Most of the Japanese films in my university library back in California falls into one of four categories: anime, horror, yakuza, or World War II. Having relied on that selection for years, I was delighted to watch SADO TEMPEST at Shibuya’s Eurospace last night.

Directed by John Williams, a U.K. filmmaker based in Japan, SADO TEMPEST is a rock musical set in a futuristic island of Sado, loosely based on Shakespeare’s last play, The Tempest.

I know, right?

Before the screening, I sat in on a “talkshow” that featured Williams along with Tom Mes, editor-in-chief of Midnight Eye, a Web magazine of criticism of Japanese cinema, and Shinozaki Makoto, director of「おかえり」(1996) and「あれから」(to be released this March). The three discussed the state of Japanese cinema, the range of big-to-low budget films being made (or not), reception of Japanese films abroad, and why we need to rethink what “Japanese film” is in an age when changing media enables new and exciting forms of film production and distribution.

That conversation was a great apéritif to the film itself, which was visually stunning. Williams uses the scenery of the Sado Island to great effect, and some of the most striking scenes were long shots of the island, its coast, the ocean, the clouds…with one or two actors very strategically placed. Sado itself, in fact, seemed to be the real star of the film.

A critique of conservative resistance against change, the film also captured repetition and monotony in inventive ways. The film opens in a black-and-white sequence of a rock band giving a live concert. Between their main set and the encore, the band members retreat to a room backstage, with rows of mirrors and cabinets that rhythmically line the wall. The actors (who, for someone like me, all look the same (oh come on, I can’t tell Japanese people apart anyway, even more so if they’re in black and white)) are multiplied in the mirrors, set into walls with rows and columns of peg holes. Everything in those first few minutes of the film feels stagnant and woefully unchanging, yet also somehow full of tension that’s about to burst.

That monotony continues after the setting changes to Sado, with the island’s black rocks and waves repeatedly crashing against the shore. Most of the people on Sado wear the same jumpsuit that marks them as prisoners, and as they crouch on the ground to “pan” for gold, what emerges is a repetitive pattern of dull pink spots and black rocks. Nothing on this island changes; it’s sameness repeated day after day after day.

Of course, the film has moments full of brilliant colors, too. In scenes of flashbacks, the green leaves of giant trees in summer contrast against the bright pink dress worn by a young girl—and the brightness of the memory makes the “present” in Sado look even more bleak.

All this beauty was offset by a lack of character development that left questions about what motivations any of the characters had to do what they did—the protagonist (who is angry for most of the film (as the actor himself said), except for a few belated moments of remorse), the prison warden, the lackey, the mysterious girl, the dude with the gun—which made it difficult to care about the actual outcome of the plot. Having had to read The Tempest multiple times and also having recently watched Julie Taymor’s 2010 film adaptation of the same (which, to be fair, basically took Shakespeare’s play and filmed it), SADO TEMPEST may have done just as well not being called “tempest” at all, even though the passing hints at political intrigue and tensions between ideologies would’ve been productive had they been more developed.

The film was a visual pleasure, and though I’m usually not a fan of Japanese acting, I would be happy to watch this film again—though perhaps with just the instrumental music and without the dialogue. If it’s being shown in your neighborhood, do go check it out!