Monsters At Play readers will already know that I'm much more at home discussing the merits of films that deal with people hacking each other to bits rather than ones that focus on people coming to terms with their personal struggles. That is precisely why I find it so difficult to review a movie like Vibrator, the opening film in our 2004 Philadelphia Film Festival odyssey. At its core, this highly acclaimed tale from Japanese director Ryuichi Hiroki is a candid exploration of a brief-but-memorable love affair between two unlikely participants. Vibrator is not awash in blood, entrails or powersaw-wielding lesbians like the festival fare I usually go for, and yet it is a wholly enjoyable experience in its own right.

Vibrator opens at a convenience store with a glimpse into the seemingly impermeable world of Rei, a 31-year-old freelance writer with a propensity towards alcoholic excess. Emotionally distant and mentally unreliable, Rei is suddenly brought out of her shell by a chance encounter with a handsome young truck driver named Okabe. His subtle touching of her rear end as he passes her in the store sets her heart (and cell phone) whirring. (And indeed, the title refers to the vibration of her mobile phone rather than any cheap sexual metaphor.) This type of behavior would get you tossed in the pokey over here in the States, but Rei is so intrigued by the bleached-blonde hunk that she decides to pursue him.

She climbs into the cab of his truck, and after some awkward initial moments (and gratuitous nipple-licking) they embark on a road trip fraught with sexual and emotional self-discovery. Over the course of the next two days, the pair gradually begin to open up to each other as they travel across Japan. Their deepening trust and intimacy becomes the crux of the film, and the sincerity and tenderness depicted in their ever-evolving relationship transcends its origins as a mere booty call. An arresting level of sexual candor is depicited in a variety of exploratory scenes, and yet the film manages to be sexually explicit without being overtly smutty. The pacing is painfully slow at times, so those without a healthy attention span and a willingness to invest in the films' complex emotional interplay will likely be turned off.

Vibrator is a very intimate character study that delves into deeply psychological territory that is not often treated this gently in film. The juxtaposition of cramped interior and wide exterior scenes reinforces the notions of restriction and freedom that must be balanced in the characters' relationship. Hiroki makes expert use of the tight confines of Okabe's truck to achieve a striking closeness that makes the burgeoning intimacy between Rei and Okabe all the more immediate, and the vivid delineation of their interaction becomes a truly enjoyable cinematic experience. Subtitled placards representing Rei's innermost thoughts supplement the dialogue to impart an extra layer of depth to her psychological fabric.

As a character-driven piece, Vibrator leans heavily on its two main actors to pull it through its plodding paces. Both Shinobu Terashima and Nao Omori (of Ichi the Killer fame) give wonderfully expressive performances that carry this rather sparse and dialogue-heavy film. Terashima bravely acts out the part of a woman on the brink of psychological armaggedon, most memorably in a forceful freak-out scene that reminded me why I am happily single. Omori is cool and cocky, but the empathy and surprising maturity that he brings to Okabe prevent his character from being just a bishonen boy toy. Both are fun to watch, even when the film begins to drag towards its latter half.

Though it can be dry at times (you'll be an expert in CB radio communication by the time the credits roll), the film's honesty and frankness are endearing nonetheless and earn it a recommendation from yours truly. This certainly won't be everyone's cup of tea, but those seeking a fresh look at contemporary Japanese male-female relationships will find a lot to like about Vibrator. I don't have the credentials to offer any valid comparisons or to evaluate the praise it has been receiving, so feel free to read whatever published press you happen to find for a more insightful analysis. I can't say whether this is the best Japanese film of 2003, so I'll close simply by saying that Vibrator is a fine film and an even finer opening to the 13th Philadelphia Film Festival.

Thumbs Up. For coolly and calmly tolerating the emotionally volatile Rei, Okabe is ten times the man I'll ever be.