Set against the brilliant backdrop of Australia’s Pilbara Desert, this cross-cultural drama unfolds between tomboyish Australian geologist Sandy Edwards (Toni Collette) and reticent Japanese steel industry representative Hiromitsu Tachibana (Gotaro Tsunashima). The two are thrust together when Sandy’s boss foists upon her the task of playing tour guide to their client, which involves a five hour drive to tour the mining facilities at at Port Hedland, and babysitting him through a night of drunken karaoke. And as if that weren’t enough, in what essentially amounts to corporate blackmail, Hiromitsu subtly coerces Sandy into driving him all the way to Newman to see the world’s largest open strip mine, where the iron ore yield is sixty-eight percent.

Japanese Story takes its first plot turn when their jeep gets stuck in the red sands of the Pilbara, which forces Sandy and Hiro to spend a cold night together in the desert, followed by a collaborative effort the next morning to extricate themselves from their predicament, lest they die of thirst and exposure to the elements. This subtle shift in their interpersonal dynamics sets the stage for an extended road trip through the Australian outback.

As one might expect, even under these unlikely circumstances, what began as an odious corporate obligation, is transformed into a romantic fantasy as Sandy and Hiro become physically involved. Sharing the intimate confines of the jeep by day as they traverse the Australian countryside, and sharing a bed in roadside motel rooms by night as they explore their newfound sexual appetites, they begin to bridge the cultural gap toward a genuine friendship. That is, until things go terribly wrong.

Written by Alison Tilson and directed by Sue Brooks, Japanese Story is beautifully scripted and artfully imbued with subtle irony in its pairing of genders, cultures, and values. Character development is seamless and flawless, and in the larger picture, the story pays due homage to the three essential thematic elements: man vs. nature, man vs. man, and man vs. himself. Cinematography by Ian Baker is brilliant, and the musical theme, adapted from an old Okinawan folk song, adds its own layer of irony in the lyrics:

My wife is a flower amid a bed of thorns
How happy, how shameful, to be named unfaithful
The two of us alone, yet somehow constrained
I have dyed for you a deep blue kimono
Please wear it as a sign of my affection.

Food, Glorious Food! And the thousand ways it ignites the human spirit, from a decadent culinary orgy, to a humble yet perfect bowl of steaming-hot ramen, is the stuff of which Juzo Itami’s Tampopo, is made. This bacchanalian, “spaghetti western” romp features Itami’s real-life wife, Nobuko Miyamoto in the title role of Tampopo, a noodle shop owner struggling to make a go of it after her husband’s death, and Tsutomu Yamazaki as Goro, a rakish trucker whose character might best be described as “Shane-meets-Henry Higgins.”

One rainy night, after too many hours on the road, listening to his sidekick tantalize him with passages from a book on the fine art of appreciating and devouring a bowl of noodles, Goro pulls over for a bowl of ramen at Tampopo’s shabby little roadside restaurant. When an intoxicated diner insults Tampopo’s artless cooking skills and lack of business acumen, Goro chivalrously intercedes on her behalf, only to wake up the following morning, bruised and battered from last night’s brawl, but in the blissful care of Tampopo.

Over breakfast, with her impressionable son Tabo wearing Goro’s cowboy hat and mimicking his every move, the trucker reluctantly but candidly critiques Tampopo’s noodles. “They’ve got sincerity,” he says. “But they lack guts.” Goro gives her a crash course on the fundamentals of restaurant counter service, and just before he can exit stage left, Tampopo hornswaggles him into becoming her teacher and mentor.

With that as the film’s main storyline, Tampopo and Goro embark on a quest for the perfect ramen recipe: the silkiest noodles, the savoriest broth, and just the right combination of precisely prepared toppings. As they prowl the outskirts of Tokyo, slyly querying noodle cooks, spying through cracks in kitchen walls, and snooping in restaurant garbage cans for the secrets they seek, the story takes brief excursions into the lives of miscellaneous onlookers and passers by. These wry vignettes infuse the film with a sense of humor and sometimes erotica as food becomes a motif and a metaphor for life’s more profound elements.

The cameo characters attend pretentious dining etiquette lessons, fondle fruit in the supermarket, tempt an organically-fed child with ice cream, order an elaborate gourmet meal at an austere business lunch, arise from the deathbed to prepare one last dinner, and indulge in episodes of epicurean sex play that make 9 ½ Weeks look like a bowl of corn flakes.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, both Tampopo and her noodle shop are getting a makeover. In a metamorphosis oddly reminiscent of both Rocky and My Fair Lady, Tampopo the noodle chef, and Tampopo the noodle shop, make their debut with sparkling panache and spit-shine polish.

Every scene in Tampopo is flavored with a hint of irony and, as with his other films, (which include The Funeral, A Taxing Woman, A Taxing Woman Returns, Tales of a Golden Geisha, Minbo, Last Dance, A Quiet Life, and Supermarket Woman) Itami uses his filmmaking craft to lampoon the absurdities of the Japanese way, while holding up a mirror to the foibles of human nature. Tampopo’s nonpareil scenes of bon vivant vagabonds sitting around an open campfire, critiquing the gastronomic merits of the table scraps they’ve purloined from the dumpsters of gourmet restaurants, are at once both boldly hilarious and touchingly sardonic.

Alas, the comedic genius of the ill-fated Itami was lost to the world the day he leapt to his death from the eighth floor of his office building over tabloid allegations that he was having an affair. Nonetheless, he bequeathed a legacy of buoyant humor and unique satire to fans and film lovers around the world, and Tampopo is unequivocally his best work.

So the next time you find yourself in the supermarket, staring at those ten-for-a-dollar packages of instant ramen, get a hold of yourself and go rent Tampopo instead. Treat your soul and your senses to the real thing. Itadakimasu.

Tampopo (Written, Directed and Produced by Juzo Itami, Starring Nobuko Miyamoto and Tsutomu Yamazaki, Japanese with English subtitles, 1988, 115 minutes.)

Written and directed by Majid Majidi, this Oscar-nominated bijou captured the hearts of audiences at film-festivals all over the world. Known in the Persian language Bacheha-Ye Asemanas, Children of Heaven centers around two Iranian children, Ali and Zahra Mandegar, a brother and sister from a financially struggling Iranian family.

The film opens with close-up of a tattered pair of pink mary-janes being repaired by the work-worn hands of a cobbler in a neighborhood stall on the outskirts of Tehran. Ali’s next stop is the bakery, where he picks up a bundle of flatbread, and then to the produce market. He stows the bread and his sister’s shoes among some crates outside the produce stand while he shops for a kilo of potatoes. And in the few moments it takes to rummage through the grubby bin of seconds for the best of the worst, Ali’s whole world changes when a ragamuffin salvage peddler scoops up the bag containing Zahra’s shoes and disappears into the streets of Tehran.

Back at home, the Mandegar family is embroiled in an argument over the delinquent rent, the unattended chores, and the mother’s lingering illness. And in one of the film’s most endearing scenes, Ali and Zahra pass notes back and forth in a spiral notebook in an attempt to secretly negotiate a game plan for concealing the matter of the missing shoes from their parents until Ali can figure a way to get a new pair for Zahra.

It seems the only solution is for the two children to share Ali’s ragged sneakers, with Zahra wearing them to the morning school sessions, and then swapping them in the streets at mid-day, just in time for Ali to make it to the afternoon school sessions. Although feasible, their plan is fraught with pitfalls, as the shoes are much too big for Zahra, and Ali is continually late for class. Nevertheless, they have vowed to persevere in their plan until the end of the month when their father collects his paycheck.

Things begin to look up for the Mandegar family when the father learns of an opportunity to make a tidy sum of money as a door-to-door gardener in the wealthy section of town. And as luck would have it, the third prize for a long-distance footrace at Ali’s school is a brand new pair of sneakers. If only life were that simple.

Children of Heaven stars Amir Farrokh Hashemian as the hapless Ali, and Bahare Seddiqi as the dutiful Zahra, two remarkably precocious young actors in their first and only cinematic roles to date. The chemistry and affection between the two children is precious, and amid the plight and pathos of their predicament, Children of Heaven offers a rare glimpse into the everyday lives of a culture that many perceive as mysterious or forbidden, yet still conveys the message that the travails and triumphs of children and families from any culture are more alike than different.

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