Review // Kumiko, the Treasure Hunter

The newest from indie filmmaking siblings David and Nathan Zellner (Goliath, Kid-Thing), Kumiko the Treasure Hunter is a darkly comedic fairy-tale about one woman’s journey into the frozen American heartland in search of a mysterious treasure. Loosely based on the true story of Japanese office worker Takako Konishi, the film is both a cautionary tale of film obsession, and a loving tribute to another pair of filmmaking brothers, Joel and Ethan Coen.

The film stars Rinko Kikuchi as Kumiko, a twenty-nine year old office girl working in Tokyo. Stuck in a dead end job with a sleazy boss, and fending off a mother who begs her to get married or move back home, Kumiko’s only solace is a beat up VHS copy of the Coen Brother’s film Fargo. Playing the tape on a fuzzy television in her cramped apartment, Kumiko becomes obsessed with the scene in which Steve Buscemi’s character buries a briefcase of stolen cash at the base of a nondescript fence on the frozen Minnesota roadside. Driven by the force of her imagination (and her boss’s credit card) she sets off to America to uncover the hidden riches.

The film commits to it’s far-out premise with a wholehearted dedication that makes you instantly forget any skepticism you may have had and throw your support behind Kumiko. She is a treasure hunter, and this is her odyssey. As she travels from Tokyo to Minneapolis we’re treated to an assortment of hapless if well-intentioned characters who try to help her as best they can: from a library security guard brought to tears by her conviction, to an old woman who offers her tuna casserole and a copy of Shogun, to a kindly police officer who takes her to a Chinese restaurant for an interpreter. With it’s tongue-in-cheek take on the American midwest the film feels like a step back into that universe created by the Coens in 1995.

Tasked with playing the near-silent protagonist, (Kikuchi) fills Kumiko with emotion, often communicating entire scenes with her eyes.

The difference, however, is Kumiko, who travels through this world with the single-minded conviction of a fairy tale protagonist. Dressed in a red hood and equipped with hand-stitched treasure maps, she is a woman out of place, wandering through a world fraught with unknown danger. A meeting for tea with a highschool friend in Tokyo is filmed in a way that feels like a trap set in a witch’s cabin. A flat tire on a bus is enough to send Kumiko walking along the snow-swept highway rather than wait. She is regularly rushing out of doors and climbing out of windows as if the everyday world will consume her the minute she diverts from her crusade.

This looming threat is helped along immensely by an eerie, atmospheric score created by Austin indietronica band The Octopus Project. The music swells with intensity in the most mundane moments, setting you on-edge as Kumiko does nothing more threatening than look through postcards or wait for the subway. A stripped-down rendition of the Fargo theme composed of thumping drums and melodic piano lends the moments of high emotion a fractured quality, as if we’re watching the last seconds of a dream while Fargo plays on a fuzzy television beside us.

If this all sounds a little too strange, the film is grounded and brought to life through an expert performance from Rinko Kikuchi. Tasked with playing the near-silent protagonist, she fills Kumiko with emotion, often communicating entire scenes with her eyes. From the opening sequence in which we watch the heroine uncover the cassette tape in a seaside cave, to the film’s final sequence, Kikuchi leaves it to the viewer to decide whether Kumiko is truly a treasure hunter, or an obsessed young woman slipping slowly into insanity.

Unafraid to sit still on a quiet tableau for long periods of time, this is not a film for the impatient audience member, nor is it recommended for viewers who like to have a story spelled out for them. Like a classic fairytale, the meaning of the story is as incomprehensible as it’s individual events, only the journey is important, and with Kumiko the Zellner’s have created an enticing tall tale worthy of the Coens.

Reviewed by Evan Arppe.