Old Narcissus, directed and written by Tsuyoshi Shôji, begins with the apathetic but beautiful Leo (Mizuishi Atomu) spanking the 74-year-old Yamazaki (Tamura Taijiro), accompanied with playful tango music. Drenched in neon pink and bongos, Yamazaki’s bare arse takes repeated blows, as Leo asks “do you want more?”… us, or him? Because as the opening would suggest, Old Narcissus is not for everyone. Not just for it’s exploration of sexuality, but its hit-or-miss directing makes the 110 minute runtime feel much longer than it should.
Leo and Yamazaki begin their relationship together as purely transactional; Leo is a sex worker, but both he and Yamazaki are lonely and looking for more. When Leo learns Yamazaki is the author of his favourite children’s book, which comforted him after the death of his father, their relationship shifts into friendlier territory, sowing the seeds for a blossoming relationship… platonic, romantic, and even familial?
Yamazaki struggles to write his next book as Leo barely maintains the relationship with his boyfriend, who wants to make things official through Japan’s partnership system, a scheme in which same-sex couples are recognised as de facto married. Onscreen, Leo and his partner’s (Terayama Takeshi) chemistry is nearly invisible, at times it feels there is no love at all. Leo says about the relationship that “it’s easy to be together”, but by no means is it easy to watch.
Leo’s fear of settling down becomes a key conflict, as unbeknownst to him, Yamazaki embarks on a mission to make Leo his adopted son. Both of them are tortured by their past, even Leo repeating his fear of family throughout the film. The lengths the film goes to, to really extrapolate on its themes of family ultimately overpowers any human connections found within it. It’s almost determined to beat you over the head with every queer trope there is; found family, homophobic father, estrangement, etcetera. This is not new territory for a queer film to embark into, but unfortunately there was nothing new added to this narrative. The awkward pacing and forced emotional information did not aid in making its overdone material better.
Old Narcissus sprinkles in moments of fantastic filmmaking, utilising the symbol of Narcissus in artistic cutaways that makes its narrative richer. Yamazaki interacts with his own memories, watching a younger version of himself and his friends experiencing freedom in pleasure is one of the better parts of the film. The film isn’t afraid of exploring queer sexuality, especially for the older characters, a rarity on screen. There is a new, rich, queer history of Japan being shown to audiences here, which is why it’s such a frustrating shame to see it not stick the landing. There are many surprises here that ultimately leave you disappointed, because Old Narcissus has great bones, but weak muscles.
by Parker Constantine
Old Narcissus
Mardi Gras Film Festival