“Ravens,” a portrait of the talented but deeply troubled Japanese photographer Masahisa Fukase, is a gripping and intriguing slice of artistic life on the edge from “England Is Mine” director Mark Gill. A mixture of dark fantasy and powerful drama set largely in the 1960s and 1970s, Gill crafts his take on the turning points in Fukasi’s life and career as a love triangle between the photographer; his wife and collaborator Yoko Wanibe; and Fukase’s inner demons and artistic desires, which come to amazing life in the form of a giant talking crow. Starring Emmy Award-nominated “Shogun” actor Tadanobu Asano as the artist whose work continues to be discovered and celebrated long after his death in 2012, “Ravens” should appeal to adventurous viewers whether they’re familiar with Fukase or not.
“Ravens” takes its title from a 10-year black-and-white project published to widespread acclaim in 1986, and begins with Focasi’s 1982 statement, “I have become the raven, I am the raven.” As interpreted by Gill, this crow is a manifestation of the thoughts in Fukasi’s troubled mind and is embodied here as a human-sized creature that seeks to distance him from what is conventional and conformist, demanding that he instead seek out the risks and extremes that the artist must do. Exploration in the pursuit of truth and greatness.
The bold conceit works from the start. Appearing in the opening scene in a dingy bar bearing photos of young and old Phokas, this creature silently asserts itself as a major player in the story that is about to unfold. An entity that no one but Fukasi can see and who occasionally speaks to him when others are present, the crow (played by José Luis Ferrer under a striking creature suit and speaking in agitated English) is the conduit that brings viewers into the mind of an artist who is not always likable but is no less interesting never.
Throughout most of its running time, Gil’s freewheeling film jumps from the drunken, disillusioned, and nearly forgotten Fukase hanging out at his local bar in 1992, to the events that shaped his life and work. Because his crow is never far away, Fukase draws the ire of his conservative father Sukizo (Kanji Furutachi) by refusing to take over the family photography studio in Hokkaido and leaving home to study in Tokyo, where he intends to prove that “photography can be art.”
After becoming part of the vibrant avant-garde that flourished in post-war Japan, Fukase first came to attention with his 1961 collection Kill the Pigs, which was shot inside a slaughterhouse in Tokyo. By contrast, Fukasi’s innovative work in commercial photography stirs up his old-fashioned clients when he asks a model in a vacuum cleaner sales shoot to “play” the device like a guitar and strike a rock star pose. It’s a great little moment that says a lot about the clash between old and new Japan.
In the midst of his new bohemian life, Fukase falls in love with Yuko (Kumi Takeuchi), a free-thinking unconventional who becomes a model for him and his wife. In vibrant sequences set to the beat of great Japanese pop melodies of the time, Fukase and Yoko create stunning work that leads to galleries in New York and on the fringes of fame. Gil’s screenplay is adept at showing the anxiety and anxiety that forever accompanies Fukase, who cannot help but be consumed by dark thoughts even in times of personal happiness and professional success. Shortly after Fukase takes up a business to support Yūko’s desire to become more than just his model by training in classical Noh theatre, Raven chides him for becoming a domestic husband and his “life as a failed artist.”
The film gives Yoko her due as a true collaborator for whom the simple designation of wife and muse is not enough. Her relationship with Fukase and his crow is depicted as the guiding force in his work which continues to produce remarkable images, including a series of underwater self-portraits long after the depression that consumed him following their divorce in 1976. As told to his friend and supporter Morio Shoda (Sousuke Ikematsu) Fukase, when he complained about Yoko stealing the attention of the New York press, said, “She’s the reason your business is so successful.” Takeuchi’s performance lives up to this assessment. Whether playing Yuko navigating an Edie Sedgwick-type girl in Tokyo’s underground scene in the 1960s, demanding her rights as a woman and artist in the 1970s or remaining a part of Fukase’s life during his very sad final years, Takeuchi is simply gorgeous.
“Ravens” is well produced and very well photographed by DP Fernando Ruiz, whose tones range from wonderfully warm and lush to intensely cold as Fukase’s emotions swing wildly from one end of the spectrum to the other, “Ravens” announces itself as “Inspired by true events.” The omission of some characters and events may cause minor quibbles among viewers with a deep knowledge of the artist, but as an account of the most important forces in Fukasi’s life and output, it rings true and gets to the heart of Fukasi’s response to a question about his creative process. “Pick up the camera and then scream and bleed,” he says.