Movies

In the grimy, rain-soaked underbelly of London, where hope goes to die a slow death, we find "Harry Brown" (2009), a film that promises a gritty, no-holds-barred exploration of vigilantism and despair. With Michael Caine donning the mantle of our titular anti-hero, one might be forgiven for expecting a thrilling ride through the mean streets, à la "Batman" meets "Death Wish." Alas, the reality is as disappointing as finding out your favorite superhero is secretly a vegan.

Once in a while, a film comes drifting in on the wind, caught by almost no one, championed by even fewer, carrying the kind of oddball, heart-clutching enchantment that threatens to restore faith in the very act of cinema. Fish Story, Yoshihiro Nakamura’s time-hopping wonder, is precisely that sort of late-breaking revelation: a freewheeling, postmodern fable, at once as headlong and as intricately assembled as the punk anthem at its core. It’s hard to think of a movie, in these battered days, that is so bracingly, disarmingly optimistic—so resolutely happy to believe that music, and thus art, can literally save the world. And damned if the movie doesn’t just about convince you.