Editor's note: Days without Live House, I miss it twice. Affected by the epidemic, the earliest opening time of Live House in China may also be extended to May. This year, one of the top ten local films selected by Japan's "Movie Shunbao", "Goodbye, Lips", is about the final tour of a women's two-person ballad group. The two girls and their instrument manager/electric guitarist came to different Live Houses, facing the audience standing or sitting, bathed in the changing indoor light of the night, and repeated the songs.
It's real, a musician who can't leave his hand, an emptiness and fun in the clouds. The guitarist's eyes were low and hollow, and his voice was throbbing in the darkness. The jargon "Touring will kill you" is only half true, and the other half is, "Music will soothe you."
Poster of "Goodbye, Lips"
Haru (Munwaki Mai) and Leo (Komatsu Naina) smoke without leaving their hands. The black Wrangler driven by Shima (Ling Narita) always closes the window, and the smell of smoke is the background of the farewell, although strangely, the air inside the car always looks very clear.
Haroo and Leo met at a laundry factory and formed a two-man band. Haroo is the songwriter, and Leo's guitar is also from her church. She can debut alone, but Leo, who has long hair and disobeys discipline, has a "face that looks like she wants to sing." Leo was a companion, and possibly a muse, an indispensable voice for the songs that Haru wrote. The third member of the group, former Cowherd Shima, joined in a multifunctional role, bringing not only electric guitar and labor, but also a beautiful car that claimed to be "the band that toured with it before has soared".
Stills from "Goodbye, Lips"
The three men had already decided to disband on the way to the tour. The ferocity of traditional road music films does not exist here at all, only the tacit understanding and exhaustion on the real tour, and the complex relationship between the members who are close and confrontational, like smoke.
As they sped off on the road, the scenery outside the window was thin and pale, flickering faintly. The atmosphere of farewell in the car solidified into a jelly-like object, shaking and shaking.
What bothered director Akihiko Shiota was that in Japan, shooting on the road was becoming increasingly difficult. The interpretation of the law changed, leading the police to determine that the actors filming the driving caused the traffic accident. Similarly, the use of tractors is banned in large cities for "violating road traffic laws."
It is foreseeable that such frequent smoking scenes in the film will also be banned. But Japanese musicians (and not only Japan) really love to smoke, even the lead singers who need to protect their voices. Take advantage of the time to shoot it quickly, Shiota Akihiko's decision, so that the film's melancholy is not only parting, but also a certain era of wheels is about to roll by, can not turn back.
Without real roads, without tobacco and alcohol, the vast majority of tours will cease to exist.
"Goodbye, Lips" is a song written by Haru. It was sung along with several other songs as they sang at different Live Houses. This is a special technique, unlike other music movies, new songs are always promoted with new scenes and plots, constantly stimulating the excitement of the audience, suggesting that life is endless, and the music flows endlessly. So road music movies are always inspirational: as long as there is music, the pace of life will not stop.
But in this film, music is a small outlet to a life that is dreary but still slowly moving. Haru's songs are so delicate that they lack a storyline, and the emotions are carried by the gathering of clouds, like a pair of hands gently caressing the heart. These melodious guitar ballads are sung over and over again, and the hearts and relationships of the three members slowly change in a process that seems to be infinitely repetitive.
The audience in the Japanese Live House in the film is as serious, subtle, and sporadic as we have here, without too much warm praise and emotional outpouring (the opening is unanimously anxious). Two little girls who looked like junior high school students followed all the way, and the cautious and genuinely intoxicated expressions on their faces were also seen on the faces of music fans when approaching musicians. This trepidation and euphoria is so dazzling that it will make the musician embarrassed and ask himself whether it is worth such a serious treatment.
Such a situation can only happen in the darkness, and this kind of subtlety and collective confusion shared by all cannot be bred under the big sun.
Throughout the film, Haroo, Leo and Shima only show full of ambition at the moment of departure, and have the fighting spirit to impact big labels and big music festivals. The rest of the time, they were all entangled in their own minds, their desires were unclear, and their faces were full of sorrow. There is no shortage of young people in Japanese film and television dramas who are portrayed in this way. Their minds are as difficult as long sentences, and the future in their eyes is like a real Live House, filled with smoke.
Haru loves Leo, Leo loves Shima, Shima loves Haru. The knotted affection between the three people is not so much love as the emotions naturally generated by fellow travelers on the road. What messed up the problem? Everyone who has played in a band or participated in a group creation must be able to identify at a glance that it is a small and unspeakable jealousy, the excessive pursuit of meaning when they are young, and the self-harm of falling in love with others when they do not understand love.
Therefore, this so-called love triangle, like three leaves swirling in a whirlpool, can only watch the same imprisoned partner, but can not reach out.
Without music and a shelter in the dark, without parting feelings, who would have the patience to watch the three men and women stalking badly. But how can there be no music? The songs Haru wrote with a brush between trips eventually turned into songs. When they are illuminated by the stage lights of the honey-like golden luster, playing guitars and singing to the crowd "We are also people who have stories / So playing guitars and singing this song to you", the so-called meaning is actually within reach.
See, that's the real charm of Live House. In this place, the bitterness and emptiness are understood, tomorrow and meaning temporarily lose importance. In the clouds and fog, every face around me became beautiful.