The moment Norwegian Wood, the movie, started on my laptop, I knew it would fail to deliver the epic that is the book itself. Unfortunately, I hit the mark right on.
I always wondered how any director would convey the vital elements of the book without leaving any quirks and significance of the story. The tale woven meticulously by Murakami, story told in a whole different angle, will it work? It is, I would admit, not an easy task.
The movie, directed by a Thai filmmaker, Tran Anh Hung, was, to put it simply, boring. I ploughed through the movie only because it was Murakami’s story brought to life; the eye candy in the form of Kenichi Matsuyama didn’t hurt either. Other than that, I found myself waiting patiently for that thing, that signature whimsicality of Murakami’s books. I thought it was harmless to expect at least a little grandeur of a movie, what with it basing off a genius novel. Well, prepare to be disappointed ladies and gentleman.
Watanabe’s character was passive in every second of the movie, except for the countless unnecessary sex scenes. He came off as a useless little jerk who slept around with all the girls that he could get his hands on. The deep sense of worldly connection that he had with the main characters, Naoko and Midori, and how he accrued those bonds with all the gracility and normality in any indicatory Murakami character, were left undepicted. And so the whole movie seemed like a cheap indie film.
The special build up that the characters had with Watanabe, as the appeaser, the middleman, was cut short due to the lack of screen time. Either that or the director just didn’t have the confidence in his ability to portray such strong, unique relationships, considering how long each sex scene took. It appeared as if the director was so desperate to show the peculiar relevance between each character that he just plopped a few sex scenes here and there and thought those would work just fine. Insulted, I am very much so.
The script and the flow of the movie were very vague too. Those who watch the movie without reading the book beforehand will find themselves scratching their heads in bemusement. The scriptwriters seem to assume that the viewers already know what the conversation is all about and the reasons for the characters to speak and express themselves in a certain way. So the dialogue exchanged were obscure, random and perplexing. The flow just makes it even more incomprehensible with its scenes jumping to one and the other without so much as a farewell or greeting. One second you’re attempting to digest a scene and you expect it to go on longer, the next it changes to a whole different scene and so the last scene feels disconnected, hanging faintly in the haze of it all.
On the other hand, some of the acting I just couldn’t bear. It.Felt.So.Awkward. So stiff and unfamiliar. I couldn’t help but notice how bare the characters in the movie looked, like they were absorbed in the movie but at the same time out of this world. Of course this was just occasionally. Most of the time I just drooled over Kenichi Matsuyama and tried not to cringe at the infelicitous acting. I’m not saying the acting is bad, I’m just stating how unsatisfied I am with it. A lot may disagree with me on this but this is just how I see it.
Nevertheless, it is interesting to watch the movie play itself out. Though the abstract entities reached out to me far better when I read the book, I can’t say the movie is a total catastrophe and I would still recommend it to anyone who is up for a nice, mellow movie. But then I have a superimposed intention for doing that: so that they would pick up Norwegian Wood and read the book itself.
