Latest news with #Asura
New Indian Express
04-05-2025
- General
- New Indian Express
Maarana Gulikan: The divine force that destroys ego and transcends death
In the mystical land of North Malabar, Kerala, where myths breathe through rituals and divinity dances through flames, the drums of transformation begin to thunder. As the Chenda echoes across the Kurukootti Maarana Gulikan Temple, its frequency pierces not just the ears but the very subconscious of those gathered. This is not mere sound—it is the vibration of the Asura consciousness, awakening something ancient, something primal. And then he arrives. Goosebumps rise on every skin as the Maarana Gulikan Theyyam—one of the rarest manifestations of Gulikan—enters the sacred ground. With fire torch in hand, face ablaze with colors of fury and divinity, he walks not just among the people, but within them. Fear, awe, surrender—the energies swirl. To the uninitiated, this might seem like a spectacle. But those who listen with the heart know: this is a ritual of death—not of the body, but of the ego.
Gulf Today
09-03-2025
- Entertainment
- Gulf Today
Hirokazu Kore-eda's Netflix series ‘Asura' is transformative
Sometimes, a great new television series arrives with loud announcements and general heralding; sometimes, one slips in quietly as if on slippered feet, declining to call attention to itself. I don't know why there weren't pronouncements from the hilltops when 'Asura,' the new series from the great Japanese filmmaker Hirokazu Kore-eda ('Nobody Knows,' 'Our Little Sister,' 'Shoplifters' and many more) arrived on Netflix in January, but nonetheless here it is, and we can only be grateful. Kore-eda, who's been making feature films since the 1990s, is a master of the quiet moments of family life: a sibling's unspoken resentments, a boy who dreams of bringing his divorced parents back together, a mother longing for her child, a parent's slow fading away. All of these are beautifully in play in 'Asura,' and the longer TV format (the series has seven episodes, each about an hour long) gives time for the plot elements to simmer, like the delicious-looking food frequently served during the scenes. (Everyone in 'Asura' is always delightfully hungry.) Set in 1979 Tokyo, and based on an original television series from that year, 'Asura' is the story of the four Takezawa sisters: Tsunako (Rie Miyazawa), a widowed teacher of traditional flower arranging; Makiko (Machiko Ono), a homemaker and mother of two teens; Takiko (Yū Aoi), an unmarried librarian; and Sakiko (Suzu Hirose, grown up from 'Our Little Sister'), a young restaurant worker in love with a boxer (Kisetsu Fujiwara). As the series begins, the women have learned something shocking: Their father Kotaro (Jun Kunimura) — 'a doddering old fool who can't shop on his own,' as one of the sisters describes him — is having an affair. But this is far from the only secret among the Takezawa sisters, as we learn over seven hours — and as we become part of the family as well. Like the March sisters of 'Little Women,' the four Takezawa sisters form ever-shifting pairs and alliances, connected by the metallic ring of a '70s-era telephone and by their own shared past. Life-changing events happen: A man calls his wife, thinking she's his lover; a young woman collapses at work; a fire blazes out of control; a woman points a gun at her husband and his mistress; a young man lies in a hospital bed, unmoving. But, as in real life, the drama exists side by side with the mundane: sisters having tea, or giggling together, or sorting through the belongings of someone who is gone. Kore-eda's observational style is simply to drop us into this family and let us figure out the connections, and you might spend much of the first episode, as I did, trying to sort out who's who. But once you're in, you're all in. Miyazawa, as oldest sister Tsunako, gives a particularly mesmerizing performance; this woman, who has a way of holding her face as if she's carefully arranged it beforehand, has a rather more complicated life than her traditional clothing and serene manner would indicate. And Aoi's quiet Taki, always seeming to be on the sides watching, is gradually revealed to be the heart of the family. 'This sister thing is so strange,' she says at one point, reflecting. 'The envy and jealousy can be so strong, yet when my sisters are unhappy, in the end, it's unbearable.' Watching 'Asura' (whose title is only explained in the series' final scene, so I won't give it away here) is a gentle and often transformative experience — like Kore-eda's movies but even more immersive. The cinematography, softly faded as befits the 1970s setting, is particularly artful, with the camera often peeking through windows or around shelves like a quiet observer. You find yourself disappearing into the shots: Sakiko driving on a wooded road, the trees' limbs seeming to blend into hers; a bonfire that lights up the faces of those around it as if by magic; the delicate drop of an apple peel as a knife twists away from the fruit. And I found myself fascinated by one shot of Tsunako's hands at work, carefully trimming a red-blossomed branch, paring away all excess, until only what matters remains.
Japan Times
12-02-2025
- Entertainment
- Japan Times
The different faces of ‘Asura' through the generations
'This sister thing is so strange,' sighs Takiko (Yu Aoi), the bookish third daughter of the Takezawa family, in Netflix drama 'Asura.' 'The envy and jealousy can be so strong. Yet, when my sisters are unhappy, in the end, it's unbearable.' Directed by Hirokazu Kore-eda, 'Asura' takes its name from the demigods of Hindu mythology, whose virtuous appearance conceals a more volatile side. Such duality is a running theme in the series, as it surveys the ripples that spread after Takiko and her three sisters discover their father has been having an affair. This is a story in which public appearances seldom match what's happening behind closed doors, and even the most high-minded character is capable of scandalous behavior. 'Asura' itself has more than one face. The series has drawn admiring write-ups in
New York Times
30-01-2025
- Entertainment
- New York Times
‘Asura' Is a First-Class Domestic Drama
'Asura,' a seven-episode Japanese drama on Netflix (in Japanese, with subtitles, or dubbed), is the full package: a detailed, human-scale domestic drama with plenty to say, fascinating characters to say it and the stylishness to make it sing. The downside is that other shows feel paltry and thin in comparison. The upside is everything else. The show begins in 1979 and centers on four sisters. Ooooh, do they call each other on the phone! The story is set in motion when the prim, unmarried librarian sister, Takiko (Yu Aoi), discovers that their father has been having an affair, for years, and has a young son with his girlfriend. Takiko is horrified, but her sisters are less doctrinaire: Sakiko (Suzu Hirose), the dramatic and immature one, blames Takiko for meddling. The oldest sister, Tsunako (Rie Miyazawa), is a widow with a married boyfriend, and she's reluctant to throw stones. Makiko (Machiko Ono), married with two teenagers, is the first among equals, and she suspects her own dismissive husband is cheating on her. Maybe the ties that bind are the polite fictions everyone can agree on. Cut one, and you might accidentally cut them all. Each sister bristles under the control of men, and each finds it much easier to see the shallowness of the others' excuses than to confront her own suffering. Such is sisterhood. As the years go by, they become both more entrenched in their choices but less committed to them; by the time you realize how stuck you are, you really are stuck. Scenes from 'Asura' feel like scenes from life, with conversations that comfortably include snappy jokes, deep intimacy, physical wrestling, meal-planning and petty but profound complaints about family dynamics, all in the span of a few minutes. Food is a huge element of the show, and the characters are constantly cooking, eating or discussing when they're going to cook and eat. It's the easy nutshell for so many other behaviors: You always take the good ones; here, have this, it hurts my fake tooth; you always take the bad ones — treat yourself for once; I can't believe you ate that with her. Every episode of 'Asura' was written and directed by Hirokazu Kore-eda ('Shoplifters'), adapted from a novel by Kuniko Mukoda. Visually, the show is sumptuous, evocative in its vintage feel but not contrived or ostentatious.
The Guardian
29-01-2025
- Entertainment
- The Guardian
‘Asura is the best Netflix drama in years': this strikingly beautiful show will leave you salivating
Trust Netflix to make absolutely no fuss whatsoever about Asura, which could be the best drama it has put out in years. The lack of fanfare for the series, quietly released in early January, is genuinely baffling. It comes from the Japanese director Hirokazu Kore-eda, who previously made the gorgeous The Makanai: Cooking for the Maiko House for the streamer and was nominated for an Oscar for his majestic 2018 film Shoplifters, which also won the Palme d'Or. You would think those credentials might have earned this a bit of a push. Instead, we must rely on word of mouth, so here it is: this is a fantastic television series, and it would be criminal to let it pass you by. Asura is an adaptation of a novel by Kuniko Mukôda, which was turned into a popular Japanese TV series in 1979. In Kore-eda's reimagining, the four Takezawa sisters represent a different vision and version of womanhood and femininity during this period. Takiko (Yû Aoi) is a civil servant, working in a library, who is as buttoned up as her youngest sister Sakiko (Suzu Hirose) – a waitress with a deadbeat boxer for a boyfriend – is flamboyant. They are frequently at each other's throats in some of the show's funniest scenes. Oldest sister Tsunako (Rie Miyazawa) is widowed with an adult son, and arranges flowers for a local restaurant, while Makiko (Machiko Ono) is a housewife, the mother of two teenage children, and the centre of these women's firm bond. Despite the constant scrapping between Takiko and Sakiko, the sisters are a solid unit throughout. It begins with a phone call from Takiko, urging them all to get together so she can share some important news. They suspect that she may finally be getting married, but the big reveal is even more explosive: she has spotted her elderly father Kôtarô (Jun Kunimura) with another woman, and a small boy, whom she overheard calling their father 'papa'. There is proof, in the form of clandestine photographs taken by the private detective she has hired to follow him. How should they handle this revelation, and what does it illuminate about their own lives? There are seven hour-long episodes, and each is as strikingly beautiful as the last. It is stunningly shot, the sort of show where you want to linger on every detail. For non-Japanese speakers, like me, it urges a second watch, to catch those delicate moments you may have missed when reading the subtitles. The sisters express their personalities through their clothing, their homes, the things they eat and how they eat them. And there is a lot of food here, as should be expected from Kore-eda. This is not a series to watch when even remotely peckish. Food is ceremonial, bonding, a plot driver and a focus. There are Fuji apples (for their mother, Fuji), rice cakes, pickled cabbage, endless platters of sushi. Food is savoured and shared. I have never been so desperate to gobble up everything on the screen. As with food, phones are a focal point, too. The drama kicks off with Takiko's phone call, summoning her sisters, but as this is set in the late 1970s, the telephone is the instigator of many dramatic moments: one call brings terrible news, another – a wrong number of sorts – sows the seeds of suspicion that form deep roots. The initial call, about their father's big secret, could have been played for tragedy, but here it is both significant and not: the lightness of the sisters' discussion about it, which zigzags between shock and amusement, hints at the show's careful balancing of comedy and tragedy. Its sense of humour is consistent, even in dark moments. It is much more laugh-out-loud than I expected it to be, and as a result, much more touching when the chips are down. All of this is a testament to how much Asura makes us care about the sisters, and how quickly it achieves this. In 1979, the behaviour of men is difficult for the women to confront, let alone question. But they quietly question it, in turn revealing hidden truths about their own moral compasses. There are affairs, difficult relationships, imagined infidelities and real ones. Following the news of their father's affair and a possible fifth sibling, a letter appears in the newspaper, outlining the family's predicament, with only a few minor details changed. The sisters suspect that one of them has written it, though its author remains mysterious. The letter builds towards a climactic question, which is really the driving force behind the series: 'Is it really happiness for women like us to live without making waves?' The Takezawa sisters make waves, some large, some smaller, each gathering up the turmoil of the moment and letting it crash down, before starting again. Asura is full of heart, full of joy, a remarkable, empathetic drama that deserves far more attention than it has been given so far. Asura is on Netflix now.
