I have always thought that one of the hallmarks of Japanese cinema is its portrayal of the mundane or daily fabric of life as essential and poetic. The omission of ordinary and everyday moments in cinema, most notably in Hollywood films, serves to amplify a film's hyper reality but ignores the rich texture we enjoy in intimate documentaries. I'm not simply referring to idyllic moments with green tea and tatami, nor is this any revelation; but are people escaping explosions (always the same shot) really more interesting than a character eating a sandwich or traversing foot traffic in a crowded city?

Vladimir Nabokov, in explaining his book Lolita, felt the word "reality" was the only word that meant absolutely nothing without quotation marks. He also explained that if you are truly working in the realm of pornography, as his book was oft mischaracterized as doing, then you must never stray from its form (i.e. no lyrical humor) nor allow your audience to enter the world of the "real."

The definition of "reality" or "real" in cinema, as in all media, is ever changing as fact blends with fiction. Even the most mainstream of features can include location shots with real people or include archival footage and utilize non-actors. Masashi Yamamoto, whose most famous works, such as Carnival of the Night (Yami no Carnival, 1982) and Junk Food (1997), combine both documentary elements and fictional narrative to produce stunning but shocking portraits of Tokyo's veiled angst. These films remind us that the average person, sitting quietly on the train next to us, may have a completely different reality, one that we never imagined, and lives in a "Tokyo" we could never have access to. But we do, thanks to Yamamoto's voyeuristic romp - and I do mean romp because it can get rough in this director's urban playground, one riddled with gangsters, junkies, and sexual predators.

Although he admits wanting to portray reality or real life, he ultimately defines his goal as "not-fake" or "natural" and shies away from stylistic labels such as Direct Cinema and cinéma vérité. The mood can change from serene to schizophrenic in the blink of a frame; and you can't help but wince while wondering where you were just a few moments earlier.

His latest work, A Woman is Heard, is billed as an "Erotic-Pop-Suspense-Thriller" and stars the famous porn actress Sora Aoi. It is impossible to know what the actual genre is - another term Yamamoto has little use for. It is a foray into reality and sex. Or a scoff at the idea that these can co-exist at all. The film, actually shot on DV, centers around Ryo (Keita Ono) and his next door neighbor, Satsuki (Aoi), whose every movement and conversation Ryo can hear. He even installs electronic listening devices. Can you imagine soapy shower scenes? Ryo does and eventually tracks down (stalks) Satsuki outside of their apartment setting. In the world of stalkers however, Ryo is a benign amateur and we soon learn who the real stalker is. Yuta, her lover, uses a ludicrously high-pitched voice disguiser and quickly arrives at Satsuki's place to "protect" her from the guy behind the lewd phone calls. These conjugal visits may seem painfully obvious to the viewer but the erotic and vulnerable heroine is of course, ever grateful. The story itself unfolds in a linear but not so obvious way: boy meets girl, boy stalks girl, boy saves girl from "bad guy" - and though this seemingly standard approach might alienate fans of Yamamoto, there is a great amount of tongue-in-cheek and perhaps (shall I venture?) comedic poke at the porn industry.

For those of you who go to a film with the kind of expectation built up by personally following a unique director's career - don't. For Yamamoto fans and Sora Aoi fans: this is a film that is probably not his best (or hers?) but contains unique moments of, and investigations into, erotic fantasy and the daft "love story" as we know it. As with other examples of Yamamoto's work the film is ever conscious and flirts with the "reality" it creates, but there is a sense that these characters aren't the bored disaffected youth of his earlier work. They actually want something.