Translation is a dark art, and one that flings you into a void space between languages, a space that highlights just how fragile your worldview might be. It’s shocking how much language influences your understanding of emotive and epistemological concepts. It acts as the barrier, the great interface between how your perception and how the world around you is deemed to work by man-made, hierarchical structure. A language is a way to expose your innermost mechanics, and so to translate a piece of art from one language to another seems an immensely daunting task to someone like me. Illogical, abstract expression in art, in another language, takes on a whole separate significance and yet simultaneously taps into a shared degree of panic.

Surrealism in it’s ‘neo’ sense goes beyond, and contradicts, its Parisian origins which sought to strictly exclude the psychoanalytic influence of the Freudian dialectic, and went to great lengths to re-purpose it to create a framework more akin to ‘psycho-exploration’.  What some may call neo-surrealism is not solely focused on the sub-conscious mind and the psychoanalytic processes used to access it. Unlike purist surrealism, which metaphorically spat on the idea of deriving logical conclusion from the exploration of the unconscious mind, neo-surrealism sees a marriage with what many would view as a more strictly ‘coherent’ narrative.

This seems especially interesting when considering something like ‘Funky Forest: The First Contact’ or ‘Naisu no Mori: The First Contact’- a film directed by Katsuhito Ishii, Shunichiro Miki and Hajime Ishimine – released in 2005. While I’ll go out and label this as a ‘surrealist’ piece of cinema, I have to consider whether I’m only labelling this according to my own cultural norms (I’m from the UK.) It seems important to label this film as ‘surreal’ but not necessarily as a product of the same western influences we’ve discussed before (even though these may have influenced the overall development of surrealism in Japanese popular culture.) It’s well established how the art nouveau movement in the western and Asian worlds birthed a mutually co-dependant relationship of influence – the subversion of ‘classic’ lines and shades fused with traditional, Oriental ornamentation. However we can see evidence of a kind of juxtaposition and ‘random’ collage effect in the work Utagawa Hiroshige (1786-1865) and Utagawa Kunisada (1786-1865) which is reminiscent of a visceral approach to art shared by early surrealists.

However this is at a time when surrealism is yet to be conceived within the vast and vague annals of dadaism. Following the actual establishment of the surrealists, we can see the same juxtaposition of seemingly random images and the exaggeration of their form in Japanese advertisement from the 1920s and 30s. But this seems more to be an organic development of the abstract within Japanese art, presupposing my own cultural expectation of the surreal.

So now i’m left with the question, if my attitude to the abstract was formed in Japanese culture, would I find Funky Forest as surreal as I do? Furthermore, when I label it surreal, am I meaning the same thing as a Japanese artist might mean when they use that term? Or indeed an equivalent term in the Japanese language that has slight nuances lost in the dark space of translation. As with language more generally, it’s subjective, and I suppose what i’m saying is that Surrealism embodies that subjectivity – often translating and transforming over different cultures, sub cultures and populous-groups generally. It’s subjectivity is part of it’s modern definition, and therefore neo-surrealism, as it pierces the minds of it’s viewers in different ways, often means something else depending on who you ask. ‘Funky Forest’ is a prime example of this conundrum, as an abstract film that still gives a kind of sensory narrative bonding it all together, a cohesive design and united methodology when it comes to character development.

If the origin of surrealism in Japanese art is something you’re interested in, I’d recommend reading this article.

I would still define this film as surreal, as do many of its critics in Japan. The film takes the form of a series of short stories, often intertwining with each other. This would explain the use of three directors – whom I presume took different ‘claims’ over each of the 21 stories.  Some are longer than others, some seem more visceral and immediate whereas others appear to have a distinct attempt at representing the symbolic. While some do seem like a total rejection of logic and a demonstration of nonsensical disturbance creating memorable images, there are definitely some which seem to tell a story. For me there was an overriding sense of urban life, the loneliness, the customs we take for granted everyday, how we define our identity, and love. Lets take Takefumi (Ryo Kase) and Notchi (Erika Saimon) – both in a relationship (though not necessarily officially) and both young people. From what I can gather, Notchi was a student of Takefumi, and while she’s on the verge of her new adult life, he is slightly further along in time – perhaps in his mid twenties – possibly wasting potential opportunities for a career. The episode starts with them discussing life in a room, listening to music and drinking beer. They speak naturally but ambiguously, already there’s a tension and we can’t tell why.

Obviously the story develops to the next logical step – an interstellar dance battle with cosmic, disco space-men . Obviously.

This takes place in Takefumi’s dream where he is constantly challenged by Notchi to dance with these elaborately rendered, colourful, dream like beings. But there’s a definite subtext here. Notchi often seems to taunt him, challenge him and maybe that’s the point. Takefumi is passionate about music but is doing nothing with life, he worries too much and can never let go. Notchi however is a far more vibrant individual, seemingly up for any challenge or new thing life can bring her. The dream reflects the reality in an exaggerated sense. As Breton said, the imaginary is what tends to become real. Here we see surrealism simply reflecting reality in a twisted way, and in my opinion, it’s effective at making me feel the struggle of their relationship without shoving exposition down my throat.

Saying this, there are certain episodes where i’d be lying if I said I thought there was any discernible ‘meaning’ in the conventional sense of the world. But I rather think that’s the point, it relates to the panic and subsequent playfulness/joy that makes the cornerstone of the avat-garde. A definitio of meaning is applicable only to each individual viewer, who will in turn find their own definition for these events – even if that definition is ‘I’ve no idea what’s going on but I love it’.

One particular scene Includes a schoolgirl coming across two aliens (represented by one guy in a tiny tuxedo and another wearing what can only be described as a chicken/bear hybrid onesie) Who are trying to go through some process. She offers to assist them and they end up beginning one of the weirdest sequences I’ve seen on film. This includes opening a box with a sphincter in it, spinning in circles a certain number of times, and eventually pulling out a tiny man from said sphincter  who in turn reads test results from a script. At the end of all of it they shout ‘tadaa!’ and reveal themselves to be an entertainment act. The whole scene is thoroughly insane. I know I may be on my own at this point, but I actually found it really entertaining. The pure silliness of it is unpredictable and so there was no point where I felt like I could guess what was about to happen. It’s a narrative of suggestion, that blossoms in a series of unpredictable images, in the same way a dream you have about falling off a cliff can remind you about someone you know. The connections are unseen, but existent, much reflecting the unknown linguistic ties between the Japanese and English translations.

Another similar scene is when on of the three brothers in the film (from an earlier story line) Is helping in a Gym class but we soon see that what he’s actually doing is something very different. The best way I can put this is just to say it plainly. He’s essentially tickling the testicles of an old man who proceeds to lactate in the gym, as a girl holding a badminton racket swats at the milk (I think it’s milk? Honestly I’ve no idea.)  Following this, a leech-like creature becomes attached to the girl and they have to call the doctor in. He removes this alien like sleeve to reveal a slug with a tiny man’s head. The Doctor removes the leech by taunting it and calling it ‘dumb’. I could go on. I would say you get the picture, but trust me you don’t until you’ve seen it. Again though, the childish silliness of it is actually fairly entertaining. Though it may not potentially be as engaging as other pieces of cinema, it immerses you in it’s world, subverting your expectations and demolishing every idea you have about the film.

I suppose the reason I think this film is successful in delivering a surrealist experience is in the ratio between the illogical and the sensory –  that the overall impression I got as a viewer wasn’t one of confusion but a sense of experimentation. It felt like a fairly original combination of story telling techniques. While i’m not saying surrealism always has to have an explanation, I tend to prefer those bouts of exploration in shorter busts, which in turn makes me a bit of a heretic i’m afraid. I suppose both styles have their places, and both are relevant to the abstract in a wider sense.

What I liked most about this work was the sense of immersion in a fresh understanding of story, which was filled in equal parts with surrealist imagery but constructed fundamentally on universally recognisable human relationships. It’s odd, yeah of course – but there’s an enjoyment to it, and a degree to which its characters come to represent a wider emotional drive , you still basically care about the people and their lives. I’d recommend diving into the world of ‘Funky Forest’ if you get a chance. It can be difficult but I think, within it, you’ll find a place separate to your understanding, and one that relates to your perspective more than you would initially guess.