Miluum is a directing duo originally from Japan and now based in Berlin. Miluum’s approach is poetic rather than prosaic. Inspired by global events, their inaugural film No Bad News Today emerged during the pandemic and the Ukrainian conflict. AITAI (longing), is a visual poem exploring identity from the LGTBQ perspective, drawing from the Japanese aesthetics of tranquillity.
Niccolò Montanari: Could you tell us about your background and the steps that have led onto your path?
Miluum: Miluum is formed by Sachiko and Mica Komagata. We both come from Japan and met in Berlin around 2001. We played in a band together for many years. Through our music activities, we’ve established trust in each other’s tastes. Mica works as a cinematographer and Sachiko has a background as a philologist of modern German poetry. For us, it was a natural progression into making films, where we could combine all of our tools. Our start as a film-making duo was a couple of years ago when we planned to make a short film. The Covid-19-related lockdown gave us inspiration, and then war in Ukraine broke out, which also influenced our story. We made No Bad News Today, an experimental, lo-fi, and simple-but-abstract film. It expresses the essence of what we believe in or how we want to approach filmmaking, using connotations and associations.
NM: The film stands as a poetic commentary on the current situation experienced by the LGBTQ+ communities in Japan. Could you expand on this?
M: To put it simply, the situation for LGBTQ+ people in Japan is quite severe. If you are queer, it is still quite difficult to lead a normal life in Japan. Even in Tokyo, couples are almost never seen outside of certain areas, for example. Although the number of references and expressions in comics, movies, and literature has increased significantly over the past few years, the way they are depicted too often lacks a sense of casualness. This is because on the one hand, it’s necessary to attract the interest of the general public in order to make the story work as a story, and on the other hand there are still many areas that need to be explored (this is true in the Western culture as well). For us living in Berlin’s Kreuzberg, one of the most tolerant areas in Germany, having a minority gender identity is not something unusual, it has already become a normal part of our daily lives. That’s why we thought we could create a casual atmosphere in a film that deals with gender identity, rather than specifically displaying their minor gender identity, as is often the case in works made by non-LGBTQ+ people, or in a heterosexual romantic framework. In trying to present it as an organic beauty that happens to be there, rather than as a set-up method, we figured that a static approach unique to Japan would be more effective.
NM: You assert that “many LGBTQ+ people are forced to be ambiguous in the gap between the polarized genders, and [their] suffering is universal.” Can you share with us what role the concept of ambiguity plays in your film?
M: Some societies impose unambiguity, to be male or female. But for people who are neither, choosing that unambiguousness would be betraying oneself. As a result, they are forced to stay in that ambiguity. However, this choice of ambiguity is actually their own independent choice, and a political strategy to survive while remaining true to themselves in a society that does not recognize their identity. This forced, and yet at the same time independently chosen “stay” in ambiguity provides resistance to their minds and sharpens their sensitivity. The concept of ambiguity, which is unique to Japan and, more specifically, post-war Japan, gained worldwide recognition through Kenzaburo Oe’s Nobel Prize speech, “The Ambiguous Japanese Me”. The title of this lecture is a modification of the title “The Beautiful Japanese Me” chosen by Oe’s predecessor, Yasunari Kawabata, for his Nobel Prize-winning speech. The ironic variation of the title itself points sharply to the situation in Japan, where ambiguity is enforced as a virtue, and we think that is still the case. The same situation is occurring on a daily basis in almost every corner of the world, and not just for sexual minorities. Because communities, no matter how tolerant they appear to be, are programmed to exclude foreign bodies in order to maintain their functioning. Everyone who does not have a critical perspective of the community to which they belong is unconsciously complicit in the invisible and ambiguous violence, whether with or without intending to be. We believe that one of the important challenges facing the film medium is to record the silent violence without losing touch with it, without ever judging it. In order to achieve this, we felt it effective to utilize the aesthetics of tranquility that runs through Japanese culture.
NM: This feeling of ambiguity is not only portrayed through the choice of cast and styling but also through the script. It feels like a constant push and pull, in an effort to stand one’s ground but also come together as one. Would you see this as an accurate reading? And what else would you like us as viewers to take away from it?
M: The concept of identity differs depending on the culture. For example, in Japan, one’s identity is defined not by who one is, but by one’s relationships with others, and it changes depending on the environment and situation. Therefore, it is formed from the outside, and it adapts to survive. The push and pull you mention could be like a constant state of being, in which you keep wandering, not sure whether “I” is really “me” or “you” is really “you”. Our goal is to make films that have no right or wrong answers, and we welcome every interpretation. And our biggest hope is that every interpretation provides an impetus for the interpreter to continue thinking.
NM: You mention that works from the Western world are often direct and provocative and seek empathy. In Japan, the aesthetics of tranquillity in particular, which is typical of Noh and tea ceremonies, is still alive. In this context, there is a high chance that a straightforward approach will be rejected.” Would you say that the opposite is also true? That is, an aesthetic of tranquillity in the Western world does not work. And how do you overcome this in your professional career?
M: Seeing how certain Japanese movies are successful internationally, it seems to us that certain aesthetics can be translated well. But you need to provide more context and package it well in order to sell it. You need to go “over the top” to make it exotic while using familiar emotions and codes to make the international audience feel a connection, and that they are witnessing something genuine. If you examine Japanese movies that have become a hot topic in recent years, you will notice that the expression of exoticism is designed in a way that the viewers can relate to emotional scenes easily. To achieve this, you have to make artistic compromises, because you are simplifying cultural nuances. Our approach is not to adjust, but to collaborate with creative people based outside of Japan. Especially in post-production as in music, sound design, editing, and color grading. We don’t want to give too much explanatory context to the film or use exoticism as a tool, but leave it the way we feel and create a common language with our partners. Having said that, translating words or scripts can be tricky. There is always the risk of something essential getting lost there. For example, you can write in Japanese without mentioning subjects like “I” or “you”. This vagueness can’t be translated directly, you need to try your best and welcome the new meanings that arise.
NM: What projects are you working on next?
M: We have two films in postproduction. The first is entitled The Walk. This is a fashion fairy tale that revolves around time, woven by three characters who symbolize three different time concepts: pre-solar calendar, post-solar calendar, and transcendental time perspective. The antithesis of Western linear time and the current sense of time after the advent of social media. The challenge was to create a multilayered poetic fragment while maintaining the appeal of an entertainment movie. The second is DAISUKI, and it focuses on the lonely night journey of a girl who is shaken by the narcissism and anxiety typical of adolescence. The film is shot in the dreary yet organic atmosphere of Tokyo, and amidst its impersonal and disquieting gentleness, the story of a young girl’s one-night adventure is told in a matter-of-fact manner. We also have some more projects in preproduction. Together, for example, is a conceptual fashion film, using catwalks as a metaphor. We want to explore and squeeze out what’s really important and essential for someone, in a time when social media leads the individual to isolation and detachment. Our plan is to shoot it in Berlin Kreuzberg. And we are planning a short narrative fiction about a family, in which a boy is dressed in girl’s clothing by his mother. A delicate portrait of a family functioning in its own way, while certain aspects of the family are dysfunctional.