His Motorbike, Her Island
directed by Nobuhiko Obayashi
starring Riki Takeuchi, Kiwako Harada
Cult Epics
On the surface it may be difficult to link His Motorbike, Her Island with the director Nobuhiko Obayashi’s surreal horror comedy Hausu (1977), but nothing in His Motorbike, Her Island is quite what it initially appears to be, and it is far more layered than one might expect from a biker romance film.
Throughout his career, Nobuhiko Obayashi was repelled by the pedestrian and predictable, so it follows that with His Motorbike, Her Island, he would employ a number of cinematic devices to serve the film visually. The director also adds levels of complexity and ambiguity to the story that keep the film lingering with the viewer like the uneasy memory of a dream upon waking. What would have worked as a serviceable tale of young love on the rural islands of the Japanese archipelago becomes instead a treatise on independence and an exploration of personal autonomy, independence, and the wavering veracity of memory.
The story of Ko (Riki Takeuchi) and Miyo’s (Noriko Watanabe) unconventional romance is told in both color and black and white, interchanging between and sometimes even within scenes — a curious stylistic choice that by the end of the film one realizes may have deeper symbolic significance than is hinted at throughout the film. Ko’s admission that he only dreams in monochrome and the importance of Miyo’s island’s Obon festival (Buddhist celebration of the dead) are major clues, but Obayashi prefers ambiguity, and His Motorbike, Her Island is open to a variety of readings and interpretations. Though one thing is certain: no matter how much Ko believes he has freedom, he will year after year be at Miyo’s island for Obon, and for those moments, life will be perfection.
One thing that isn’t up for debate is how beautiful this film is. Like his main character who wants to chase the wind, director Nobuhiko Obayashi chose to shoot his film entirely on location. He also made the decision to shoot in whatever the elements gave him, and what it gave him was rain. This is such a rainy movie, even when it doesn’t serve the plot. Obayashi’s camera prowls the back roads and small island villages alongside Ko and his Kawasaki in such a lyrical way that it is so easy to buy into why he wants to ride these roads instead of living a traditional life in the city. He and his girlfriend, Miyo, both crave the freedom and independence that is symbolized by their bikes but made real by the mutual and unorthodox agreement that they would take their own paths and only promise to be together during Obon on her little island.
This underseen gem of mid-‘80s Japanese cinema has been brought to the West in a gorgeous new Blu-ray from Cult Epics, boasting a lush transfer and some serious extras, including thoughtful video essays from Esther Rosenfield and Alex Pratt and a new audio commentary from the always delightful and insightful Samm Deighan.
