A deeply spiritual love letter to Nara. Spectacularly shot, very funny and open, as expected from Shimizu. Roaming through the streets, getting to know the world, protected by the sacred forces that surround us.
A strong contender for the most beautiful film ever made. Shimizu's humanism and his incredible eye for space and nature make this heartbreaking story of drifting youth on post war Japan one of the most tender and heartwarming commentaries on brotherhood and community. It's just the perfect balance between poetry, good-spirited humor and naturalistic observation. The scene where one of the boys takes his friend up the mountain on his back, so that he could see the sea one last…
one of the most diligent films ever made, a painstaking coming of age odyssey with an incredibly expansive symbology: everything here is absolutely essential, a boy whose back hurts because he needs to help his father by carrying milk, some brownish red pants, a gust of wind in the backyard, the windows' reflex on the walls... it's all very potent, these signs aren't there for mere narrative development, they address a much bigger spectrum where politics, economics and metaphysics collide.…
Cables, surveillance cameras and doorbells, chickens, cows and cats, apples and alcohol, women and empty spaces, mountains and oceans. An intimate portrait of a woman who meets a couple of friends to talk about youth, animals and marriage and later finds herself in a cinematic interlude where she meets two ghosts from her past and confronts the horizon in a movie theater. Is she still running or the colors of the ocean finally granted her stillness?
‘If he just repeats himself, how can that be sincere? That means it’s all from memory, but how can that be sincere?’