Tag: Asia in Focus

Coverage of films from the Asia-Pacific region.

Review: Somebody

The feature debut of directors Kim Yeo-jung and Lee Jeong-chan is a curious entity. Based on the Naver webtoon, it opens firmly in the K-horror tradition of an evil child getting away with everything short of murder. Yet an early twist initially defies expectations, before ultimately giving in to them wholesale.

Single mother Young-eun (Kwak Sun-young), a swimming instructor by day, struggles with the increasingly disturbing behaviour of her 7-year-old daughter, So-hyun. When So-hyun pushes her to the edge, Young-eun makes a drastic decision. Cut to 20 years later: trauma cleaner Min (Kwon Yu-ri) has no memory of her childhood. When the wide-eyed and overly eager Hae-young (Lee Seol) abruptly inserts herself into Min’s life, that carefully rebuilt world begins to unravel.

Kim and Lee may think they’re leading us down a stream of red herrings, but they taught us how to swim in the first act. The literal translation of the Korean title (침범) is something like “invasion,” which gives you a pretty clear idea of the film’s trajectory. As fragments of Min’s past surface, as we surface in the land of psychological thrillers, it’s increasingly obvious that Hae-young isn’t just some quirky new friend. Gee, who could she really be?

It’s hard to know how to feel about SOMEBODY, a film that feels overstuffed with competing ideas. The first act is genuinely gripping, though the evil moppet trope is laid on thick. Once the film shifts into mystery mode, Kwon Yu-ri (or Yuri, to K-pop fans) is strong as Min, keeping everything close to the chest. Lee Seol, on the other hand, veers sharply into manic pixie territory, leaving little doubt as to where this is going.

Technically, this is a handsome film. From the crisp opening shots, transitioning from snowy winter landscapes to the sterile lines of an indoor pool, cinematographer Kim Dong-hyuk brings a precise, almost icy touch. The minimal score heightens the inherent tension.

Ultimately, SOMEBODY is just a muddled film. Perhaps too beholden to its source material, the narrative often stumbles from scene to scene, with few surprises left by the climax. A curious epilogue hints at deeper pathology, and it’s a shame Kim and Lee couldn’t weave more of that into the fabric of the film itself.

2024 | South Korea | DIRECTOR: Kim Yeo-jung and Lee Jeong-chan | WRITERS: Kim Yeo-jung and Lee Jeong-chan | CAST: Kwak Sun-young, Kwon Yu-ri, Lee Seol | DISTRIBUTOR: Sydney Film Festival 2025, Studio Santa Claus Entertainment, Contents Panda (South Korea) | RUNNING TIME: 112 minutes | RELEASE DATE: 4-15 June 2025 (SFF 2025)

June 11, 2025
Review: What Does That Nature Say to You

The immutable law of all film festivals is this: there will be a Hong Sang-soo film, and you will see the Hong Sang-soo film. WHAT DOES THAT NATURE SAY TO YOU (그 자연이 네게 뭐라고 하니), his 33rd feature in 30 years, is another opportunity to catch up. But if you’re already familiar with his work, you’ll know exactly what kind of terrain you’re entering.

Hong remains a keen observer of Korean social norms, often through the lens of male artists bumbling their way through long walks and booze-soaked self-reflection. Here, that avatar is Donghwa (Ha Seong-guk), a thirty-something aspiring poet who has rejected his wealthy family’s money. For the first time in three years of dating, he’s meeting his girlfriend Junhee’s (Kang So-yi) family at their Incheon home.

Initial conversations with her father (Hong regular Kwon Hae-hyo) are polite enough, but as the day progresses into night, and the alcohol flows, the carefully balanced social niceties start to unravel. Hong has long used his characters to reflect on class and art, and here Donghwa appears to be one of the most feckless examples of the model. He’s a listless poet who holds a verse together about as well as he holds his liquor. That is to say, poorly.

Through seemingly listless conversations, cigarette breaks, many meals and repeated voyages in Donghwa’s beat-up 1996 Kia, Hong’s commentary on art and money continues. The standout dinner scene sees Junhee’s father put Donghwa through an inebriate inquisition, gradually coaxing out a portrait of a man whose idealism may just be an excuse for inertia. It’s tense, but hilariously so. It’s ‘peak Hong’ as I’ve come to know it.

Hong seems even less interested in technical polish this time out, which is saying something. The low-budget camera lingers in long, often static takes. Awkward zooms drift in and out, pixelation obscures details, and night scenes are dim and fuzzy. It’s all deliberate, of course, a style that has long since become his signature rather than a limitation.

At nearly two hours, this is one of Hong’s longer efforts, but it never drags. Like the oversized meals that fill the screen, it’s hard not to keep coming back for seconds. For a filmmaker so committed to minimalism and repetition, Hong still manages to surprise, and WHAT DOES THAT NATURE SAY TO YOU is one of his most successful outings in recent memory.

2025 | South Korea | DIRECTOR: Hong Sang-soo | WRITERS: Hong Sang-soo | CAST: Ha Seong-guk, Kwon Hae-hyo, Cho Yun-hee, Kang So-yi, Park Mi-so | DISTRIBUTOR: Sydney Film Festival 2025, Finecut | RUNNING TIME: 108 minutes | RELEASE DATE: 4-15 June 2025 (SFF 2025)

June 10, 2025
Review: The Red Envelope

Following the massive success of How to Make Millions Before Grandma Dies, last year’s Thai box office smash, Chayanop Boonprakob’s THE RED ENVELOPE aims for similarly broad appeal—as broad, at least, as a comedy about a sham marriage to a gay ghost seeking his killer can be. Having already crossed 100 million Baht and become Thailand’s highest-grossing film of 2025, it’s safe to say the strategy paid off.

After waking from a nightmare, the late Titi’s mother is told by a spiritual advisor that her son has unfinished business. Believing it to be his unfulfilled wish to marry a man, she’s instructed to leave a red envelope that fate will deliver to the right groom. Enter Menn (Putthipong Assaratanakul, aka Billkin), a hapless police informant whose love life is even more tragic than his career. He stumbles upon the envelope—and into an unexpected posthumous marriage.

On their wedding night, Menn is stunned to find himself permanently accompanied by Titi’s ghost (Krit Amnuaydechkorn). What follows is a chaotic, comic partnership as the two try to uncover the truth behind Titi’s death, leading them into the orbit of suspected drug lord Big Joe (Jaturong Phonboon). Menn, eager to impress cop Goi (Arachaporn Pokinpakorn), and Titi, grappling with unresolved father issues, make for the unlikeliest of investigative duos.

A direct remake of China’s Marry My Dead Body (2022), and with more than a shade of Ghost—if Ghost were a queer buddy comedy—there aren’t many surprises tucked inside THE RED ENVELOPE. Still, as a mostly LGBTQ+-positive film with its heart in the right place, it offers a welcome twist on the standard crime caper. The humour is broad, veering from cartoonish slapstick to bawdy innuendo, and occasionally risks undercutting the good vibes. As someone unfamiliar with the creators or cast, I did wonder whether a few gags tip into unfortunate stereotype rather than good-natured allyship.

That said, aside from the initially homophonic Menn’s repeated protests of straightness and the odd f-slur thrown Titi’s way, the film is infused with the rhythms of queer Thai comedy. Subtle it is not—think acting challenges on RuPaul’s Drag Race and you’re in the right tonal ballpark. When emotional beats do arrive, they tend to stall the momentum completely. Still, it’s hard to stay mad at a film that features a nightclub dance-off capped with the line: “Mother ate that up from San Fran to Sarakhram.”

Unlike its characters, THE RED ENVELOPE is unlikely to convert the firmly prejudiced. But if you’re open to a familiar premise delivered with unabashed silliness and flashes of genuine heart, there’s fun to be had here.

2025 | Thailand | DIRECTOR: Chayanop Boonprakob | WRITERS: Chayanop Boonprakob, Thamsatid Charoenrittichai, Chantavit Dhanasevi, Weawwan Hongvivatana | CAST: Putthipong Assaratanakul, Krit Amnuaydechkorn, Arachaporn Pokinpakorn, Piyamas Monyakul, Jaturong Phonboon | DISTRIBUTOR: Cine Asia | RUNNING TIME: 125 minutes | RELEASE DATE: 15 May 2025 (Australia)

May 13, 2025
Review: Flat Girls

Thai filmmaker Jirassaya Wongsutin has long been drawn to the themes she explores in FLAT GIRLS, her first feature-length film. The delicate portraits of adolescent friendship in the collaborative project Lost in Blue and the exploration of multiple families living under one roof in the television series One Year both find new expression in this meditative coming-of-age story.

The film centres on Jane (Kirana Pipityakorn) and Ann (Fatima Dechawaleekul), two daughters of police officers living in the same flat complex as hundreds of other families. In this intimate environment, they have been virtually inseparable since birth, but their bond is tested by the arrival of Tong (Pakorn “Boy” Chatborirak), a handsome young officer.

Wongsutin’s film is in no hurry to reach any grand destination, nor does it seek one. In her broad exploration of class divides and the turning points in young lives, she revels in the small moments: lingering over games of badminton, the pleasures of ice cream and bok kia, or sneaking into a neighbour’s flat to steal some booze.

This claustrophobic world contains multitudes, and Wongsutin’s perspective recalls filmmakers like Ken Loach and Andrea Arnold. Her leads yearn for escape but can scarcely imagine a life beyond their lifelong confines. Outsiders briefly brush against their world, such as a privileged tourist who buys street food and moves on, while the girls sport T-shirts emblazoned with the names of faraway places like Harvard. Fleeting glimpses of other worlds, seen from river ferries or through distant fireworks, are always just out of reach.

While the film’s slower pace may keep some viewers at a distance, Pipityakorn and Dechawaleekul are compelling leads. Their relationship transcends simple friendship or attraction, with Wongsutin lightly touching on the latter as the girls begin to question what love means. Their growing awareness of the forces that divide them — family struggles, money, and their emerging desires — forms the heart of their emotional journey. Chatborirak is well cast as the young officer, though, as the title suggests, this story firmly belongs to the flat girls.

Wongsutin offers no dramatic conclusions or sweeping resolutions, but there are subtle tonal shifts that hint at change. For one girl, a new life filled with uncertainty awaits elsewhere; for the other, life remains rooted in place. FLAT GIRLS marks Wongsutin as a filmmaker with a deft, empathetic hand for intimate storytelling.

2025 | Thailand | DIRECTOR: Jirassaya Wongsutin | WRITERS: Jirassaya Wongsutin | CAST: Kirana Pipityakorn, Fatima Dechawaleekul, Pakorn Chatborrirak | DISTRIBUTOR: Cine Asia | RUNNING TIME: 129 minutes | RELEASE DATE: 1 May 2025 (Australia)

April 29, 2025
Review: Yadang: The Snitch

You may not immediately recognise Hwang Byeng-Gug’s name, despite his quarter-century of credits in the South Korean film industry. Often billed in supporting or additional cast roles, Hwang has also directed features like Wedding Campaign (2005) and SIU (2011). Yet with YADANG: THE SNITCH (야당), he delivers a solid crime thriller that stands comfortably alongside its contemporaries.

The ‘yadang’ of the title refers to underworld slang for criminals who provide information to authorities in exchange for reduced or commuted sentences. In this case, that’s Lee Kang-soo (Kang Ha-neul), falsely imprisoned but now operating as a slick snitch for ambitious Prosecutor Ku Gwan-hee (Yoo Hae-jin). As Ku climbs the political ladder thanks to Lee’s intel, drug squad detective Oh Sang-jae (Park Hae-joon) begins to suspect foul play. A complex game of intrigue plays out as the lives of all three men become increasingly entangled.

There’s a lot going on in Hwang’s film. You may feel like you’ve seen some of it before. You may also feel like it flashes back and forward so often you’re experiencing chronal displacement. Yet at its core, this is a familiar formula executed with confidence, with Hwang ably constructing a complex ecosystem that feeds on drugs and corruption. Between raves and orgies, forced captivity, raids, a second snitch in rich girl Uhm Soo-jin (Chae Won-bin), and multiple chases, there’s almost too much jostling for space in this crowded web.

Yet somehow it works, largely thanks to the three leads. Superstar Kang Ha-neul — perhaps most recently seen by international audiences in Squid Game Season 2 — plays his informant as a cocky huckster to charming effect. Likewise, the ever-reliable Yu Hae-jin seems to relish dancing around the edges of outright villainy.

Slickly shot by Lee Mo-gae (I Saw the Devil, Exhuma), Hwang ensures the action rarely lets up across the two-hour runtime, from the opening car smash to a mid-film sting operation that’s big enough to feel like a finale. When the actual climax arrives, it’s a clever gotcha moment that ties off some of the threads — even if not all of them are fully woven in.

While YADANG can comfortably stand alone, it’s easy to imagine this spinning out into a full franchise — albeit one that has already publicly aligned itself with law and order via an anti-drug partnership with the Gyeonggi Nambu Provincial Police Agency. Either way, Hwang and his team have laid the groundwork for a rich universe of characters we’d be happy to revisit.

2025 | South Korea | DIRECTOR: Hwang Byeng-Gug | CAST: Kang Ha-neul, Yoo Hai-jin, Park Hae-joon, Ryu Kyung-soo, Chae Won-been | DISTRIBUTOR: Plus M Entertainment, Well Go USA Entertainment | RUNNING TIME: 122 minutes | RELEASE DATE: 25 April 2025 (USA)

April 25, 2025
Review: Bullet Train Explosion

If the premise of BULLET TRAIN EXPLOSION (新幹線大爆破) sounds familiar, it’s because we’ve been down this track before. The concept of a vehicle set to explode if it drops below a certain speed was the basis for Japan’s The Bullet Train (1975) and later Runaway Train (1980), both of which helped inspire the Hollywood blockbuster Speed (1994).

But from the moment Shinji Higuchi gets his hands on the material—a filmmaker already known for grounding high-concept premises in real-world detail through Shin Godzilla and Shin Ultraman—there’s a marked stylistic shift from the funky thrills of its 1970s namesake. Opening with a high-energy montage that plays like a trailer for itself, screenwriters Kazuhiro Nakagawa and Norichika Ōba set us on a familiar route before sharply switching tracks.

You know the setup: the Hayabusa 60 Shinkansen is en route to Tokyo when a bomber calls in, threatening that unless they’re paid ¥100 billion, the train will explode if it drops below 100 km/h. On board, dedicated conductor Kazuya Takaichi (Tsuyoshi Kusanagi) must work with HQ, the media and a train full of passengers to find a solution and avert disaster.

Half a century on from the original, BULLET TRAIN EXPLOSION arrives in a vastly changed world. The trains, the technology—even the pace of cinematic storytelling—have evolved. Yet if you know Higuchi’s work, you’ll know his focus is on people. Unlike the groovy original, equal parts cop show and disaster flick, this version is keenly attuned to the complexities of modern life. In sleek, high-tech offices, bureaucrats bark tough decisions; passengers are perpetually online; influencers try to wield their platforms for visibility.

Higuchi naturally leans into the media and political angles, but never at the expense of the high-octane sequences. The scenarios may be familiar from earlier versions of the story, yet you may still find yourself white-knuckled as equipment is transferred between parallel trains moving at speed.

There’s a certain cynicism to the mob mentality on display in the film’s first half, but Higuchi saves his sharpest turns for later. The final act shifts subtly into a morality play—one that doesn’t feed on chaos, but instead seeks to restore a little faith in human decency in the face of catastrophe. In 2025, that feels quietly revolutionary.

2025 | Japan | DIRECTOR: Shinji Higuchi | WRITERS: Kazuhiro Nakagawa and Norichika Ōba | CAST: Tsuyoshi Kusanagi, Kanata Hosoda, Non, Takumi Saitoh, Machiko Ono, Jun Kaname, Hana Toyoshima | DISTRIBUTOR: Netflix | RUNNING TIME: 134 minutes | RELEASE DATE: 23 April 2025

April 23, 2025
Review: Revelations

Yeon Sang-ho has built a solid reputation on both the South Korean and international cinema scenes, from crossover hits like Train to Busan and Peninsula to the sci-fi outings Psychokinesis and Jung_E. With REVELATIONS (계시록), debuting worldwide on Netflix, he returns to his The King of Pigs roots with a gripping psychological thriller.

From the opening scene, Yeon frames his film as a slow-burning mystery. A young girl nervously enters the church of Pastor Min-chan (Ryu Jun-yeol), seemingly followed by Yang-rae (Shin Min-jae), an ex-con on the sex offender register. Min-chan attempts to recruit Yang-rae to his congregation, but the man quickly flees.

Later, when Min-chan’s own child goes missing, he assumes the criminal is to blame. His next actions have devastating consequences, setting off an impossibly twisty chain of events. As Min-chan scrambles to keep his mounting lies in check, he draws the attention of Detective Yeon-hee (Shin Hyun-been), who is investigating the disappearance of a parishioner—and has her own past connection to Yang-rae.

Yeon’s tightly structured screenplay is vaguely reminiscent of crime stories like Fargo—in the sense that an ostensibly good person makes a simple mistake and becomes so consumed by it that they keep compounding the problem. Yet REVELATIONS is almost entirely devoid of humour, instead lurking in the seedier corners of the city. Min-chan may be driven by divine revelation—hence the title—and there are light supernatural elements woven into Yeon’s story, but in every other respect, this follows the conventions of modern crime thrillers.

Much of the film’s success rests on Ryu Jun-yeol, who plays Min-chan with a compelling mix of cool detachment and desperate rage. A standout scene sees him confronting his wife, Si-yeong (Moon Joo-yeo), about her affair inside a car—a slow-burning moment of almost unbearable tension, heightened by the confined space and Ryu’s ability to shift moods in an instant.

REVELATIONS is a cut above the average thriller, pulling its many narrative threads together for a tense and satisfying climax. Yes, much of the plotting hinges on coincidence, but it remains a brisk affair even at 122 minutes. And in its closing moments, the film leaves plenty to unpack, ultimately challenging the very notions of good and evil.

2025 | South Korea | DIRECTOR: Yeon Sang-ho | WRITER: Yeon Sang-ho | CAST: Ryu Jun-yeol, Shin Hyun-been, Shin Min-jae, Moon Joo-yeon | DISTRIBUTOR: Netflix | RUNNING TIME: 106 minutes | RELEASE DATE: 21 March 2025

March 24, 2025
Review: The Lord of the Rings: The War of the Rohirrim

Animation has long been drawn to J.R.R. Tolkien’s Middle-earth. As early as the late 1930s, Walt Disney toyed with the idea of adapting The Hobbit, while Rankin/Bass and Ralph Bakshi took on the challenge in the 1970s and 80s with varying degrees of success.

Kenji Kamiyama’s THE LORD OF THE RINGS: THE WAR OF THE ROHIRRIM, however, feels like a bridge between eras. It draws as much from the visual language of Peter Jackson’s six live-action adaptations and the rich tradition of Japanese cinema and anime as it does from its animated predecessors. It also doesn’t hurt that Miranda Otto returns to narrate the film as the character of Éowyn.

Set 180 years before the events of The Lord of the Rings, this animated tale shifts its focus to Hera (Gaia Wise), the daughter of Helm Hammerhand (voiced by Brian Cox), the King of Rohan. When tragedy strikes following Wulf’s (Luke Pasqualino) failed proposal to Hera, the son of Freca launches an invasion of Rohan.

In response, Hera and Helm lead their people to seek refuge at the Hornburg, where they hold out against the Dunlendings. This legendary stronghold, etched into the history of Middle-earth, will eventually come to be known as Helm’s Deep.

Drawing primarily from Appendix A of The Lord of the Rings (and with some inspiration from Unfinished Tales), Kamiyama and the writing team face the challenge of fleshing out a largely skeletal narrative. However, the film cleverly sidesteps this with Éowyn’s opening narration: “Do not look for tales of her in the old songs. There are none.” This gives the filmmakers room to expand on the legend, carving out a space for originality within the established mythology.

Hera proves to be a compelling protagonist, her strength and determination anchoring the story, while Wulf embodies a straightforward, single-minded villainy. Yet, for a narrative reaching well over two hours, some of the material feels (as Bilbo might put it) stretched a little thin. Tolkien’s legendarium often thrives on cycles and repetition—like the echoes of Beren and Lúthien in Arwen and Aragorn—and while this story is canonically rooted in the Appendices, it’s hard not to notice parallels to the motifs of the Battle of Helm’s Deep in Jackson’s films.

Visually, THE WAR OF THE ROHIRRIM is a feast. Frame by frame, the film captures the grandeur of Middle-earth, with the iconic Aotearoa New Zealand locations lovingly recreated alongside familiar settings like Edoras and Isengard. However, it’s in Kamiyama’s bolder departures that the animation truly shines—most notably in a gobsmacking sequence featuring an eldritch Watcher in the Water devouring an oliphaunt whole, a scene that brims with imagination and menace.

Some of this was achieved through an innovative blend of motion capture, translated into a gaming engine to determine 3D environments, and then recreated in 2D to get a more authentic fluidity to the movement. While this technique elevates the gloriously staged battle sequences, it occasionally falters, with some character movements feeling stiff and reminiscent of puppetry.

THE WAR OF THE ROHIRRIM may not resonate with the same impact as the films and books from which it draws inspiration. At times, its repeated nods to the new tenant of Isengard, wizards and Mordor’s search for rings leave it tethered to its role as a prequel rather than standing firmly as a standalone tale. Yet, this is a direction I’d wholeheartedly encourage for the franchise—a foray into stories rich with potential that don’t demand a sprawling trilogy to unfold. Kamiyama’s film isn’t without flaws, but its ambition and approach make me eager to see more in this vein.

2024 | USA, Japan | DIRECTOR: Kenji Kamiyama | WRITERS: Jeffrey Addiss, Will Matthews, Phoebe Gittins, Arty Papageorgiou | STORY: Jeffrey Addiss, Will Matthews, Philippa Boyens (Based on characters created by J. R. R. Tolkien) | CAST: Brian Cox, Gaia Wise, Luke Pasqualino, Miranda Otto | DISTRIBUTOR: Warner Bros. Pictures (USA), Universal Pictures (Australia) | RUNNING TIME: 134 minutes | RELEASE DATE: 12 December 2024 (Australia), 13 December 2024 (USA)

December 10, 2024
Review: Ghost Cat Anzu

If mainstream Japanese animation is anything to go by, every school-aged child seems destined to experience their seminal coming-of-age moments through a magical being during an extended summer stay with relatives. This is familiar ground for directors Nobuhiro Yamashita and Yoko Kuno, who revisit themes explored in their 2020 collaborative short film, Lucky Owl with Shimako.

Based on Takashi Imashiro’s serialised manga, the film is set in the coastal inlet of Iketeru, winkingly dubbed the “town of eternal summer.” Eleven-year-old Karin (voiced by Noa Gotō) arrives there with her father, Tetsuya (Munetaka Aoki), at Sousei-Ji temple, home to her grandfather (Keiichi Suzuki). When Tetsuya is kicked out after asking for money to pay off a loan shark, he leaves Karin behind, promising to return on the anniversary of her mother’s death.

Soon after, Karin encounters Anzu (Mirai Moriyama), the titular ghost cat: an anthropomorphic feline riding a scooter, larger than an adult human, and perpetually wearing a flip phone around his neck. Befriending two local boys and a host of animal gods, Karin and Anzu embark on a series of minor adventures that span both this world and the hereafter.

The web is already brimming with comparisons between this film and Spirited Away—and if you’ve read this far, you’ll see I’ve now contributed to that discourse. The back half certainly invites the comparison, with Karin and Anzu embarking on a strange journey through the Kingdom of the Dead. Yet the rest of the film is a bizarre, jarring mix of tones and styles, swinging from crude comedy to philosophical ponderings, often making it unclear who the intended audience might be.

Take, for instance, a subplot involving the God of Poverty. Depicted as a grubby, toothless man in a loincloth, his attempts to fulfil his ‘job’ are frequently foiled by Anzu but just as often elicit unsettling suggestions of self-harm from his targets. Similarly, Anzu oscillates between threatening violent murder with a makeshift spear and farting on his friends for laughs. This randomness dominates much of the runtime, with side characters rarely contributing meaningfully until the chaotic final act.

This tonal inconsistency is mirrored in the animation. The backgrounds are often stunning, with lush, detailed depictions of summer landscapes. By contrast, the characters range from realistically drawn figures like Karin and Tetsuya to exaggerated caricatures or minimalist, rounded designs. This embrace of both grotesquerie and comedy is characteristic of Shin-Ei Animation (collaborating here with France’s Miyu Productions), the studio behind recent film versions of Shin Chan and Doraemon.

Where GHOST CAT ANZU shines brightest is in its unrestrained, rollercoaster finale. As hell quite literally breaks loose, a modest commentary on grief is consumed by a wild chase across Tokyo in a minibus full of demons. It’s as illogical as anything else in the film—a delightfully anarchic adventure perfectly tailored to kids navigating their own existential crises.

2024 | Japan | DIRECTOR: Yōko Kuno, Nobuhiro Yamashita | WRITERS: Shinji Imaoka (Based on a manga by Takashi Imashiro) | CAST (Japanese): Mirai Moriyama, Noa Gotō, Munetaka Aoki, Miwako Ichikawa, Keiichi Suzuki, Shingo Mizusawa, Wataru Sawabe | CAST (English): Jason Simon, Evie Hsu, Andrew Kishino, Erica Schroeder, David Goldstein, Jon Allen | DISTRIBUTOR: Toho Next (Japan), Kismet (Australia) | RUNNING TIME: 94 minutes | RELEASE DATE: 3 December 2024 (Australia)

November 25, 2024
Review: My Sunshine

In stark contrast to the quirks of Hiroshi Okuyama’s first film Jesus, this film is content to simply exist. What both films have in common is that they retain a child’s point of view on some occasionally melancholic subject matter, told through the wide-eyed lens of a coming-of-age narrative.

The youth in question is the shy and stuttering Takuya (Keitatsu Koshiyama), who is demonstrably unskilled at either baseball or ice hockey. When he spots fellow student and figure skater Sakura (Kiara Takanashi), he becomes captivated by her ability.

As Takuya attempts to replicate her form, coach and former figure skater Arakawa (Sōsuke Ikematsu) takes an interest in the boy. Intuiting Takuya’s potential, Arakawa not only begins to teach the lad how to skate but also spies the possibility of teaming him up with Sakura for an ice dancing championship.

Taken purely at surface level, Okuyama’s film plays right into some familiar story beats. Against the wintry backdrop of a Hokkaido town, two small children discover something about themselves, there’s a mentor with his own scars and, of course, a skill-based competition approaches. It might all seem as predictable as the changing of the seasons.

Yet, beneath the veneer of the ice, there’s much more. As Arakawa’s backstory unfolds, we also learn that he is gay. While never said outright, it’s strongly inferred that institutional attitudes towards his sexuality, not his skating skills, are what held back his career. Small-town bigotry disrupts the gentleness we’ve observed, although even this development maintains the film’s steady flow. There are no grand speeches or declarations, but the consequences are all the more cutting for their matter-of-factness.

Shot in a pillarboxed Academy ratio (with writer-director Okuyama handling photography duties as well), there is something deliberately retro about MY SUNSHINE (ぼくのお日さま). From the first shot of a baseball game amidst the first flakes of snowfall, Okuyama’s film immediately feels nostalgic. With Debussy’s “Clair De Lune” acting as a recurring motif, it’s a film of gentle grace and restraint.

Despite only being Okuyama’s second feature, it’s arguable that his collaborations with Hirokazu Kore-eda and Megumi Tsuno (on Netflix’s The Makanai: Cooking for the Maiko House series) have positively influenced the storytelling here. Indeed, the film comes to an end as Takuya attempts to stammer out a sentence, literally leaving words unspoken.

2024 | Japan | DIRECTOR: Hiroshi Okuyama | WRITERS: Hiroshi Okuyama | CAST: Sōsuke Ikematsu, Keitatsu Koshiyama, Kiara Nakanishi | DISTRIBUTOR: Melbourne International Film Festival | RUNNING TIME: 90 minutes | RELEASE DATE: 8-24 August 2024 (Melbourne International Film Festival)

August 12, 2024