The 39th Tokyo International Film Festival Begins with a Typhoon, Talks of the Future, and a National Treasure’s Ambitious Biopic

I would love to tell you that contact with a typhoon is a more exotic, worldly, altogether enriching experience than the more Americanized hurricane. It likely seems a dubious, non-starter notion from the jump, but flying the considerable distance from New York to Tokyo should excite one for any fresh encounter, in noticing the distinctions among public transit or ordering at restaurants or common items at convenience stores. I am sorry to report, however, that being subject to one—this one being the extratropical depression aftereffects of Typhoon Champi, which was declared 2026’s strongest storm—does little, in fact nothing, to elevate the cold splash that’s seeped into your shoes en route to an event or ensuing smell of drying sneakers two days hence. The opening night of this year’s Tokyo International Film Festival was no meteorological disaster (Champi visited the city with its last powers) but a ceaseless drip of rain, which does not have a culturally distinct quality in Japan, nothing with which to later regale American friends.

You are, nevertheless, in one of the world’s most desirable cities to see free movies and talk with interesting people, and the forecast suggests this is all passing by tomorrow anyway. It behooves you to perk up. TIFF, for their part, have embraced this inclement weather as inherent to the texture of their 39th edition’s opening ceremony: enviably styled actors and filmmakers sporting umbrellas is simply part of what it means to be here in 2026, and lucky to be here we are. The talent began the night in a lowkey manner, representing their work by appearing onstage, accepting applause, and taking seats in Ginza’s Hulic Hall without remarks. This is all contra typical festival openers, which can run a bit fraught as men and women (among them the very, very famous) in formal wear are left to the non-formal act of looking over their seat placement on a ticket and asking stone-faced volunteers for help. (It’s also a pleasure to watch, albeit from a distance when assistants tell you to stop looking at their clients.) Whether it’s because many of us have already traveled some length or the festival itself is not quite so obsessed as others with capital-p Prestige, nothing about the night portended heavy concern, a thought nicely buttressed by my being accidentally escorted into a talent-only area after the ceremony’s close.

The night seemed more a celebration of local (in the context of a major global power) concerns. I was most compelled by the presence of Japan’s Minister of Economy, Trade and Industry, Ryosei Akazawa, whose speech reminded one of Japanese cinema’s ties to national interests. Notwithstanding a brief note about TIFF offering a chance to see films, his was a stump speech about Japan’s need “to respond swiftly and flexibly with the necessary policy measures” to reach a desired 20 trillion yen (roughly equivalent to $126,745,520,000) in content sales by 2033. How much this resonated with the crowd of filmmakers, actors, and jury members (themselves part of those first two categories), I cannot say. Like many with a personal investment in the art, I instinctively wince at hearing film called “content” and chuckled a bit at Akazawa touting the festival’s Japanese debut of Godzilla Minus Zero, the latest entry in the country’s most beloved franchise and a likely international awards contender, as “creating new value and opening up new markets.” Through a glass darkly, however, I can appreciate the honest conflating of economic and arts initiatives—further emphasized with a recorded intro from Prime Minister Sanae Takaichi, who again brought up 20 trillion yen through noting that film is within Japan’s 17 strategic sectors—when compared with American studios’ obfuscated connections to the military and, increasingly, AI.

The night concluded with a screening of Takahisa Zeze’s Sukiyaki, about which I’ll have more to say in an interview with the director next week. For now I’ll note that Zeze began his career in Japan’s pornographic pink films, has made a number of disturbing (albeit far more chaste) crime, thriller, and horror movies, and has aged into something of an elder statesman, a status emphasized in this biopic of Kyu Sakamoto’s Billboard-topping 1961 song “Ue o Muite Arukō.” The film bears both the expectations of a festival-opening music biopic and strenght of Zeze’s sensibilities—a breezy-enough 155 minutes that makes charming, sometimes truly moving drama from three men’s musical legacies. The greater point, though, is its reinforcing of my appreciation for Japan’s fluid cultural fabric. It is largely impossible to imagine an American with Zeze’s career path in the first place, and about as likely to picture the country’s biggest festival (let’s say Sundance or Tribeca; that’s another problem I won’t get into) opening with his music biopic that, first and foremost, is not terrible, but more importantly preceded by rather straight-faced appearances from the Secretary of the Treasury and President. (I’m aware that the United States’ current leadership is more connected to the porn industry than any other in recent memory.) This combines to evince the Tokyo International Film Festival, and by extension the Japanese film industry it seeks to represent, as a stranger and more special place.

The 39th edition of Tokyo International Film Festival is now underway and runs until Wednesday, November 4.