Final Rating: 3.5/5
In the context of the new queer cinema, a plethora of authors openly discuss LGBTQIA+ themes and narratives. In this sense, around the world, new filmmakers would approach the same topics in their local contexts, adapting to the issues and prejudices faced by the regional queer communities.
Therefore, in 1999, Akihiro Suzuki released his first feature film, Looking for an Angel, an underground gem in queer cinema of 1990s Japan. Hence, the director presents a fable about the LGBTQIA+ youth in a regressive culture, where diversity and multitudes of expressions would not follow the societal changes. Consequently, the film is a framing of its time, the final year of the 20th century, and the beginning of a thoroughly different world.
Suzuki narrates the story of Takachi (Kôichi Imaizumi), a young and lonely pornstar who lives in a big city in Japan. Suddenly, he dies. His best friends travel back to his hometown and find the existence of angels everywhere they go. In this sense, Looking for an Angel is a reflective exercise on queerness and youth.
Suzuki employs a blue-ish look in the film’s visuals that emanates an ethereal atmosphere, a heaven-like ambiance clashing with the brutal and cruel reality. Therefore, the director reminds us of the ferocious reality of the world, where LGBTQIA+ members would suffer violence for recordings of gay pornography. The film is a reflection of the changing society that would welcome their existence, but reminds us of a loud minority that emphasizes their disagreement through cruel acts.
Consequently, Looking for an Angel is not a film that follows the traditional narrative storytelling. It is a vibey project that shifts moments in the past and the future to fit this puzzle. It relies on the flowy atmosphere to discuss queerness and grieving. Surely, the public opinion on homosexuality affects the mental health of thousands of the community members who come from a religious upbringing.
The preconceptions about gay men would take thousands of young men’s lives, crushed by the violent microaggressions from homophobia. Takachi’s death has no detailed discussion. Suzuki focuses more on the aftermath of the act, the assembly of two individuals, his friends, who feel the desolation and unbearable pain of losing a loved one.
The director explores grief and sadness through the lens of a constant search for the little beauties in the world. The result is a soul-search for meaning. The blue color grading emphasizes a melancholy that is present in the absence of a central character, a friend, someone who glued the group together. Hence, the film is a short capsule on the pain, the lack of a material component occupying a specific venue.
Nevertheless, the motorcycle scenes represent an apparent freedom for the young individuals who are searching for their place in the ever-changing world. The youth are constantly seeking somewhere to fit in, a venue to call home.
Even though it fills the reflective atmosphere with gorgeous framing and imagery, it lacks consistency in narrating the story of those three characters. Takachi is the only one to have a narrative arc, a development of his motivations, and the lack of emotional support to continue alive. It lacks a stronger connection to the characters left in this world, alone in their lack of direction towards what they wish for their lives. Thus, those characters connect more with the audience through their searching for a place and motivation rather than for their development and background story.
In the end, Looking for an Angel is a visually compelling underground gem that relies on its reflective nature to connect with audiences. It lacks a deeper structure to create a more profound impact on its viewers, though it captures a moment of the past.
Looking For An Angel was seen during the 2025 Fantasia Festival. Thank you to Fantasia for the screener.
