BIOLOGIJA KAO SUDBINA U POSTHUMANOM SVETU MIŠELA UELBEKA

(c) Dejan Ognjanović

(OVAJ ESEJ OBJAVLJEN JE U ČASOPISU 'GRADINA' br. 20, 2007.)

Pišući o Uelbekovom romanu Elementarne čestice u Njujorkeru, Džulijan Barns je kazao: "Ovo je roman koji se upušta u lov na krupnu divljač, dok se ostali zadovoljavaju pucanjem na zečeve."

  I zaista, Uelbek čoveka posmatra u vrtlogu sila mnogo većih od skučene perspektive većine današnjih prozaista: istorija i biologija, genetika i futurologija, evolucija u prošlosti i dalekoj budućnosti, utopija i distopija - neki su od parametara u slici čovečanstva koje Uelbek prikazuje... Posežući za motivima kao što su mogućnost vanzemaljskih rasa, utopističke zajednice 'Novoljudi', genetski inženjering kao metod obezbeđenja besmrtnosti, apokalipsa i postapokaliptični svet, čovek i natčovek, i njima sličnim, on je sebe postepeno i gotovo neprimetno doveo u blizinu naučne fantastike. Ipak, njegova proza jasno pokazuje da naučna fantastika u svojoj suštini ipak nije futurologija: ona se ne bavi budućnošću, već razobličavanjem sadašnjosti kroz fikciju (prozu). Otud neki kritičari idu tako daleko da čak ustvrde kako je Uelbek prvi francuski romanopisac posle Balzaka kome je pošlo za rukom da uhvati društvenu realnost savremenog života. Drugi se boje da već živimo u distopiji koju on opisuje, i da čak ni njegovi fantastični koncepti nisu tako neostvarivi, imajući u vidu evidentne tendencije u današnjoj nauci i opštem svetonazoru despiritualizovane, materijalističke civilizacije koja ka njihovom ostvarenju kao da zaista vodi.

  Uelbekova prva knjiga, H.F. Lavkraft: Protiv sveta, protiv života (1991) zapravo je poduži esej posvećen radu velikog američkog pisca fanastike i horora, ali je Uelbek u svom predgovoru naziva svojim prvim romanom. Napisana sa velikom strašću ali i dubokim razumevanjem ovog književnog i životnog autsajdera, ona već i svojim naslovom sugeriše nepristajanje na ovaj svet, koje s Lavkraftom Uelbek deli:

Malo je ljudskih bića –piše on o Lavkraftu- ikada bilo do srži prožeto ubeđenjem o apsolutnoj besciljnosti ljudskih težnji. Svemir nije ništa drugo do nasumični raspored elementarnih čestica. Prolazna slika na putu ka haosu. Koja će se okončati onim neizbežnim: nestankom ljudske rase. Druge rase će se pojaviti, i nestati za njima. Nebesa su hladna i prazna, prošarana putanjama slabašnog svetla polu-mrtvih zvezda. Koje će, takođe, nestati. Sve nestaje. A ljudske radnje su isto tako nasumične i besciljne kao i kretanje elementarnih čestica. Dobro, zlo, smrtnost, fina osećanja? Čista 'viktorijanska izmišljotina'. Postoji samo egoizam. Čist, nerazvodnjen i zasenjujuć. (Michel Houellebecq, H.P. Lovecraft: Against the World, Against Life, San Francisco, Believer Books, 2005, p. 32 (sve navode iz ove knjige, neobjavljene na srpskom, preveo D.O.)

Lavkraft se, u tom 'romanu', pokazuje kao jednako zahvalan glasnogovornik Uelbekovih nazora kakvi će, kasnije, biti i protagonisti svih ostalih njegovih proznih dela. Pored bliskosti nazora (uključujući i neke 'politički nekorektne', kao što je zaziranje od tuđinskih, nezapadnjačkih kultura i rasa), Uelbek je od Lavkrafta naučio bar još jednu veliku lekciju: "korišćenje naučničkog vokabulara može proizvesti enormni stimulans za poetičku imaginaciju. Sadržaj koji je istovremeno precizan, gust u detaljima i bogat teoretskom zaleđinom, kao onaj u enciklopediji, može proizvesti deliričan i ekstatičan učinak." (ibid, p. 74.) Lavkraft je rasturio ljušturu konvencionalne naracije sistematskom upotrebom naučnih termina i koncepata u svojim fantastičnim i stravičnim pričama, i time utro put drugim poetama klinički-naučne, mračno-apokaliptične proze, kakvi su Vilijem Barouz i DŽ. G. Balard, koji zapravo predstavljaju most ka Uelbeku, i nužnu pozadinu za razumevanje njegovog stila i pristupa odabranoj tematici.

  Slično Lavkraftu i Barouzu, za Uelbeka je biologija, takođe – sudbina. Sa opsesivnom posvećenošću on se iznova i iznova vraća analizi ljudske životinje, neprestano podsećajući na usud zacrtan već u našim 'elementarnim česticama', u ćelijama smrtnih tela još uvek, i zauvek, gonjenih životinjskim porivima:

Praktično sva životinjska društva funkcionišu po jednom sistemu dominacije koji je povezan sa relativnom snagom njegovih članova. Ovaj sistem se karakteriše striktnom hijerarhijom: najjači mužjak u grupi se zove životinja alfa, iza ovoga dolazi drugi po snazi, životinja beta, i tako dalje sve do životinje koja je najniža po rangu hijerarhije, i koja se zove životinja omega. […] Bruno se nalazio u manje pogodnom položaju. Grubost i dominacija, veoma rasprostranjene u životinjskim društvima, praćene su već kod šimpanze (Pan trogolodytes) činom bezrazložne surovosti koji je uperen protiv najslabije životinje. Ova tendencija dostiže svoj vrhunac u primitivnim ljudskim društvima, a u razvijenijim društvima kod deteta i mlađeg adolescenta. (Mišel Uelbek, Elementarne čestice, Plato, Beograd, 1999., str.58-59.)

  Elementarne čestice govore o dva brata: Brunu, seksom opsednutom profesoru književnosti, i Mišelu, genetičaru čije će otkriće, na kraju romana, omogućiti kloniranje ljudi i nastanak nove rase umnogome oslobođene najvećih opterećenja čovečanstva: porodičnih trauma, seksualnosti i smrtnosti. Najveći deo romana posvećen je kliničkom, i gotovo ciničnom posmatranju dvojice junaka. Oni su poput laboratorijskih miševa u lavirintu požuda i opsesija, i neprestano se sudaraju sa ograničenjima ukorenjenim u pomenuta tri ograničenja. Trauma porodice i rane mladosti ogleda se u napuštenosti od strane majke (koja se pridružila hipi komuni), odrastanju uz baku, i kasnije, u internatu gde mučenje starijih dečaka ostavlja neizbrisive ožiljke; Bruno je njima opsednut i u zrelom dobu, načinjen nesigurnim, povučenim. Seksualnost je, u tom kontekstu, jedini (potencijalni) spas: "Svet je bio spor i hladan. Postojala je međutim jedna vrela stvar, ono što žene imaju među nogama; a ta stvar mu je bila nedostupna." (ibid, str. 79.) Česta uskraćenost tog jedinog azila od neprijateljskog sveta izvor je brojnih frustracija za Uelbekove junake, simbolički predstavljajući nedostižnost 'izgubljenog raja', odnosno njegovu prolaznost u retkim slučajevima kada on bude dosegnut, budući da se sve romanse Uelbekovih junaka po pravilu završavaju ili smrću voljene, ili njenim odlaskom (zarad mlađeg muškarca, karijere, i tome slično).

Smrt kao fundamentalno ograničenje javlja se u nekoliko obličja: kao otimačica voljenih osoba (kroz rak, kroz nesrećne slučajeve, kroz nasumične terorističke napade…), i kao senka koja lebdi nad samim junakom, u obličju starosti. Malo je koji autor do sada sa tolikom posvećenošću, proživljenošću i ubedljivošću kao Uelbek opisao melanholiju srednjeg doba, svest o nastupajućoj starosti i gašenju životne sile i nostalgiju za mladošću kao jedinim pozitivnim kvalitetom ljudskog života. Ovaj neminovni trenutak u svakom životu on opisuje surovo iskreno i bez trunke ulepšavanja i poetizacije. Iznova i iznova Uelbekovi junaci posmatraju mlade žene sa ambivalentnim udivljenjem: s jedne strane, one su nosioci azila koji pruža jedini mogući spas od gnusnog sveta; s druge, sasvim razumljiva biološka sklonost tih devojaka mlađim, snažnijim, zgodnijim muškarcima dovodi sredovečne protagoniste do sumanutih napada ljubomore i tirada protiv 'sebičnosti' mladih.

Danijel I, junak Mogućnosti ostrva, u jednom trenutku priznaje: "…tokom čitavog svog života, zanimao sam se samo za svoj kurac, i ni za šta drugo, sada je moj kurac bio mrtav, a ja sam ga pratio u njegovom posmrtnom padu, i dobio sam ono što sam zaslužio…" (Mišel Uelbek, Mogućnost ostrva, Plato, Beograd, 2006., str. 270.) Zlobni kritičari su ovakve deonice otpisivali kao patetično-autobiografske momente; ali, iako oni jesu i to, oni zapravo govore mnogo više: baš zato što su ti trenuci pro-življeni, a onda pro-mišljeni, i stavljeni u kontekst opštih tendencija jednog doba, oni se pretvaraju u osudu čitave kapitalističke 'kulture mladosti' (eng. 'youth culture') u kojoj su svekolika reklamna, filmska, muzička, pa i erotska industrija posvećeni isključivo idolatriji mladosti. To je kultura u kojoj je pornografija zamenila erotiku, SM klubovi i seksualni turizam su tu da nadomeste osećaje uzbuđenja i egzotike iščilele iz postojećih veza, a svaki osećaj smislenosti društvenog života i sopstvenog rada iščezao je davno, zajedno sa bajkama o 'duhovnim vrednostima' u koje više niko ne veruje. Ostao je samo život posvećen sebičnoj potrazi za telesnim zadovoljstvom kao jedinoj zamislivoj sreći.

Moderni čovek, kakvog Uelbek minuciozno opisuje, otuđen je ne samo od svog rada već i od čitavog društva u čijem okviru živi:

Postavljen izvan privredno-industrijskog kompleksa, ne bih bio u stanju da obezbedim ni sopstveno preživljavanje: ne bih znao kako da se hranim, da se oblačim, da se zaštitim od nepogoda; moja lična tehnička znanja i sposobnosti su itekako inferiorniji od neandertalca. Zavistan totalno od društva koje me okružuje, ja sam mu sa svoje strane skoro bez ikakve koristi; sve što znam da radim jeste da proizvodim sumnjive komentare o zastarelim kulturnim predmetima. (Mišel Uelbek, Elementarne čestice, ibid, str. 260.)

O 'bogu' i veri u 'više vrednosti', ili barem 'dušu' - nema ni govora:

Ne samo da nikada nisam pristao ni uz jedno religijsko verovanje, nego nisam nikada o tome ni razmišljao. Za mene su stvari bile onakve kako su izgledale: čovek je životinjska vrsta, nastala od drugih životinjskih vrsta zamršenim i mučnim procesom evolucije; sastavljen je od mase organa, a posle smrti se ti organi raspadaju, pretvaraju se u jednostavnije molekule; neće preostati nijedan trag moždane aktivnosti, ni mišljenja, niti bilo čega drugog što bi se moglo pripisati nekom duhu ili duši. Moj ateizam je bio tako stamen, toliko isključiv, da ovakve teme nisam nikada ni uspeo da shvatim ozbiljno. (Mišel Uelbek, Mogućnost ostrva, ibid, str. 199-200.)

Čak ni umetnost, taj 'poslednji azil', bar od XIX veka naovamo, više ne pruža utehu: današnji umetnik izjednačen je sa zabavljačem. Nije nimalo slučajno što je protagonista Uelbekovog do sada najambicioznijeg romana, Mogućnosti ostrva, po zanimanju komičar, i to veoma uspešan. Uelbek se cinično podsmeva ne samo svojoj publici, i uopšte popularnosti koju je stekao romanima koji, naizgled, šibaju u lice svoje čitaoce, već i sopstvenoj društvenoj ulozi i smislu umetničkog delovanja, kada kaže:

Kao i revolucionar, komičar je prihvatao surovost sveta i odgovarao na nju dodatnom surovošću. Njegova akci­ja ne menja svet, ali ga čini prihvatljivim time što preobraža­va nasilje - neophodno za svaku vrstu reakcionarne akcije – u smeh, a usput zarađuje i dosta kinte. Jednom rečju, kao i svi la­krdijaši od postanka sveta naovamo, ja sam bio neka vrsta ko­laboracioniste. Oslobađao sam svet bolne i beskorisne revolu­cije - jer je koren sveg zla biološki i nezavisan od bilo kakvog zamislivog društvenog preobražaja; utvrđivao sam jasnoću, branio akciju, iskorenjivao nadu; imao sam čist račun. (ibid, str. 124)

U kontekstu tako postavljene distopije koju već živimo, ni religija ni umetnost više nisu u stanju da ponude večiti život: besmrtnost, ako je uopšte moguća, dolazi od nauke i tehnologije. Jedino one, čini se, mogu da pokušaju da se uhvate u koštac sa 'biološkim korenom zla'. Tako, površno gledano, njegova apologija tehnologije, s kraja Mogućnosti ostrva, može zazvučati kao logični nastavak naučnofantastičnih napisa Artura Klarka i drugih tehno-optimista SF žanra, koji su verovali u neumitni napredak nauke i poboljšanje ljudskog života zahvaljujući njoj:

Danas više ništa nije ostalo od knji­ževnih i umetničkih tvorevina na koje je čovečanstvo bilo tako ponosno; teme iz kojih su rođene izgubile su svaku svaki smisao, njihova emotivna moć je nestala. Ništa nije ostalo ni od filozofskih i teoloških sistema za koje su se ljudi toliko bo­rili, ponekad i umirali, a još češće ubijali; ništa od svega toga nije budilo kod novoljudi ni najmanji odjek, mi smo u tome videli samo despotsko buncanje ograničenih, konfuznih duhova, nesposobnih da stvore i najmanji tačan, ili prosto koristan koncept. Čovekove tehnološke tvorevine su, naprotiv, još uvek mogle da pobude poštovanje: u toj oblasti, čovek je dao najbolje od sebe, izrazio je svoju duboku prirodu, u njoj je od početka dostigao operativno savršenstvo kome novoljudi nisu imali ništa značajno da dodaju. (ibid, str. 349.)

Ali, da li ove reči zaista predstavljaju nedvosmislenu apologiju nauke i tehnike kakva se mogla naći u SF romanima i pričama iz pedesetih i šezdesetih godina XX veka, kada su velika otkrića, bar načas, dovela do buma u 'prozi o nauci' (što je najbukvalniji prevod sintagme science fiction)? U Uelbekovom romanu, te reči izgovara dvadeset i četvrti po redu klon Danijela I, komičara. Njegov klon nije nimalo komičan; zapravo, jedva bi se moglo reći da poseduje bilo kakvu vrstu prepoznatljivog života izvan pukog vegetiranja kroz večnost.

Sve je to nestalo, kao i serija zadataka; mi, uistinu, više nemamo neki određeni cilj; radosti ljudskog bića su nam nedokučive, a njegove nesreće nas ne dotiču. Naše noći ne prožima strah, a ni ekstaza; pa ipak, živimo, idemo kroz život, bez radosti i misterije, i čini nam se da vreme brzo prolazi. (ibid, str. 9.)

  Zatomivši seksualni nagon, naučnici koji su omogućili besmrtnost putem kloniranja zapravo su prigušili korene same ljudskosti, pretvorivši život 'novoljudi' u stanje besciljne letargije. Bez seksa, nema ni potrebe za umetnošću ili bilo kakvom transcendencijom (čime se Uelbek približava idejama Kamile Palje iznetim u Seksualnim personama i drugde, prema kojima je koren svekolike umetnosti baš u dionizijskom, seksualnom, biološkom, iracionalnom…). To zapaža i Slavoj Žižek kada kaže: "Kraj seksualnosti u mnogo hvaljenom 'posthumanom' samo-klonirajućem entitetu čija se pojava uskoro očekuje, simultano će označiti kraj onoga što se tradicionalno označava kao jedinstveno ljudska duhovna transcendencija." (Slavoj Zizek, 'No Sex, Please, We're Post-human!', < http://lacan.com/nosex.htm > prevod sa eng. D.O.) Ili, drugim rečima, kada se ukine bazična dihotomija našeg postojanja, ostaje samo jalovi monizam aseksualne, bez-strasne, besciljne jedinke izolovane u mikro-svetu svoje tvrđave izvan čijih zidina tumaraju degenerisani mutanti postapokaliptičnog sveta (zbrisanog tom istom bajnom tehnologijom), među kojima još uvek neumitno vladaju surovi biološki zakoni darvinističkog opstanka, sa alfa mužjacima koji siluju ženke i nemilosrdno ubijaju stare i nemoćne (te stoga neproduktivne) članove zajednice.

  Između te dve polarnosti obitava Danijel 24: animalni zakon jačeg, s jedne strane, i ataraksija lišena mudrosti. To je nirvana bez spokoja, jer sadrži sećanje na raniju egzistenciju. Podljudi i nadljudi, jednako nepoželjni, jednako odbojni kao opcije. A opet, na ovako oslikanom pejsažu i u svetlu ovih opcija, javlja se pitanje: da li uopšte postoji srednji put? Ima li humanost budućnosti? I ako je ima, da li je zaslužuje? Ili se možda treba prisetiti one Ničeove maksime: "Ono što pada treba još i odgurnuti"? Da li je čovečanstvo, pita se ovaj pisac, ovakvo kakvo je danas, dobra odskočna daska ka natčoveku – ili bar ka čoveku? Ako je suština bitka današnjeg čoveka zadovoljena sebičnim, neemotivnim utaženjem polnog nagona – ako je taj novočovek, kao Uelbekov Danijel, sveden na svoj polni ud, kakva će biti njegova besmrtnost, i čemu će služiti? Uelbek kao da odgovara na to pitanje kada kaže: "…njihov genetski kod će biti sačuvan i umreće u nadi u beskonačan nastavak te iste egzistencije posvećene užicima. To je bio smisao istorijskog kretanja, to je bio njegov dugoročni pravac, koji se neće ograničiti samo na Zapad, Zapad će ga samo raskrčiti, utrti put, kao što je to i činio od kraja srednjeg veka." (Mišel Uelbek, Mogućnost ostrva, ibid, str. 322.)

Osvrćući se, kroz usta jednog od likova Elementarnih čestica, na svog velikog prethodnika, Oldouza Hakslija, Uelbek mu u zaslugu priznaje da je "prvi među piscima, uključujući i pisce naučne fantastike, shvatio da će posle fizike doći red na biologiju da (od)igra pokretačku ulogu." (Mišel Uelbek, Elementarne čestice, ibid, str. 204.) I zaista, Uelbekova 'fantastika' nema skoro nikakve veze sa pojednostavljenim poimanjem ovog žanra, koje ga izjednačava sa petparačkim avanturističkim romanima u svemiru ili sa pričama o invazijama 'malih zelenih'; ali zato itekako ima veze sa strujom angažovanih (pre svega engleskih) autora koji su se naučnim diskursom, i fantastičnim izumima i alternativnim društvima, koristili kako bi prozborili o sasvim aktuelnom trenutku svog doba, i to je struja koja kreće već od Meri Šeli i njenog Frankenštajna, pa preko svih 'modernih Prometeja' H.DŽ. Velsa i Oldouza Hakslija vodi do DŽ.G. Balarda, i dalje.

Njegova smelost u tumačenju tradiciji ogleda se u njegovom odnosu prema Vrlom novom svetu:

Dobro znam (…) da se Hakslijev svet obično opisuje kao nekakav totalitarni košmar, da ima pokušaja da se ova knjiga prikaže kao neka oštra osuda; to je čista i jednostavna hipokrizija. Po svim pitanjima – genetska kontrola, seksualna sloboda, borba protiv starenja, civilizacija dokolice, Hrabri novi svet je za nas raj, to je upravo i tačno onaj svet koji pokušavamo, do sada bez uspeha, da dostignemo. (ibid, str. 203-204.)

Uelbek, naime, prepoznaje da se nekadašnja distopija danas pretvorila u – utopiju, u oličenje naših čežnji, u ideal. U pitanju je kopernikanski obrt, i Uelbekovo delo ga nadasve ubedljivo ilustruje, to je jedna je od ključnih zaloga njegove vrednosti: skinuvši masku sa hipokrizije čovečanstva, on ogoljava njegove ideale i pokazuje ih u pravom svetlu. Bogovi su mrtvi u svojim crkvama; umetnost je mrtva u svojim muzejima; 'društvena životinja' je umrtvljena poslom koji mrzi i društvom s kojim najradije ne bi ništa da ima. Kapitalizam se, kao i kod već pomenute Kamile Palje, vidi kao sistem najpribližniji prirodnom stanju čoveka, budući zasnovan na zakonu jačeg, na sebičnosti i na koristoljublju kao primarnim motivima. To su bazične sile svekolikog živog sveta, pa i životinjske vrste kojoj pripadamo; sve drugo je utopija. Pesimizam Uelbekovog dela izražen je, stoga, ne toliko kroz prikaz nemogućnosti utopije, koliko kroz denunciranje onoga što zaista čini utopiju za današnje zapadno (i ne samo zapadno) društvo – a to je Vrli novi svet čiji smo prag već prekoračili.

Nekadašnja anti-utopija vrlo brzo je postala – utopija. Naši nekadašnji košmari preobraženi su u mokre snove. Prigrlili smo ono čega smo se nekad bojali.

Pre samo nekoliko generacija Veliki Brat je bio ime baba-roge, otelotvorenje strahova o gubitku individualnosti i o totalnoj (državnoj) kontroli naših mizernih egzistencija. U današnjem svetu orvelovski SF-horor je ostvaren na mnogo suptilniji način: totalitarizam ima glatko, nežno lice demokratije i ljudskih prava, liberalnih vrednosti, društva punog 'mogućnosti' – omogućenog, pored ostalog, 'pametnim bombama' i 'humanim ratovima'. Veliki Brat nema potrebu da kontroliše bilo koga, jer njegovi podanici mu se samovoljno predaju (prodaju): oni rade za njega. Pretvoreni u konzumente, u produžetke svojih polnih organa, u sebična stvorenja gladna beskrajne gratifikacije, večitog užitka, oni u gubitku individualnosti više ne vide pakao, već izbavljenje, raj. Veliki Brat je danas ime jednog od najpopularnijih TV programa, u kome ljudi koji nemaju sopstveni život voajerski posmatraju prazninu tuđih ne-egzistencija.

Veliki Brat je već u našim domovima. On je hit.

Mi svoju utopiju već živimo, jer bolju i ne zaslužujemo.

Mišel Uelbek je možda jedan od poslednjih pisaca koji su pokušali da se ozbiljno prisete nekadašnjih (idealističkih? naivnih? nerealnih?) priželjkivanja utopije. Nove generacije, koje on posmatra, sve teže će moći da razumeju o čemu taj 'matorac' uopšte govori. One su već prigrlile 'princip realnosti' vrlog novog sveta. "Kada ljubavi nema, ništa ne može biti sveto." (Mišel Uelbek, Platforma, Clio, Beograd, 2002, str. 101.) Ljubav, svetost, utopija, novi čovek… daleki su odjeci iz neke daleke prošlosti, iz nekog sasvim drugog sveta od onog u kome živimo. Uelbek vešto locira tačno onu tačku u kojoj se poslednji ideali gase i na kojoj se, pomalo melanholično, rezignirano, prihvataju novi ideali, oličeni u goloj biologiji i golom sebičnom užitku kao jedinom obećanju sreće:

Izvori stalnog zadovoljstva, uvek na raspolaganju – zato postoje polni organi. Bog, koji je stvorio našu nesreću, koji nas je učinio smrtnima, taštima i okrutnima, predvideo je, isto tako, ovu vrstu slabe kompenzacije. Kad ne bi bilo, s vremena na vreme, malo seksa, u čemu bi se sastojao život? (ibid, str. 182.)

Ako u ovim redovima ima i nešto gorčine, ona je tu samo zbog autorovog prisećanja da se život, nekada, sastojao od još nečega. Kada zaboravimo to 'više', bićemo srećni i presrećni sa onim što imamo.

I u tome je sve lukavstvo Velikog Brata.

NAJBOLJI AZIJATI IZ 2008. GODINE

Potrajaće poprilično dok SVE sa ovoga spiska dospe do naših zabačenih obala, pa još sa engleskim titlovima. Sa srpskim, naravno, većinu ovoga nećemo gledati jer se na FEST-u u programu FANT-AZIJA prikazuje isključivo neke retardirane socijalne drame i budalaštine. Oh, well, igraće barem novi Kurosawa.

Dakle, dok ne pogledam bar najveće prioritete sa ove liste, evo šta su saradnici odličnog sajta o azijskom filmu, Midnight Eye (http://www.midnighteye.com), odabrali kao svoje favorite iz 2008-me:

Tom Mes

The best:

1. Tokyo Sonata (dir: Kiyoshi Kurosawa)

The buzz around the Cannes Film Festival was that this should have at the very least been in the main competition, but even in the Un Certain Regard sidebar it garnered the plaudits it deserved - the best of Kurosawa quite simply means the best in world cinema today. The first time I saw this I had trouble leaving the theater because my legs were shaking.

2. All Around Us (Gururi no Koto, dir: Ryosuke Hashiguchi)

Coming seven years after the excellent and widely screened Hush!, the superb All Around Us should have drowned in festival invitations. Yet, somehow, it passed completely beneath the radar - not unlike the latest films by two other former festival favorites, Naomi Kawase and Hirokazu Koreeda. While I haven't seen the latter two and so can't comment on them, the obscurity in which Hashiguchi's powerful tragicomedy languished is completely undeserved. An unfortunate side effect of a confused market, or an indication that Japan is no longer a top priority among festival programmers?

3. A Woman Who Is Beating the Earth (Daichi o Tataku Onna, dir: Tsuki Inoue)

The decision to give this 20-minute film the Grand Prize at the Yubari International Fantastic Film Festival was quick and unanimous. Inoue proves that she is more than ready to graduate to the big leagues.

4. Nightmare Detective 2 (Akumu Tantei 2, dir: Shinya Tsukamoto)

It seems that those who liked the first entry didn't care for this and vice versa. I'm in the latter group. With a great economy of means and a solid dramatic backbone, Tsukamoto creates scares that resonate emotionally, because monsters, victims and hero are all sad and vulnerable people. Hanae Kan (from Pistol Opera and Nobody Knows) is a standout as an all too human sort of Sadako (with short hair!).

5. Ain't No Tomorrows (Oretachi ni Asu wa Naissu, dir: Yuki Tanada)

Tanada's feature debut Moon and Cherry ranks among my favourite Japanese films of the 21st century. Her first two follow-ups Hatsuko's World (Akai Bunkajutaku no Hatsuko) and One Million Yen Girl (Hyakuman-en to Nigamushi Onna) were solid enough placeholders, while the Mika Ninagawa-directed Sakuran was bolstered by Tanada's screenplay. However, it's this return to the realm of unglamorised romantic and sexual initiation that fulfills the promise.

6. Yasukuni (dir: Ying Li)

Li's talking-point documentary about Tokyo's controversial shrine for the war dead broke the taboo surrounding this peculiar place of religious and political worship. As it veers from the ridiculous circus-like atmosphere on the grounds to the taciturn and sometimes violent attitudes of those that run the place, the result is deeply disturbing but also completely enthralling.

7. Non-ko (Non-ko 36-Sai Kaji Tetsudai, dir: Kazuyoshi Kumakiri)

Kumakiri finally gets his long-desired break from doing manga adaptations and delivers this fine portrait of a former talento faced with impending middle age and no prospects at work, romance, or even a place to live. Similar terrain has been mapped with great care in Ryuichi Hiroki's Vibrator and It's Only Talk in recent years, but Kumakiri's film is a worthy follow-up, thanks largely to its rural setting, sense of humour and the superb lead turn by actress Maki Sakai, who was also in the same director's Green Mind Metal Bats and Freesia, as well as in Wakamatsu's The United Red Army - looking and performing vastly differently in each.

8. Waltz in Starlight (Hoshikage no Waltz, dir: Shingo Wakagi)

One would normally expect the feature film debut of a hip young photographer to be over-aestheticised and tailor-made for readers of ID magazine, but Wakagi's firstborn is a stripped-down, low-key autobiographical piece shot on DV for next to nothing. With seemingly unmotivated sidesteps into documentary, this probably doesn't even count as "proper" filmmaking in most people's books, but it's precisely its idiosyncrasies that form Waltz in Starlight's greatest charm.

9. The Kiss (Seppun, dir: Kunitoshi Manda)

The normally bland Eiko Koike delivers a career-best performance as the devoted fan of a convicted murderer in Manda's fascinating fusion of Dead Man Walking and Bright Future.

10. Rebel Jiro's Love (Hangyaku Jiro no Koi, dir: Yuya Ishii)

Last year's Rotterdam film festival showed four films by this young director, which was perhaps a bit too much of a good thing, especially with a filmmaker whose distinctive style can get repetitive when served up several times in a row. Taken on their own, though, each of his films show Ishii as the spiritual heir of Monty Python, combining the unbridled absurdity of the Brit troupe with the Japanese traditions of rakugo and nonsense comedy.

Special mentions:

• Sad Vacation (dir: Shinji Aoyama)
• This World of Ours (Oretachi no Sekai, dir: Ryo Nakajima)
• Your Friends (Kimi no Tomodachi, dir: Ryuichi Hiroki)
• Mental (dir: Kazuhiro Soda)
• The Sky Crawlers (dir: Mamoru Oshii)
• Flavor of Happiness (Shiawase no Kaori, dir: Mitsuhiro Mihara)
• Sex Is No Laughing Matter (Hito no Sekkusu o Warauna, dir: Nami Iguchi)

Jasper Sharp

The general consensus among the critics is that 2008 was something of a mixed bag, with plenty of strong titles cropping up from all over the world, but no real big standouts. Against this, Japanese cinema seems to have acquitted itself remarkably well, with some of its strongest titles in years. Choosing the top spot this time round is especially tricky: Koji Wakamatsu and Kiyoshi Kurosawa both delivered the best works of their careers, while there were no shortage of promising debuts. I haven't even had a chance to see the big anime releases of the year yet, Mamoru Oshii's Sky Crawlers and Hayao Miyazaki's Ponyo on a Cliff, nor even the highly-touted comedy Funuke, Show Some Love You Losers!, or the latest from Hirokazu Koreeda or Ryosuke Hashiguchi, so I guess these will have to be held over till the best of 2009 where they will no doubt be joined by Sion Sono's Love Exposure, another title that hopefully will get a wider airing next year.

I mentioned in my review of Fine Totally Fine that the selection at this year's Nippon Connection reflected something of a sea change in contemporary Japanese cinema. The developments I pointed to - the better structuring and pacing of most of the titles, the relative absence of self-important auteur-driven projects, the return to more heartfelt, political subject matter in some of the works matched on the other hand by an abundance of hedonistic, fun and accessible comedies, love stories and dramas, and a whole swathe of promising fresh blood to replace the old guard - have been in motion for the past couple of years, but to me this year it seemed the transformation was complete (for example, I'd barely even registered the presence of Satoshi Miki until now, but in this year alone there were two international focuses on his work, with retrospectives at Udine and at New York Asian Film Fest). Of course, the lag between these films' festival airings or domestic releases and their arrival on foreign shores means it might be some while before this is reflected in casual viewers' assumptions about the state of Japanese cinema, but looking at the DVD releases coming up in the UK next year, we can already see earlier anticipators of these trends such as Kamikaze Girls and Memories of Matsuko waiting in the wings to take over from the seemingly interminable glut of dull J-Horror knockoffs that have piled up on the market over the past 5 years.

Best Japanese

1. United Red Army (Jitsuroku Rengo Sekigun - Asama Sanso e no Michi, dir: Koji Wakamatsu)
2. Tokyo Sonata (dir: Kiyoshi Kurosawa)
3. Fine, Totally Fine (Zenzen Daijobu, dir: Yosuke Fujita)
4. Now, I... (Ima Boku wa, dir: Yasutomo Chikuma)
5. Vortex and Others - 5 Short Works by Yoshihiro Ito
6. Adrift in Tokyo (Ten Ten, dir: Satoshi Miki)
7. Tokko: Wings of Defeat (dir: Risa Morimoto)
8. Fence (Fensu, dir: Toshi Fujiwara)
9. Love and Honor (Bushi no Ichibun, dir: Yoji Yamada)
10. Tender Throbbing Twilight (Tasogare, dir: Shinji Imaoka)

Special Mention:

I'd like to say a huge thanks to Kazunao Sakaguchi of Stance in Japan, for agreeing to my request to get new subtitled prints done up of two classic pink films, Kan Mukai's Blue Film Woman (Buruu Fuirumu no Onna, 1969) and Masao Adachi's Gushing Prayer (Funshutsu Kigan, 1971), introducing both titles to overseas audiences for the first time ever. It was a wonderful experience seeing these fresh new prints up on the screen at Austin and at the BFI Southbank, and my one regret is that the veteran pink director Kan Mukai died shortly before we had a chance to tell him that he was about to gain a whole new appreciative overseas audience for his long-forgotten masterwork. I really hope these will get a chance to screen more widely over the coming years.

Nicholas Rucka

Getting to my list, as usual I've drawn from what I've been able to find time to watch. So you can think of this as a kind of 'best of what I've watched' and not of everything that was released. As I was writing up my list, I realized that for the first time since I started contributing to Midnight Eye's annual round-up there was no Takashi Miike to be found. I quite liked Crows Zero. Haven't seen God's Puzzle, but as far as Like a Dragon? Fun but tiring in the same way as watching a friend play Tekken for 2 hours, but not getting to try it out. I definitely don't think that Miike has lost it, but I ultimately I wasn't really grabbed by what I saw in any significant way.

In contrast, I was fortunate this year to see two films by young, newly hatched filmmakers: Ryo Nakajima's This World of Ours and Yasutomu Chikuma's Now, I.... Both films are interesting portraits of modern Japan as they see it, but done in very different styles. I'm always excited to see what the young'uns are doing and since young folk are always so filled with piss and vinegar- always rebelling against something-it's exciting to see what they do with this energy if given a chance to make a film. Both films are worth watching, but as you'll read below, I found This World of Ours to be the more compelling of the two.

Anyway, here's what I liked (in no particular order):

Japanese:

Fine, Totally Fine (dir: Yosuke Fujita)

Fujita's debut feature is the best comedy I saw last year. A kind of slice of life comedy shot on the unglamorous fringes of Tokyo, it's ostensibly a love story but really it's a kind of 'one to grow on' after-school special that leaves you with the message that, yeah, you can always do better, but you do have to get off of your ass and do something about it first. All of the performances are good and the minimal comedy thing has been time warped (and sped up) from 1980s Jarmusch but really, there's no question that Fujita's film works because of Yoshiyoshi Arakawa's droll comic timing and amazing collection of sweaters. I watched it twice in two days.

The United Red Army (dir: Koji Wakamatsu)

Holy shit! Japan was a mess in the 60s and 70s. Seriously. And Koji Wakamatsu lived through it, had political affiliations with some of it and had friends who were dead center in the mayhem. There's no question that for 35 years Wakamatsu has been mulling over what happened to the idealism and moral imperative of the far-left Japanese student movement that left a rash of dead bodies and unanswered questions. URA, then, is a film that doesn't pretend to have the answers but instead shows through information packed nuggets that unfold into an unflinchingly violent drama (culminating in a recreation of the infamous Asama-Sanso incident) that idealism can be perverted by the blind following of doctrine. The results are nothing less than tragic.

Genius Party 1 & 2 (Various directors, prod: Studio 4ºC)

I'll keep this simple: some of the animated shorts in these two collections are just okay. But the rest of them are like having a time machine open in your TV set and show you what animation will evolve into in a couple of decades. That would be animation in Western countries-not in Japan. You see, Japan is really doing more innovative and creative animation than anyone else and Kichijoji's Studio 4ºC is leading the pack.

Paco and the Magic Picture Book (Pako to Maho no Ehon, dir: Tetsuya Nakashima)

I love Memories of Matsuko but not everyone did. Some people thought that the film held a particularly regressive view of the woman's role in society. Not me. I thought the film was a biting indictment of Japan's dominant patriarchy. But regardless, for Nakashima's newest film, he's channelled some early Nobuhiko Obayashi and added some Disney and CGI. Which is to say, this film is ostensibly about a little orphan girl named Paco whose parents die in a car accident and she develops a kind of movie-only illness where she only remembers what happened that day. Okay, so it's a tragedy right? Nope. It's a totally nonsensical comedy with a major fantasy element. Koji Yakusho is amazing as Onuki and I'm becoming a big fan of comedian Sadao Abe who is somehow just manic enough to be funny and not grinding on the nerves.

This World of Ours (Oretachi no Sekai, dir: Ryo Nakajima)

The Pia Film Festival is a wonderful invention: many a working director in Japan got their professional career jumpstarted by the PIFF laurel leaves. So, naturally it's a great place to find new and exciting talent. I'd been hearing a lot of good things about Nakajima's debut feature and I think they're generally right. The story is a bullet to the heart of Japanese society shot by someone who felt closed to it for so many years. (Nakajima says in his notes that he was a hikikomori, a shut-in.) Sure the film suffers from some poor casting choices (the teacher, for one) and some underdeveloped characterization; yet somehow it overcomes it all by shear energy and spunk. The question is (as always), what other films does Nakajima have in him or is this it? I have a suspicion that we'll be seeing more of Nakajima for a while.

Tokyo Gore Police (Tokyo Zankoku Keisatsu, dir: Yoshihiro Nishimura)

In a kind of cool international business arrangement, Tokyo Gore Police was made in cooperation with Nikkatsu Films and NYC's Media Blasters under the production company Fever Dreams. This is the same as Noboru Iguchi's Machine Girl, but unlike Machine Girl, TGP is actually fun to watch and has a modicum of creativity to it. The plot has something to do with 'engineers' showing up and using flesh keys to open up genetic mutations in people that cause parts of their bodies to turn into engorged weapons when attacked-but really it's a fun gore romp through Nishimura's sick mind. You see, you can tell that Nishimura and company had a good time making this movie and I had a good time watching it. So what if it's low budget?

Tokyo Sonata (dir: Kiyoshi Kurosawa)

I debated adding Tokyo Sonata to the list. I didn't really like this movie as a whole and, truth be told, find it to be less interesting than several other Kiyoshi Kurosawa films. Specifically, I didn't like the hyperrealism of the story and felt that Toshiaki Toyoda's Hanging Garden was a better film about a dysfunctional family and the lies that they keep. And yet... There's something about the film that keeps me coming back to it. Maybe it's the lyrical moments of a newspaper flying around a room by itself or the comedy of janitors stripping out of their cleaning duds and switching to business suits and briefcases? Who knows? But one thing's for sure: how many Kiyoshi Kurosawa films have a happy ending?

Other things I liked, that came out this year:

The Wolves (DVD) (dir: Hideo Gosha)

Animeigo's awesome DVD release of this ninkyo classic is worth the purchase. A veritable who's who of yakuza eiga actors, this story of shifting allegiances and clan loyalty at the dawn of the Showa era is one slow burn with a classic ending. One of my favorite yakuza films, it has taken way too long for a nice edition of this film to be released. For all of the nitpicking I've read online about Animeigo's DVDs, I disagree and feel that Animeigo delivered the goods this time. (Now if they could just go back to printing their liner notes out again.)

1960s Nikkatsu New Action Series (Theatrical Tour) (dirs: Toshio Masuda, Takashi Nomura, Koreyoshi Kurahara, Yasuharu Hasebe)

An amazing touring series assembled by Outcast Cinema that was based on Mark Schilling's Udine Film Festival 2005 series (and book). Proving once and for all, that there were other fantastic directors working at Nikkatsu in the 1960s besides Seijun Suzuki. Will someone please hurry up and get these films out on DVD already? (Criterion what's up?)

Least interesting:

Nightmare Detective 2 (dir: Shinya Tsukamoto)

I loved the first film. I thought it was a good blend of genre, experimentalism and pop culture. Unfortunately, I found this one to be as flat as a week old can of coke and about as exciting.

The Machine Girl (dir: Noboru Iguchi)

Not a bad film per se, it just felt a little too much like it was catering to those 'wacky' Asian Extreme fans outside of Japan. Put simply, Machine Girl felt like it was built from recycled parts.

Bryan Hartzheim

Full disclosure: this is by no means a comprehensive list. How can it be when I didn't have the chance to see the newest films by powerhouse directors Ryuichi Hiroki, Masato Harada, Shunichi Nagasaki, and Ryosuke Hashiguchi, or comeback director Yoshihiko Matsui, or even the film everyone in Japanese cinema circles is currently raving about, Sion Sono's epic Love Exposure (Ai no Mukidashi)?

But from what I did manage to see, 2008 was one of the best movie years for Japan in a very long time. Nearly every major Japanese indie and studio director had a film out this year, and thankfully they universally brought a welcome sense of humor to the proceedings during these grim times, whether that was the gentle comedy of Kaabee, the brutal irony of Tokyo Sonata, the total slapstick of The Magic Hour, or the bizarre absurdity of Fine, Totally Fine. The year 2008 brought the loss of cash, homes, and even Japanese directors (Kon Ichikawa, Jun Ichikawa), actors (Ken Ogata), and scholars (Keiko McDonald), but Japanese cinema proved this year to be not only relevant, but much more alive and optimistic than any of the pointlessly bleak award-winning American dramas in 2007. Let's hope the cinematic inspiration keeps rolling next year.

Best:

1. Departures (Okuribito, dir. Yojiro Takita)

Departures isn't the best written movie of the year. Nor is it the best directed or acted (though, with Jo Hisaishi's sweeping score, it might have the best music), but, from top to bottom, it came out of nowhere to become the most well-made Japanese film from a commercial studio in several years, and one of the most invigorating films about death ever made. Its story - about a young professional financially unable to continue his "dream" career and who moves back to the country to find work dressing the dead for their burial - is not only entirely appropriate for these times, but also for a people increasingly fleeing from their rural hometowns. The film argues very persuasively that a life of self-respect and happiness (and good pay!) can be found away from urban enclaves, and it's all revealed incrementally, from the artistic precision of the process of "sending" the dead (pure cinema), to the easily digestible meals with a perfectly-cast Tsutomu Yamazaki (channelling his Juzo Itami foodie), right down to the final, transcendental shot of the whole thing.

Departures is a contemporary reminder that the beauty and importance of a life lived not for glory, but for friendship, love, and even some good food and music is not a bad consolation. It's a relevant reminder in that it seems to be speaking directly to my generation - who last answered in a poll that the top five most desired careers were all in the entertainment industry - about what it means to live a fulfilling life. It's also a reminder, much like Koji Wakamatsu's epic The United Red Army, that more directors should've started out in pink.

2. Tokyo Sonata (dir. Kiyoshi Kurosawa)

Not the most original material here; the script is severely dated and many of the tropes have become clichés attacking the monotony of suburbia. But Kurosawa's brilliance as both a filmmaker and a director of actors is what is so fascinating and powerful about Tokyo Sonata. Career performances from the principles, especially Kyoko "Kyon Kyon" Koizumi, deserve kudos, and Kurosawa's slow-building domestic terror erupts in ways far more scathing than a hundred of your American Beauties. Kurosawa never left horror; he's simply transposed the genre into other, even more devastating places.

3. Still Walking (Aruitemo Aruitemo, dir. Hirokazu Koreeda)

Kore-eda's film has been likened to an Ozu homage, where the city-dwelling family visits their parents in the sticks, but while the tight control is there, the approach is entirely different. Koreeda dissects the Human Comedy in his own, arguably funnier way, using his documentary-like lens to catch the naturalistic dialogue and realistic acting of the frustrated and beaten-up family members. It's his best film since After Life, and gives weight to the argument that comedy is ultimately a sadder form of art than tragedy since in comedy, the characters don't learn at the end.

4. Adrift in Tokyo (Ten ten, dir. Satoshi Miki)

Though this film came out technically at the end of last year, I told everyone I could about it in 2008. Miki's blend of Linklater-like roaming comic dialogue and manga-inspired comic mayhem is handled perfectly by the two leads, and Jo Odagiri, along with his great turn in last year's Tokyo Tower, has truly blossomed into one of the greatest actors of his generation (fans of Japanese television should also keep an eye out for nearly every major player in Miki's Jiko Keisatsu comedy crime TV series). The true star of the film, though, is Tokyo itself, and Miki reveals the city's unique quirks and charms - from walking guitarists to lines of ramen eaters to mobs of annoying office ladies to temples adjacent to soccer parks and basketball courts - all by taking us on a walking tour through every weird side street and alley. A needed corrective to Sofia Coppola's lame observations of Tokyo and its people.

5. Fine, Totally Fine (Zenzen Daijobu, dir. Yosuke Fujita)

The biggest surprise of the year. A film about three eclectic guys attempting to woo a klutzy girl sounds like something out of the Rudd/Ferrell/Vaughn/Carell/Wilson nexus of bad comedy, but Fine, Totally Fine is wackier, funnier, and more sophisticated than any juvenile synopsis can describe. The script is a factory of great ideas - just try explaining to a friend that one of the characters is 30 and dreams of building the world's greatest haunted house, and see if that doesn't induce a laugh - and all four leads possess superb comic timing; you know, the kind that existed before Japanese TV. But debut director Fujita is the architect of this maintained madness - he's given the film a sweetness that is devoid of sentiment (one might call it bemused) for an elevated filmic soufflé.

6. Paco and the Magic Book (Paco to Maho no Ehon, dir. Tetsuya Nakashima)

Tetsuya Nakashima brutality, filtered through a children's coloring book. For those who thought Nakashima's Matsuko was high-spirited, entertaining, but a little suspect in its characterization of its sacrificial lunatic of a heroine protagonist, you might like Paco and the Magic Book a bit more. About a cruel tycoon who finds redemption through caring for an orphan at a hospital, this might be Nakashima's best film yet, a mix of animation, bathos, comedy, and theatre that perfectly filters the director's copious gifts of color and light onto a world that is a pretty evil place.

7. Gachi Boy: Wrestling with a Memory (Gachi Boy, dir. Norihiro Koizumi)

Ostensibly a silly wrestling comedy, judging by its colorful marketing, Gachi Boy is actually in line with Japanese melodrama tradition - our hero wants to wrestle, but because of a tragic accident, can't form new memories and thus can't remember the faux wrestling moves or his wrestling partners' real names. Gachi Boy is thus pretty unbearably sad and scary at times, and the grappling between humor and tragedy isn't always effortless. But when the film hits its groove, it's a Rocky-like freight train steered by the versatile Ryuta Sato that can make an audience stand up and cheer. Don't believe me? The Japanese theatre I watched it with vocally hooted and clapped all through the final match. If you've seen any films with a Japanese audience, you'll understand that this is about as common as a packed western crowd staying for a movie's entire end credits (which the Japanese also routinely do).

8. The Magic Hour (dir. Koki Mitani)

Mitani, though not as his best, supplies his usual Lubitsch-like touch by simultaneously sending up and paying homage to American noir and Nikkatsu action. The first half of The Magic Hour is, frankly, the funniest hour in the Japanese cinema this year, with Koichi Sato channeling Bill Murray's role from The Man Who Knew Too Little as a schlub who thinks he's the star in a spy movie, unbeknownst to the rest of the real-life gangsters around him. The film peters out towards the end, but Sato's comic brilliance stays vital and gets my vote for performance of the year - the film relies on his improvisational backflips, and he sticks them every time.

9. Kaabee (dir. Yoji Yamada)

Yoji Yamada's sad (no, Very Sad) wartime drama about a matriarch who must pull her family together while Dad has been put in jail by the authorities might hold its own in the pantheon of better Mizoguchi and Naruse suffering women pictures. It's a little TOO bleak in its final assessment - where Naruse made you want to stand up and rail against the world, Yamada makes you want to crawl into a corner and say, "Just go on without me." Still, it's impeccably crafted, with a subtly ironic sense of humor and a performance by Shochiku icon Sayuri Yoshinaga worthy of any of your Hideko Takamines.

10. God's Puzzle (dir. Takashi Miike)

Probably the worst thing that's come from Mainstream Miike is that he's no longer supplied with manly lead actors for his films. I wasn't for a second convinced that any of the pretty boys in Crows Zero were chimpira toughs, and Hayato Ichihara, bless his heart, attempts to compensate for his lack of gravitas by shouting a lot. Meanwhile, we're still looking at the adolescent stubble and listening to the faux-gokudo growling. It's enough to make one pine for the days of Riki and Sho, or even Koji and Yasushi Chihara. But what's the real problem here? Sure, God's Puzzle isn't Gozu. But it's still a high-energy piece of cinema on an abstract topic that doesn't kowtow to audience expectations. It's about the only film that makes talking about physics visually interesting. And Miike still knows how to shoot a hot babe when he has one. All good stuff by me!

Dean Bowman

From the deadpan subtleties of Adrift in Tokyo to the outrageousness of Tokyo Zombie, humour is the thing that runs through the majority of Japanese films that have appeared on my radar this year, either via DVD releases or at UK film festivals. 2008 Looks likely to be the year in which the rich and varied vein of Japanese comedies finally made an impact in the UK, overtaking the fading stars of the J-Horror and Yakuza genres. The fact that Tartan closed its doors to business suddenly this year perfectly illustrates how audiences have become bored with the flood of such generic titles chosen for release in this country, which remain largely unrepresentative of the varied nature of the Japanese industry as a whole. Whether this means that people will migrate over to the gentler climes of comedy remains to be seen, but one thing is certain, films like Fine, Totally Fine have the potential to delight large audiences and deserve to be given as wide an exposure as possible.

Tokyo Sonata (dir: Kiyoshi Kurosawa)

Somewhat differing in genre, if not in tone and execution, from his earlier horror films, Kiyoshi Kurosawa's latest is a searching and poignant drama that explores the tensions and thwarted desires of a typical Japanese family in Tokyo. It follows patriarch Ryuhei Sasaki, who struggles to hide the fact that he has been made redundant whilst maintaining his authority at home. The various family members all make a bid to escape the stifling world of the kitchen table and rush headlong towards disaster, but their individual experiences ultimately reunite them in a quietly hopeful ending.

Sukiyaki Western Django (dir: Takashi Miike)

Miike's excessively stylised remake of the classic spaghetti western Django, by way of Kurosawa's Yojimbo and Suzuki's Pistol Opera is a white-knuckle ride of a film from start to finish. Whilst his choice to make the film in English is occasionally jarring as the actor's stumble over some of the cowboy slang, it does capture the spirit of the original, crudely dubbed Italian westerns. The end result is an affectionate pastiche that stands well enough on its own two feet thanks to the ever-eclectic Miike's utter disregard for convention.

Kamikaze Girls (Shimotsuma Monogatari, dir: Tetsuya Nakashima)

A delightfully quirky foray into the hip and surreal world of Tokyo's bizarre subcultures, which only got a UK release last year. Out in the sticks an unlikely friendship forms between two girls - one a loner and obsessive follower of Gothic Lolita fashion, the other a biker chick who craves the anonymity of the gang - as they go on a quest to find the mythical seamstress Emma in Shibuya. Nakashima packs the film with just about every stylistic device he can lay his hands on and the result is a heady, colourful, thrilling cocktail of a film.

Memories of Matsuko (dir: Tetsuya Nakashima)

A more sombre piece than Kamikaze Girls, but not without its vibrant comic moments, Memories of Matsuko follows a young man as he tries to uncover the unknown past of his tragic aunt Matsuko, after she is found murdered in her flat. The film's surreal humour and dream-like musical sequences sometimes make the narrative seem fairly unbalanced in light of its ultimately tragic tone, however this is still a fascinating if somewhat messy film.

Fine, Totally Fine (dir: Yosuke Fujita)

An absolutely laugh-your-socks-off hilarious comedy about Teruo, the deadbeat son of a bookshop owner suffering from a nervous breakdown, who dreams of creating the world's scariest haunted house. Much of the film's humour emerges from its precise comic timing and quirky editing as Teruo plays a series of increasingly outlandish and just plain wrong practical jokes on his peers. Yoshiyoshi Arakawa is brilliant as the gormless man-child around whom the array of eccentric characters revolve.

Now, I... (dir: Yasutomo Chikuma)

An astonishingly confident debut by Yasutomo Chikuma, Now, I... is a drama shot completely independently on a shoestring budget and in an ascetic documentary style reminiscent of the Dardenne Brothers. Examining the social problem of hikikomori, it follows a cripplingly shy young man, played magnificently by Chikuma himself, who has completely withdrawn from the world. The efforts of his mother and her friend to draw him out of his shell are painfully moving. Chikuma's use of a highly subjective camera and elliptical editing makes for an uncanny degree of identification with his subject.

Tokyo Zombie (dir: Sakichi Sato)

The feature debut of the screenwriter of two of Miike's most potent and coherent visions - Ichi the Killer and Gozu - is a surprisingly light-hearted take on the zombie film. Finding themselves survivors after an environmental zombie epidemic two bumbling fire extinguisher factory workers, played by Tadanobu Asano and Sho Aikawa, attempt to karate chop their way through the shambling hordes. Packed full of schlocky, comic gore and gut-busting, eccentric humour Tokyo Zombie is a charming film that keeps the zombie film fresh - or as fresh as a rotting corpse can be anyway.

Adrift in Tokyo (dir: Satoshi Miki)

Adrift in Tokyo is a downbeat comedy with an unexpectedly moving and emotional core. It follows the hopelessly in debt student Fumiya, played with a deliciously deadpan attitude by Jô Odagiri, who is forced to accompany the enigmatic and washed up loanshark Aiichiro, veteran actor Tomokazu Miura, on a seemingly aimless wander around the streets of Tokyo. As a bond forms between the two men, Miki allows the film to gently tease out Aiichiro's tragic story.

Vexille (dir: Fumihiko Sori)

Sure it may not be the most complex or emotive anime in recent years, but my god doesn't Vexille have visual impact! I spent the majority of the film with my jaw slack in disbelief as the film delivered its machine gun action sequences and epic set pieces in slick cell shaded glory. Set in a post-apocalyptic future in which Japan has completely isolated itself from the world via a series of vast force fields, it follows a female agent sent in to investigate the supposed development of illegal robot technology, but the truth she discovers is surprisingly disturbing...

Jason Gray

2008 was an interesting year for Japanese cinema. Commercially, domestic fare pretty much eclipsed Hollywood and other imports at the box office (at the time of this writing I'm predicting a 60-40 split). You could argue that this was due to Tineseltown's lack of tentpoles, but global monsters such as The Dark Knight and Iron Man were pretty much ignored here. Conversely, you could also argue that despite homegrown success the reliance on adaptations (of TV dramas, manga, novels etc.) in the top twenty shows originality continues to be eschewed in favour of risk-averse familiarity. Nonetheless, fans of Asian cinema always enjoy seeing HW get body slammed.

There was much to be proud of. Hayao Miyazaki returned with Ponyo on the Cliff by the Sea, the biggest hit of the year. Japanese films won awards overseas (Departures, Tokyo Sonata and Still Walking) and prestigious competition slots (Kabei - Our Mother, Achilles and the Tortoise). While the over saturation of multiplexes continues to be a problem, it helped provide screens for interesting, sometimes controversial titles like Children of the Dark to break out of urban cinemas and gain wider audiences.

The obvious thread through many of the films I've chosen is stories depicting the trials and tribulations of everyday Japanese families and individuals. At a press conference for Tokyo Sonata, director Kiyoshi Kurosawa talked at length about the extreme drama people who live in struggling nations experience and how the problems of citizens in a relatively stable country like Japan may seem insignificant, but that for the people going through those situations it can still be a matter of life and death. "Japanese cinema shouldn't be 'ashamed' of depicting these problems, without neat and tidy endings," he said, and it's true. Full disclosure: as usual in a territory of this many films I missed some important titles, including Hirokazu Kore-eda's Still Walking and Yamada's Kabei to name a couple. Both fit securely into this group and probably would've made it onto my list.

The titles I've chosen either had a domestic release in Japan in 2008 or screened at at least one festival overseas (i.e. no press screenings / Japan-only fest premieres - titles like Love Exposure and The Shonen Merikensack will be on next year's list). The order is fairly arbitrary, especially after the first half. I can say with confidence that 2008 has been the best year since I started doing these lists.

The Best

1. All Around Us (Gururi no Koto, dir: Ryosuke Hashiguchi)

A brilliant portrayal of that most complex of relationships - a marriage - with a backdrop woven from Japan's sensational court cases of the modern era. Tae Kimura gives one of the most accurate portrayals of someone suffering from depression I've ever seen. A naturalistic, intimate epic.

2. Tokyo Sonata (dir: Kiyoshi Kurosawa)

I wrote a set report, recorded a podcast, appeared as an extra, blogged about its awards and screenings - you could say I'm biased. But the emotional power of Kiyoshi Kurosawa's Tokyo Sonata cannot be denied. This story of a typical Japanese family is the cinematic embodiment of the saying "a house is not a home". Sure to be seen and written about for years to come.

3. The Clone Returns Home (Clone wa Kokyo o Mezasu, dir: Kanji Nakajima)

Very different than anything else coming out of Japan. This Wim Wenders-produced drama fuses science fiction and a meditation on the human soul. It asks the big questions about cloning as it tells the story of a local childhood tragedy. An art film that takes its time but is well worth it. Fans of 2001 or Solaris will appreciate what Nakajima achieves on a limited budget.

4. Now, I... (Ima, Boku wa, dir: Yasutomo Chikuma)

I love this kid. Yasutomo Chikuma wrote a script, picked up a video camera and directed a feature film without ever having shot a frame in his life. The secret weapon of this simple but deeply felt tale of a lost young man is Chikuma's performance in the lead role (he studied the Stanislavsky technique). Don't take your eye off this new filmmaker.

5. Departures (Okuribito, dir: Yojiro Takita)

Everyone seems to love this movie. I did, too. Great casting (Tsutomu Yamazaki is a scene stealer), superb location work and a coffinload of humanity. Perhaps a touch overlong. A rare Japanese hattrick of a box office hit that wins awards at home and overseas and sells to a US distributor.

6. Naked of Defenses (Mubobi, dir: Masahide Ichii)

I was happy to see the return of salaryman/director (no joke) Ichii at the 2008 Pia Film Festival. This low budget, rural-set drama about a female factory worker who's jealous of her pregnant co-worker catches you off guard with its unique sense of drama. The final freeze frame is probably my favourite shot of the year.

7. Buy a Suit (dir: Jun Ichikawa)

Okay, I lied. This film only played at the Tokyo International Film Festival and hasn't opened yet, but veteran director Jun Ichikawa unfortunately passed away the night he finished editing this 47-minute drama so I wanted to include it on my 2008 list. Completely self-produced, Buy A Suit looks like the work of a young, talented filmmaker who's still exploring. But Ichikawa skillfully crafts this petite story of four characters into an affecting statement about modern life in Tokyo. RIP.

8. Ponyo on the Cliff by the Sea (Gake no ue no Ponyo, dir: Hayao Miyazaki)

Cute visuals, epidemicly-catchy theme song and literally overflowing with imagination. Produced with very young kids in mind but it's okay, you're allowed to enjoy it, too!

9. Children of the Dark (Yami no Kodomotachi, dir: Junji Sakamoto)

It's very rare for Japanese films (or any film) to depict social cancers this bravely. Unfortunately, the film was denied the chance to be screened in the very country it takes place (Thailand). A flawed but important work that should be seen.

10. The Sky Crawlers (dir: Mamoru Oshii)

A career turning point for Mamoru Oshii, who tackled love & sex and hired regular actors to do voices for the first time. Some didn't like the contrast between the incredibly dynamic air sequences and flat earthbound scenes, but I thought it worked to illustrate the theme. The Sky Crawlers doesn't quite have the lingering power it would like, but demands repeated viewings.

Honorable Mentions

Fine, Totally Fine (Zenzen Daijobu, dir: Yosuke Fujita)

"4.5 tatami mat room of dreams" is how I described this sweet film. I like this trend of depicting a much slower, less materialistic side of Tokyo that doesn't often get seen overseas.

Vacation (Kyuka, dir: Hajima Kadoi)

Went in with absolutely no expectations and was caught off guard by the quiet power of this death penalty prison drama. Great subtle interplay between actors Hidetoshi Nishijima and Kaoru Kobayashi. Sophomore director Hajime Kadoi will be one to watch.

Passion (dir: Ryusuke Hamaguchi)

Filmmaking newcomer Ryusuke Hamaguchi had the guts to take on the shopworn 20-something relationship drama sub-genre and call it Passion - and wins.

Achilles and the Tortoise (Akiresu to Kame, dir: Takeshi Kitano)

Kitano's return to a somewhat more orthodox style didn't go down as well with critics and fans as expected but I liked the colours and generally enjoy films about painting and the nature of art. I think it'll find a second life on DVD.

Child by Children (Kodomo no Kodomo, dir: Koji Hagiuda)

There was a lot of cringing on the interweb about this manga adaptation's story of a cute 12-year-old giving birth, but it's all tastefully done. Haruna Amari gives an excellent little performance.

K-20: Legend of the Mask (dir: Shimako Sato)

A rollicking action-mystery with a likeable performance from Takeshi Kaneshiro. Impressive meshing of CG cityscapes and good location work. Shimako Sato puts female directors on the taisaku map.

Detroit Metal City (dir: Toshio Lee)

A film built for audience participation (thank you, Colin G). Kenichi Matsuyama's schizophrenic performance is even more impressive in hindsight. Yasuko Matsuyuki is unrecognizable as the mega-abusive A&R dragon lady. A lot of fun.

Nightmare Detective 2 (Akumu Tantei 2, dir: Shinya Tsukamoto)

If you didn't like the first film this one won't convert you, but it delves deeper into the psychology and backstory of the cloaked anti-hero. Tsukamoto doesn't disappoint.

Partners: The Movie (Aibo: Gekijo-ban, dir: Seiji Izumi)

As I watch little Japanese TV the never-ending big screen blow-ups don't phase me too much. I thought this one had some considerable smarts and Yutaka Mizutani is just a cool actor.

20th Century Boys (20 Seiki Shonen, dir: Yukihiro Tsutsumi)

Doesn't quite live up to the hype in most people's eyes but I had a good time watching this directly after reading Naoki Urasawa's manga magnum opus. For those who weren't sold, the second and third installments look to be even better.

PUPI AVATI I JA

Za Avatija sam prvi put čuo u jednom textu o italo hororu u kratkotrajnom časopisu TALAS, izašlom 1995. godine, koji je potpisao veliki filmski znalac, Miroljub Stojanović. Na samom kraju tog esejčića se na krajnje koktizerski način, uzgred, pominje nekakav kult film ZEDER.

Bilo je to da čovek poludi! Po prvi put čujem za navodno veliki italo horror film, a mislio sam u tom trenutku da na radaru imam sve, makar ih sve (tada) i ne imao pri ruci.

Samo godinu dana kasnije "otkrio" sam Biblioteku Kinoteke u Beogradu, odmah kraj Kinez Mihajlove, i u njoj neprevaziđenu THE AURUM FILM ENCYCLOPEDIA: HORROR – koja mi je otkrila neverovatno blago filmskog horora koje se krije izvan onog uobičajenog, sa anglofonih prostora. Među njima i brdo -za mene novih, neznanih- italo horrora. Među njima i tri Avatijeva horora koja je uradio za vreme koje pokriva Enciklopedija (to izdanje je zaključno sa 1985. godinom; kasnije, dopunjeno, završava se sa 1994.). Ono što sam o njima pročitao bilo je novi spoj izluđujućeg i napaljujućeg: napaljujućeg iz očiglednih razloga, jer su opisi i kritike zvučali kao nešto totalno neobično i ludački jezivo, a izluđujuće zato što apsolutno niko koga bih pitao za te filmove – iz krugova horor fanova u "Lazi Komarčiću", kao i filmskih kritičara koje bih susretao – niti je čuo za Avatija, niti je pak posedovao išta od tih filmova.

Taj koktizing je neznatno umanjen 2000. godine, kada je Pupi Avati imao mini-reviju svojih filmova na FEST-u: pored dve drame, bio je prikazan i njegov tada vrlo svež L'ARCANO INCANTATORE. Naravno da sam se stvorio u Beogradu samo tim povodom, i naravno da sam pogledao taj film. Gledanje MISTIČNOG ČAROBNJAKA (čini mi se da je tako glasio prevod) u Kinoteci još uvek pamtim kao jedno od svojih najdražih bioskopskih iskustava u životu. Film je bio zaista ČAROBAN, i odlepio sam skroz na magiju njegove mistične strave i genijalno postignute ubedljive atmosfere u kojoj se privatna psiho-perverzija skoro neosetno pretapa u mistično-okultno-natprirodne zavrzlame. Kraj mene su sedeli Goran Skrobonja (horor pisac i izdavač) i Miloš Tomin (filmski kritičar). Oni nisu bili impresionirani: Skrobonja je čak zaspao, ili kazao da je bio na ivici da zadrema. Nije to bila njihova šolja čaja. Ali moja jeste, itekakao!

Sada se jedino kajem što u to vreme nisam bio malo srčaniji i nasrtljiviji, i što se nisam osmelio da odem i na konferenciju za štampu na kojoj je Pupi razgovarao s novinarima: u to vreme pisao sam samo za niški studentski list PRESSING, nisam imao akreditaciju, na FEST-u sam bio o svom trošku, kao fan a ne kao novinar, poznavao sam vrlo malo ljudi iz branše, tako da nisam bio siguran da se mogu "prošvercovati" na tu konferenciju. Sad mi je krivo jer slutim da sam mogao, da sam samo pokušao. Kao da bi me neko pitao ko sam i odakle sam. Šansu sam propustio, sav srećan što sam, nakon par godina priče, čitanja i čekanja najzad pogledao bar jedan Avatijev horor. Ipak, ona prva dva (i pô: računajući gotik-komediju TUTTI DEFUNTI TRANNE I MORTI) ostala su i dalje izvan mog dometa. Kada sam, tokom 1998., počeo redovno da surfujem Internet (u početku na faksu, dok nisam kupio kompjuter), izluđivalo me je koliko malo toga ima o Avatiju na engleskom: skoro ništa od intervjua, kritika, vesti. O Argentu i Bavi, koliko voliš. Ali Avati je uvek nekako bio i ostao skrajnut: prava pravcata neotkrivena tajna. To je, naravno, za mene samo dodavalo začin ezoterije. Ko zna, znaće, itd.

O ostalim Avatijevim hororima mogao sam samo da maštam sve do 2001. godine, kada sam sticajem okolnosti došao u priliku da nacrtam strip po priči Edwarda Lee-ja, TRANSCENDENCE. Iako je strip ispao sranje, za njega mi je sledovala neka sića honorara u dolarima. Umesto da mi se u Srbiju šalju pare, zamolio sam Leeja da u moje ime kupi nekoliko DVD-a i nekoliko knjiga, i to mi pošalje. Bili su to prvi DVD-i koje sam u životu svome kupio. Jedan od četiri naslova bio je ZEDER. Znao sam unapred (na osnovu amazon rivjua) da je slika osrednja, neremasterizovana, direktno sa (iskrzane) bioskopske trake – ali u to vreme druge zvanične verzije nije bilo. Kupio sam ga, i čim je isporuka iz USA stigla, bacio se na ZEDERA. Baš kao i ARCANO, dotakao mi je neke G-tačke koje mi skoro nijedan horor nikada nije, i uživao sam u moćnoj stravi i jezi postignutoj u izolovanim scenama, ali i bio donekle frustriran nekim narativnim rupama i propuštenim šansama da sve to bude još gadnije i jezivije. No, sve u svemu - bio sam zadovoljan, i dao mu ocenu (4-).

Onda je usledilo doba Divxa, i bez veće pompe nabavio sam, čim je postao dostupan, Avatijev prvi pravi horor: KUĆA NASMEJANIH PROZORA (LA CASA DALLE FINESTRE CHE RIDONO,1976). Pojedini delovi bili su mi potpuno genijalni, neke scene genuino zlokobne, ali moram reći da mi je to sve delovalo malkice predugo i nekoherentno, a naročito sa tim bezveznim "twistom". Ocena je jaka trojka: (3+).

Avati je oduvek bio skrajnut, ne samo u Srbiji gde su i mnogo veća imena nepoznata, nego i u belome svetu. Tome su donekle krivi i sami Italijani, jer je užasno teško doći do DVD-a njegovih filmova sa engleskim titlom. Njegovi rani filmovi potpuno su nenalažljivi čak i bez prevoda; TUTTI DEFUNTI TRANNE I MORTI (1977) postoji u VHS-rip Divx izdanju, ali, naravno, bez eng. titla. Čak i njegov pokušaj hita – ambiciozni THE KNIGHTS OF THE QUEST – dugo sam čekao i teško nabavio, tek zahvaljujući zalaganju jedne obožavateljke koja mi ga je narezala i poslala iz Austrije (gde je bio dostupan DVD sa eng. titlovima). Njegov najnoviji horor, THE HIDEOUT, već godinu dana mi čuči na disku, ali samo italo verzija, bez eng. duba ili titla. Pokušao sam da gledam i tako, ali ne vredi: odustao sam posle 15ak minuta: dijalozi su suviše važni za razumevanje zapleta, a moje natucanje italijanskog pretanko je za takav poduhvat i gledanje kakvo Avati zaslužuje.

To je stvarno da čovek poludi: s tim Avatijem stalno neko natezanje i gnjavaža i muke: ništa nema lako i prosto. Uvek neke komplikacije. Eto, čak i njegov najbolji horor film, L'ARCANO INCANTATORE – više od deceniju je bio praktično nenalažljiv u pristojnom obliku. 2001. godine uspeo sam da nabavim osrednju američku NTSC kasetu tog filma sa eng. titlovima, ali veći deo vizuelno-atmosferičnih draži bio je u tom formatu i sa tom mutno-zrnastom slikom izgubljen. Kasnije se pojavio solidan VHS rip na DIVXu, ali dugo nije bilo titla za njega. I stalno tako. Sve do pre 10ak dana, kada je najzad procurio savršen DVD rip na Divxu, sa italijanskog DVD-a na kome se, nekim bizarnim čudom, našao čak i ENGLESKI TITL!

Sada će najzad i svi oni Johnny-come-lately moći da overe ovaj pravi masterpis modernog horora. Dok čekamo titlove za THE HIDEOUT, ja sam reprizirao ARCANO sa ovog DVD ripa, i moj rivju stiže vrlo uskoro.

U međuvremenu, evo tog texta koji sam o Avatiju objavio avgusta 2000. godine u listu PRESSING MOVIE.

PUPI AVATI: MISTIČNI ČAROBNJAK REŽIJE

Paradoksalno bi bilo, svuda sem u zemlji paradoksa, da dolazak na FEST 2000. jednog od najvećih živih italijanskih režisera, Pupija Avatija, prođe gotovo bez ikakvog odjeka. Dok su novinski izveštaji prosto gušili obimnim tekstovima i o najneznatnijem gostu koji nam je u ova vremena došao iz inostranstva, o Avatijevom dolasku (zajedno sa bratom Antonijem, koscenaristom i producentom većine njegovih filmova) se moglo pročitati tek par šturih najava i jedan prekratki "intervju". Deo razloga leži sigurno i u lošem tajmingu - Avati je došao na zatvaranje, kad su se već svi bavili sumiranjem učinaka ovogodišnjeg FEST-a, umesto na otvaranje, kako je prvobitno najavljeno. Još bitnije od toga - Avati je ipak nepoznanica za većinu ovdašnjeg filmskog sveta, jer smo do sada imali prilike da vidimo samo tri njegova filma, i to u krajnje ograničenim uslovima: Beograđani su mogli da, 1983. u okviru Nedelje italijanskog filma vide ŠKOLSKU EKSKURZIJU, a na TV Politici je sredinom '90-tih prikazivan njegov BIKS (1991). Jedina prilika da se neki Avatijev film vidi i u ostatku zemlje bilo je prikazivanje PRIČE O MLADIĆIMA I DEVOJKAMA (1989) na TV BG u vreme Svetskog prvenstva u fudbalu. Ako tome dodamo neverovatnu činjenicu da Avati uopšte nije zastupljen u našoj Enciklopediji filmskih Režisera (!), ostaje nam da žalimo što čak ni ovogodisnji FEST nije učinio previše za naše upoznavanje s ovim značajnim auiorom, sa skromnim mini-cikiusom sa samo tri najnovija Avatijeva filma: FESTIVAL, SVEDOK NA VENČANJU, i – MISTIČNI ČAROBNJAK.

Opus Pupija Avatija se grubo može podeliti na dva dela: jedan čine porodične drame, romantične komedije i muzički filmovi (Avati je pasionirani ljubitelj džeza i svira saksofon) i po pravilu, upravo ovi filmovi zaokupljaju pažnju konvencionalnijih filmofila, oni dobijaju prestižne nagrade i u ovu grupu spadaju pomenuta tri filma koja su retki srećnici mogli kod nas da vide; srećom, jedan od tri Avatijeva filma na FEST-u pružio nam je priliku da se upoznamo i sa drugim aspektom Avatijevih interesovanja, jer manje je poznato da je ovaj veliki italijanski režiser autor nekoliko izuzetnih filmova horora i fantastike.

Pupi Avati je rođen 1938. u Bolonji, u kraju bogatog folklora i mračnih legendi čijoj atmosferi se često vraćao, u filmovima sa srednjovekovnom tematikom i sa motivima paganskih legendi (BALSAMUS, L'UOMO DI SATANA-1968, THOMAS, GLI INDEMONIATI-1970, LE STRELLE NEL FOSSO-1979, MAGNIFICAT-1993...) i naravno, u hororima. Avati nije snimio veliki broj horora, ali se za svaki od njih može reći da predstavlja značajan doprinos žanru. Štaviše, po mišljenju potpisnika ovih redova , uprkos samo 4-5 filmova ovog žanra, Avati je ipak najkvalitetniji horor-režiser u Italiji danas, posle Darija Arđenta i Mikele Soavija. U klasičnom ostvarenju KUĆA NASMEJANIH PROZORA (LA CASA DALLE FINESTRE CHE RIDONO,1976), o ikonoslikaru koji dolazi u zabito italijansko mesto da bi dovršio ikonu čiji se slikar ubio i koji zatiče veo misterije i ubilačku pretnju maskiranog zločinca, Avati majstorski postiže atmosferu korupcije sve do delirične završnice stvoriši tako jedan od najjezivijih horora ikada snimljenih. Usledila je groteskno-hladna horor komedija TUTTI DEFUNTI TRANNE I MORTI (1977), o devetoro potencijalnih naslednika jednog starog zamka koji bivaju ubijeni jedan za drugim, utoliko jezivija što je humor prisutan više u uzdržanom understatementu nego li u očiglednim gegovima.

Značajno je pomenuti i Avatijevo učešće u pisanju scenarija za poslednji i najkontroverzniji film P. P. Pazolinija, SALO;120 DANA SODOME (1975), kao i hvale vredan podatak da je upravo on napisao scenario i producirao (sa svojim bratom) debitantski -po mnogima najbolji- film Lamberta Bave MACABRO (1980). Posle nekoliko "normalnih" filmova Pupi Avati se vraća svojoj mračnoj strani, i stvara svoj najpoznatiji i komercijalno najuspešniji film - ZEDER (1983). Glavni junak je pisac koji slučajno otkriva sektu nekromanata čijih mračnih eksperimenata postaje svedok. Gusta atmosfera paranoje, straha i neodređene pretnje filovana je ponekom šokantnom scenom i -oživelim mrtvacima na kraju. Ukratko, ovo je još jedan od Avatijevih kandidata za najstrašniji film ikada snimljen.

Usledila je nešto duža pauza u Avatijevom bavljenju hororom, ispunjena prijatnim porodičnim filmovima koji plene svojom jednostavnošcu i lepotom, da bi se žanru vratio 1996. sa filmom na FEST-u prikazanom pod naslovom, MISTIČNI ČAROBNJAK (L' ARCANO INCANTATORE). Ovaj film je kod naših hronično kratkovidih kritičara prošao potpuno nezapaženo, što je velika šteta, jer radi se o jednom od vrhunaca ovogodišnjeg FEST-a (uz KRAJ JEDNE LJUBAVNE PRIČE i EXISTENZ). Film se dešava u 18.veku i govori o mladiću koji dolazi u izolovanu kulu kao sekretar zloglasnom učenjaku, gde ubrzo postaje svedok čudnih vizija i još čudnijih eksperimenata sa telepatijom i spiritizmom, paralelno s tim pokušavajući da razokrije misteriju smrti svog prethodnika. Avati i u ovom filmu demonstrira smisao za stvaranje, održavanje i kulminiranje nepatvorene klaustrofobične atmosfere strave i užasa sa umećem koje nema pandana u ičemu što sam u svom bogatom bavljenju horor žanrom mogao da vidim. Ovaj majstorski gothic izveden je realistički a ne sa baroknom stilizacijom što je češći slučaj (od Hamera i Kormana pa do Tima Bartona) i pleni osećajem misterije i gotovo opipljivog užasa, pa je kao takav svedočanstvo o režijskom umeću koje nije preterano nazvati genijalnim...

Tri prikazana filma Pupija Avatija na FEST-u bila su dovoljna tek da nas zaintrigiraju. Kinoteka ili neki naredni FEST ostaju nam dužni za jedno iscrpnije upoznavanje sa ovim velikim režiserom, koji je sasvim zasluženo poneo ove godine ustanovljenu nagradu "Nebojša Djukelić". Povod za to bi mogao da bude, recimo, i naredni Avatijev film čije je snimanje u toku - KRSTAŠI (THE KNIGHTS OF THE QUEST) sa Edvardom Furlongom i Kristoferom Vokenom* u glavnim ulogama, koji će, nadamo se, biti završen do narednog FEST-a.

*Ova najava o Vokenu se, na žalost, nije ostvarila, iako je bila aktuelna u vreme pisanja texta: planirani Voken ipak je zamenjen manje poznatim italijanskim glumcem.