Sion Sono’s first film for Netflix is a wild return to form…
As prolific as he is provocative, Sion Sono has been on variable form in recent years, switching between commercial fare like the Shinjuku Swan films and The Virgin Psychics, and Tag, Anti-Porno and others which are more in line with the crazy creativity of his early works. After suffering a heart attack following the completion of his Amazon series Tokyo Vampire Hotel, rather than slowing down the director decided to use a break before shooting his next feature to pack in another film, his first for Netflix, The Forest of Love.
As with any Sion Sono film worth its salt, The Forest of Love is hard to pin down, and though apparently based on a real-life series of murders, it’s fair to say that artistic liberties have been taken with the story. Split into chapters that are uneven in length and don’t follow any consistent pattern, the film starts off seeming to deal with a serial killer mystery, before switching to follow conman Murata (Kippei Shiina, Shinjuku Swan 2), who ingratiates himself into the life of the reclusive Mitsuko (newcomer Eri Kamataki) after a short but aggressive courtship. This dismays her former classmate and playwright Taeko (Kyoko Hinami, 21st Century Girl), who still nurses feelings for her years after taking part in an all-female production of Romeo and Juliet at school, and who has reasons of her own for mistrusting Murata. Meanwhile, a group of young amateur filmmakers hear Taeko’s story, and after becoming convinced that Murata is the serial killer stalking the prefecture, decide to make their own guerrilla film about him – from there, things get really weird.
The Forest of Love is like Sion Sono on speed, packing in all of his obsessions, including, but not limited to lesbian high school girls, serial killers, insanely enthusiastic amateur filmmakers, suicide pacts and lots of violence in various physical and emotional forms. The film plays like a greatest hits package at times, Netflix presumably having taken the brave decision to give the director free reign, though it most resembles Cold Fish and Why Don’t You Play in Hell? from his own repertoire. Sono weaves things together skilfully in his usual manner, somehow managing to exhibit a complete lack of logic while making the film and the many trials of his inconsistent characters engaging, and at times, oddly sweet. At two and a half hours The Forest of Love is undeniably very long, and is admittedly a film which will test the patience of many, though it does at least always have something going on, no matter how tangential.
The main theme seems to be abuse, with Sono exploring the psychological impact of trauma and how this can lead to the forming of distinctly unhealthy and destructive relationships, with an emphasis on self-harm. Mitsuko and Taeko are both survivors, though of a very different kind, and the ways in which they remain tied to the male characters is horribly fascinating, giving the film its central dynamics. Though the director has often been accused of misogyny and of wilfully glorifying the masculine gaze, here his male characters are similarly in thrall of Murata himself, be they young filmmakers or outwardly respectable members of the patriarchy, and his corrupting influence is equally harmful for them. While there are obvious political parallels to be read into Murata’s behaviour and his attitude towards women and money, loudly insisting on grabbing either whenever he decides to, the filmmaking aspects and ranting dialogue about cinema, art and the role of the director make it tempting to also see the film as at least being vaguely autobiographical. Naturally, it’s hard to ascertain exactly what Sono might be saying about himself if so, though the young filmmakers are treated in a far more cynical manner than similar characters in his other films, their initial exuberance being dampened and then warped by Murata when he takes on the role of producer.
Painted with a mix of lurid colours and with a surreal use of lighting throughout, the film has the look and feel of a Sono production far more than might have been expected for something funded by Netflix. This does inevitably mean that the film will be hard going for some viewers, getting very gruesome in places thanks to frequent and drawn out dismemberment sequences, which are combined with lots of sex and nudity, along with softcore lesbianism and shots of high school girls kissing in their underwear. Torture plays a key role in the film, with Murata subjecting the rest of the cast to swathes of physical as well as emotional abuse, mostly involving electrocution – although these scenes are not particularly graphic, their increasing regularity and inevitability make them tough to watch, the characters becoming more and more scarred as they descend into varying states of derangement.
All of this makes it The Forest of Love a very Sion Sono film indeed, and for fans, it’s arguably his best offering in a while and a throwback to the director at his most crazed and unfettered. It’s great to see Netflix supporting filmmakers like Sono in this way, and whatever arguments cinephiles might have against the platform, it’s unlikely that a film like this would have been made and given such a wide release otherwise.