Our Little Sister

I'll forego my typical ramblings about Kore-eda Hirokazu's works being a post-modern, new millennium equivalent of the works of Yasujiro Ozu. We've all had and dismissed that theory now. But so comes his most recent release - and inevitable Cannes nomination - 'Unimachi Diary' ('Our Little Sister').

Based on the manga of the same name, the film is about three sisters attending their estranged father's funeral, where they meet his third wife/widow, stepmother to the daughter he had with his second wife, with whom his affair led to the break-up of his first marriage, which spawned the three original sisters we previously discussed.

Meeting their younger half-sister for the first time, Sachi, the eldest and most sensible of the three, decides to immediately invite little Suzu to live with them in the family house they share in Kamakura. And life starts to turn out perfectly.

Apart from all the confusing inter-relations and paternal death, the first hour of the film is fairly easy-going stuff. The now four sisters go about their business, settling into their new scenario as Suzu acclimatises herself to her new coastal surroundings. It's when the estranged mother of the three eldest sisters arrives in town for her mother's memorial that things start to develop in terms of the social comment that Hirokazu tends to work into his films. Suddenly, Suzu becomes aware of her place as the daughter of a homewrecker; Sachi comes to terms with her fallout with her mother; party girl, Yoshino, soon realises she may need to do more in her career than just earn money for beer; and bohemian child, Chika, tries to learn how to fish.

Inevitably, everything ends up jolly.

'Our Little Sister' is a further evolution into more mainstream films for Hirokazu. Starting with 'I Wish' in 2011 and following-up with 'Likefather, Like Son', his greater exposure globally has led to his films becoming more accessible for the audience, unlike the more challenging works of his early days, such as 'Maborosi' and 'After Life'. There is a nicer, more gentle edge to this film, with more attempts at humour and a more positive and standard ending, rather than his usual, more complex compromises, as life offers no easy answers. Here, while bad things happen, the outcome seems to turn out fine.

'Easy' is probably the word to best summarise this film. The first half of the film is fairly easy-going, and the scenario is one lacking as much depth as his previous. One criticism of 'Like Father, Like Son' is that the clash of characters was designed to facilitate the story better. In 'Our Little Sister', the same could be said, with the three elder sisters having opposing personality types to show different ways of coping. The speed of the inviting of Suzu to come live with them also seems a little too simple to feel natural. Sachi's affair with a older doctor serves as an obvious plot device, making her no better than Suzu's mother, leaving it something for her to have to come to terms with.

But it's how forgiving all the women of the film seem to be towards the unseen father that seems a little too easy. Despite his affairs, he is seen as a 'kind man,' only criticised for being a little 'useless.'

'Our Little Sister' is an entertaining and enjoyable film, but confirms a more mainstream move for its director: She ain't heavy, she's our little sister, but she's alright at football, apparently.
 

Like Father, Like Son

There are many comparisons made between Hirokazu Kore-eda and one of the Twentieth Century masters of Japanese cinema, the much lauded Ozu. With each film that the modern-day equivalent makes, the comparisons will continue to grow and grow, as his films maintain the theme of contemporary family life in Japan.

Similar to the recent 'Kiseki (I Wish)', 'Like Father, Like Son' focuses on the lives of two young boys and their unconventional relationships with their parents. While, 'Kiseki' looked at the lives of two brothers, separated by the parents' divorce, 'Like Father, Like Son' looks at the lives of two unrelated boys who, after a hospital mix-up, were raised by a random couple. The mix-up coming out years later, once the boys have started to develop, leaves both sets of parents unsure as to how to proceed.

'Kiseki' looked very much at the lives of the young brothers and how they work behind their parents' backs to be reunited, only to learn the hard way that things have now changed. In his latest effort, Kore-eda focuses very much on the parents, particularly the straight-edged, hard-working salary man, Ryota, who is forever baffled by his son's meagre talent and work ethic in comparison to his own. His equivalent, Yudai, raising his biological son, has a more relaxed approach to life, raising his son in a loving, family environment.

Naturally, the polarised approaches of the two males to life and parenting is a clear plot device to make the inevitable life-lesson learnt more poignant by the film's conclusion, and perhaps a slightly more idealistic scenarios for the story. However, much like his previous works, Kore-eda offers no easy solutions. Torn between the boy he has raised and loves and his blood, Ryota looks to all possible permutations for a solution to situation, but each presents its own problems.

The family situation presented is one of blood versus upbringing, with Ryota convinced that blood signifies everything - an important aspect of Japanese culture, where blood-type can be thought to determine various aspects of one's life - and as such looks at an interesting aspect of Japanese culture, and while a strong effort, it never quite matches the nostalgia of 'After Life', the detachment of 'Nobody Knows' or the coming of age of 'Keseki'. But here, Kore-eda again affirms that there is a case for himself as the heir to Ozu's title. Fifty years on since the latter's death, the former tackles the changes of a different time, with more and more unconventional relationships and post-modern family structures. Where Ozu looked at emerging female independence ('Late Autumn'), Kore-eda looks at a love doll developing a soul ('Air Doll'). The times have changed, but like father, like son.