Poppoya

I selected this movie on a recent flight to Narita from London in November 2008 because it seemed to have everything I wanted in it. Steam trains, snow, pathos and emotion as well as a reasonable story line. I work in Tokyo and have been involved in Japanese culture for many years, and have many Japanese friends, and the only difference watching THIS movie was that I was crying by myself, rather than in good company.

The winter scenery was, as ever in Hokkaido, simply sublime and the characters carefully drawn and wholly believable. The plot was, for me, simple, but then I am a simple man, and even though I saw it all coming, the ending was a satisfactory confirmation rather than any great surprise.

To say that it made an impression on me does not do this movie justice - it was a confirmation in my mind of most of the things I love about Japan and its people.

You will not find violence, or, indeed, much in the way of loud voices, and the musical score is not only pretty quiet, but wholly suited to the plot-line. The key to enjoying this movie relies on your knowledge of how the Japanese people see themselves.

Even were I never to see it again, I would never forget it, and probably, neither would you.

It is common to come across stories about the lives of ordinary people taking certain courses through life. Sometimes we can see things so simple that they catch our hearts and make us smile a little. This movie is a little bit of that, but it presents us with a tragedy that demonstrates the strength and loyalty of a railworker, who with such an attitude and indomitable loyalty always remains steadfast to his job. We come to wonder if he loves his job more than his life itself. This tragedy evolves around multiple flashbacks that gradually build an overall structure that makes us appreciate every moment.

Accompanied by an excellent direction that knows how to make use of transitions as well as small but meaningful scenes that give weight to the main story, Poppoya is a beautiful film that shows us how a lonely and simple life can bring more than we think into our hands. The cinematography presents us with an isolated and cold scene of loneliness and abandonment, but it is also in this kind of images where the small flames warm our hands and we can admire the true culture behind this work. With a fantastic plot twist that wraps our hearts around it, Poppoya is a great work full of emotions that works as an excellent mirror to a world of work, passion and family.

For many people this will be an emotional movie. I was one of them. It is a story of duty taking precedence over family. Unfortunately I know the situation intimately due to conflicts between military service and family. Like the station master I chose duty at the expense of family. The story of what his daughter would have been like is told over several episodes. First as a grade schooler, then a teenager and finally as a young adult. I found myself thinking the same thing - how would my child have developed. It was profoundly moving. You also see the respect that others had for the station master. It came from young railway men and fellow towns people old alike. The concluding scenes were as moving as any of the others in the film.

For train buffs, the steam engines are excellent and even the 1 car diesels are good. In my part of Japan the diesels are quite common.

Hokkaido is a place where towns are dying and railways are disappearing as the movie alludes to. I am writing this in a hotel lobby in Sapporo, Hokkaido, in weather similar to the movie. It has an added touch of reality.

I recommend this film to all who have an interest in Japan and life in the far north.

Must had cried for a thousand miles. Watching a movie on a 6" screen trapped in a coach seat at 30,000 ft high is usually a diversion not a pleasurable entertainment. But strangely enough, this simple 3 hankie movie is both engaging and moving.

A railway man works at the end of a desolated railway line, at the end of his career, at the end of his life. Nothing much happens. He does his job at the one man station faithfully. He greets the old familiar commuters with the station name, shovels snow off the platform, sends the train off with a ritualistic check list. He did this almost all his life with the same mechanical precision. He had a family once. His daughter died at a very young age and more recently his wife died.

The lonely widower had a few visitors on New Year Eve. And the news were not feastive. The little town, with the younger population migrating to bigger places, would probably die of old age. The rail line, facing declining traffic and increasing loss, will be closed. And he would have to vacate the station which was also his home for most of his life.

The director, Yasuo Furuhata, handles the story with sensitivity and humility. The occasional high camera or wide angle shots only accentuates the isolation. Cutting is excellent. Scenes are allowed to sustain poignancy without allowing distraction. Quick cuts are used to enforce the ritual routine with precision. The bare story line & minimal dialogue was not a handicap. The use of flashbacks in fact creates beautiful characterisation without unnecessary ornamentation. The old method of using colour tone to delineate time events was very effective here. In one particular scene shot from a static camera position flowed with a continuous action shifted over time just by the use of colour. Seamless, masterly.

How did veteran lead Ken Takakura win so much empathy for his part is really a mystery. No strut, quiet body and very little facial expression. Yet he involves us in the internal conflicts of the character. When he said "no regrets" over the choices he had made in his career, the price he had to pay and the sadness he felt is palpable.

Don't believe a word I say. Just go watch the movie.

A real touching film based on an equally moving short story. So much that it actually hurts. I just couldn't hold my tears back towards the end of the film, and I doubt those who appreciate this wonderful movie can either. Yes, it's a tear-jerker, but unlike love stories (and this isn't one) it's the poignance behind one man's stoicism -- that of a man who's not just about to be brush aside by progress, but also tormented by his guilt over the death of his wife and daughter -- that makes it heart-warming yet sad at the same time. Kudos to Yasuo Furuhata for staying faithful to Jiro Asada's story, and Ken Takakura for a stirring performance as the aging station manager.

This film will probably haunt me again the next time I take a train-ride through the snow.