Forget Compton or the Bronx - suburbia is the harshest 'hood of all, and deep in sleepy old Saitama Prefecture, wannabe rapper, Ikku, is suffocating on the entropy of the everyday. Seeking salvation from the humdrum monotony of small-town life, he and his pals form hip-hop collective SHO-GUNG, broadcasting their hardcore message "from Saitama to the world, soul to soul!" When they figure out exactly what that message is, they'll let you know.

Yu Irie's jishu eiga (self-made, independently-financed film) 8000 Miles is a deadpan, desperate rebel yell without a clue, all about people aching to go somewhere and be something, only they’re not sure what. Facing an indifferent society without tools for the future, all these kids have to vent their frustrations are inarticulate rhymes, rap as both petulant offense and desperate defense for a cluster of scared children. As Ikku's DJ dreams crumble under the crushing gravity of real life, that last train to Tokyo is starting to look less like an escape hatch and more like an existential insult.

Made for peanuts with a largely amateur cast and crew, 8000 Miles opened in a single theater then exploded across Japan, maxing out attendance records and winning top honors at the Yubari International Fantastic Film Festival, where it nabbed funding for 8000 Miles 2. Alternating between hilarity and heartbreak, the film is an unflinching study of youth adrift, their every idiosyncrasy bathed in Irie's harsh natural light, climaxing in an anguished duel of rhyme between two long-lost friends wrestling for hope amidst the ashes of their adolescent dreams.