Documentaries review - YXIMALLOO by Tadhg O'Sullivan and Feargal Ward

Tadhg O'Sullivan and Feargal Ward follow an artist living on the edge of music and society in their documentary Yximalloo, presented at the 59th Cork Film Festival.
 
It is widely known that in honour for a documentary, especially one that follows the tradition of direct cinema, to be good, captivating and great from start to finish, a fascinating, unusual subject is required - as well as a bit of luck. Filmmakers O'Sullivan and Ward were blessed when they came across a unique individual such as Naofumi Yximalloo Ishimaru, an obscure cult musician from Japan convinced enough about his art to be totally useless at promoting it properly. In his underground scene, he is highly regarded but to the wider world he is mostly unknown. In fact, to many people, this film will be the first opportuinity to discover him and probably the biggest opportunity the artist has ever had at being discovered.

 

As mentioned, this documentary is mostly following the direct cinema technique, and instead of focusing on his eccentric style of music that is unclassifiable if not by loose definition of digital experimentation, so unique in fact that it is hard to even define as experimental, O'Sullivan and Ward look at his private life. A life that, unlike his music, has nothing unique about it. In fact, it drags and wanes in a dead end relationship with an Irishman, who becomes his legal partner near the beginning of the film. Hence, there is a split in the personality of Yximalloo exposed in the film. His frantic and eccentric self, the creature he becomes when he performs his music live for instance and the caring, mature but also terribly difficult private life personality.
 
Yximalloo simply is what he is, and the filmmakers do not even attempt to change it, but rather convey and capture his being along with his natural and accidental humour - one particular scene comes to mind when he has an exchange with another artist who shares with him a bizarre idea of making music through his nose, to which our titular hero reacts by very casually and slowly walking out of the room. But also, softer and more touching scenes, such as the ones where he trims the hedges of his Irish home's backgarden, or as he looks after his partner Gerry but also as he gazes into the sea and voices his longing to be back home in Tokyo - though once he gets to Tokyo, he longs for Ireland.
 
The fact that this film doesn't leave more room for the music to shine can come across as disappointing. Perhaps, more than his music in itself - which actually serves in dividing the structure of the movie in loose and undifined but interesting chapters - it is his live performances that remain the most entrancing element in the film and finally the greatest treat of discovery of the documentary. When we finally see a performance of his Stateside, the experience is delightfully invigorating. But it is understood that perhaps that is exactly the purpose of the film, that makes you want to find out more about its central character. In this sense, Yximalloo is certainly successful.