We’re not sure we’ve ever seen anything quite like “Tokyo Sonata,” the extraordinary new film from Japanese director Kiyoshi Kurosawa (no, not related). Best known for his contributions to the J-horror genre, ‘Sonata’ was immaculate and a quiet, internal terror of another kind. Part touching family drama, part scathing comedy, part unnerving tragedy, with dark, near-aburdist tones, we’re not sure we’ve ever seen a director masterfully weave such disparate tenors together so effortlessly. On paper, it doesn’t make emotional sense, but on screen, it’s spectacular (the press note also perfectly there’s “Buñuelian irrationality” in it which is excellent way to describe the stranger moments that are simultaneously comical and horrible).
A grim, sad, ironic and sensitive examination of a family in slow disintegration, ‘Sonata’ is both bleak and hopeful with a bit of the universe staring down and laughing at both characters and audience. As if we’re all inept puppets in this tragic play.
Set in modern Japan and revolving around proud patriarch Ryuhei Sasaki (a fantastically good Teruyuki Kagawa) who faces shame, and dishonor when he loses his tenured job at a prominent company, the story begins as his splinter seems to create further fissures and we follow the mannered unraveling of each family member. The father suffers such a huge blow to his identity and self-esteem that he hides his pain, choosing to not reveal to his family and wife that he is without work.
Sasaki meets another ashamed unemployed man and the proud father starts to learn the art of faking that you’re still employed; getting up for work, dressing in suits and pretending like all is well, but always under, subtle but palpable duress (the lies grow to inner torment and alienation from all around him).
Their preternaturally gifted and sensitive pre-pubescent son, Kenji (Kai Inowaki) , wants to learn to play piano, but with funds slowly dwindling, the frustrated father outright rejects his son’s request with no questions asked. This makes the boy want it all the more and clandestinely begins selling his lunch money to pay for professional lessons. Meanwhile, the families aloof teenage son Taka (Yu Koyanagi), wants to go off to war and help the American “allies” against the fight in Iraq.
The poor mother (a stellar Kyôko Koizumi who just breathes empathy) tries to keep the slowly crumbling family together, but soon she discovers her husband’s lie and can no longer take the self-loathing that he brings home and quietly, but savagely takes on on the collective household.
The father’s controlled self-rage soon devolves into violent outbursts and seemingly near-madness, and almost every family launches off into a trajectory one assume means never coming home again.
Kyoshi’s rich and meticulous lens is such skillful perfection (and moves with slow-burn suspense), the framing/mise-en-scene is a filmmaker’s wet dream (so much emotional incarceration) and the way the director gently folds the disturbing notes onto the comedic and dramatic ones and back again, is a superb craftsmanship.
The mother’s journey prompts the reflexive appearance of Kyoshi regular Kôji Yakusho, in an absurdist travelogue you almost can’t imagine is happening. But almost like a storm dissipating, the madness seemingly overtaken everyone subdues and watching these long invested chess pieces come back home is rather amazing. It’s hard to write about this without revealing too much (not that there’s a huge secret), but the filmmaker takes you to the edge of unreason and then gently places you back in detailed, precise and exquisite manner. It’s like artfully unravelling a mess of string and it’s an emotional ride and one you almost can’t believe has turned suddenly transformed into a beautiful quilt.
Touching, comical and griping, the director moves with such patience and grace, only moving the camera, utilizing sound and music at key moments, but elegantly and never with jarring surprise. The ending is so simple and rarefied. there’s so much pathos in each performance… we were pretty floored when the experience was over. An astonishing piece of work that left us near-breathless. [A+]
