In Tokyo, the freelancer cameraman Takuyoshi Masuoka is obsessed investigating the fear sensation near death. When he films a man stabbing himself in the eye in the access to the subway, he seeks what the suicidal might have seen to experiment the same sense of horror the man felt when he died. He finds a passage to the underground of Tokyo where he meets a mysterious chained woman that doesn't speak and calls her F. He brings her to his apartment and he has difficulties to feed her, until he discovers that she drinks blood. Masuika becomes a serial killer draining the blood of his victims to nurse F, completely out of touch with reality. 
One of the most thrilling films I've seen in a long time (Lynch excluded ofcourse, hors d' categorie), submerged in an atmosphere that is as close to the perfect symbioses of Eastern and Western cinema as one can get these days. The scenery and colour scheme used in the film are just astonishing, and create the perfect setting to drown in the reality of the main characters life... A most stunning accomplishment by director Takashi Shimizu when you know he only shot this in eight (!) days. Then again, Eastern filmmakers have proven that they don't need several months and a multimillion dollar budget to make a masterpiece (Wong Kar Wai is no stranger to this).
The main character, being a freelance cameraman, is equipped with some high tech stuff to keep an eye on his precious 'pet' which creates some rather interesting perspectives to the disposal of the director.
A conceptual album referring to Würm, the last ice age, is a nice idea to build an album (or series) around, but the problem here is that the only things we know about that last ice age is pure scientific fact. Thus, we have only a perception depending on the interpretation of facts at hand and the always-evolving techniques to obtain these facts. Oöphoi's sixty-five minute enduring sound-interpretation of the Würm is, to say at least, minimal in every meaning of the word. An Aerial View displays nothing more than a portrait of a solid frozen landscape, curving at the horizon with a glistening sun breaking through the frost in the thin air.
By taking on the 'flight over the Würm' point of view, An Aerial View fails to grasp the intensity and violent force of the biting cold and always transforming ice. After about fifteen minutes I was anticipating technical difficulties in order to get some variety in the rather sleep-inducing soundscape (note: not soundscapes). Freezing fuel tubes, rotors struggling to work in the air impregnated with ice: the thrill of going to the boundaries of mankind, and technical possibilities are missing. I've been waiting for the emergency landing I was hoping he had to make, and I still am craving for it.
Guided by a narrative voice counting down for a space shuttle launch, Omega Point takes of with the smartly titled "Departure." At first I thought this was just too obvious and uninspired for an intro of an album, but I dare you to find another album like it. It's a simple concept - so simple that it actually becomes quite ingenious. A countdown is something we've all seen and heard before, and Stellardrive utilizes that collective memory to create a bond with its listeners. The dramatic tension dwelling in the background only emphasises this feeling of a certain subconscious connection to Stellardrive's sound.
Omega Point is not spectacularly innovative or something you're likely to put on if you want to brag about your latest purchase. However, it is a good, solid album ranging from post-rock and metal over math rock with some interesting approaches to the genre. The previously digitally-released material has a low threshold, suited for a broad audience even though the genre might not be your cup of tea. The artwork is, as ever, the ideal visual background for the music and surely the fans of Stellardrive don't want to miss out an this beauty.