Still Walking

Its not often I return to see a film immediately to see it again, but this is a film which demands it. This is a masterly film by Koreeda following an ordinary middle class Japanese family has they have an annual reunion to commemorate the older brother who died rescuing a boy from drowning. In its slow, gentle, poetic way, this film brings us into the heart of the family so well you feel it is your own - indeed, the characters are so real, so richly portrayed, that you almost come to believe you know them as well as your own family.

A simple plot précis doesn't do justice to what this film is about. It shines a light into those repressed areas of resentment, sentimentality, nostalgia, guilt and desire that are so often hidden behind a facade of politeness. Koreeda is too subtle a director to have any big blow ups or surprises - he reveals his characters in a gentle manner as detail is laid upon detail. When the ending comes it is not a surprise, but it is still profoundly moving and thought provoking. This is a film that will stay with you long after you leave the cinema.

A lot has been made about the films debt to Ozu. I think this is very overstated - although there are one or two stylistic nods to Ozu at the beginning, Koreeda is a very different type of film maker. Unlike Ozu he uses tiny surreal moments of beauty to contrast with the realism of the rest of the film. His use of editing and camera work is far less formal and rigorous - instead he allows the camera to follow the characters, revealing the layers of the home. And most importantly, while Ozu emphasised the death of the traditional Japanese family and considered it with sad resignation, Koreeda sees families as all alike, stuck in a series of inescapable cycles. In many respects this film reminded me more of some of Naruse's classic films than Ozu.

The cast is uniformly excellent, with Kiki Kirin utterly wonderful as the grandmother. The only very small quibble I have with the casting is that Koreeda succumbed somewhat to casting some characters who are a little too elegant and good looking for the 'normal' people they portray. Hiroshi Abe and Yui Natsukata are maybe a little too good looking to be convincing as the less than 100% welcome family members. But that is a very minor criticism of what is a terrific ensemble piece.

I think this film is one of the finest of the year and may well come to be seen as a classic. It can certainly sit comfortably with any of the great films of Japans golden era.

A middle-aged brother and sister and their families visit their aging parents on the fifteenth anniversary of their brother Junpei's death from drowning while saving another boy. Relationships between generations are strained, however, and patriarch Kyohei (Yoshio Harada), a former doctor, does not hide his resentment for his surviving son Ryoto (Hiroshi Abe), an out of work art restorer. Selected as the best film at the Toronto International Film Festival in a poll of film critics and bloggers, Hirokazu Koreeda's Still Walking is a family-oriented comedy/drama about generational conflict and the consequences of loss. Unfolding in real time over a twenty-four hour period, it has been compared to Ozu's Tokyo Story in its intimate interchanges that accurately capture the way families relate to each other but lacks Ozu's warmth and subtlety.

The day is spent with routine activities such as preparing meals and playing with the small children. Kyohei remains detached and hides in his office, pretending to be occupied with medical business. He only emerges to bicker with his wife (Kiki Kinn) and play with his grandson. Ryoto, who did not look forward to the reunion, is put off by his father's disdain for his profession of art restoration and his coolness toward his new wife Yukari (Yui Natsukawa). She craves acceptance for herself and her son Atsushi (Shoehi Tanaka) from a previous marriage in which her husband died. A picture of the deceased Junpei is placed in the center of the Yokoyama family house reminding Ryoto that whatever he does, he cannot measure up to Junpei, who was to be his father's heir.

He also notices that his sister Chinami (You) has no such expectations and her life with her car-salesman husband and two children seems outside of the range of family conflicts. When the boy that Junpei rescued visits the family, sneering remarks are made about his bulky frame and lack of ambition and old resentments come to the surface. After Chinami and her family leave, it is clear that Ryoto wishes he had not agreed to spend the night but conflicts seem to soften with the passage of time. Based on a novel by the director and occasioned by the death of his mother and the discussions of his childhood they had during her last days, Still Walking has a sense of naturalism and simplicity that is endearing.

Oh, my heart. This is a quietly devastating film about family dysfunction. The elderly parents in the story are deeply sympathetic and yet also deeply flawed, caring more for their dead son than their living son or daughter, both of whom bring their families over for a mini-reunion of sorts. We gradually see the cracks in the various relationships, and that events of the distant past are still top of mind for all of them, leading to a family gathering that's civil but not joyous, all of which I could relate to. Kore-eda tells this poignant story masterfully, with restraint and simplicity, and the cast is strong from top to bottom (Kirin Kiki as the mom, and Hiroshi Abe as the son in particular).

Part of what makes the movie so good is that the characters feel so authentic, and nothing is black and white. The mother is sweet and hospitable but has a lot of negative things to say, displaying some of the rougher points of her character when she talks about putting the guy her son saved through the annual torture of visiting them, or when she says she doesn't want to be cramped by her daughter or her noisy grandkids living with her. The father, meanwhile, is gruff and emotionally distant to say the least. And yet, they also have their own stories - she sings along fondly to a song playing that reminds her of a time when life was still so full of hope, but she tells her husband she first heard it when she discovered his past infidelity, dropping quite a bomb on him when he's in the tub. The couple are still together but they bicker, and we see various uncaring behavior such as him not recognizing her housework as ever having "worked" (ha!), not helping her across the street, or her only finding out he goes off to karaoke by reading Christmas cards sent to him.

Maybe the film is just showing that this is what was "normal" for families in that generation (the word "normal" is used a few times), but also what the consequences of that are. The parents both express disappointment in so many ways, rather than embracing the people their kids turned out to be (and in turn, their spouses and kids as well). It's so sad, and so cautionary. Like the song says, the love you take is equal to the love you make - instead of the reunion making the kids want to come more often, it has the opposite effect. Sometimes someone has to take the first step or make an effort, beyond saying it will happen "one of these days," as the son puts it. Maybe that's how many grown-up kids and families are, I don't know. I felt my heart in Kore-eda's hands throughout the whole film, but rather than squeezing it mercilessly he just made it ache, and in the gentlest way possible, part of his talent.

Forty-something art restorer Yokoyama Ryota (Abe Hiroshi) reluctantly returns to his parents' home with his new wife Yukari (Natsukawa Yui) for a rare reunion. The family is holding a memorial for the eldest son who passed away 15 years ago, and Ryota has not been looking forward to the occasion. To his father (Harada Yoshio), Ryota can never compare to his late brother, and silent resentment has accumulated between father and son over the years. Likewise, Ryota's mother (Kiki Kirin) carries years of bottled frustrations and disappointments that slip out in casual, cutting remarks. Only sister Chinami (You) seems to somehow keep herself above the family drama. As the day wears on, the family runs through the simple gestures and complex emotions that keep them together and push them apart.

Still Walking is an intimate movie about a family reunion. Its observations about family dynamics are the most true to life I have ever seen. The movie paints the entire gamut of emotional family experience with delicate yet powerful brush strokes but it's not a sentimental film, nor an opportunity for actors to grandstand. It's Japanese, so all the strong undercurrents of emotion are held in check by equally powerful restraint (both cultural and directorial). A brother and a sister attempting families of their own go to visit their parents in Yokohama. The parents have lost a son and the family's devastation hangs heavy in the air. You can actually feel it bearing down on your shoulders from the first frame. Anybody who has ever spent the night at the house of relatives will feel the weight of family history that this film captures so truthfully.

The parents are engulfed by their quiet, ongoing grief and the surviving children resent all the attention given to the one who is not there anymore. The movie is surprisingly mordant, touching, cruel, sad, funny: human. The mother is this wonderful woman who cooks up a storm (I so wanted to be invited to that house). She is from an older generation, which means she has been forever in the shadow of her husband the doctor, cooking and cleaning and feeding the children, but she is not a pushover, nor a saint. She is mischievous, catty and petty, prejudiced, funny, generous and cruel at the same time. She is a marvel, and the actress who plays her is astonishing.

This movie has many emotional surprises that make the audience gasp, but they are presented with a sure, light touch, never falling into easy sentiment, never shying away from human complexity. It's a film about family, and love and duty and regret and it is stunningly beautiful.