In view of a play by Hideo Tsuchiya, “Yaku Sanju no Uso” has the same advanced, witty approach as Otani’s “Avec Mon Mari” (1999) and “Travail” (2002), movies in which suggest adversaries stripped away each other’s veils to entertaining and uncovering impact. Be that as it may, the jokes in “Yaku,” which may have tickled ribs when conveyed from the stage, fall dead on the screen. The group of onlookers I saw the film with at the TIFF screening was, in the unfading expressions of Lenny Bruce, similar to an oil painting. The quiet was so stunning I started to listen for anything taking after a laugh or laugh (it unquestionably wasn’t originating from me). Following a hour or so I at last heard a chuckle that sounded strangely furious – a why-have-you-held up so-accursed long-to-be-entertaining snicker.
One issue is that Otani tries to broaden the activity past the group’s compartment or generally break the stupor of the consistent talk-talk. Another is the absence of strain or stakes – nobody is debilitated with much else besides a put-down. Before the end of the group’s endless trek I was seeking after anything – a card trap – to break the monotony. Next time, I’ll book the sleeper.