‘Egoist’: Tokyo Review

Dir: Daishi Matsunaga. Japan. 2022. 120mins

Kosuke (Ryohei Suzuki) bounced back from a rough start in life – his mother died when he was 14-years-old – to become supremely comfortable in his own skin. An out gay man, a successful magazine editor with an achingly stylish Tokyo apartment, he takes pride in himself and pleasure in his friends. All this and love too: his immediate attraction to his new personal trainer Ryuta (Hio Miyazawa) gradually develops into something deeper. Then one day Ryuta fails to show up. Daishi Matsunaga’s adaptation of the late Makoto Takayama’s autobiographical novel is a joy; a satisfyingly textured, bittersweet character study infused with warmth and energy

Matsunaga has a keen instinct for small details and elegant rhythms

This is the fourth fiction feature from Matsunaga, who started out working in documentary, and has repeatedly returned to non-fiction work throughout his career. His first notable film was the feature length documentary Pyuupiru 2001-2008, which followed an artist, performer, transgender woman and a close friend of the director over the course of several years. The film was shown in Rotterdam among other festivals. A fresh, appealing piece of storytelling, Egoist should serve to raise the director’s profile internationally, with further festival bookings likely, particularly in LGBTQ+ themed events. Specialist distributors may also find this a picture of interest.

The title is, perhaps, a little misleading. ’Egoist’ tends to be a wholly pejorative term. But while there’s no question that Kosuke has an healthy, well-tended ego – he’s vain, certainly; he fusses over his wardrobe as if it were an adored pet cat; he is forever fine-tuning his eyebrows in moments of stress – he’s also generous, open and engaged with the world. And while he plays the role of the cool sophisticate with his buddies over cocktails, there’s also an unashamedly uncool capacity for enthusiasm: a lovely scene in which he enthuses over a selection of forbidden patisserie is one example, another is the ease with which he allows himself to be caught in the giddy swirl of romance.

It’s a magnetic, fully inhabited performance from Suzuki. And, as Ryuta, Miyazawa is equally charming. The closeted, dutiful son who has cared for his ailing mother, a single parent, since he was a teenager, Ryuta is struggling financially, but is reluctant, at first, to accept help. Ryuta’s mother (Sawako Agawa), who comes to the story in the second half of the film, is another satisfyingly fleshed out character.

Part of what makes the film so successful is the way that Matsunaga allows his central character’s personality to inform the directing choices. Shortly after their first, bracingly candid sexual encounter, we get an early relationship montage sequence. But rather than set it to bland upbeat music, Matsunaga instead uses Kosuke’s exuberantly off-key hairbrush karaoke rendition of a Japanese pop song. And for a film which, without giving too much away, deals with a fair amount of death, it is full of life: the camera is in near constant motion, bringing an expansive breezy quality even in the face of sadness.

Matsunaga has a keen instinct for small details and elegant rhythms. The condition of a display of plants by a front door is an emotional barometer for the story. And a scene in which a character drops his small change and loses his composure early in the film is mirrored later on, to unexpectedly powerful effect.