Film: Still Walking
Release date: 24th May 2010
Certificate: U
Running time: 114 mins
Director: Hirokazu Kore-Eda
Starring: Hiroshi Abe, Yui Natsukawa, Kirin Kiki, Yoshio Harada, Kazuya Takahashi
Genre: Drama
Studio: Drakes Avenue
Format: DVD
Country: Japan
Not all films are created equal, and neither are they meant to be. It is often the artistic intention, above everything else, that guides and ultimately defines how a film will be regarded.
That is to say, a samurai showdown flick must primarily be judged against other samurai films. Ostensibly then, Hirokazu Koreeda’s latest offering, Still Walking (Aruitemo Aruitemo), seems to belong to the family drama canon (file under sub genres: troubled reunions). We spend twenty-four-hours in the life of a Japanese family as the dislocated members gather for an annual remembrance.
In practice, however, it so completely devoid of the histrionic-trappings that are associated with the genre, it so beautifully sidesteps all the tears, slamming doors and clean third-act closures that films of this kind so readily embrace, that it manages to transcend the small worlds these movies inhabit, and becomes something altogether more special...
Ryota Yokoyama (Hiroshi Abe) is forty-something and between jobs, his second wife Yukari (Yui Natsukawa) is a widower and her son Atsushi (Shohei Tanaka) is still reluctant to accept his new stepfather. Together they travel to the suburbs on a sun-dazed summer day, to take part in the Yokoyama family’s annual gathering, commemorating the death of eldest son, Junpei, who fifteen years prior died saving a drowning boy out at sea.
Waiting for Ryota’s arrival are his mother, Toshiko, and his father, Kyohei - alongside his elder sister, her husband and their two young children. Over the course of the day, the family prepare food, eat together, tend to the grave and take a walk to the beach. There are nearly no “events” to speak of, no moments in which the narrative drama spikes. Instead, with meticulous care, Hirokazu Koreeda constructs a portrait of a family, not defined by their grief, or their difficulties, but by the nature, banal as it may be, in which they live with loss. A beautifully realised set of characters whose lives you believe in and who, as an audience member, you are subsequently willing to invest in.
Still Walking is full of great performances, from actors wholly inhabiting their roles, in particular, a mesmerising turn by screen veteran Kirin Kiki, as the female head of family, Toshiko. She embodies wonderfully the duality of old age, a captivating mixture of pathos and reverence. A character brimming with love and grief. There are two scenes in particular, the darkest of the film, in which her fragile grip on reality slips, to devastating effect. In contrast, an early scene sees her preparing a banquet with daughter Chinami (You), and the script simply sings - full of hilarious and brilliantly observed mother-daughter verbal sparring.
Elsewhere, Kazuya Takahashi provides the film’s more conventional comic relief, as frustrated car salesman, Nobuo, whilst Yoshio Harada is great as the stubborn patriarchal Kyohei, a retired doctor whose pride prevents him from reconnecting from his increasingly distant son. It is his sudden outbursts that counterpoint a lot of the script’s more humorous moments, and it is his limping passage through the hazy suburban streets that bookends the film.
The visual language of Still Walking is equally as subtle and coherent as the performances. The leaf-fringed lanes and nearly empty corridors of the neat little residential area, where the Yokoyama home is built, is perpetually bathed in sunlight. A limited palette of pastel blues, greens and yellows drift under the over-saturated light, and it give the proceedings the look of a memory receding - a half-remembered Kodak summer. Indoors, the balanced tones and beautifully framed compositions provide an interesting backdrop that never distracts from the story. Occasionally, in sequences that nicely pace the film’s flow, the audience is left to dwell on flowers, or broken bathroom tiles and a dusk-lit lawn.
Still Walking’s success lies in the moments that are unsaid, the silences that ring between the old and new generations, whilst in the background far-off sounds of activity in the house - cooking and children playing - distant, as if already resigned to memory. Importantly, though, lingering atmosphere of loss and regret that permeates the film is never allowed to fully take hold, and is always balanced by disarmingly funny dialogue and moments of laugh-out-loud humour.
It is a narrative arc that may trend no new ground, but it is affecting nonetheless; a story about people’s inability to communicate until it is too late. Providing a superb script, complimented by touching and mature performances, Hirokazu Koreeda never allows himself to be hamstrung by the constraints of the genre, and maintains a balance between focus and ambition.
The artistic intention here was to create a beautiful, graceful lament to the passing over phase in a family’s life. In that respect, the film is a triumph - short and sweet. Even if you have no interest in the genre, this is still a film that is worth seeing. It should move anyone who has ever has ever owned a heart.
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