Diary of a Shinjuku Thief

"Diary of a Shinjuku Thief" is an eclectic blend of narrative styles and film techniques, serving as a perplexing yet fascinating exploration of avant-garde Japanese cinema in the late 1960s. This movie, directed by Nagisa Oshima in 1969, stars Tadanori Yokoo, a world-renowned graphic designer, Rie Yokoyama, a popular actress of the era, and Moichi Tanabe. This movie is intrinsically tied to its place and time. Its presentation is as much a study of the thriving counterculture in the Shinjuku district, a hub of subversive countercultural activities, as it is a story about the characters that inhabit it.

The plot revolves around Birdy Hilltop, played by Tadanori Yokoo, a book thief and student of linguistics whose investigations of vocal sounds occasionally punctuate the film. His shoplifting from a bookstore is observed by Umeko, portrayed by Rie Yokoyama, the employee who resolves to not just reform, but also sexually liberate him. It's an exploration of post-war Japanese youth, burgeoning sexuality, and a blend of traditional and idiosyncratic storytelling techniques.

The film is presented as an avant-garde piece that dances across the line between documentary and fiction film. This makes for an engaging experience as the viewer navigates through a kaleidoscope of events, including theatrical performances, political rallies, and sometimes surreal encounters among the characters. Through this approach, "Diary of a Shinjuku Thief" takes full advantage of its setting, creating a picture of a deeply complex society at a time of significant cultural change.

The performances, particularly from Yokoo and Yokoyama are remarkable. Yokoo's quirky yet charming portrayal of Birdy Hilltop forms the heart of the film, driving the narrative with his peculiar antics and philosophical ramblings. Yokoyama, on the other hand, embodies the pragmatic and adventurous spirit of the times, and her interactions with Yokoo form the crux of the film's narrative. There's a palpable chemistry between the two leads, and their performances wonderfully encapsulate the spirit of the times and the evolving identity of a younger generation coming into their own in the face of questioning societal norms.

"Diary of a Shinjuku Thief" employs non-traditional cinematic techniques, including utilizing the streets of Shinjuku as a natural stage, the uses of Brechtian devices such as characters stepping out of their roles to address the audience, and the presentation of sex education films that unabashedly promote sexual liberation. The camera techniques that director Oshima uses — handheld shots, jump cuts, whip pans, extreme close-ups, and long shots — bring about an almost tangible sense of the counterculture energy in Shinjuku during that time era.

The film is not without its stylistic and thematic influences. One might draw comparisons with the French New Wave school of cinema. It makes heavy use of jarring editing and presents a fresh narrative style that challenges the viewer to decipher the meaning and the actions of the characters. Apart from the narrative filmmaking style, the film also integrates musical segments, with traditional folk songs often merging with modern beats reflecting the changing cultural landscape during the sixties.

The themes explored within the film are abundant. "Diary of a Shinjuku Thief" tackles themes like rebellious youth, sexual liberation, and social anarchy. It brings to the forefront the counterculture movement of the '60s, the questioning of authority figures and societal norms, and a delving into the exploration of language and communication within relationships.

In all, "Diary of a Shinjuku Thief" demands the audience's attention and patience, providing a rich cinematic experience that's staggering in places, amusing in others, and perplexing about its intentions throughout. Its experimental narrative, bold themes, and notable performances make it a standout film during a time of substantial change both globally and within Japanese society. It's a work that demands the careful examination of every frame and might leave you questioning its meaning long after the end credits roll. This is a film that serves not only as an artifact of 1960s Shinjuku but as a testament to a time when cinema was willing to take daring risks to make bold statements.