LFF 2021: Wheel of Fortune and Fantasy ‘偶然と想像’
LFF
Ryusuke Hamaguchi's anthology feature Wheel of Fortune and Fantasy is an often haunting but freeing exploration of the depths and substance of affection, adoration, lust, and love. Split into three distinctive and unique stories set in Japan, Hamaguchi's feature is not set on investigating said themes but instead presenting said arcs in their uncomfortable reality and honesty.
Due to this motif, there are very few instigating moments or generic conventional beats within the narrative. This depiction, again, reinforces an organic and authentic nature to proceedings with a vulnerability on offer, but the obstacle that it presents is an incredibly elongated screenplay and, therefore, character-centric personification. In one sense, Hamaguchi's crafts a stern and self-oriented picture that evolves on its own terms. However, on the other hand, it can be considered quite dry, and to each point would have substance, but for the first two acts and stories, Wheel of Fortune and Fantasy is a rich and immersive experience.
With a distinct palette and idiosyncrasies that meditate with brooding character, the first two stories present a direct, emotive stance with clarity of substance, albeit perhaps delivered heavy-handedly. It explores hidden love and that terrible feeling of grief over something that never can take shape. What differs from the third and final arc is that it begins, proceeds, and ends in a feeling of aloof nature while having a similar emotive theme. Granted, it would not be overly surprising to learn that the third and final piece is the stirring crown for most viewers, but it lacks a connection and bond. No doubt a conscious element but one that has an air of total ambiguity, while compared to its two predecessors concerned with a feeling of in the moment trials and tribulations.
It no doubt works, however, and in the context of how the emotive connection ultimately crafts the structure of the first act, a relationship finding its feet as is the audience to the feature. The second act, a relationship brooding and gaining figurative weight in the viewer finding their own feet within the work presented. Finally, the fleeting feeling of a relationship gone by, of which works wonders on a backend of feeling and thought on what surrounds eternal damnation if not speaking or saying what is needed to be done in the past, and have it torture the present and ultimately the future.
One thing is most definitely clear: this piece from Ryusuke Hamaguchi is meticulously thought through and produced. Not only on its thematic scale but through its choice of depiction. In the most respectful of manners, this is not a feature that oozes stylistic filmmaking; it is simplistic cinematic form from the director of photography Yukiko Iioka, and in that very restraint offers organic authenticness. It consistently exudes a feeling of reality and, in turn, crafts immersion and emotive connection to the material at hand.
This is equally as sophistically presented in the range of performance from the cast. In each respective story, there is the diverse and effective range of gender and sexuality. Hamaguchi's film could push these boundaries further with a more dynamic and unique form, nevertheless, what is presented is ever so valuable. Kotone Furukawa and Katsuki Mori are the standouts here in their respective roles and stories. Each actress presents a brooding discourse in character motif, and with that comes a great deal of weight to exercise in terms of personification. Two characters cut from the same cloth in terms of arc, yet they enrapture the viewer into their soaring isolation of the fleeting feeling of hope and, in an instant, no feeling at all. Ultimately solidifying the icing on a lavish yet simplistic venture.
