Japanese filmmaker Hirokazu Kore-eda’s cinematic works have a unique charm that belies their profound emotional depth. This master storyteller specializes in stories that offer a crystal-clear window into the diverse configurations of the contemporary Japanese family, often told through the eyes of its youngest members.
At the heart of many a Kore-eda tale is a child: from a quartet of neglected siblings cobbling together a semblance of family life within the confines of a cramped apartment to youngsters grappling with the aftermath of parental separation, his narratives offer unvarnished glimpses into the everyday realities of children forced to confront the complexities of the adult world far sooner than they should.
The depiction of childhood innocence threatened by the tribulations of a changing society is hardly a novel concept in cinema. However, what sets Kore-eda apart is not merely his choice of subject matter but also his method. His approach differs significantly in that children not only feature prominently in his films but also heavily influence the production process, lending an authenticity to their on-screen portrayal.
Kore-eda’s journey with child-centric narratives began with his documentary “Lessons from a Calf” in 1991, a precursor to the poignant explorations of youth that would come to define much of his oeuvre. His films, while engaging in their simplicity, often deal with the dissonance between the worldviews of children and adults, a theme that ripples through his 2023 feature film “Monster,” amplifying the emotional stakes of this recurrent motif.
The director’s technique, rooted in his documentary beginnings, emphasizes organic storytelling – a philosophy perhaps best encapsulated by his adaptation of the adage: speaking is easy, listening is hard. This ethos is palpably evident in “Nobody Knows” where four siblings, abandoned and confronted with the threat of separation by social services, carve out a life for themselves on the fringes of society. The film’s focus on the children’s resilience in the face of adverse circumstances delivers a powerful commentary on the unnoticed struggles proliferating in our midst.
In “I Wish,” we encounter another set of siblings – Koichi and Ryunosuke – wrestling with the fallout of their parents’ divorce. Despite their trials, the boys, like their counterparts in other Kore-eda films, are emblematic of hope and belief in a better future, a sentiment that resonates throughout the director’s body of work.
Kore-eda’s scripts often evolve dynamically as he draws inspiration from his actors, leading to more nuanced and authentic representations of their characters. For instance, in “Nobody Knows,” actual drawings and writings by the young actors informed the visual storytelling. While “I Wish” saw real-life brothers take the screen, their natural rapport guiding the director’s hand as he adapted the script to better reflect their interaction.
“Monster” illustrates the crystallization of Kore-eda’s approach to youth narratives, representing one of his most precise renderings of how children’s perspectives diverge from those of the adults around them. The film, which encompasses themes of self-identity and acceptance, portrays this disconnect sharply, capturing the tensions inherent in a society’s, and an individual’s, journey towards self-reconciliation.
In “Shoplifters” (2018), another Kore-eda masterpiece, we see an alternative reality constructed for a makeshift family, held together by acts of petty theft. The film beautifully explores the ambiguities of morality through the eyes of the children, ultimately leading to an unraveling of their fragile domestic tapestry.
Kore-eda’s work transcends conventional director-actor dynamics, particularly in his collaborations with young talent. His preference for capturing unguarded, candid performances requires a departure from traditional methods, with children often remaining unaware of the complete script or broader narrative context, allowing for a more genuine portrayal of their characters.
This less intrusive methodology not only respects the child’s perspective but has also garnered critical acclaim, exemplified by Yuya Yagira’s award-winning role as Akira in “Nobody Knows,” which earned him the best actor accolade at the Cannes Film Festival in 2004 – the youngest ever to do so.
In Linda C. Ehrlich’s “The Films of Kore-eda Hirokazu: An Elemental Cinema,” the term “listening to childhood” is invoked to describe the director’s approach, a strategy that involves tuning in to the undertones of youthful expression.
Kore-eda’s films become a blend of documentary realism and narrative fiction, producing stories that resonate with the rawness of real life while providing a poetic look at childhood’s fugacious essence. The elusive nature of capturing the true experience of childhood on film perhaps lies in the contention that once we mature, reconnecting with the purity and complexity of our early years is a task that can never be fully realized.
While Kore-eda invites audiences to observe, ponder, and reminisce about the richness and perplexity of childhood, he implicitly acknowledges the barriers that prevent us from ever fully immersing ourselves back into that world. His films do not merely portray childhood; they revere it, amplifying its voice to echo through the chambers of our own, often disconnected, adult perceptions.
