Cast: Takako Matsu, Yoshino Kimura, Masaki Okada, Yukito Nishii, Kaoru Fujiwara
Related films: Kamikaze Girls, The World of Kanako, Blue Spring, Love Exposure
Studio: Toho
Year: 2010
Verdict: 5/6
Content:
Known for Memories of Matsuko and Kamikaze Girls, Tetsuya Nakashima was hardly a stranger to defying conventions. Still, Confessions ruffled more than a few feathers and sparked intense online debate.
The plot alone is enough to make us question the fabric of Japanese society, the way our world is turning, and the deterioration of the human condition. On top of that, Confessions bends cinematic tropes out of whack like few films before it.
It's all so rebellious: belligerently exposing the darkest corners of society, blatantly breaking moviemaking conventions. Yet Nakashima does it with such unflinching ease that the whole thing passes before our eyes like a bad dream.
"I'm always more fascinated by the faults of people than by the good." (Tetsuya Nakashima — Electric Sheep Interview, 2011)
The Slow Writhing of a Wounded World
Simply put, Confessions is a marriage between a dysfunctional-family thriller and arthouse cinema, all the while putting the Japanese educational system under the microscope.
As much as there is to say about the topic matter, we first need to highlight how Nakashima underscores his statement through image and sound. Cleverly concealed by seamless juxtaposition, more than half the film is in slow motion.
It might sound like too much, but I hardly noticed it when coupled with normal-speed dialogue and voice-overs. At least, not on a conscious level.
Unconsciously, Confessions made me think, pounding its message so hard into my brain that my stomach started to turn. I never minded the slow-churning aesthetic, but, much like Soviet montage movies, it conditioned me—not to embrace communist ideology, but to question the story's root cause.
Where did such a pitch-black idea stem from? What was Nakashima trying to convey? And why did he orchestrate a movie so manipulative that it borders on cinematic violation? That, my friends, is the question at hand. Let's get into it.
The Plot of Confessions
The story is taken from the novel of the same name by Kanae Minato, and can be described as a wink to the Japanese tradition of shock and spine-tingling suspense.
When a teacher's daughter is found dead after an apparent accident, the pieces don't quite seem to fit.
The teacher — Yuko Moriguchi — soon discovers that her daughter was murdered by two of her own junior high school students, two particularly troubled boys with more than a few mental issues. Learning how they had experimented on and manipulated her daughter, she decides to take matters into her own hands.
As it turns out, the teacher is every bit as cunning as her students. Employing mind games, manipulation, and downright mental abuse, she makes sure the punishment fits the crime of murdering her baby girl.
To give you a taste of her tactics, she begins her campaign of vengeance by telling her class that her daughter's father was infected with HIV. She then reveals that she collected some of his blood, which she injected into the two perpetrators' school milk cartons.
HIV can be transmitted through sex or contact with infected blood, but not by simply swallowing the virus. It needs a way into the bloodstream, through an open wound or vulnerable tissue. But of course, drinking infected blood is hardly a reassuring prospect...
Naturally, her class is shocked and terrified by this revelation, and their teacher has only just begun. From then on, she sets her sights on the two perpetrators, dead set on making them feel the same pain they inflicted on her.
Confessions Analysis
Before we dig in, the title Confessions is an interesting choice, alluding to a well-known Japanese phenomenon. The word “kokuhaku”, meaning "confession," is also closely associated with declaring one's love for another person, a familiar part of the Japanese dating ritual.
But in this context, it appears to evoke the exact opposite: hate. In other words, the title might suggest a film about teenage love and awkwardness, but what follows is a monstrous tale about adolescent depravity and moral decay.
"While making Confessions, I felt that hatred was actually an emotion close to love. (Tetsuya Nakashima — PIA, 2010, translated from Japanese)
Getting back to my opening remarks: why did Nakashima choose to let such a vile tale pass before our eyes in slow motion? Was it to make us digest and feel the pain seeping in, as the characters did? Or was it perhaps something else?
Could it be a comment on slow-festering decadence and corruption in an otherwise high-paced society? In a world where rampant capitalism rules and family values have gone askew, how does this affect those on the sidelines?
Just imagine a nation that took a wrong turn during a global war. Defeat and occupation followed, forcing it to rebuild under outside influence without shedding its own deeply rooted traditions. Somehow, Japan managed to adapt, even thrive and excel, but at what cost?
The capitalism of the postwar boom was closely tied to nuclear families and strict patriarchal roles, leaving little room for otherness or individuality. Japan made it work and stuck with much of it, leaving equality and work-life balance in the dust.
So how does this connect to Confessions? Well, in a patriarchal world, where money talks and bullshit walks, inequality isn't always combated head-on. Sometimes it's met with deviousness. As for suppressed otherness, it can sometimes turn wicked if not channeled in more productive ways.
Speculative? Perhaps, but certain practices in Japanese workplaces make me wonder. When the rules aren't the same for everyone, might a more roundabout, even devious approach be defensible? Was this how an innocent teacher turned into a calculating master of vengeance?
Women often face fewer opportunities than men, leaving them to navigate uneven ground. I can only imagine how such circumstances might encourage a certain degree of cunning, though I wouldn't pretend it explains anyone's behavior, let alone everyone's.
"The best way to enjoy this film is to imagine and speculate what they really want." (Tetsuya Nakashima — Electric Sheep Interview, 2011)
If you don't have a foot in the door, it slams shut before you know it. Throwing your shoulder against it to get a foothold in a fiercely competitive landscape doesn't sound so bad. But these pressures don't suddenly appear the day you enter the workforce. In Confessions, they're already taking shape in the classroom.
One boy is desperate for recognition from the mother who abandoned him; the other longs for acceptance while suffocating under his mother's attention. Add the merciless dynamics of classmates, the fear of not fitting in, and the constant struggle to be seen, and the divide between school and society starts to look rather thin.
Japan has produced no shortage of exceptional individuals, of course, but not everyone cuts it, or even fits the profile. I'm not saying those who don't fit the mold become inhumane or sly manipulators, but such a ruthless world can sometimes seem geared toward pushing them in that direction. The pressure to perform. The neglect of mental health. The tendency to put the collective before the individual.
Why did Nakashima show us a slow-motion nightmare? Is it a snapshot of an evildoer's mind? Is it a slowly unfolding reversal of the murderer-victim roles, pointing to the good and bad in us all? Or does it reflect the darker shades of Japanese everyday life?
Perhaps these questions aren't mutually exclusive. Perhaps the cruelty unfolding in the classroom and the pressures waiting outside it are more closely related than we'd like to think. In that case, the most unsettling confession may not come from any one character, but from the society surrounding them.
Final Verdict | Confessions Review
This review is based on my fourth viewing of the film over a period of more than 15 years. Safe to say, both the film and I have matured considerably. I was studying film at the University of Oslo when Confessions was released, and I found its cinematography utterly captivating.
It wasn't until I saw the film again, some five years later, that the subject matter really sank in. And now that I have watched it again, well into middle age, I find it more interesting than ever.
Back in 2010, I considered it kinda trendy, toying with the medium, but not really a contender for Nakashima's best film. I didn't think it would stand the test of time. Today, I find it the most worthwhile film he's ever made.
Not only are its characters well fleshed out and interesting, but its cinematic touch remains as mind-boggling as ever. Now that I'm older, I actually find the whole film unsettling, yet frighteningly fascinating.
Putting the cinematography and mise-en-scène aside, the casting, acting, dialogue, and narrative structure step into the limelight. And they all shine. Nakashima found the perfect lead in Takako Matsu, and she carries the film effortlessly throughout.
"It's a hopeless story. Appearing in this film will only damage your image. No particularly clever person would accept the role." (Tetsuya Nakashima — Josei Jishin Press Conference, 2010, translated from Japanese)
Though I prefer her work in Villon's Wife and The Little House, this role cements Matsu's reputation. It showcases her range and puts her right up there among Japan's leading ladies of modern cinema, next to Haruka Ayase and Kyoko Koizumi.
In short, Nakashima proved me wrong. Not only did Confessions stand the test of time, but it actually gets better every time I see it. Unfortunately, it also makes me a little more queasy each time, so how many more I have in me is anyone's guess.
As for its style and subject matter, they complement each other perfectly, which is why the film stands so strong after all these years. It is still one of the most original films to come out of Japan since the turn of the century, not to mention the most provocative.
Sure, many a shock-horror or ultraviolent flick has come and gone since Confessions. But none has resonated as long. There is a certain shock factor to this film as well, but there's also something real beneath the horror, something that points to problems in Japan and the world at large. And that might be why Confessions never goes out of style.
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