Doppelganger
By Chris Hyde
August 17, 2004
Of all the directors from the recent wave of Japanese horror, Kiyoshi Kurosawa is perhaps the most enigmatic. Doppelganger, the director’s most recent film, continues his offbeat examinations of a world gone awry.
Though Hideo Nakata and Takashi Miike may have garnered more press here in the States for their forays into terror, fellow countryman Kiyoshi Kurosawa has also carved a substantial niche for himself in the genre. Kurosawa’s scary films, however, tend to rely more on the unseen and unsettling than on buckets of blood to thrill audiences, and they’re also characterized by a crafty wariness about technology that sets them apart from much modern horror. The filmmaker’s sociological works often seem to be ruminations on the disconnect and malaise that arise from humanity’s association with machines; but at the same time they’re incisive examinations of the ultimate need to accept certain aspects of the human condition.
Doppelganger begins with a woman named Yuka (played by Hiromi Nagasuku) receiving a call about her brother committing suicide — even though he apparently sits in the next room watching television as she talks on the phone. It seems as though he’s been replaced with some simulacrum of himself, and though this disturbs Yuka greatly she simply tries to learn to live with it. Concurrently, a technological researcher named Michio (Koji Yakusho) is building a hi-tech wheelchair for a big company that wants his inventions to come to market as soon as possible. Michio is a genius of a sort, but his headstrong manner and belief in his own ability causes much friction with his corporate overseers. Meanwhile, one of Michio’s co-workers knows of the odd story of what happened to Yuka and casually mentions it to the scientist one day as an aside.
Being the analytical type, Michio initially dismisses the doppelganger story as uninteresting and beneath his notice — right up until his own double shows up to haunt him. Suddenly, Michio’s world is upset as this counterpart infiltrates his world and deflects its normal course. For the doppelganger has a far different personality than Michio is himself — where the “real” Michio is straightforward, driven and reserved, his otherwordly partner is rather more duplicitous, dishonest and Dionysian. Eventually, scientist Michio allows himself to accept the help of his darker half and the story veers from horror to black comedy as the inventor teams up with the aforementioned Yuka and attempts to make some sort of sense out of what the world has become.
While Doppelganger shares many traits with Kurosawa’s previous horror films, this one is a bit slicker and more comedic than his other genre efforts. While there are plenty of the signature bits that intimate an unease about machines and the interpersonal miscommunication that can result from an over reliance on the technological, the tone here is far different than in creepier films like Kairo. There’s much more of a mainstream feel to Doppelganger, which makes the movie play almost like it’s the director’s attempt to subvert the genre picture from the inside out.
Especially noticeable in this regard is Kurosawa’s use of music and sound, an area of filmmaking that the director has always paid special attention to. Though often this means an eerie or droning sound design in his work, Doppelganger also has moments of musical flourish that are far more overt than he has previously used. This is a complete departure from Kurosawa’s usual sonic accompaniment, which generally seems to operate on a completely different level than the visual. Here, however, the director sometimes uses swelling musical cues that on occasion threaten to overwhelm the action onscreen with their blaring insistency; it’s as if he’s toying with the typical mainstream film’s heavy handed underlining of image with symphonic bluster.
Another thing that sets Doppelganger off from director’s other films is its slightly more optimistic outlook; the use of comedy in the movie is quite up front and keeps the movie from becoming yet another gloomy look at humanity’s plight. Kurosawa seems to be trying to come to terms with the fact that there are certain characteristics that people hold as part of their personalities that must be met head on in order for life to move forward. There’s a sense that only by embracing these darker aspects of self can a person integrate themselves into society and perhaps pursue the possibility of happiness. In this way, the director seems to use the thriller/horror format in a manner more akin to Hollywood filmmakers like Robert Aldrich or Don Siegel than his more cavalier compatriots. Though there aren’t any easy answers to the human condition that are proposed by Kurosawa, there’s an intimation that violence is a trait that lurks within every human heart and that perhaps only acknowledgement of that stranger within will allow it to be held in check.
Doppelganger is certainly not without its flaws - the abrupt mood changes from horror to comedy can be slightly jarring, and at times I found myself wishing for a little more of the old obfuscation. But the film is acted quite well (lead Koji Yakusho is especially superb) and the proceedings are paced just perfectly by the director. It’s fascinating to watch Kurosawa operate inside this mainstream milieu, and it’s a testament to the director’s talent that this one tackles large issues with a detached eye that allows for intense examination without excessive moralizing. The final result here is yet another unique outing from an individual whose skills make him among the best working genre directors anywhere in the world; there are few current cinema fantasists who are as consistently thought provoking as this Japanese craftsman. Each past project from this filmmaker has offered a window into a heretofore unseen universe — one can only imagine what the future might bring.
--This review uses the Korean Cinexus R3 DVD as its source material.--
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