Cherry Blossoms

“It's merely a movie.” Yeah. Well, whenever did you see one that had every character's play connect; comprehending intuitively their wars waging within. Between the sense of responsibility, of guilt, sweet memories, shame and nagging doubts. Not of one character, but of every single one. And then not because the lines, expressions and glances are simple, the characters sparse, or the dialogues overly explicit. No. Only because every single one is a mirror of your own, if not now than those that'll (hopefully?) be experienced in the future. Their fights aren't theirs alone; they are ours too. All painfully accurate, and so incorrigibly human.

To watch sheer Love gathering momentum before and after they ... nothing less than apotheosis of overwhelming feeling, an epitome of emotion that was so unattainably beautiful; death's but a trifle after this.

I'd rate it one star ... for every time I cried (or could have, ought to and didn't), yet the scale doesn't reach that high.

When her husband is diagnosed with a terminal illness, a German woman named Trudi decides it's time the both of them paid a long overdue visit to their adult children - two of whom live in Berlin and one in Japan. The catch is that the husband, Rudi, doesn't even know he's sick and neither do the kids. Thus, Trudi must live with this horrible secret while putting on a brave face for those around her. But then a different, wholly unforeseen tragedy strikes the family and the movie heads off into an entirely new and utterly unanticipated direction from where we thought it was going.

A German movie set largely in Japan, "Cherry Blossoms" is a beautiful and heartbreaking film about living for the moment and of not putting off till tomorrow what you can do today. It's also marvelously perceptive about the dynamics of parent/child relationships, especially when, as is true in this case, the parents are viewed by their self-absorbed offspring more as burdens to be endured than blessings to be cherished. The irony is that Rudi and Trudi have more in common with - and indeed are treated better by - many of the strangers and casual acquaintances they come in contact with than they are by their own children.

But the movie is also an examination of marriage and of how partners can become so entwined with one another as a couple that they lose their identities as individuals, missing out on the dreams and goals they had for their lives when they were still young and unattached. This is certainly the case for Trudi, who has harbored a lifelong desire to take up Japanese dancing, a desire that Rudi, in his selfish indifference, has pretty much squelched in her for the duration of their marriage. Such a realization of lost opportunities can lead to regrets, recriminations and despair at the end of the road, yet in the case of Rudi and Trudi, one learns that lesson a little too late - and the other just in the nick of time.

Elmer Wepper and Hannelore Elsner are magnificent as the aged couple, superbly capturing the deep-seated but often unspoken love that each spouse has for the other. A fine supporting cast, led by Maximilian Bruckner as one of their sons and Aya Irizuki as a young street artist who befriends Rudi in his time of greatest need, adds to the movie's richness. Another crucial element in the emotional force of the movie is the richly elegiac score by Claus Bantzer.

The glory of this exquisitely realized and profoundly moving film is its willingness to grapple with some truly major issues - of life and death, of sorrow and loss, of filial and marital relationships - without getting heavy-handed and preachy about it in the process. Every moment in this film feels real and unforced, yet the movie itself has the minutely worked-out grace and precision of Japanese performance art (which we see quite a bit of throughout the course of the film). In fact, near the end, there is a fantasy dance sequence that is, quite frankly, one of the most utterly spellbinding scenes I've come across in ages.

Masterfully directed by Doris Dorrie, "Cherry Blossoms" is a lyrical and unforgettable work that takes its place among the truly outstanding films of recent times.

Doris Dörrie's "Cherry Blossoms" - opening "Berlin and Beyond" Thursday, in U.S. release on Friday - has two original titles, one in German: "Kirschblüten," which means cherry blossoms, and another in Japanese: "Hanami," which doesn't.

The Japanese equivalent to the English and German titles would be "sakura"; "hanami" is a national ceremony/celebration/holiday of WATCHING the blossoms open. Dating back to the 8th century, hanami is an event without parallel outside Japan.

The difference between the titles is a subtle, but meaningful message. Just as the blossoms in themselves are different from the veritable cult surrounding them in Japan, Dörrie's characters live in two different worlds, acting differently, first clashing (similarly to "Lost in Translation") and then - somewhat mysteriously - cohere. With this complex, effective, and moving story, Dörrie, who has spent more than three decades writing and directing "interesting and different" films of varying quality, has reached a pinnacle of her career. (She owes a debt of gratitude to Yasujiro Ozu, especially his "Tokyo Story.")

"Germans and Japanese," Dörrie has said, "are really very much alike — incredibly repressed and very irrational at the same time." This vague and rather ridiculous generalization actually seems to come to life in "Cherry Blossoms."

One of Germany's best-known TV stars, Elmar Wepper, appears in his first movie role, and he nails the character of Rudi Angermeier, a cartoonishly ordinary man on an extraordinary journey. Unknown to him, he is near the end of his life, as he slowly, believably emerges from a stolid German middle-class life of unvariable routine to traverse distance and radically different cultures, all the way to Mount Fuji, dancing butoh.

There are two remarkable co-stars along Rudi's adventure: his wife, Trudi, played by the glamorous actress Hannelore Elsner, appearing heroically unglamorous here to fit the role of a plain housefrau; and Aya Irizuki as Yu.

Yu is one of those rare cinematic creations, a character you may not understand, but one who will stay with you. This waif, runaway, street artist is as bizarre a representative of Japan as - going back to "Lost in Translation" again - Bill Murray's Premium Fantasy woman ("Rip my stockings!") and yet she also evokes Giulietta Masina's character in "La Strada," a couple of continents away.

Watching Rudi and Yu under the cherry blossoms, with the strangely elusive Mount Fuji in the background finally peeking out from behind the clouds, is among the more memorable scenes in contemporary cinema.

A German director Doris Dorrie's third film in her trilogy on Japan, Cherry Blossoms, is an exquisite, absorbing and deeply moving meditation on life, death, loss, loneliness and grief.

Talking about old parents with alienated and indifferent descendants, the first half of the film may remind the audience of Yasujiro Ozu's film made in 1953, Tokyo Monogatari. The six hugging-or-massage (by family members and strangers) scenes and the father's harmonious relationships with his daughter's girlfriend and a Japanese girl successfully highlight the poor relationship between the father and his children.

The second half in which the main character embarks on a reflective journey in search of traces of the deceased love captures the mood of Lost in Translation and Riding Alone for Thousands of Miles. The cultural shock experienced also makes the film distinguishable from Under the Sand.

Cherry blossoms and Mount Fuji symbolize the fleeting and unpredictable nature of life. The film delivers a message that we should treasure the people around us, pursue our dreams and enjoy life to the full so that we will have no regrets. Besides, it is also about the main character's inability to communicate with not only the dead, but also the living family members. Butoh, a Japanese dance, helps people to feel and establish connections with others. What's more, the audience can pay attention to the symbolic meaning of the drawings at the beginning of the film and the photos at the end.

The cinematographer and the composer also succeed in evoking different tones from several shooting locations in Germany and Japan. The suburbs contrast sharply with the hustle and bustle of city life. Apart from the poetic and stunning visual images and the Japanese music playing upon the audience's heartstrings, the characters are so lifelike that the audience will care about what happen to them.

On the whole, although Cherry Blossoms is a bit too long, without emotional bludgeoning or syrupy manipulation, it is a little road movie producing emotional resonance and reflective ripples in a whisper.

If you would've told me prior to seeing this that I would fall head-over-heels for a film that's about a frustrated Bavarian Butoh dancer, with a tale of homelessness, loneliness, a pink telephone, cabbage rolls…and recycling all in the mix, I'd have laughed out loud.

In fact, I did laugh throughout the course of this wonderful, delicate film (that has the most selfish progeny since "King Lear"). In the opening scene a wife tells a physician, "My husband doesn't really care much for adventure," and, boy, does he have treat—and a trial—in store for him. But so does the audience.

The film's heart is about grief and how we can never really prepare for it. "I'd like my ashes scattered upon the sea," a spouse says to his partner. Fearfully, she says, "Why do you say that now?" And why indeed since we can never plan our end and its circumstances? It takes a young, marginally sane street performer, to tell us exactly what the Great Mystery is all about.

And the use of stunning images from nature, as well as the contorted gestures of Butoh theater…and the equally contorted emotions from a family unaware of who the others are that this film brims over with so many rewards that it can be enjoyed over and over again.

The family dynamics are almost farcical which keep the weight of the subject matter from spilling over into despair. And while the central character's own despair is the subject of the film, it's thrilling to watch him find his way out of it.

Exceptional performances, shimmering cinematography, a truly great film.