The Sasaki family, a middle-class household at the heart of urban Tokyo, relish and rely upon the constant income provided by patriarchal figure Ryuhei. An administrative manager working for a bustling corporation. His youngest son's supply of school lunch money dependant on his consistently high salary. His wife's matriarchal duties conditional on the house that Ryuhei can afford. So when Ryuhei is suddenly fired from his job, after the discovery that Chinese workers are more economically viable to employ, the pressure of adult life itself and its parental responsibilities soon test the family's trustworthiness and pride.
Kurosawa's familial drama, harking back to similar styles found in Ozu's filmography, is profoundly his most terrifying feature to date. The gruesome murders in 'Cure' and supernatural entities in 'Pulse', arguably his two most famous films, do not compare to the palpable realness of unemployment. The colossal of pressure of having to provide a future, not just for one's self, but the entirety of one's family. In Japan, family structures are fairly archaic and traditional. The patriarch obtains a career and provides financial support. The matriarch stays at home and cares for her children and abode. Strict dinner rules and social measures are attained to assert parental authority. Therefore, if the source of income dissipates, the family structure crumbles and shame is brought upon them. That fatherly dominance vanished in an instant. Kurosawa bravely explores that rise in tension, with pride and self-esteem controlling Ryuhei as he continually deceives his wife and family.
Much like many Japanese white-collared workers, he continually pretends to venture out to work everyday when in fact he is searching for potential lower income jobs, befriending other downsized employees in the process. Living a life in secrecy, unable to face his family with the truth. His wife swiftly figures his complication out, but eagerly awaits for him to address the family. He never does. And it is with this erudite situation, that Kurosawa's beautifully composed screenplay traverses the societal pressures of modern Japan. Implying the correlation between rising unemployment numbers and suicide rates, without ever resorting to melodrama. He exquisitely inspects each character and their familial contribution and consequence through a deliciously adept third act that, whilst admittedly sharply modified the feature's tone and pace to an abrupt degree, confronted the maximum magnitude of their existential perturbation. Experiencing the brief life of a segregated family for one fearful night.
Only to then conclude on what is possibly one of the greatest final scenes to be ever put on film. A flawless performance of Debussy's 'Clair De Lune' in elongated uninterrupted shots. Raw, captivating, and enough to generate a solemn tear. Simply beautiful. If only Kurosawa had implemented more lingering shots like its final masterpiece, such as Megumi waving her eldest son farewell as joins the US military, the inner beauty of such horrific complications could've been slightly more impactful. And to further accentuate Ashizawa's confident cinematography that captured the fragility of modern Tokyo with assurance. Fortunately the cast add the essential ingredient to the familial drama. Authenticity. Both Kagawa and Koizumi offer composed yet emotionally vulnerable individuals that weigh in on the pressures of societal lifestyles. Inowaki, whilst not as memorable, supplies endless amounts of maturity to his young character that accompanies Kurosawa's thematic endeavours.
As mentioned before, this is unlike his previous horror features. The suffocating terror that resides within Tokyo Sonata, is with how real the situation feels. That sensitive relatability to the searing pressures of unemployment, a statistic that is often concealed by several nations. Kurosawa manages to orchestrate a dramatic composition that eloquently enthrals with each passing minute.
Kurosawa's familial drama, harking back to similar styles found in Ozu's filmography, is profoundly his most terrifying feature to date. The gruesome murders in 'Cure' and supernatural entities in 'Pulse', arguably his two most famous films, do not compare to the palpable realness of unemployment. The colossal of pressure of having to provide a future, not just for one's self, but the entirety of one's family. In Japan, family structures are fairly archaic and traditional. The patriarch obtains a career and provides financial support. The matriarch stays at home and cares for her children and abode. Strict dinner rules and social measures are attained to assert parental authority. Therefore, if the source of income dissipates, the family structure crumbles and shame is brought upon them. That fatherly dominance vanished in an instant. Kurosawa bravely explores that rise in tension, with pride and self-esteem controlling Ryuhei as he continually deceives his wife and family.
Much like many Japanese white-collared workers, he continually pretends to venture out to work everyday when in fact he is searching for potential lower income jobs, befriending other downsized employees in the process. Living a life in secrecy, unable to face his family with the truth. His wife swiftly figures his complication out, but eagerly awaits for him to address the family. He never does. And it is with this erudite situation, that Kurosawa's beautifully composed screenplay traverses the societal pressures of modern Japan. Implying the correlation between rising unemployment numbers and suicide rates, without ever resorting to melodrama. He exquisitely inspects each character and their familial contribution and consequence through a deliciously adept third act that, whilst admittedly sharply modified the feature's tone and pace to an abrupt degree, confronted the maximum magnitude of their existential perturbation. Experiencing the brief life of a segregated family for one fearful night.
Only to then conclude on what is possibly one of the greatest final scenes to be ever put on film. A flawless performance of Debussy's 'Clair De Lune' in elongated uninterrupted shots. Raw, captivating, and enough to generate a solemn tear. Simply beautiful. If only Kurosawa had implemented more lingering shots like its final masterpiece, such as Megumi waving her eldest son farewell as joins the US military, the inner beauty of such horrific complications could've been slightly more impactful. And to further accentuate Ashizawa's confident cinematography that captured the fragility of modern Tokyo with assurance. Fortunately the cast add the essential ingredient to the familial drama. Authenticity. Both Kagawa and Koizumi offer composed yet emotionally vulnerable individuals that weigh in on the pressures of societal lifestyles. Inowaki, whilst not as memorable, supplies endless amounts of maturity to his young character that accompanies Kurosawa's thematic endeavours.
As mentioned before, this is unlike his previous horror features. The suffocating terror that resides within Tokyo Sonata, is with how real the situation feels. That sensitive relatability to the searing pressures of unemployment, a statistic that is often concealed by several nations. Kurosawa manages to orchestrate a dramatic composition that eloquently enthrals with each passing minute.