Minimalist existentialism in the form of second chances and family tragedies. A cheerful examination of human connection and how people drift apart with the passage of time. Yutaka got into a coma after being hit by a car at only 14 years old, and now, he has suddenly woken up after 10 years asleep, and he finds himself all alone in a changed world. There is no sign of his family, and the only person who comes for him is a lonely fish-farmer named Fujimori, who is an old friend of Yutaka's father. They gradually come to fill the holes in each other's lives as they spend time together and grow closer, with Fujimori acting as a father figure or older brother to Yutaka, teaching him how to be an adult and deal with his new responsibilities. Fujimori understands Yutaka's newfound loneliness because he too has been living in isolation. Yutaka's journey is one of maturing, reconciling with family, reminiscing about the past, and reconnecting with childhood friends.
Despite its deadpan tone and expressionless characters, License to Live is one of Kiyoshi Kurosawa's funnier and more intimate works. Yutaka may be a quiet character, but Kurosawa uses him as vessel to portray the difficulties of moving forward. It seems impossible to move on when you have a distant past, a shattered present and a huge gap to fill, but Yutaka's time with Fujimori helps him to rediscover himself, while Kurosawa depicts the realities of the adult world through the eyes of a 14 year old child. A tale of growing up, but only of the mind, for the body is already grown up. But Yutaka wasn't the only one to lose 10 years. His family suffered a tremendous loss that slowly broke them apart, and even the man who caused his accident lived a decade of guilt and regret, and Yutaka's return deeply affects them in the present. Kiyoshi Kurosawa's stories are always extremely impactful and heartfelt because of his unbelievable skill to portray loneliness on such a profound and humane level, and License to Live is no different.
This is a film about the meaning of life, but it doesn't try to explicitly tell you what it is, because it differs from person to person. Instead, License to Live strives to makes you have a little introspective session of your own and answer the big question yourself-"What am I living for?" Perhaps the meaning of life is following our dreams and passions, no matter how foolish they might seem. No matter how little and temporary, like building a pony ranch to bring estranged friends and family together once more. By the end of License to Live, Kiyoshi Kurosawa seems to hint at a "it was a (comatose) dream all along" plot twist, but then the real ending comes out of nowhere and hits you hard in the heart with a moment of great sadness and melancholy. The film is mostly lighthearted but it also packs a lot of meaning. It is especially funny though, with an almost cartoonish humor and dead-inside characters that the actors deliver extremely well. Koji Yakusho is amazing as a nonchalant fish-farmer, but Hidetoshi Nishijima steals the show with a simple yet complex performance as a teenager stuck in an adult body.
License to Live differs a lot from Kiyoshi Kurosawa's horror works and intense style, but at the same time, not really. In a way, this film is a work of psychological horror, but only for the character of Yutaka, whose situation is one we'll never get to fully understand. Overall, Kurosawa's craft is intoxicating even in his early days, with long and meditative takes, an immersive atmosphere, characters developed through actions instead of words, and quiet scenes and natural sounds taking precedence, eliminating the need for dialogue and music. License to Live is a unique and peaceful spin on the family tragedy trope, and again, despite its deadpan tone, it's impossible not to feel moved by the end of the story. Fujimori carries memories of Yutaka with him, the way Yutaka carried on the memory of his unbroken family with his pony farm. Even after dying or disappearing, we live on because of those who refuse to forget us.
