Combining the city-pop sensibilities of Japanese ideals and a more western-inspired road trip storyline akin to the meanderings of Easy Rider, Nobuhiko Ôbayashi’s 1986 film His Motorbike, Her Island offers a heavily-stylized romance at the heart of its tale; much like his inspirational and oft-cited classic horror film Hausu, the directorial flourishes and cinematography contribute to the film’s subject matter in a way that stands out from the more streamlined stylizations of similarly-themed stories. Here, Ôbayashi centers around the motorbike courier Ko (Riki Takeuchi) and a narrative retelling of his love story with fellow traveler Miyo (Kiwako Harada), the “her” of the title from an island in the Inland Sea. From a serendipitous roadside meeting to unrequited love, His Motorbike, Her Island captures the dream-like memories of blossoming romance with a swooning charm that carries through from start to finish.
The narrative style is presented in two distinguished color palettes – the standard in color associated with general actions that are happening in real time, and a monochrome for sequences that are conjured more from Ko’s memory, possibly romanticized from his remembrances rather than truthful to historical accuracy. These color tones blend and merge throughout the movie, sometimes highlighting the lush beauty of Japanese countryside and at other times presenting a contrasted black-and-white that emphasizes a “cinematic” quality of the actions depicted. It’s not quite jarring, but it is intentionally noticeable throughout as part of the storytelling approach that Ôbayashi is utilizing, and the overall result is highly effective in attempting to visually represent a dreamy quality that doesn’t rely on the usual cues. Also of note are the numerous jump-cut edits, which seem included to also mimic the fragmented characteristic of memory.
His Motorbike, Her Island is often emotionally poignant in its script, as well. The overarching themes of twenty-something boredom and the search for newness in a seemingly constrained reality will obviously resonate with most viewers, as well as the endearing way Ko’s initial relationship with Fuyumi (Noriko Watanabe) dissolves but maintains a caring emotive friendship. The Japanese aesthetic often gives the film a unique perspective, especially for foreign audiences, and cultural references that are obviously heightened for the dream-like qualities (like a thrilling motorbike jousting duel akin to a Japanese biker gang film) can lend a seriousness to the otherwise whimsical mood. A particularly traumatic sequence at the end of the film that is foreshadowed throughout also provides a brief gory shock to the otherwise placid visuals.
With that said, the visual narrative is really the driving force of the film, and while the script can be engaging it never hits the lofty heights the color-shifting intends. The meandering storyline helps build Ko’s character in particular, but the script often suffers from feeling too understuffed to match the visual attraction. Fans of romance might find His Motorbike, Her Island arresting simply because of its heavy stylization, but the screenplay feels overly superfluous most of the time.
His Motorbike, Her Island has a lot to like, especially thanks to Ôbayashi’s direction and unique portrayal of a visual daydream. Its Japanese culture will likely appeal to westerners who appreciate those elements of city-pop and pastoral settings in other media (anime, dorama). But it also lacks a strong script to elevate it to one of Ôbayashi’s best works.
Blu-ray
Cult Epics has released His Motorbike, Her Island on Region A Blu-ray with likely the same transfer that was used for the previous Third Window box set release and the Kadokawa Entertainment Blu-ray before that. Suffice to say that overall, this is a nice-looking master that does suffer from some softness at times, especially during transition sequences from monochrome to color and particularly nighttime sequences, where blacks are somewhat obstructive. Grain composition is consistently medium-bodied without showing much visual snow. The color grading is quite good, especially lush countryside colors, but occasionally the black-and-white contrast can seem almost sepia-toned; I’m not well-versed enough with this film to note if that’s inherent in the original negative or a grading issue. Overall, this is a good transfer brought to Region A audiences but could always be somewhat improved.
Audio is presented with both an LPCM 2.0 mono Japanese track and a corresponding lossless DTS-HD Master Audio 2.0 mono Japanese option. For the most part, these are nearly identical despite the LPCM offering the fully uncompressed audio. Both sound quite vibrant, with robust sound emphasizing the various city-pop bops throughout the movie. Sound effects and dialogue are at appropriate volumes. English subtitles are included and defaulted on, but they aren’t without some errors that look to be AI-generated from previous releases – transcription issues occur with the number 1 particularly, which displays with the | character and is pretty jarring.
Extras include a new audio commentary with Samm Deighan, who dives into the film’s thematic elements and also gives some really helpful analysis and context for some of the lesser known Japanese cultural elements that are at play within the movie; and of course, she comments on how His Motorbike, Her Island fits within Ôbayashi’s career. A new visual essay from Esther Rosenfield (a film critic you might know as the top voice on the Letterboxd entry for His Motorbike, Her Island) is split into three parts and identifies some of the tropes of biker gang films of the time period and how Ôbayashi either circumvents or outright alters them for his romance; this includes identifying the usual gay subtext for bikers, their criminality, and more. Another new visual essay from Alex Pratt documents Ôbayashi’s home and subject of three of his films, Onomichi (presented as Pt. 1, hinting at the possibility of a second featurette perhaps on the forthcoming The Girl Who Leapt Through Time release?); this essay includes various photos of the actual area and documenting how the island setting adds to the thematic resonance of the movie and Ôbayashi’s own comments on Onomichi.
Along with the new features, there is also an archival commentary from Ôbayashi that runs about 16 minutes, in Japanese with English subtitles. In it he discusses how he considers His Motorbike, Her Island a “B-movie” in that it’s challenging, discusses finding the lead female, and usage of black-and-white versus color throughout. Trailers for other Ôbayashi films are provided, which include this film as well as The Island Closest to Heaven, The Girl Who Leapt Thru Time, and School in the Crosshairs. Along with a new slipcover by Sam Smith and reversible cover artwork, this release also includes a limited edition reproduction of the Japanese booklet, all in Japanese.
Extra Features
- High-definition Transfer
- NEW Audio Commentary by Samm Deighan
- NEW Becoming the Wind: His Motorbike, Her Island and the Biker Movie – Visual essay by Esther Rosenfield (1080p; 25:11)
- NEW Her Island: Onomichi Pt. 1 – Visual essay by Alex Pratt (1080p; 21:18)
- Director Nobuhiko Obayashi Archival Interview (1080i; 15:44)
- His Motorbike, Her Island trailer (1080p; 1:32)
- Other Nobuhiko Obayashi film trailers
- School in the Crosshairs (1080p; 1:55)
- The Island Closest to Heaven (1080p; 1:41)
- The Girl Who Leapt Thru Time (1080p; 2:43)
- NEW improved English subtitles
- NEW Slipcase design by Sam Smith
- NEW Reversible sleeve with Japanese original poster art
- NEW First Pressing includes repro 24-page Japanese booklet
Verdict
His Motorbike, Her Island is a visually astounding work with a subversion of general biker films molded with a romance steeped in Japanese culture. This release from Cult Epics features quality picture and audio, as well as a number of new extras that expand on past Blu-ray releases.
