The leading characters, A, B and C are caught up in the vicious spiral created by their desires. By coincidence, or perhaps not, the three become injured anally and find themselves in the waiting room of the same proctologist. it is here that they find a way out of their seemingly never-ending cycles.
Japan
Japan
Garish and in poor taste enough to truly capture the violence, voyeurism, and disconnect of the millennium. The numbness, alienation and cruelty of the times. This has a unique visual and editing style I’ve never seen anything truly like that works so much in its favor. Images are layered over one another to create an overlapping collage of 21st century malaise. Narration accompanying Rei Harakami’s ambient score gets the viewer uncomfortably close to each character’s psychological state.
Most will want to shut this off after 10 minutes, but if you’re one of the people who think things like Peep TV Show are some of the best films of all time, you’re likely part of the target audience. Story 2 is 5/5 on its own
weirdly prescient view at humans as singular units crossing and overlapping each other, constantly meeting along the way but never for long periods of time for fear of melding into one another. impossible to predict how hard it hit but i'm really glad i took the chance in watching this ; it was just this extremely potent shock of vitality stunning me for the entire duration of this film. thinking specifically of each isolated segment detailing laboriously, step-by-step each character's daily life and what got them there in the first place. practically reflecting my own misery in slow-motion slideshows. hikkikomori lifestyles, voyeuristic tendencies, eyes upon eyes and a searing pain deep down. blinding me back into a sort of putrid atrophy regarding my own feelings towards life, death, action, inaction, joys and sorrows. the line "because to me a computer is deeply connected to death" is gonna resonate in my ears for a long time
its a fact of life
we all know
that one day
we will all die
the world is full of death
19,875 people commit suicide every day. the most common are tuesdays and thursdays,
that’s when i lost all sensation, the more lost my mind became. i can move, but i can’t feel. there’s no pain, i don’t speak much anymore, the pain makes it difficult to focus my eyes, the pain is unbearable, the pain….
the human subconscious is split into a triptych, three reflections of life and death, their daily actions and wandering thoughts, their lives intersect several paths but only temporarily, their bodies must not merge (yet). a modern kaleidoscopic visualization of technology intertwined with a personal,…
i tried for a couple of hours last night to write a review of this movie that i liked but i wasn't able to so i'll just say content-wise it's almost like subahibi. if you like peep "tv" show you'd probably also really like this.
Sorry but I couldn’t take this seriously with the voiceover. For anyone who grew up in the UK, it sounds like some GCSE drama type shit, especially with person C. I guess it’s used as another method of alienation, as when the characters cross paths at the proctologists, they start to speak for themselves. Interesting visuals and a cool soundtrack, but unfortunately I was unable to get fully immersed.
Wasn’t going to review but too irked by the slight mention of Visitor Q from the other review. Weird take, super reductive. This felt divine and perfectly reasonable not debased or childish. It feels like a single stream of extremely coherent information from an impossibly quiet greater power (ie the forest, the song). Very grounded. In search of feeling completely full and instead becoming completely full, something primitive and incomprehensible. So much here... sorry but O_O
every cell in my body kept telling me to watch analife and turns out the crow part of my brain has been exploited and lured into a nest of shiny trinkets.. literally no other way to explain the experience besides an orbital kinetic bombardment.
this proves our existence is vulgar and a stain on nature, fondling the malice our lives will remain inevitably connected through the swirling mists of the horrors and perhaps in the way we can resonate with other people's turbulence while we share the abstract light and disturbing events of this ancient universe.. anyways, now i feel so much ready for only percieving raw undifferentiated sense data and gaining a spiritual awakening via my ass.
great soundtrack.
giving free mind probes to everyone who has seen this btw<3
with a dull pain like a thinly screeching microphone, as though scraping at the skin of one’s own leg after it has already fallen asleep, the video provocatively mutters about the death-like listlessness of sickly paroxysms, and calculates a divine intrinsic essence out of its fuzzy mesh of gesture
voyeurism as unsustainable ecstasy: life is only tolerable when everyone and everything you interact with is an object of temporary reprieve from the doldrums, be they a target of your rape, a corpse that makes you wet, or a stranger's trash you masturbate to. but what's so beautiful about getting anally penetrated? well, anal can save you. it can save you from this abyssal perversity, it can unite the disaffected few that comprise many and bestow them meaning. it humbles, stuns, then objectifies the objectifier, removing any stimulation provided by rape, by death, by used enemas; whatever it is you loved—or rather, loved to fuck to—will fuck you back in the ass. anaraifu!
I think the essence of denpa is about becoming a voyeur of your perception of reality. When no longer is life a collection of experiences, but a series of patterns that you recognize and can translate to numbers. Emotions are statistics, and people are objects. This is probably denpa in its most pure form, existing in a way more as an object of patterns itself than fully being a narrative film. It is also very much the best counterpart to Rei Harakami’s beautiful music (one of my favorite musicians ever); this film feels exactly like how it feels to listen to his albums. Style reference for the filmmaking itself would be Chris Morris’ Jam. If you think a hyperlink narrative about people drawn together by anal injuries would be a comedy, think again.
This is exactly the kind of film that you don't mention to anybody. Like I hate those filmbro memes where someone 'scares the hoes' by mentioning a semi-popular vaguely "obscure" film. Because all of those are incredibly accessible and not weird at all.
This is that freak shit, this is absurd. I don't want any girl I get into a relationship with to know I've seen this. They're gonna watch this and get scared bruh. Because if I fuck with this what else do I fuck with? Murder? Identity fraud?
What kind of well-adjusted man is watching a film called Analife. Not one.
This is eccentric. This is unique in everyway imaginable. The early 2000s low resolution aesthetic can evoke…
The type of art that’s so singular, so self-assured, and such a perfect snapshot of the unspoken ethos of its era that it makes me want to drop everything and worship Kenji Goda as one of the true modern masters of cinema. Unfortunately, it’s a very barren shrine I’ll be worshipping since Goda's presence in film history roughly starts and ends with Analife, he has one other directing credit (for an impossibly hard to find film), a few videography credits and… that’s it! I don’t even know if the dude's still alive.
It’s a shame since Analife, despite being a textbook hard sell (trust me, I don’t blame anyone for finding this too overwhelming), is so thoroughly laced with the…
