Apparently, the Japanese have an undying love for insects. First-time filmmaker Jessica Oreck prepares to dissect (hah!) this cultural phenomenon with her documentary film “Beetle Queen Conquers Tokyo.” The film opens coldly with two men looking around in the woods. Their dialogue is not subtitled, so we must pay close attention to their actions in order to figure out what they’re exactly doing. One man kicks at a tree and picks up a fallen bug, placing it securely into a bin. Each and every time a bug is caught, the men talk about it in good spirits, and after catching a few bugs they exit the woods. This is the perfect opening scene for this type of movie, as it distances the viewer and, in a way, relates to them as being an outsider to this fascinating culture. Without a condescending narration or the superfluous translation of dialogue, the film slowly intrigues and sets the viewer along for the trip into this culture.
The rest of the film consists of scenes that are akin to vignettes in fiction, coupled with other scenes of a narrator describing Japan’s history with the insects or informing as to why Japan respect these little creatures so much. The scenes of the civilians with their bug-love is void of voice-over, and by doing so we are allowed in on the respect and appeal of these creatures. The Japanese have bugs as pets (one scene has children feeding their beetles while a dog looks on, also captivated), bug magazines, bug catching/fighting video games, bug lunch boxes, etc. The film is shot in a very nonjudgmental way but also isn’t afraid to penetrate the heart of these moments and glimpses of culture. This could be due to the fact that the camera operator, Sean Williams, works as a second cameraman and archivist for doc-god Albert Mayles (“Grey Gardens” and “Gimme Shelter”).
Oreck sheds light onto why this society is so bug obsessed, which has much to do with their spirituality, with all life on an equal plane of existence. Certain musical interlude montages are shot from overhead or far away, showing busy bustling Tokyo the same way they show certain bugs in nature. These brief scenes, which are sandwiched between modern Japanese life with the bugs, don’t feel bloated with too much information but eventually gets a tad dull. Towards the end comes an interview with a Japanese man who explains the connection simply and poetically, providing the audience vocal conversation from a modern citizen rather than an omnipresent narrator. The mix of the two is good, though the briefness of the man is a shame.
Unfortunately, it’s entirely possible that some audience members won’t be as taken in, and will surely find this film extremely long-winded. Most docs, due to their lack of convenient narrative string, end up feeling their length. This is one is no exception. Even at a brisk 90 minutes, it’s hard to justify why the film isn’t 10, 20, or even 30 minutes shorter. The most cynical audience member’s patience is guaranteed to be tested here, as the formula of the film can get quite redundant. This is especially true if you don’t make the connection to the bug-love. While the film starts off perfectly, it ends up succumbing to its own fascination, and scenes of the society and their bugs lose their spark. Though this writer found most of the film enjoyable and effective, the formula ends up getting tedious and the least interested won’t be able to make it through til the end. Length aside, there’s no doubt that this film gave respectful insight on a rather beautiful culture, and if anything, audience members will walk away with understanding of their spiritual life and admiration for the creatures. [B]
