Article by: Huimin Li

Hirokazu Koreeda is not a director with great ambition. He never tries hard to represent Japan or society, yet most of his works seem effortless, focusing on the simplest details of everyday life. Kore-eda produces not just movies, but also documentaries, the stories of our neighbors, and the the most delicate feelings within ourselves.

Family is an everlasting theme in Kore-eda’s works. Nobody knows tells a story about how four siblings struggle to survive when their mother left them alone for weeks.  Still Walking focuses on a summer day, when Yokoyama family come together to commemorate the death of the eldest son. In I Wish, two brothers have been separated by their parents’ divorce, and they hope to witness a miracle to get the family reunited. As for Our Little Sister, three sisters travel to the countryside for their father’s funeral, and decide to adopt their half-sister.

“That is precisely where the essence of life can be found,” said Kore-eda in an interview when he talked about his interest in family issues. Not like most Hollywood movies, that people are forced to change or transform in face of challenges, the characters in Kore-eda’s films don’t experience much growth from the beginning to the end. For them, life is more like a container: happiness or sadness stay for a while, and leave quietly. Everything still looks the same, yet with subtle differences.

Those differences are reflected by detail, which is the most powerful weapon in Koreeda’s works. The tree represents seasonal changes, pajamas and toothbrushes indicate the relationship between family members, and even the camera becomes the only way to express emotion. Sometimes the audience needs to watch the movie more than once to get everything.

Details also leave a kind of echo. In some particular moments, when you walk randomly down the streets, or wake up in the middle of the night, some scenes and lines may just hit you. You start to think seriously about what’s actually missing in your life, and where are we heading for in the future. It is probably one of the most difficult dreams of directors, but he did it somehow.

Kore-eda once explained why he’s so obsessed with missing. “As a child, my hobby was archeology. I’d leave school, get on my bike with my little shovel, and head out to a place where there were old pots and old ceramic pieces left behind. I’d dig by myself and get really excited when I found a small piece of an old pot. Then I’d take it home and clean it off with a toothbrush. These are pieces I still treasure and keep, and they still decorate my office today. I think I was always really fascinated by things that are left behind, imagining what was there.”

In this way, time and death are inevitable to be discussed. Demolition and reconstruction are always closely connected. Therefore, we have the transition from the older generation to the newer generation. We have the portrait of aging, the process of death.

After life is a contemplation on death and memory. In this fictional world, people have just one week to choose only a memory to keep for eternity after they died. The documentary elements in the movie create an unhurried pace and a calm perspective. The premise feels so true, that the audiences start to think about their own decisions, what is the only memory they want to hold dear.

Although time and death are heavy themes, Kore-eda always handle them lightly and carefully. Nothing is emphasized too much, even in moments of great tension. He unfolds his stories as a calm observer, capturing the surface of the ocean before a storm. He never tries to earn your tears, but he makes you think harder, while he conveys the saddest thing in the world. His power accumulates in time.

Audiences don’t cry, also because Kore-eda’s camera finds beauty everywhere, even in ruins and relics. The falling leaves are beautiful, as well as the handmade plum wine, the rhythm of a slowly moving train, and a simple conversation in the family’s backyard. He shows how mundane and tedious life is, but he also delineate the ignored and unexpected beauty in everyday life.

People with insight are normally pessimistic, including Kore-eda. But pessimistism is not desperation. Kore-eda expressed the simple truth in a warm and gentle way, with freshness and clarity. Life is terrible, but people still struggle to live and thrive. Time is cruel and destructive, yet full of power and emotion. Death is intimidating, yet it teaches people what to cherish, and how to remember, .

“Families are priceless but troublesome,” said Kore-eda.

Families are trouble, but priceless.

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