When I first started on the path to learn about cinema, a friend noticed and started giving helpful suggestions and useful information. He also gifted me a copy of "Maborosi" (1995), by Kore-eda Hirokazu, known in the US as Hirokazu Koreeda. I finally found the right time to sit down and watch this film, and all I can say is, what a beautiful gift it was.
This film is a work of art, a slow painting of light and shadow, of the play of seasons, and the journey one young woman makes from joy in life to sorrow in death and back again, sort of. Ikuo and Yomiko are childhood friends who grow up together, get married, and start a family. Through a tragic accident, Ikuo is killed and Yomiko and her infant son must go on without him. She remarries and attempts to find answers to her unanswerable questions in an isolated seaside village with another widower and his young daughter.
There is poetry in the cinematography of this movie and this story. There is symmetry and slow, rhythmic movement, extreme long shots, many with no movement at all. They give one a moment to pause and reflect. It is completely opposite the whirlwind we call life of alarms, and soccer practices, and time cards, and business lunches. "Maborosi" has very little dialogue, but it works because words aren't always necessary or even desired. There are shared moments, looks between one another, glimpses of daily life, the sounds of the surf, and a few words which go a long way. Stairs, trains, and windows are predominant themes. It is a fascinating glimpse into rural Japanese culture. Finally, the soundtrack is brilliant and is the perfect emotional backdrop to the story. It was so sad, but not without moments of hope. I'll definitely revisit this gem.
This film is a work of art, a slow painting of light and shadow, of the play of seasons, and the journey one young woman makes from joy in life to sorrow in death and back again, sort of. Ikuo and Yomiko are childhood friends who grow up together, get married, and start a family. Through a tragic accident, Ikuo is killed and Yomiko and her infant son must go on without him. She remarries and attempts to find answers to her unanswerable questions in an isolated seaside village with another widower and his young daughter.
There is poetry in the cinematography of this movie and this story. There is symmetry and slow, rhythmic movement, extreme long shots, many with no movement at all. They give one a moment to pause and reflect. It is completely opposite the whirlwind we call life of alarms, and soccer practices, and time cards, and business lunches. "Maborosi" has very little dialogue, but it works because words aren't always necessary or even desired. There are shared moments, looks between one another, glimpses of daily life, the sounds of the surf, and a few words which go a long way. Stairs, trains, and windows are predominant themes. It is a fascinating glimpse into rural Japanese culture. Finally, the soundtrack is brilliant and is the perfect emotional backdrop to the story. It was so sad, but not without moments of hope. I'll definitely revisit this gem.