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Mulholland Dr., An Interpretation

Mulholland Dr

Yes, it is a dream of Diane’s, and no, the ten clues inside the DVD sleeve are not red herrings. The first half is the Diane that meets the expectations of her career and relationship, the second half the actual Diane, the one alone and crying. That’s the basic way of putting it, but how do we get there? What’s the point of the Cowboy? The blond Camilla? The expresso guy? The dreamer at Winkie’s? The blue key? Aunt Ruth? I’ll try to answer it all, some of which will sound right to you, some of which will sound wrong. I’m officially throwing my hat in.


We might as well start where the movie does. The mysterious brunette that we later come to know as Rita is involved in a car crash at the bottom of a hill on Mulholland Dr, the same place where the actual Camilla comes down to greet the actual Diane (no I won’t be doing the actual bit the whole time through) and bring her up to Adam Kesher’s party. This is the point in reality that motivates Diane’s dream world as the pitch-perfect Betty. The point where Diane crumbles into the realm of fantasy.

The clearest reasons for Diane’s dream are jealousy and love. Camilla is a leading actress, the fancy of the director’s eye, and the one who helps Diane get a start in Hollywood with a small part in director Bob Booker’s film. In the dream, Camilla is a blond unknown, a convergence of the real Camilla and Diane, being pushed through Betty’s world as Diane’s subconscious. The blond Camilla doesn’t get by on talent alone, she is forced onto the scene, similarly to what could have happened when Diane first arrived in Hollywood. She steals Betty’s parts and goes through life the immoral way. Her unnamed counterpart in reality the last person Diane sees taking Camilla away from her, kissing her, solidifying herself as an easy target to play the role of Diane’s subconscious in Betty’s created world.

Despite not being able to stop said subconscious, Diane sets up Rita to forget a Diane and Camilla ever existed. Rita loses her memory and identity with the crash, and the waitress by the name of Diane puts in motion a search resulting in the discovery of a dead, rotting Diane. There goes the link, there goes any hope for Rita to discover her past. It’s gone. This is Betty, she’s perfect. There never was a Diane, and there never was a Camilla.

Betty earns Rita’s love by taking her in, and is respectable due to her incredible acting talent. Rita plays the one in need, the sidekick, gladly accepting Betty’s warm coffee and robe, helping her recite lines for a role she ends up playing much better than a ‘black-haired girl,’ the same black-haired girl who gets the part in reality, Camilla. The same Camilla who accepts Diane’s coffee, while naked, before telling her things can no longer continue.

It’s far from the only role reversal in Betty’s world. Adam, the man who steals Camilla from Diane, suffers like a Coen brothers character, constantly barraged with shit. His wife cheats on him with the pool boy (Billy Ray Cyrus to make matters worse!), his money evaporates, he loses control of his movie (‘The Sylvia North Story’), and is threatened by a cowboy with an ultimatum. Diane makes Adam feel all the pressures and pain she endured while in Hollywood, and her loss of Camilla.

So who the fuck is the cowboy (I wish I could write it like Adam says it)? The cowboy is the mythical Hollywood icon, so ridiculous he can’t be real, yet created as a highly recognizable character in film history. He is imaginary. He is there at the point of Diane’s descent into her dream, and the one who wakes her back into reality.

Diane inputs others from that final scene at Adam’s party, where his engagement to Camilla is announced, into her dream. The expresso fellow, in a small part, regurgitates the coffee that isn’t good enough, representative of Diane as barista to Camilla, who shortly after, ends their sexual relationship. CoCo, Adam’s mother, becomes the gatekeeper to Betty’s aspirations, helping to shoo away other slips of the subconscious (the crazy psychic who denies that Betty was to stay at Ruth’s place in her absence, and that Rita is indeed in trouble - the real Camilla soon to be murdered - not safe in Betty’s care).

Where is Ruth then? She’s hardly in the movie, but a big clue into Diane’s past. Diane reveals that she is from Ontario, Canada, and shockingly agrees as Betty. As Betty, her Aunt Ruth is going to Canada to film a movie, according to Diane however, Ruth is dead. After the blue box is opened (the explanation for that is coming soon, be patient), Ruth returns to an empty house, a sign that Diane possibly reached out to her and was turned away. Where did Ruth go? Back home to Canada for a visit? It leads to a perfect entryway for Diane to introduce Betty to Hollywood.

The blue box is Diane’s fear. The MacGuffin that she attempts to hide from Rita in Betty’s life. The revelation that all this is nothing but a dream. She does a pretty good job for the extent of what was to be the pilot, but reminders of its significance prove too powerful to remain concealed.

The dreamer at Winkie’s is the first invader of fear in Betty’s world. He is Diane, another random fill-in from a moment in her life (she sees him at the counter at Winkie’s as she confirms to the hitman that she wants Camilla killed). The description of his dream gives us insight into Diane’s feelings while making the decision to have Camilla killed. He is a break into reality, something that could awaken Diane, something that scares her more just by the fact that he is there. The dreamer also knows about the terrifying man behind Winkie’s, the one who holds the blue box, the one who knows the truth. He collapses for her, a minor casualty of Betty’s world. This allows Betty to visit the payphone outside the same Winkie’s, and validate her dream, that there was an accident on Mulholland Dr. That Rita and Betty are real people.

This temporarily allows Betty to live in her world of red, before the blue tones and smoke take over again. After Rita witnesses the deceased Diane, Betty helps her cope by donning her in a blond wig, looking eerily like Betty herself. This satisfies Diane’s wish for Camilla to be jealous of her. However, when they make love, she doesn’t want the jealous, camouflaged Camilla, but the real thing. Only during their love scene, is Rita encouraged to take off the wig. Rita is made to understand Diane’s love and jealousy. After all, in Betty’s world, Rita is the one that becomes lost on Sunset Blvd (obvious reference to the Billy Wilder film of the same name).

‘Silencio. Silencio.’ And Diane’s dream is about to crash and burn by the dream of one of her own creations. Rita begs her off to Club Silencio and the truth is revealed. ‘There is no band,’ our host tells us, ‘it is all an illusion,’ he continues. Betty shakes uncontrollably and nervously, foreshadowing the coming events. Out next comes Rebekah Del Rio with her devastating version of ‘Llorando,’ and we (breaking the fourth wall here) become as involved as Rita and Betty, lost in the sadness and power of the moment. Only it’s fake. We (Betty, Rita, me, you) are told this, believe it, and then somehow immediately forget it, moved by this seemingly truthful relationship we’ve just formed, them with the singer, us with Betty and Rita (and the singer as well). And the dream falls apart for us, for Diane. The dream of Hollywood, the dream of love.

Rita opens the bag previously full of unexplained money (Diane once again hiding the truth to prevent reality from taking over) and instead finds the blue box, a perfect fit for the blue key hidden with the money earlier. Betty disappears, Rita opens the blue box, and Diane awakens back into reality. Rita having regained her memory, thereby ending Diane’s dream world. The deceivingly nice old folks (Hollywood) who originally welcomed her, released, chase her into her red pillow, into suicide, unable to hide from her dreams (plural folks, Hollywood and Betty’s world, essentially a dream within a nightmare).

And the phone, the one next to the red lampshade and ashtray, rings and rings. Diane, lying face down in her red pillow, unable to learn what she already knows: ‘The girl is missing.’ Camilla, also dead somewhere. Betty and Rita, vanished with the presence of the blue smoke. The dream and the reality of Hollywood sharing the same fate.

Jarmusch's Lonesome Cool Individuals: The Myth

By classification, drifters are a part of a group. We like to group things together, the rich with the rich, the mammals with the mammals, and the drifters with the drifters. Jim Jarmusch portrays drifters, not lonely people. People who share only an adjective. Jarmusch shares at least a haircut with half of his protagonists, people who need other people, drifting for appearance, boredom, or the unwillingness to break their stubborn ways. Lonely people are segregated, they are alone because they are. They don’t choose to be, it isn’t a conscious decision. Drifters can be lonely at times, but they will always need a healthy populous to skirt around in order to survive. The Jarmusch cool, lonesome hero is a myth. They’re needy, they’re cultured, they’re relatable.
But it’s all subjective isn’t it? Of course, I don’t know why the fuck people classify things in the first place. It gives them something to do, me as well. Thanks.

Now, we’re going to do this film-by-film, as my memory works on numbers, not names and I need a shitload of tabs open to correct characters’ names. Full disclosure.

Permanent Vacation-Perhaps the easiest. Built on a short Jarmusch did at NYU, the film evolves into a feature made up of what is basically a bunch of shorts. A format that Jarmusch uses comfortably over his career, and a main piece of evidence against the cool, lonesome hero image. Allie wanders around the city trying to connect with other drifters. A veteran hiding out from imagined gunfire, a sax player attempting to collect tips while playing in an empty street in the middle of the night. The whole thing is about human connection outside of normal society. A leaving, breathing, connected world. Not the standard of course, but active and similarly structured. Allie is a man religiously seeking attention. A good first parody of lonesomeness. He’s also the first in a thread of Jarmusch characters with approximately the same hair, sharing it with Jarmusch and Elvis.

Stranger than Paradise-We have Willie, the ’suave’ one, and Eddie, the wannabe one, neither of which qualifies as lonesome, or is portrayed at lonesome. A picture where Jarmusch steps outside of his comfort zone a bit and nails it. Sure Willie denies Eva respect initially, but she comes around to earn it and I could bullshit on some kind of theory tying in with mine, but really the end result is that Willie is clueless. It is why he does what he does. He looks out for himself and that tries to briefly cover for his mistakes, before falling right back into them. Eva is inanimate as far as he’s concerned. And Eddie, he’s a schmuck who does what Willie does making him clueless by association.

Down by Law-The hair-apparent and a frequent collaborator, Tom Waits puts in his first Jarmusch appearance. Rugged, busted and on the outs of society. He, as Zack, and John Lurie, as Jack, refuse each other as friends upon their mutual imprisonment until the imprisonment bonds them. Throw in a foreigner who outsmarts most Jarmusch characters and actually breaks his habits (well, at least within the restraints of screen time) by having the balls to stay with his happiness, his human relationship. The three men break out of prison, working together to escape the swamp outside of prison, and then split at the fork at the end of the road. Why? Answer one is because they’re fucking stubborn and dumb. Answer two is pride, also known as answer one. Zack and Jack are the prominent Jarmusch drifters, feeding on one another to move forward. It’s sweet, it’s pathetic, it’s fear. Lonesome it’s not.

Mystery Train-Jarmusch’s most symbolic and aware film. Jun, Johnny, Jarmusch, and Elvis. The hair, the careful grooming, the image. It’s here in colors. Elvis, he represents sex, drugs, and rock n’ roll. Jun, this foreigner to Memphis, the half of a couple who has more trouble adapting to his new home, has taken on this persona without even knowing a thing about Elvis. Johnny, a Brit, is the same. A man who openly criticizes his nickname, which is obviously, “Elvis.” They’ve all taken on this image, without any direct connection to the man. His persona has filtered through the subconscious of society, spread so thinly that people follow it without any clue to its origin. They know it secondhand, a term not familiar to a lonesome person. The film also brings back the ‘short’ format, loosely used here as it is cut into thirds rather than smaller conversations, and wraps up stunningly neatly.

Night on Earth-Full of the early mentioned clueless behavior, the film is neatly divided into five sections. The segmenting done once again, showing Jarmusch’s inability to follow a character though an entire relationship with another as if a point is reached where he no longer knows what to do. Neither do I. The characters, such as Isaach De Bankole’s Ivoirien and Roberto Benigni’s reckless Italian aren’t cool, aren’t witty. They act like ignorant lunatics, resulting in ’accidents’ surely not their fault, a car crash and the death of a clergyman respectively. On the other hand, Mika works his drunk passengers for pity, while neglecting any trouble not of the greatest concern as unworthy. Helmut is literally a fucking clown. The film also contains Jarmusch’s exception, as everything must have one. Corky, a female, a gender with which Jarmusch distances himself and covers nicely because of it, never removes herself from herself. A loner? No. Cool? Arguably so. Clueless? If so, the only casualty is her own person, and she won’t ever know it.

Dead Man-The first of Jarmusch’s solely culture-based films, this time Native American. Another note of full disclosure and evidence of the far-reaching trickle down effect: After I watched this I questioned its accuracy in the depiction of Native Americans. Thank god, I also had some intelligence trickle down and before checking anything else questioned every other movie’s depictions. Turns out, Jarmusch’s was very accurate. William Blake transforms over the course of the picture from a innocent, quiet, white collar fellow to a gun-toting, face painted, dazed man floating to his grave with a face completely confused. He’s out in the water, helpless, having completely abandoned reality for the person on the WANTED poster, completed engraved and lost in an image. His current, and currently lonely, persona heading downstream by means of tradition.

Ghost Dog: The Way of the Samurai-The second of the culture films, Ghost Dog follows, well Ghost Dog, as he gives his entire life to the samurai way. He essentially enslaves himself to an old white gangster who saves him once when he’s a kid, bleeding his way into a debt brought upon by mistaken circumstances per Rashomon. Ghost Dog has no individual character to speak of, he lives by the samurai code and becomes it completely. His will is no longer his own, his triumphs and faults the samurai’s, not Ghost Dog’s. His enslavement gives him a new respect for life, and a new respect for death, his stubbornness causing him dearly in the end and he’s okay with it, okay with bleeding out in a city street as a little girl, open to influence watches on.

Coffee and Cigarettes-The quintessential picture about schmucks taking part in the self-identified practice of the 80’s, sitting down to some coffee and cigarettes. All of them integrated into this lifestyle of when and how to have conversations, how to look, what to do. Jarmusch’s least intimate piece.

Broken Flowers-I’ll give Don Johnston this, he’s the least affected, the most distant of Jarmusch’s leads. He sinks and sulks through his old black book like a guy without a care in the world, wishing his wife had left and he had just been left alone. I believe he only follows Winston out of boredom, and retains that boredom throughout his journeys, melancholy only slipping in at the end for his son. Maybe his dream to offer someone else a life that can go on without distraction. He surely can’t give it to the women currently or previously in his life. And that’s what makes the end so heartbreaking, so emotional, so human. Sorry Don, you’re not lonely. You’re not calm and cool. You’re sad.

The Limits of Control-The limits aren’t those ordinarily defined as so, like The Nude following and tempting the Lone Man, trying to distract him from his assassination mission. The limits are placed by the mission itself stringing the Lone Man around perfectly with matchboxes, foreign language inquisitions, and the ultimate goal. The Lone Man is so individual, so powerful yet the whole movie we are watching him follow someone else’s orders, adhering to a very strict protocol to accomplish something for no reason of his own.

Ranking the Films:
10. Broken Flowers
9. Coffee and Cigarettes
8. Permanent Vacation
7. Down By Law
6. Dead Man
5. Ghost Dog: The Way of the Samurai
4. Mystery Train
3. Night on Earth
2. Stranger than Paradise
1. The Limits of Control

It's My Birthday and I Can Cry if I Want To

Slacker, a film brought to us in the early 1990's by cult favorite Richard Linklater, has become a prophetic source.  Time has unfortunately proven it a film accurately depicting many twenty-somethings (and older) throughout the entirety of time, not limited to the era the film takes place in.  I know Austin, Texas has had a steady growth rate, but was unaware that its character had spread throughout the entire United States, to say the least.  The biggest offenders?  Mumblecore and pricks like me who think they'll blog and tell us what it's all about.  The difference between mumblecore and Slacker or bloggers and Slacker?  We take ourselves far too seriously.

As I watched a bunch of youngins pushing product, parlaying politics, and just sputtering utter nonsense I was amused at this satirical twist on the mumblecore genre.  Then I remembered this came out in 1991 and mumblecore is still among us.  My appreciation for the film fell off as I continually encountered these god damned fools spewing their shit.  It went from amusing to annoying about a third of the way in and never came back; a film I can pat on the back but ultimately never watch again.

That's when the ridiculousness hit me.  Movies like Lynn Shelton's Humpday do this on purpose!  My definition of the genre, as should be stated, is a bunch of pseudo-intellectuals discussing what they believe to be original ideas in circles, and in the end no one gives a shit because it doesn't really matter.  I should also state that this entire opinion, of a blogger, has been formed around Humpday, as I have never braved the genre since.  This should be your first clue into the relation between blogger insight and mumblecore insight.  I'm telling you upfront, third paragraph, whatever.

"I'm a fucking tool."  -"Let's talk about it."

Most kiddies are taught at a young age not to believe everything they hear, but most people do it anyways.  You think the rants on the Kennedy assassination and a later moon landing from Slacker were out-of-this-world?  Look at our current, past, and future state of politics.  Before I continue ranting, I took part in a writing class yesterday where the term 'forseeable future' was deemed unreasonable because no one can see the future.  That's bullshit, if not, then history's bullshit because that's the whole point of studying it.  Yet here we are, getting excited about campaign promises and swayed by campaign advertisements.  They all tell us similar positive news, and then reality sets in and we play the blame game.

We get in our little groups of friends talk about how great it's going to be, and then we get into our little groups and talk about how bad it is.  Like drones.  We forget the people we're talking about our humans and we forget that we are humans.  Maybe we aren't? 

Time to get way the fuck off tangent from my original thesis for the final time.  Look at today's world.  It's the same as the world in Slacker, but now with tools created to take advantage of it.  The same writing class from earlier (a business writing class mind you) built around the idea that everything needs to be streamlined.  We should be writing in lists, because they are easier, because they are for the everyman.  Fuck that guy.  The writer/speaker should have complete freedom to say something, but with the responsibility that it is something worth saying.  The reader/listener should have complete freedom to ignore whatever they want, but also bypass their ignorance and upbringing to listen in when something worthy is out there.

Don't be afraid to put your ear down on the rails and listen for that train to come through.  It may pick you up and take you somewhere unexpected.  And be smart enough not to keep your head down when it rides through.  Stop picking a poison, and choose a cure.  If you've made it this far, I'm not sure which you've done.

Required listening on the topic: "Brilliant Man" by The National

People and Their Place in Time-The Last Days of Disco

Whit Stillman’s little seen ode to disco (but not really) has an equally minimal interest in plot. Alice Kinnon, played by Chloë Sevigny, leads a group of youngsters finding their way to adulthood in a story more concerned with the people of the story. Sure, club owner Bernie is stowing cash in his basement to avoid paying higher taxes, but it’s drifted over in favor of showing the decisions made by those involved around it, all surprisingly okay with everything that happens.

So what about these stars of the show? They’re worth discussing, their ideas and actions in today’s world and the previous, how people repeat themselves, what they hide and what they present. All of it mishmashed in the changing times of young adulthood. Sure, sometimes they feel like 90’s era folks time-warped back to the early 80’s, but that’s half the point. None of the generations are particularly special, they all disappear and are replaced with a new movement that will suffer the same fate.

Oh, and spoilers, minor ones. This isn’t exactly a movie worth noting spoilers, but I’ll do it anyways because there‘s nothing quite like a first impression.

Alice, the lead is the one who rises from the death of disco, re-adjusting to find herself, rather than a place in her era, resulting ironically in a place in society. In the beginning she hangs on her roommate Charlotte’s every word, plugging Scrooge McDuck as sexy and taking the blame for it by a guy, possibly cheating on his girlfriend whom he is separated from, but also fucking. Her railroad-style apartment, the instability in her life, people coming and going like the times they live in (as her adviser/roommate Charlotte is quick to point out the lack of privacy). She lives life like the book she is trying to push for publication at her company, in hopes of prestige and advancement.

The book, supposedly the account of the Dalai Lama’s brother, is ushered in as she is to the hot NYC club (exclusive to a certain type of people). Accepted as brilliant, the book is approved and sent to the presses. Alice, as well, the jewel of Des, Jimmy, and Josh’s eyes, and a point of jealousy for her completely unselfish (of course!) friend Charlotte. Charlotte, the same one who passed on it earlier, but we’ll come back to that.

Bam. The book’s a fake. The publisher still loves it, it’s just no longer concealed under a false identity. Alice breaks out of her shell, taking on the ‘lunatic’ (per Des) Josh, the one already practicing individualism proudly, addressing the clap maturely, and sitting in the dark alone because she’s resting (that‘s why, Jimmy!). The lady who stays at home and doesn‘t need to roll with the sea of crowds at the disco, the lady of the new era. And she’s awarded with a promotion, the only character employed by the film’s end. Jimmy runs off to Spain, Des retreats with Charlotte to a life of falsehood and big ideas without the means to execute them, and Tom (Alice’s one-night stand) gets to hang onto his gonorrhea and herpes.

Her turning point? Lady and the Tramp. She stands with Josh, for the scottie, the nice guy who doesn’t get what he wants, but doesn’t change. Something better suited will come along. It does for Alice, her last kiss with Des, nothing more than a draining of her transitory personality that was never hers’ to begin with, merely an extension of Charlotte (who of course Des will fall for, post-film). Scottie, also Josh in canine form, the traditional loyalist who stands by his morals, rather than the morals of the time.

Des is his rival and complete opposite, the man who pretends to be gay, so ladies are let down easier when he moves on. The man far too assured of his confidence, stating his surefire reinstatement to the club, after he receives his pink slip, almost immediately (and admittedly he’s right). The man who delves into his past consistently for sympathy. And the man who can’t understand why Josh is also fired at the end (for his decision to give Des a pass on jail time). “Et tu, Brute?”

Not quite. The phrase Jimmy takes as a recognition of loyalty from Caesar (the man who asked for change if change was necessary) to Brutus, a meaning Des (trying to follow Jimmy’s escape at the time, before being pulled back into reality by Josh) can’t seem to wrap his head around, his own attacks cocky, calculated, and sarcastic. He’s like most of the people in the movie, and in life, taking on new ages as if they were their own, changing without any real reason.

Yes, I’m going to wind this back to Alice (Brutus in better hands) and Josh (Anthony, stubborn, as is). Two of the most respectable characters in the film (along with the consistently less ignorant Departmental Dan). Of course, Alice doesn’t resort to violence or any other grave measure to bring upon change. She is similar to Julius’ slayer in her conviction to her ways as a person unfit to live in her time thanks to her accelerated progression. Josh, as Anthony, fits the mold. The man who stands by what he knows, but accepts what he’s given (like ’no’ for example). Note: This is not a recommendation for a sequel of Julius Caesar in which Anthony and Brutus hook-up.

And the crowds swaying between their traditions and their future? You can lump together just about everybody else: Des, Jimmy, Charlotte, Tom, Holly (Charlotte and Alice’s other roommate), and even the slowly Developing Dan. The people seemingly there just to be in the mix, no real purpose as individuals. Unlike Brutus and Anthony, Alice and Josh just go along at the end, realizing the dead end that is trying to sway the sheep. Instead they seek out happiness, which IS contagious (plug for Quiet Chaos), as seen when the people on the train erupt into disco, into themselves. There is hope for originality (some, some)!

It would be unjust to wrap this up without giving Alice’s counterpart Charlotte her due. The bitchy, ignorantly self-aware roommate dangerously accustomed with her public persona, so much so, that it has taken over her private life (remember her admittance earlier that she had no privacy anymore?). She begins on the same level as the still Departmental Dan, but as he comes to accept his mistakes and the fact that he lives outside his justifications (dating Holly for her accepted beauty (fiction), before discovering Alice’s concealed wit (non-fiction)), she follows them stronger than ever. Her reward? Des. Congratulations!


A little selfish, somewhat fleeting, no clear thesis statement.  Pretty sure this qualifies as a blog post.  Sleep well dames and gents.

Who SHOULD Be Nominated for and Winning Oscars

Oscar Sunday is a short three days away and the Academy has had their say.  Some voted for environmental purposes, some voted for friends, many voted for careers, and a slim representation of the 5% slipped in their votes.  Of course, I disagree with most of the choices.  My stake in Hollywood is as minimal as can be, guaranteeing nominees delegated their position not because of a favor owed or chance to increase my economic outlook.  Winner Italicized.

Best Supporting Actor:

Johannes Thanheiser (Revanche)

Burghart Klaußner (The White Ribbon)

Ray McKinnon (That Evening Sun)

Christoph Waltz (Inglourious Basterds)

Christian McKay (Me and Orson Welles)

Best Supporting Actress:

Ursula Strauss (Revanche)

Edith Scob (Summer Hours)

Bailee Madison (Brothers)

Mo'Nique (Precious)

Julianne Moore (A Single Man)

Best Actor:

Johannes Krisch (Revanche)

Nanni Moretti (Quiet Chaos)

Jeff Bridges (Crazy Heart)

Piotr Jagiello (Somers Town)

Paul Hofmann (Import/Export)

Best Actress:

Nina Hoss (A Woman in Berlin)

Carey Mulligan (An Education)

Maria Onetto (The Headless Woman)

Catalina Saavedra (The Maid)

Arta Dobroshi (Lorna's Silence)

Best Director:

Gotz Spielmann (Revanche)

Michael Haneke (The White Ribbon)

Ramin Bahrani (Goodbye Solo)

Max Färberböck (A Woman in Berlin)

Hirokazu Koreeda (Still Walking)