dir. Tomu Uchida
writ. Senzo Nada
Twilight Saloon opens on a slow tracking shot of a quiet bar, the stools still on the tables from closing time the night before. A man sings an operetta while the camera slowly reveals the room, finally showing the audience that the singer is actually up on a high stage, singing beside the pianist playing the tune. Our singer botches a part of the song and is corrected by the piano player, then finishes the tune. And so we are eased into a film that will take place over a single night in the bar, deftly painting portraits of the various employees and patrons who live their lives there.
It's a sentimental and beautiful film that manages to be sweet without turning saccharine. The pachinko playing regular who makes his living at the game, then selling his prize cigarettes for his liquor money oversees the scene, more of a manager than the actual one, backing a loan for a troubled waitress and setting up the singer with his big shot for an real opera gig and a chance to escape the bar life. There is a jilted lover back for revenge, a bitter and possessive ex-con unwilling to move on with his life, and a stripper with a heart of gold. Yet somehow it still works, warm and sincere until the lights go dark in the saloon at the end, all the characters a bit wiser and better off than the night before.
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