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The Butterfly
Tornado Alley
"Those who survive, keep thinking about the dead"
Drive My Car was a slow, agonizing, peeling away of emotions and denial, much of the revelations taking place in a red 2-door Saab. “Uncle Vanya” by Anton Chekhov served as therapist, burrowing into the actors and revealing buried questions and regrets.
“What should I do about my life and love?”
Yusuke and Oto have been married for 20 years. After the death of their daughter a decade before the light went out of their lives. Oto is a screenwriter who uses sex as a muse and to fill the emptiness inside her. Yusuke left television acting and now works in the theater. All is not as blissful as it seems between the two when tragedy hits. Two years after Oto’s death, Yusuke travels to Hiroshima to direct his version of “Uncle Vanya” that is a multi-lingual production. He is famous for his interpretation of Uncle Vanya but after Oto’s death he’s been unable to process the emotional anguish of the challenging part. The Festival director insists that he have a driver and assigns a young woman to transport him while working on the play. His driver, twenty-three-year-old Misaki, quietly carries her own burden of guilt.
“However, the world had changed to something sinister.”
Drive My Car took a rather in-depth look at play auditions, readings, and the revelations to actors and audience. This play was unique in that each character spoke a different language-Japanese, Mandarin, Korean, Korean sign language, and Tagalog. A screen displayed all four languages for audience members, but it got me to thinking. How well do we truly understand people, even people we love, when speaking the same language? The film asked if it’s possible to truly understand another’s secret heart. How often do we shy away from asking the important questions for fear of the answers? And how much pain does it cause to not be asked those pertinent questions?
“If you really want to look at someone then your only option is to look at yourself squarely and deeply.”
Nishijima Hidetoshi brilliantly showed how Yusuke wore his serene demeanor like impenetrable armor. Subtle cracks revealed his pain, guilt, anger, and sorrow. The cassettes Oto had recorded for Yusuke to practice his lines felt like accusations and pronouncements of their marital relationship. If Yusuke wore a suit of protective armor, Miura Toko’s Misaki had built a fortress of stone around her heart. The two strangers went from traveling in silence to coming to understand that they had more in common. Okada Masaki played an actor who had ties to Oto and deeply disturbed Yusuke’s calm bubble, but in shaking Yusuke up, he also revealed a stunning secret.
“I let something genuine slip by.”
Drive My Car’s story unfolded deliberately, with tiny revelations chipping away at Yusuke and Misaki’s walls. The catharsis of Uncle Vanya unrelentingly bored into their hearts uncovering deep wounds, bringing them into the light for healing. Guilt and regret are the sharpest of blades that can only be dulled with understanding and forgiveness. And a little time of self-discovery in a 1987 red 900 Turbo Saab.
13 November 2024
“What should I do about my life and love?”
Yusuke and Oto have been married for 20 years. After the death of their daughter a decade before the light went out of their lives. Oto is a screenwriter who uses sex as a muse and to fill the emptiness inside her. Yusuke left television acting and now works in the theater. All is not as blissful as it seems between the two when tragedy hits. Two years after Oto’s death, Yusuke travels to Hiroshima to direct his version of “Uncle Vanya” that is a multi-lingual production. He is famous for his interpretation of Uncle Vanya but after Oto’s death he’s been unable to process the emotional anguish of the challenging part. The Festival director insists that he have a driver and assigns a young woman to transport him while working on the play. His driver, twenty-three-year-old Misaki, quietly carries her own burden of guilt.
“However, the world had changed to something sinister.”
Drive My Car took a rather in-depth look at play auditions, readings, and the revelations to actors and audience. This play was unique in that each character spoke a different language-Japanese, Mandarin, Korean, Korean sign language, and Tagalog. A screen displayed all four languages for audience members, but it got me to thinking. How well do we truly understand people, even people we love, when speaking the same language? The film asked if it’s possible to truly understand another’s secret heart. How often do we shy away from asking the important questions for fear of the answers? And how much pain does it cause to not be asked those pertinent questions?
“If you really want to look at someone then your only option is to look at yourself squarely and deeply.”
Nishijima Hidetoshi brilliantly showed how Yusuke wore his serene demeanor like impenetrable armor. Subtle cracks revealed his pain, guilt, anger, and sorrow. The cassettes Oto had recorded for Yusuke to practice his lines felt like accusations and pronouncements of their marital relationship. If Yusuke wore a suit of protective armor, Miura Toko’s Misaki had built a fortress of stone around her heart. The two strangers went from traveling in silence to coming to understand that they had more in common. Okada Masaki played an actor who had ties to Oto and deeply disturbed Yusuke’s calm bubble, but in shaking Yusuke up, he also revealed a stunning secret.
“I let something genuine slip by.”
Drive My Car’s story unfolded deliberately, with tiny revelations chipping away at Yusuke and Misaki’s walls. The catharsis of Uncle Vanya unrelentingly bored into their hearts uncovering deep wounds, bringing them into the light for healing. Guilt and regret are the sharpest of blades that can only be dulled with understanding and forgiveness. And a little time of self-discovery in a 1987 red 900 Turbo Saab.
13 November 2024
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