martin

Edo Porn

I rewatched it because a few days ago, I got the latest art books with Hokusai prints from Taschen and Thames and Hudson. The English title is terrible. They should've kept it Hokusai Manga, because it shows the playfulness of the characters. It also doesn't create false expectations. I had forgotten the irreverent and fun manner this kind-of-biography of Hokusai treats its subject. It's not disrespect per se, but it just lacks the annoying awe that many biographies have - presenting the artist like some kind of a otherworldly genius who was maybe misunderstood by the uncouth populace of the time he lived in. None of that crap is here. Hokusai is an extremely selfish lecher who lives in his friend's house, on his money. He thinks he is amazing, but he isn't that genius of a painter, too, as his daughter Oei points out numerous times. She knows because she is artist herself, possibly as good as her father, dragged down by his childish selfishness. Unlike her, his way of looking at art is too literal, completely unable to understand the possible subtext of others' works. Crazy about the naked female body, but not particularly good at drawing it. That is not to say that the artist is presented as some charlatan who got somehow got lucky. The movie is careful to present some of his most notable artistic achievements, together with his showy performances - the presentations of massive live drawings or the drawing on grains of rice. But it makes clear that the latter are kind of pointless, created out of vanity more than anything else. Boisterous, childish performances by a little bit of a megalomaniac who craves attention and fame as much as he craves perfection. The artificiality and obvious theatricality of the film work well in presenting the imagination-led unreality of the artistic life. The sets, costumes, fake rain of the studio, as well as the infantile actions of actors as characters (they are always that and never try to trick us they are anything more than that) and the overall playfulness of the film create a feeling of existence on the liminality of reality, sanity, and society. The second half of the movie takes place during the final year of the artist's life. Though famous, he is even more destitute than before. He lives with his unmarried, ever-suffering daughter Oei, painting dolls, still living off of his trusted friend. Still obsessed with nudity, senile, but basically the same as before. If anything, maybe even more lecherous than before. No realization of anything (except maybe of the importance of erotic art). No fetishization of the suffering of a misunderstood genius. That's refreshing and appealing, and it makes me appreciate Hokusai's art even more.