Film festivals are magical places. For the last two months you’ve had the choice of rewatching Guardians of the Galaxy for the umpteenth time or waste your money at the theaters with a slew of an almost unheard of amount of dreck, but this Saturday at LA’s EigaFest, I managed to discover three movies I would never have seen or likely heard of otherwise, and finish off with the most important Japanese film of all-time and arguably the best monster movie ever. That’d be a 60th anniversary screening of Godzilla, the king of all monsters/kaiju. This all came a day after the festival kicked off with the International Premiere of Lupin the Third.

It’s really hard to walk into a movie theater and see a film that you have no preconceived notions of, with spoiler-y movie trailers, herpe-like ad campaigns and…the internet. But going into a movie with little more than its title, a vague approximation of its cast and the scant IMDB synopsis is wonderful. We should be seeing movies with the capacity to surprise us, bewilder us, or bewitch us, to jump into the world without doing research beforehand, to do so blinded. It’s the cinematic equivalent of backpacking without a map (or GPS); we don’t know what we’re in for, and that’s what makes it thrilling. It’s pure, exciting (potentially an expensive risk), and is what watching movies is all about. This process is much easier when it comes to foreign language films, unless that’s your cup of tea.

You’ll see a great many cups of tea in Ask This of Rikyu, a film depicting the life of Sen no Rikyu, the man who most influenced the Japanese’s “Way of Tea.” He’s a precious figure in Japan’s history, a man whose zen-like approach to beauty has had everlasting effects on Japanese culture. I don’t drink tea, and watching this movie made me feel shameful, criminal and foolish about it. Any stress that I have in my life is my own fault: tea would’ve relieved it immediately.

Rikyu begins at the end, on the eve of the stolid man’s ritual suicide, immediately rewinding 21 years previously, working our way back to when, Rikyu (Ebizo Ichikawa), whose name means “rest your blade,” finally can no longer. Rikyu, or Yoshiro Sen before he was known otherwise, is the arbiter of beauty: “beauty is what I say it is,” and no one argues, not even his warlord Oda Nobunaga (Yusuke Iseya). When the enigmatic Toyotomi Hideyoshi (Nao Omori) comes into power as Chancellor to the Emperor, he brings Rikyu along with him, to be the tea master to the ruler.

Mitsutoshi Tanaka’s film is deliberate, almost as soothing as a cup of tea, seemingly lacking a sense of urgency, until the political situation in Japan (and the ensuing war with Korea) begins to muddy even the simplistic beauty of Rikyu’s famed Teahouse. Hideyoshi grows mad (with power) and jealous of Rikyu’s growing cadre of acolytes and the love he inspires across all of Japan. After the opening scene where Rikyu arrives late to bring Oda gifts (or as he suggests, perhaps he’s come early), Rikyu is perfect, Saintly, honor personified, even-keeled, absorbed in the Way of Tea, and creating an aura of hospitality in others.

The most compelling story almost comes too late: when we meet who Rikyu’s been working for, who taught him the way of tea, and who he’s consumed with, in every waking moment. It’s clearly not his wife So-on (Miki Nakatani), a relationship that presents a missed opportunity. A loveless marriage in Japan in the 1500’s likely wasn’t rare, but a movie that tackled that facet of Rikyu’s life would be. Rikyu is depicted as a hero, but his quiet solitude, painful restraint, and unrelenting pursuit of beauty tore his family asunder.

While the increasingly maniacal Hideyoshi (he literally has a comic book villain-y cackle in the waning moments of the film) is painted as the villain (he actually lets his subjects know when to laugh), Rikyu never quite recovered from his past, when he lost the woman he truly loved.

After a slightly snoozy (but compelling) historical epic, Wood Job! was as refreshing as a trip to the countryside after a lifetime in the city. Wood Job! is a wonderful coming-of-age comedy, deserving of its exclamation point, in which Yuki Hirano (Shota Sometani), in quick succession, learns that he’s failed all his university entrance exams, and he won’t have his girlfriend to soothe his sorrows: she unceremoniously dumps him. After some desperately drunk karaoke, Yuki is lost, and so, he leaves his fate up to a magazine rack. He closes his eyes, spits out his gum, and sees what sticks; this might be the most effective way to choose one’s future.

When divine intervention spits back a green trainee magazine with a beautiful woman on the cover, you sign up, and that’s exactly what Yuki does, eschewing another year in school for a lark. He takes a train off into the woods, wearing the clothes teenagers seem to wear exclusively at the mall that you cringe at, and wonder about the fate of humanity. Yuki’s immediately thrown into a beginner program, joined by a jumbled swathe of humanity: guys out of military school, those seeking to change careers, or nerdy forestry majors. After an injury and an intense encounter with Yoki (Hideaki Ito), Yuki’s ready to quit, until he meets the woman on the magazine cover that he’s been searching for: Naoki (Masami Nagasawa). She drives him to the bus stop, urging him to leave; after all, city boys never stick around.

But miraculously,  Yuki does, and he graduates. He takes his gambit one step further: choosing a job at a lumber company, solely because he thinks that’s where Naoki works. He finds himself at a brutal job up in the mountains, in Kamusari, a village two hours from an actual village. It’s stunningly beautiful, but Yuki’s still blind to that, and more worried that his new co-worker and landlord happen to be Yoki, the frighteningly intense (and borderline abusive) instructor from school. But then, of course, Yuki becomes one with the crew, Yoki turns into a grudging mentor, and my heart is melting just thinking about it.

Shota Sometani is brilliant as Yuki, mostly because he’s so good at looking stupid, unfurling heretofore unseen facial expressions that most of mankind couldn’t even attempt to mimic. He’s a comedic force, and the rest of the ensemble plays off him perfectly. Writer-director Shinobu Yaguchi captures the quirks and surprising depth of the quaint logging village Kamusari and its noble citizens. Yaguchi is adept at mining forestry for humor, and along the way, providing a gripping glimpse into an occupation that likely isn’t brimming with demand. It’s something you didn’t know you craved knowledge about until it was right in front of you.

There is a surprising amount of poignance and emotional heft in a film where its climactic scene involves a bunch of nearly naked men sliding a tree down a ramp into a wooden vagina. Wood Job! is ridiculous, but in all the right ways. Even Yuki’s inevitable relationship with Naoki is more complicated and interesting than what you’d expect: it’s not destiny, and it’s not a cut and dry romance. It’s as complicated as chopping down a tree. Wood Job! is a world I didn’t want to leave.

Just as unique as the others (the only thing the three movies have in common? They were all adapted from novels), Bilocation is a trippy mindfuck of horror, one destined to have a mediocre American remake.

From Mari Asato, Bilocation is concerned with the sci-fi concept wherein a person is located in two distinct places at the same time. Shinobu Takamura (Asami Mizukawa) is a chain-smoking painter, but a lonely one, her existence seemingly as dreary as the dark gray of the charcoal she uses in her work. Her life changes when her nearly blind neighbor Masari rings her doorbell. Soon, they’re married and she finds herself at the supermarket accused of peddling counterfeit cash. It happens that fast.

She’s whisked away by Officer Kano, but thankfully, the cop is in on it: he has a bilocation too. It’s refreshing to see a movie unapologetically dive into its premise, as Shinobu gets thrown into the deep end immediately. She’s introduced to a secret meeting of people with bilocations, led by Iizuka, their mysterious benefactor.

Unfortunately, the bilocations, who materialize with blank eyes, aren’t just around to steal from grocery stores. They seek to take what’s most dear from their real counterparts. For one of the group, that means her sickly son. For Kano, it’s his job promotion. For Shinobu, that means Masari. Despite never really getting invested in their relationship, Masari’s a sweetheart, so we’re still invested in the battle. Armed with a mirror (bilocations are like vampires; they have no reflection), Shinobu must protect Masari from her bilocation, while maneuvering the increasingly confusing and dangerous Bilocation Brigade.

There are some leaps in logic at play that oftentimes plague horror movies. When we learn that the bilocations can only exist a certain distance away from the real McCoy, I didn’t understand why they all didn’t pack up and leave their loved ones in safety. At one point, Shinobu moves away from Masari to protect him…but moves back UPSTAIRS to her old apartment; that’s not far enough, lady. There’s a ton of “is this person the bilocation or the real person” game being played, and I wondered why the mirrors ever left their hands. Luckily, in both cases, it pays off to be patient.

It doesn’t pull off everything, however, and at one point, I feared that Bilocation was positing that a woman had to choose between being a housewife or an artist. Thankfully, it mostly skirted that offensive notion.

Bilocation has more endings than Lord of the Rings, each another scoop of crazy dolloped onto the sundae, and when the arduous thriller finally ends, it still packs an emotional wallop. There are almost too many twists, as Asato’s film nearly ties itself into a knot, but Bilocation toes the line expertly, and manages to stick the landing. When I first walked out of the theater, I was conflicted, but distance has brought me greater appreciation of the premise and all of the things that Bilocation does with it.

The fourth annual LA Eigafest came to the Egyptian Theatre in Hollywood this past weekend, and brought with it a slew of recent Japanese releases, many carefully selected to appeal to the American masses. Of course, most of those in attendance throughout the weekend were either critics or die-hard eiga fans to begin with (eiga translates to film), but either way, there was a lot to chew on over the three days.

The festival kicked off with the buzziest project of all: the international premiere of Lupin the Third, the first live action theatrical adaptation of perhaps Japan’s most beloved manga character since 1974. That would be Lupin, or Arsene Lupin III, who’s been around since 1967, created by fan favorite artist Monkey Punch.

It’s clear that Lupin’s long-awaited arrival in the form of a Japanese blockbuster is a big deal, so it was a coup for us to see it one day before the rest of Japan, with director Ryuhei Kitamura, producer Mataichiro Yamamoto and star Meisa Kuroki in attendance. In fact, I felt guilty being among the crowd and the red carpet, invited to a party that I couldn’t hope to completely understand. My only experience with Lupin came in the form of Hiyao Miyazaki’s first film, The Castle of Cagliostro (a singular cinematic experience). It was like when you were invited to a Halo-themed birthday party in high school, and you had never played Halo. Or at least, that was me in high school.

Lupin was “mission: impossible” to make into a live action film, but when Yamamoto called Kitamura, the Versus and Godzilla: Final Wars director who now makes his home in Los Angeles, and told him to come home and direct Lupin, his reaction was, erm, visceral: “What the fuck!”

He was shocked, enthused, thought it would never happen, but it’s clear that Ryuhei would follow producer Yamamoto into a fire if he asked him to (and was paid enough for it). As the screen crackled to life, Kitamura gave the sold-out crowd a warning: “Be prepared. It’s gonna be crazy.”

That’s certainly the right adjective to describe what amounts to a Oceans Eleven/Italian Job back and forth of heists, sketchy allegiances and slapstick comedy (there’s even some Fast & The Furious in there). Lupin is the kind of action caper that includes a slo-mo fight scene with a woman in black leather in a parking lot, the sprinklers undoubtedly activated because deeply enmeshed into the sprinklers DNA/code of honor is a deep-seated desire to get hot chicks wet (so they can do the hair flip thing), because sprinklers are always sprinkling on hot women in leather in brawls. That’s what they do. That’s all they do.

After Fujiko Mine (Meisa Kuroki) and her comrades do the heavy lifting to steal some gold coin of Agrabah or whatever, Lupin rides a motorcycle in the parking lot underneath it, blows the ceiling to smithereens, and blazes off with the coin, wasting all of Fujiko’s impressive acrobatics. Oh, Lupin. Lupin’s a part of the team (The Works, a top-secret organization of thieves, led by aged father figure Dawson), but is a lone wolf who plays by his own rules™. It seems to be working for him, until Michael Lee (Jerry Yan) preys on his one weakness: Fujiko, and steals the coin back by threatening Fujiko’s life. Lupin, Fujiko, Michael and the rest of The Works team meet at Dawson’s palatial estate to eat, drink and be snobby thieves with other snobby thieves. During the party, Dawson steps down and introduces us all to the film’s maguffin, after a heavy dose of Exposition: the necklace of Cleopatra. It’s missing a ruby, of course, which when placed in the necklace, will likely lead to a portentous “let our powers combine” Captain Planet-y montage of epic proportions.

Michael, the trickster/one of confusing loyalties, steals the necklace, and catches the attention of Interpol and the maybe not-so-hapless Inspector Zenigata (Thor‘s Tadanobu Asano), who has been on The Works’ trail for months/years/forever (he wouldn’t exist without Lupin). If Team Rocket was followed incessantly by a cop who slurped noodles as if he’s impervious to MSG, that would be Inspector Zenigata, who’s one of the most joyous parts of the ensemble, mostly to see him yell, be frustrated and stomp around. Like the Terminator and the sprinkler, that’s all he does. But it works, and so does Lupin, in spite of Lupin and company eventually having to break into the world’s toughest building to crack™ (the Ark, which reminds me of a Rubiks Cube tinged Sinking Ship Parking Garage in Seattle), with a team of specialized experts™, to take down Pramuk (Nirut Sirichanya), an underworld kingpin™. While Lupin is a part of The Works, this film’s synopsis reads like The Works option at Restaurant Cliche (dibs on that business venture).

And it works because it’s fun, and that’s mostly because they’ve cast the project so well. Lupin’s band and their dynamic leap off the page of the manga and really capture the spirits of these characters.

Fujiko is the sexy femme fatale who manipulates Lupin for her own goals, forever promising a kiss, and never relinquishing one, Lupin as weak to her wiles the 400th time as the first, and it’s hard to blame him thanks to the bewitching Miesa Kuroki.

Shun Oguri IS Lupin, born to grin, run around, flub with Fujiko and wear yellow ties. He’s the “world’s greatest thief” even when it appears that he’s the fourth most valuable member of his own team; that’s the joke. But it’s Goemon (Go Ayano), the overly stoic sword master, who steals the show the moment the dumpling loving fiend appears, with every deadpan line, or tic, or badass stunt. He’s Drax the Destroyer with a sword, whereas Lupin’s best friend Jigen (Tetsuji Tamayama) is his foil, a gun-toting superhero, and the two clash over their dueling weapons of choice and their anachronistic styles and personalities, the yin and yang of Lupin’s sidekicks.

After the film, there was a Q&A, in which producer Yamamota was asked: Why now, after all these years? The answer amounted to technology catching up with the concept. It almost took too long, as the movie mostly feels like a rehash of the heist genre, with altogether too many bullets (gunfire in Japanese movies sound like American bullets on steroids), but its heart is in the right place, with some fantastic nods to the original series (like say, a yellow car full of money) and some genuine belly laughs. In the reception afterward, it was clear that fans of the popular hero were elated and sated. It certainly helped that the evening was topped off by Sapporo and Shochu (a Japanese spirit made from sweet potatoes) at an open bar, accompanied with sushi, katsu, teriyaki, fried chicken and new friends.

Hopefully Lupin the Third will make some friends of its own when the movie comes state side next year. Either way, we can expect a Part 2 and possibly a Part 3: after Kitamura finishes his Constantine/Blade-like project in the U.S., there are already talks for the director to take back up the reins of the burgeoning Lupin franchise (he also admitted that there will be a Versus 2). It seems that while it took Lupin more than forty years to make it onto the big screen, he sure as hell won’t relinquish the spotlight anytime soon. That certainly sounds like Lupin.