Film Review: Still Walking

Near the end of "Still Walking", the latest gem from Japanese director Hirokazu Koreeda ("Nobody Knows"), we watch an elderly man walking toward the sea followed by his middle-aged son Ryu. The shot captures Ryu's feelings of inadequacy and deference toward his father. Meanwhile, the step-grandson rushes eagerly toward the beach, unaware of the tension.

The plot is fairly straightfoward- the Yokoyama family gathers to commemorate the 15th anniversary of the eldest son's death who perished while saving a drowning child. Unfolding during a 24 hour time period (with the exception of the epilogue, set several years later), the film bears witness to strained familial bonds through routine actions such as preparing lunch and taking a bath.

The acting is uniformly excellent across the board. It was a bit odd to see the actress You, who played the irresponsible mother in "Nobody Knows" in a much different role. It should be mentioned that the actors playing Ryu and his wife are particularly attractive.

Like Ozu before him, Koreeda is interested in exploring a certain breakdown between generations in Japanese society. Yet, while Ozu was clearly pointing a finger at a younger, disinterested generation in the 1950s, Koreeda avoids assigning blame. His ambivalence is made clear when the long-suffering mother tells Ryu why she insists on inviting the child her son died to save every year to his death anniversary. Meanwhile, the father spends much of the visit avoiding conversation ("There is nothing to talk about") and insulting Ryu's profession and decision to marry a widow. Their relationship is defined by the father's insistence on comparing Ryu unfavorably to his deceased son, and Ryu's inability to separate his self-image from his father's expectations. Both matriach and patriach are petty and unfair individuals. And yet, we see that 15 years has done little to diminish their grief over their son's death. This is made painfully clear in a scene where a butterfly makes its way into the house and the mother convinces herself that it is, in fact, her son.
None of this is to say the film is overly melancholy. Nor is it overly sentimental or hopeful for the future, though there are moments of grace for each member of the family (notably a scene between Ryo, his wife and his step-son Atsushi). Rather, Koreeda proceeds at a careful, almost natural pace (the film runs just shy of two hours) and avoids hyperbole and judgment over his characters. In this way, the Yokoyama family becomes recognizably human.
An audience member would be forgiven for feeling the need to call their parents after watching this simple but amazing film.