Both Kafuku and his wife are creatives. He's an actor, playwright and director. She works for a TV station. They have an intriguing relationship intertwined with a creative process. Their intimacy seems to acquire greater depth through some form of collaboration. But it's not enough to prevent a betrayal. "I want to talk to you tonight," Kafuku's wife says one morning. He tortures himself and us by staying out. When he finally gets home, it is too late.
There are more twists and turns in this film than the roads covered by the title car. Every twist is a jolt and every turn unexpected. The whole direction of the plot cannot be guessed at. It's not so much about Kafuku's relationship with his wife, or with "the driver" foisted on him, or with the actor whom he has chosen to be the lead in his play. It's about everyone's relationship with self - the choices we make, the consequences we face.
Two years later, Kafuku goes to Hiroshima to direct Uncle Vanya, a Chekhov classic made into a multilingual play. We see him auditioning actors from different countries. Takatsuki is one of them. His wife had introduced him once, and there is a reason why Kafuku is suspicious of him. But he gives nothing away. In the audition Takatsuki acts out a scene with a Taiwanese actress, each speaking their own native tongue. Then a mute Korean stuns us with a part played with sign language. These are dramatic, fascinating scenes that make language - or the needlessness of it - a central theme in the film. You have to see and hear beyond the words.
Takatsuki tells Kafuku he joined the troupe to get close to him because he's a fan. Kafuku at first doesn't open up. Not for the first time, we see how the two men are different. One acts out his instincts and feelings, the other suppresses his emotions. One actively engages confrontations; the other passively retreats, always looking the other way (he even develops glaucoma, an illness of narrowing vision). But later on, in a charged encounter inside the car and within earshot of "the driver", Kafuku gives an astonishing tell-all. Takatsuki surprises him back. Why does Kafuku bare his soul all of a sudden? What is the change that has come over him? We are left to wonder, as surely as "the driver" must have wondered, just what are in the minds of each man.
So who's the driver? Watari is a young out-of-towner, seemingly without a life, whose only skill is driving. She is foisted on Kafuku in one of those non-negotiable bureaucratic schemes conjured up by humourless officials, one of whom entertains us with the most hilarious dead-pan deliveries. Watari and Kafuku's growing friendship is a journey in self-discovery. When Watari asks Kafuku to show him her favourite place in town, she utterly floors him. It is through these revelations that a closeness develops between them, despite the claustrophobic environment of the car. When they eventually open up, letting go of their deepest secrets, neither have to live in denial and escape anymore.
This is a rich film with undercurrents throughout. We watch the characters grapple with guilt, fear, envy and ambition in different ways, in parallel to the characters in the Vanya play. There is no judgement, except for the consequences that each faces. Emotional turbulence leads to physical manifestation, and each has to learn to rise above their own history and burdens.
There are more twists and turns in this film than the roads covered by the title car. Every twist is a jolt and every turn unexpected. The whole direction of the plot cannot be guessed at. It's not so much about Kafuku's relationship with his wife, or with "the driver" foisted on him, or with the actor whom he has chosen to be the lead in his play. It's about everyone's relationship with self - the choices we make, the consequences we face.
Two years later, Kafuku goes to Hiroshima to direct Uncle Vanya, a Chekhov classic made into a multilingual play. We see him auditioning actors from different countries. Takatsuki is one of them. His wife had introduced him once, and there is a reason why Kafuku is suspicious of him. But he gives nothing away. In the audition Takatsuki acts out a scene with a Taiwanese actress, each speaking their own native tongue. Then a mute Korean stuns us with a part played with sign language. These are dramatic, fascinating scenes that make language - or the needlessness of it - a central theme in the film. You have to see and hear beyond the words.
Takatsuki tells Kafuku he joined the troupe to get close to him because he's a fan. Kafuku at first doesn't open up. Not for the first time, we see how the two men are different. One acts out his instincts and feelings, the other suppresses his emotions. One actively engages confrontations; the other passively retreats, always looking the other way (he even develops glaucoma, an illness of narrowing vision). But later on, in a charged encounter inside the car and within earshot of "the driver", Kafuku gives an astonishing tell-all. Takatsuki surprises him back. Why does Kafuku bare his soul all of a sudden? What is the change that has come over him? We are left to wonder, as surely as "the driver" must have wondered, just what are in the minds of each man.
So who's the driver? Watari is a young out-of-towner, seemingly without a life, whose only skill is driving. She is foisted on Kafuku in one of those non-negotiable bureaucratic schemes conjured up by humourless officials, one of whom entertains us with the most hilarious dead-pan deliveries. Watari and Kafuku's growing friendship is a journey in self-discovery. When Watari asks Kafuku to show him her favourite place in town, she utterly floors him. It is through these revelations that a closeness develops between them, despite the claustrophobic environment of the car. When they eventually open up, letting go of their deepest secrets, neither have to live in denial and escape anymore.
This is a rich film with undercurrents throughout. We watch the characters grapple with guilt, fear, envy and ambition in different ways, in parallel to the characters in the Vanya play. There is no judgement, except for the consequences that each faces. Emotional turbulence leads to physical manifestation, and each has to learn to rise above their own history and burdens.