I Just Didn’t Do It (2007)-Imran Jaffery
I Just Didn’t Do It (2007)
By Imran Jaffery
In 1996, Masayuki Suo fox-trotted into the international limelight with the delightful Shall We Dance?, a film heavy on whimsy and light on social dissection. With several light comedies under his belt, one would have been inclined to expect more of the same from the commercially minded auteur. Yet nine years passed without another film. Instead of parlaying his acclaim into a financial windfall, Suo took his time in finding a project worth his time. After years buried in research and development, he reemerged with a devastating look at Japan’s judicial system. And a personal masterpiece.
En route to a job interview, Teppei (Ryo Kase) is faced with a common Japanese dilemma: force himself into a packed subway train or wait for the next one. Choosing punctuality over comfort, he is assisted into the doors by a station guard and is subsequently pinned against a young schoolgirl. Exasperating the situation, his blazer has been ensnared between the doors. Trying earnestly to not disturb the other passengers, he pulls at his jacket to no avail. He hops out of the train at the next stop only to be confronted by the schoolgirl, who accuses him of groping her.
Arrested and processed, Teppei is interrogated ad nauseum by bullish officers in search of nothing less than a confession of guilt. He steadfastly proclaims his innocence. His appointed public defender offers little support, encouraging Teppei to just plead guilty and get on with his life. Eventually, through the efforts of his friend Tatsuo (Koji Yamamoto) and dear mother (Masako Motai), he finds a law firm willing to take on his case. Headed by wise legal veteran Masayoshi Arakawa (J-Cinema stalwart Koji Yakusho) and his neophyte protégé Riko (Asaka Seto), whom has serious apprehensions about taking on Teppei’s plight both professionally and morally, they explain his predicament candidly — there is a 97% conviction rate in the Japanese judicial system meaning he has but a scant 3% chance of acquittal. Undeterred, he chooses to fight the good fight and his representation prepare his case.
Director Masayuki Suo dives headlong into the arduous case defense process with unflinching authenticity. Minute details are presented without any dramatic flare, giving a startlingly accurate portrait of Japan’s judicial cancer. The fact that cases are tried with an assumption of guilt stacks the deck against all hoping to defend their innocence. The burden of the defense is not only to prove reasonable doubt but to also completely debunk the prosecution’s case, which in cases of social misconduct such as this boil down to he said/she said. Evidence is more often than not circumstantial and rarely concrete. Contradictions abound, Masayoshi and Riko present a thorough defense of Teppei with eyewitness testimony and even a full-scale re-enactment of the incident only to be felled by a legal system flying off the rails.
At a hearty 143 minutes, the film’s deliberate pace works perfectly in expressing the plodding process entire. The story is given room to breath, to sink its claws into the viewers mind and to provoke outrage. Suo has crafted an unapologetic message film hoping for systemic change, however futile the endeavor may be. The muted look of the film and sparse score only serve to bring more focus to the story without distracting the audience. The performances are uniformly excellent with star Ryo Kase bringing a quite dignity to our embattled protagonist. A marvel of subtle acting, Kase conveys much with just his eyes. He’s supported by an outstanding cast lead by Yakusho, himself a master of thesping subtlety.
Interestingly 2007’s biggest hit in Japan was another legal drama, the big screen adaptation of popular drama TV series Hero starring mega-idol Takuya Kimura as the suavely aloof legal wunderkind Kohei Kuryu. The films present drastically contrasting versions of Japan’s judicial system that I found fascinating. Hero is a big-budget crowd pleaser whose only concern is to entertain the widest audience possible – there’s no room for biting social commentary here. The film glamorizes lawyers, much in the same way Hollywood does (see A Time to Kill), as charismatic do-gooders who can filibuster at the drop of a hat. In contrast, Masayoshi and team are but cogs in the system, playing their allowed roles with no room for outbursts of conviction. Evidence is presented, questions are asked respectfully, and motions are offered with subdued professionalism. They are asphyxiated by the rigidity of the process, not emboldened by it.
Most telling is the handling of the requisite “big revelatory piece of evidence that can turn the case”. In Hero, the lawyers burst into the courtroom at the last possible minute with the “clincher” which closes the case in dramatic fashion. In Suo’s film, major revelatory evidence is met with ho-hum indifference. Even the judges in each film stand at odds with each other. In Hero the judge is practically anonymous, while in this film the judge hangs over the entire courtroom as the rule of law. Even observers in the gallery are regulated by him – let alone sudden outbursts by a legal team storming into the courtroom in revelry! Coincidentally, popular character actor Fumiyo Kohinata plays both the judge in Suo’s film as well as one of Kuryu’s colleagues in Hero (two very different roles indeed). Both films offer up platitudes to the due diligence of defense attorneys who work themselves into the ground for a thankless job.
Ultimately both films succeed in their aims, but Suo’s condemnation of Japanese Law packs the greater punch. That he doesn’t shy away by the tragic reality of Teppei’s legal fate is but a testament to his conviction as an artist. I Just Didn’t Do It is uncompromising, unforgiving, and unfortunately heartbreaking. Hopefully, we won’t have to wait nine more years for his next film.
Copyright C. 2008 Imran Jaffery