Cult Epics: The Island Closest to Heaven (1984) - Reviewed

Images courtesy of Cult Epics

Back in 2021, The Movie Sleuth’s very own Michelle Kisner posted a detailed and celebratory article of the life and four of the works of Nobuhiko Ôbayashi with Travelling Through Space and Time with Nobuhiko Ôbayashi.  A year later following her piece, British boutique releasing label Third Window Films specializing in East Asian cinema releases on home video published a four-film boxed set entitled Nobuhiko Ôbayashis 80s Kadokawa Years consisting of his movies School in the Crosshairs, The Girl Who Leapt Through Time, His Motorbike Her Island and lastly The Island Closest to Heaven.  

Over the last year, domestic boutique label Cult Epics have one by one been porting over the films in the Third Window set to standalone deluxe editions for American consumers.  Housed in a transparent amaray case with reversible sleeve art and a complete reprint of the original Japanese press kit in booklet form, the film starring The Girl Who Leapt Through Time actress Tomoyo Harada is among the usually hyperkinetic iconoclastic director’s lightest and most straightforward coming-of-age dramas.  Dialing down the quirky psychedelics to zero and shot and set in New Caledonia, the film based on Katsura Morimura’s 1966 travelogue is one of the brightest and prettiest summer vacation movies as well as portraits of young self-discovery.

 
Withdrawn and quiet teenage high-school bookworm Mari (Tomoyo Harada) starts out with a travel group of her noisy classmates and tour guides only to branch off on her own in search of the archipelago’s indigo waters in search of her father’s dream paradise of The Island Closest to Heaven.  Meeting up with locals like islander Taro (Ryoichi Takayanagi) and spazzy nervous wreck tour guide Yuichi (Tôru Minegishi).  As her episodic journey continues including but not limited to befriending locals and taking a traditional Japanese bath, she begins to wonder whether or not the fabled island she’s searching for is closer than she realizes and if the payoff was meant for her or someone else.  


Meanwhile an older man sensing she is bored and looking for something more briefly takes her under his wing as a surrogate tour guide before confessing the real reason was because Mari reminded him of his ex.  All the while, the scenic backdrop of beachfronts and islands barely obscured by ocean waters as well as the time-honored favorite vista of Obayashi’s with a near artificial-looking cloudy sunset but that’s as far as the director goes in terms of altering our senses.
 
Akin to the breezy and almost carefree summer vibes of Hayao Miyazaki’s My Neighbor Totoro without any of the director’s usual fantastical leanings, The Island Closest to Heaven is a bit of a travelogue of a film where as you go with Mari on her journey of discovery both of the outside world and world within, you learn a little bit about yourself.  Sweet natured and relaxed though always trained on Tomoyo Harada, one of the film’s charms is the intentionally forties melodramatic soundscape of Asakawa Tomoyuki.  


From the opening credits designed to look like a Metro Goldwyn Mayer picture with a very on-the-nose parody of the Gone with the Wind cue, The Island Closest to Heaven announces itself as an almost Douglas Sirk oriented endeavor.  From House cinematographer Sakamoto Yoshitaka’s radiant and warm vistas of dusk skies, bright blue ocean waters, we get an inviting multilayered journey with Mari as she navigates New Caledonia mingling with residents and finding her own niche and room for growth as a free-spirited and thinking young woman rather than adhering to the nebbish lamentations of her beleaguered tour guide.
 
One of many coming-of-age dramas made by Ôbayashi around that time and one of the sweetest self-discovery films, The Island Closest to Heaven comes with a running audio commentary by Derek Smith, a visual essay by Alex Pratt, a making-of documentary and theatrical trailers.  Probably most interesting of all is the complete reprinting in booklet form of the original Japanese press kit.  Though untranslated, it brings the viewer closer to what viewers in Japan might’ve experienced or felt watching the film when it originally premiered.  


Tomoyo Harada is wonderful in the film, as is Ryoichi Takayanagi.  For those who know House and only know that more outlandishly playful side of Ôbayashi, they’re in for a real pleasant surprise here with one of his more subdued but nevertheless evocative and occasionally ethereal efforts.  Cult Epics have done a wonderful job with the disc and we can only hope they’ll do The Girl Who Leapt Through Time next!

--Andrew Kotwicki