Reflection: ノルウェイの森
Last thing we need circulating the web is yet another comparison-unsuccessfully labeled but aptly named a discussion-between Haruki Murakami's Norwegian Wood and the film directed by Tran Anh Hung. Still, it's Banned Books Week and I haven't read a novel by Murakami in well over a year. What better way to kick-off a celebration for both than with the only Murakami novel taking over a decade to reach the United States? At some point, I will actually sit down and write a formal analysis of the book, complete with themes and other findings, but not anytime too soon. Being vague is not my strong suit where passion is concerned. Consider this your spoiler alert!
Norwegian Wood is one of the most astute novels by Murakami. Having no supernatural or archaic themes, it handles, instead, more pragmatic themes like love and loss, illness, the isolation of youth and the variety of which people cope with hardships in life. It is, essentially, his most differential work for that alone. One other thing that sets this story apart from the rest is his use of autobiographical detail to portray that straightforward feel of the novel. And personally, I wouldn't have it any other way.
Others who have read the book have said the dialogue seemed stilted or forced in areas and that the characters, although unchanging from start to finish, don't blend together well enough; that this book wasn't signature to Murakami, some due to translation error. I have only ever read prints by Vintage International, which have made sure Jay Rubin and/or Philip Gabriel participated in some or every step of the translation process. Even though I don't get the authenticity of reading the original Japanese, everything reads as coming from one author and that makes all the difference. Therefore, anyone planning on picking up a copy, go Vintage.
At it's core, Norwegian Wood is a love story and coming-of-age novel, recounting the life of Toru Watanabe and the select handful of people who he has known or has come to know during the late 1960s. It is a narrative, beginning with Toru affected by a rendition of The Beatles' song, of the same name, that reminds him of his youth. The following is of Toru back in his youth, back to the age of nineteen and back to Naoko, his first love. Bonded by the death of Kizuki, Naoko's boyfriend and Toru's best friend, the two struggle to cope with their loss, but also to understand the new tie between them. While Naoko withdraws into herself and puts distances between her and the rest of the world, Toru tries to find balance between reaching out to others and helping Naoko do the same. It's then that Toru meets Midori, a spirited and independent young classmate, who introduces him to her unorthodox world as a liberated woman.
Tran Anh Hung did this justice. He truly captured the story of Toru Watanabe, Naoko and her illness and Midori Kobayashi. All the while, he shows the brilliant and breath-taking imagery and natural scenes Murakami tells in his writing. One such scene is the meadow where much of the movie takes place, described by Murakami:
Eighteen years have gone by, and still I can bring back every detail of that day in the meadow. Washed clean of summer's dust by days of gentle rain, the mountains wore a deep, brilliant green. The October breeze set white fronds of head-high grasses swaying. One long streak of cloud hung pasted across a dome of frozen blue. It almost hurt to look at that far-off sky. A puff of wind swept across the meadow and through her hair before it slipped into the woods to rustle branches and send back snatches of distant barking - a hazy sound that seemed to reach us from the doorway to another world. We heard no other sounds. We met no other people. We saw only two bright red birds leap startled from the center of the meadow and dart into the woods.
-Haruki Murakami, Norwegian Woods, p.4
Visually, Hung could not have improved an inch. I think he added a contrast with the slightly-dilapidated dormitory and the dream-like beauty of Naoko's retreat that only solidified Murakami's aim. I believe he brought also to life Murakami's vision of the protests going on around Toru and how he was clearly not a part, though sometimes literally in the center of it all. Additionally, Hung added elements of his own that exemplified Murkami's concepts, but in Hung's own unique way. Namely, Naoko was given a more "crazy" feel as opposed to the depressed attitude she had in the book. Instead of expressing her tribulations in letters, the adaptation of Naoko randomly ran through fields, screaming.
However, where Hung fell flat was in editing. The decision to limit background story and exposition of the characters-especially that of Toru, Midori and Reiko-for time was a poor one. Of course, the movie can stand alone without going into detail of Storm Trooper's calisthenics or the brief relationship between Toru and Itoh, but there were some big changes in the way major characters were perceived.
Naturally, the biggest difference being Toru. Much of the dialogue within the novel was witty and varied slightly from person to person, not to mention was at times generation-specific; and much of that dialogue was nowhere to be found, leaving Toru exceptionally quiet and seemingly over-reserved. After a while, one felt sorry for him, having all of the story's hardships but none of it's more upbeat comedic relief. My only complaint with both Midori and Reiko is that of their relationship. It's possible to show the passing of time and the growing of bonds between Toru and Midori, with them becoming closer as lovers, and between Toru and Reiko as friends without adding too much to the film's length.
From a different standpoint, I have to mention one discrepancy I had with Hung's directorial style: the music. Although instrumentals were wonderfully scored by Johnny Greenwood (of Radiohead) with vocals by Can, the music coordinator had fun with intermittently adding bits of songs and then abruptly cutting them off. Normally this is done for dramatic effect, such as when Toru learned Midori's father had died, but this misuse was repeated throughout the entire film. Albeit, credit is due for Hung's interesting angles and lighting, and tasteful, but true to the book, sex scenes.
Overall, I don't think the movie can stand on it's own successfully without viewers first reading the novel. There were simply too many unconnected moments strung together, like switching between two movies at once and trying to piece together a single story. That said, I feel the novel has more to offer in details, in storyline, in characters and in general. Though both are still enjoyable, only one of the two compliments the other.
Favorite Quotes:"What makes us the most normal," said Reiko, "is knowing that we're not normal."
"It's because of you when I'm in bed in the morning that I can wind my spring and tell myself I have to live another good day."
"Death is not the opposite of life but an innate part of life."
Favorite Scenes:
There is a scene within the film where Toru and Naoko are lieing together in the grass, a small strip of land between two small ponds. The water behind Toru's back is calm, reflecting the gray-blue sky above it, while the image in Naoko's pond is interrupted by stems of grass. I thought it was a nice way to show their differences.
Favorite scene, hands down, is the scene wherein Toru is on his break from reality after Naoko's death. Although Toru being played by Matsuyama Kenichi definitely has something to do with it, the moment the character was shown in the midst of his heartbreak, his sorrow, and his pain over losing a loved one, that moment was unbelievably executed. Watching it, I could actually feel what he was going through just by seeing it. I'm so thankful that Hung decided to drown out the sounds of that tormented man with the surrounding ocean. It would have been truly unbearable otherwise.
Personal note: I've been accepted to work at Sam's Club, your everyday bulk-retailer. I'm employed. :)