Film reviews in 500 words or fewer

Tag: 2015

  • Grace and belonging: ‘Our Little Sister’ by Hirokazu Kore-eda (A review)

    Grace and belonging: ‘Our Little Sister’ by Hirokazu Kore-eda (A review)

    There is no doubt that Hirokazu Kore-eda has mastered both the form and substance of cinema, developing a distinct visual style that elevates his deeply humanistic storytelling. While films like Maborosi (1995) showcase his technical mastery of the cinematic form, and Nobody Knows (2004) and Monster (2023) reflect the breadth of his narrative and thematic ambition, Our Little Sister (2015) stands out as one of his most intimate, character-driven works, supremely centering on people and relationships more than plot or message.

    As with many Japanese films, the original title—Umimachi Diary—differs from its English counterpart, possibly to appeal more to Western audiences. Regardless of the reason, both titles offer rich lenses through which to understand and appreciate the film.

    With “Umimachi Diary”, (‘seaside town diary’), the film highlights the importance of rootedness not only in personhood but also in relationships. 

    The film probes how the placeness of towns and their spaces such as cafes, houses, and temples have shaped the lives and connections of the people dramatized in the movie across generations. This is exemplified in the way the supporting characters influence the sisters’ lives, especially through gestures and encounters made possible by the unique rhythms and intimacy of a seaside city like Kamakura.

    In contrast, the English title “Our Little Sister” draws attention to Suzu, the titular character who was adopted by her three half-sisters from Kamakura, after the death of their father who she cared for. In the film, Suzu was not just a character—she becomes the lens through which the inner lives of the others are poignantly revealed.

    Like a prism, Suzu reveals the true colors of the nature of the various relationships in the film: among the three sisters Sachi, Yoshino, and Chika; between them and their late, estranged father; and especially between Sachi and their distant mother. And while Suzu was not in any way asked to resolve the issues that arose because of her presence, in many different ways her life, memories, and words affirmed the humanity of those she interacted with no matter what they were facing.

    Our Little Sister has been the most moving Kore-eda film for me, getting the same impact even after many rewatches. It is in fact my most favorite film of all time, a movie I go back to for the comfort it gives me. 

    It’s beautiful in a way that it doesn’t manipulate emotions. Instead, it illuminates them. Our Little Sister shines a light on a rare kind of relationship these days—one ruled first not by love, but by grace. While I always thought Suzu to be the protagonist of this film, I realized that this story is as much as hers as it is the story of the eldest sister Sachi. Suzu is made to feel she belonged and loved not for what she might become, but for who she already is. Behind that welcome is Sachi, who, despite carrying her own burdens, offers Suzu grace. In one quiet scene, as they gaze at the beautiful sea together from a hilltop in Kamakura, this grace was in full display.

  • Asura and Our Little Sister: Kore-eda’s natural humanism

    Asura and Our Little Sister: Kore-eda’s natural humanism

    Earlier this year, I binged-watched Asura, Hirokazu Kore-eda’s latest work which is a limited series on Netflix (7 episodes). To me this is a much more impactful work than his other Netflix series, The Makanai, both in terms of the story and the depth by which the story is told and made to affect viewers. I can say that as a director, Kore-eda’s humanistic style and talent really shines in a (TV) series because he is able to flesh out characters and relationships much more fully than in a film.

    Coming at the heels of a rewatch of Our Little Sister, I can’t help but compare the two to each other (because of how the stories have many similarities aside from the fact that they revolve around four sisters) and to Kore-eda’s other works that I have seen so far.

    To those who have watched even a few of his works, it is obvious that Kore-eda is able to portray humanism very naturally in his films, especially in directing characters and the dynamics between them. It strikes me how much drama and clarity of emotion can be had in subtlety–whether because of the reservedness of Japanese culture itself, or Kore-eda’s direction, or both. This is opposed to how humanism is sometimes forced in more plot-driven stories, especially in Filipino films (from where I come from), which always appeal to poverty or political/cultural/structural curses, etc.

    In both Asura and Our Little Sister, I love how Kore-eda directs the scenes of the four sisters together. Each pair of sisters, particularly the Tsunako-Makiko and Takiko-Sakiko pairings in Asura, have their own dynamics when they are together that are deftly made to come alive on the screen by Kore-eda and the sister ensembles.

    But the magic is when each of the four sisters in both works, even when they’re together in scenes, are still able to shine as their own characters. I have to give props to Suzu Hirose, the only actor appearing in both works, who has shown incredible range particularly in Asura. While it is a bit of a given that she will be a focus as the titular character in Our Little Sister, she held her ground well among the veterans in Asura, showing how much she has developed in her craft in the decade between these two works.

    There’s this one scene in Asura, in the latter half of the series, when the whole family had to come to the ancestral home to sort an incident caused by the father which reminded me of a Hieronymous Bosch painting. When you look closely each object or character in this painting, something distinct is going on with or about it it. But when you look at the painting as a whole, everything comes together beautifully. Kore-eda’s blocking and choice of shots in scenes have the same effect in scenes that involve multiple characters.

    Which lead me to a final point, about how there is not one emotional core in many, if not most, of Kore-eda’s works.

    In both Asura and Our Little Sister, you can say that there are main plots and there are subplots, but nothing grand or forced–above all, it’s the kaleidoscopic complexities of being human that rises to the surface. It’s humanity of the characters driving the stories, not a big plot or other external circumstances driving the characters. There are themes, yes, for example, queerness in youth in Monster, poverty in Shoplifters, truth and law in The Third Murder, wrestling with grief in Maborosi, or finding your calling in The Makanai. These expose messages or morals, but through and through, it’s really the existentialist beauty that stands out.

    No wonder Kore-eda’s movies feel so grounded that some of his works almost feel like documentaries in their groundedness (he did work extensively as a documentarist). The slice-of-life production aesthetic and the almost meditative cinematography that he uses contributes to this existentialism—you almost feel like you live with the characters, if not the characters themselves, by how grounded to reality and the world the characters are. The effect of this is we see ourselves reflected in them in one way or another.